I’ve been back a few days now, long enough to unpack and start feeling grounded again. Greece was beautiful, complicated, and meaningful — and while the travel itself reminded me why I no longer romanticize airports or long flights, the experience of being there was worth every moment. I wanted to jot down a few reflections while they’re still fresh.

We are in Patras, on the western coast of the Peloponnese, Peninsula. Therese has meeting here at University of Patras and she is celebrating her birthday by spending a week sailing with her sister on the Ionian Sea. They are joining Therese’s friend and her husband on their sailboat. Notice that I am not joining them. While in the Navy I got seasick on an aircraft carrier while it was still moored to the pier. That is, of course, an exaggeration, but not by much. I can handle small boats, but larger boats — nope, not this landlubber!

I told a friend last Saturday that I would finally post on my journal this week. It’s now Friday afternoon, and I still don’t know what to write. I only found the courage to sit down at the keyboard after reading this:

“Every time I start a new post, I never know for sure where it’s going to go. This is what writing and making art is all about: not having something to say, but finding out what you have to say. It’s thinking on the page or the screen or in whatever materials you manipulate. Blogging has taught me to embrace this kind of not-knowing in my other art and my writing.”

The recovery and resumption of anything resembling “real” or “normal” life after our return from the UK and the Coast to Coast walk has been… slow. Difficult. Ongoing, even as I sit here writing. Only in the past few days has my left knee finally started to feel like its old self—no pain, no stiffness, no subtle reminder of all those miles. Getting back into a rhythm, especially with photography, has been more of a struggle than I anticipated.