I Met a Girl Once. She Said She Loved Mountains

Lucid dreaming…A sound. In my room. Shuffling and movement. Awake now.

Awake but not startled; my room is a dorm. Stay Hostel, Athens.

Athens? Athens wasn’t my plan, how’d I get here?

That’s right…A 1:30am ferry from Patmos earlier that morning. Tempted to stay on Patmos to see the full moon rise over Saint Paraskevi Church, the urge to move won.

“I can watch the moon rise over The Acropolis, instead” I reasoned. 

Before Patmos: Rhodes. Before Rhodes: Fethiye. Before Fethiye: a bus over the Taurus Mountains from Antalya—none of it planned. Just a chain of impulses and misadventures; flights missed, and ferries caught.

Exhausted after a sleepless night cuddling a vinyl sofa on the Patmos-Athens ferry, I caught an afternoon nap at the hostel.

Then her. She apologised for waking me.

“No problem, I was stirring anyway”.

We chatted. She was light, charming. Cute. Very.

American. Denver, Colorado.

Travelling solo. Unplanned, since the start of May. Me too.

For how long?

Three months for her. Hmmm, I’d done a three month, go-where-the-road-takes-me, May to August journey just a few years earlier. ‘Only’ two months this time.

“Where did you start?” she asked.

“Turkey, Cyprus, and now here” I replied, adding the misadventures and impulses.

She started in Italy, just got into Athens.

Athens wasn’t part of her plan either. She was sort of winging the whole trip. Me too.

Not uncommon but another similarity.

Conversation flowed. Would I like to walk Athens with her, she asked?

Of course, I would!

“How about we wander for a bit and watch the moon rise over The Acropolis?” I offered.

Agreed.

We walked and talked through the cobbled backstreets of Plaka.

She wasn’t in Athens for more than an evening, so I asked what she might like to see, or do, or…

“No this is good. This is what I want to be doing” she replied, disarmingly.

If it wasn’t those exact words, it was close to that. And it felt just a touch personal. I melted a little on the inside.

“But I could do with a coffee” she added.

“Hmmm…ever had Greek or Turkish coffee?”

She hadn’t.

We found a café in the cobbled backstreets of the hillside under the Acropolis, covered by vines growing over and above the path and street.

Sitting on the shaded sidewalk, we ordered Greek coffees.

She felt like a snack and took my suggestion of Greek yoghurt with walnuts and honey.

She enjoyed both. We enjoyed both; two coffees, two spoons, a shared bowl.

The details have blurred, but I think it was the hunger for travel that led the conversation to a time in her past.

She was sixteen, working in a gym. A former US Marine, whose name has also been lost to time (Derek?), encouraged her to do the things she dreamed of. He challenged her excuses, changing the course of her life.

She tried to find him, enlisting the help of her sister, so she could say a simple and sincere ‘thank you’. But she couldn’t remember his name or anything else that might lead to him.

She became part of a ‘big sister’ mentoring program to pay it forward, hoping that she too could have a positive impact on someone else’ life and a change it for the better, in some small way.

She had. Whether she knew it or not.

“Ever had something like this happen?” she asked.

I’d been biting my tongue as she told her story, bewildered at the unfolding commonality between us, but intent on listening to every word.

I had.

“When I was sixteen, my parents had separated, and I was lost, wayward. But I had a girlfriend whose parents and family were the stable influence I needed. As well as the strong male role model her father was.”

“Twenty years later I found myself in their area. So I knocked on the door, said hello, reminded them who I was (!), caught up on life, and then thanked them for the people they were, the stability they gave my life, and they example they gave me for my own family.”

“I understood the impact of presence and stability and only a few years ago took part in a mentoring program for struggling young teenagers. So yes, something almost exactly like that has happened to me!”.

I wish I could remember her exact response but for me, the parallels were stacking up too much to be ignored. I didn’t dwell on it at the time; I wanted to let the day unfold in its own way.

She was reflective and thoughtful. Add in adventurous and active, and that’s quite the combination.

There were other details, spoken and observed, that showed she was sensitive, feeling things deeply, but not fragile.

She may have had fragile moments (I’m certain she had) but she got through life, with the benefit of a bit of solitude and reflection.

As well as her mum and sister, probably.

And on a journey of her own. The destinations might be unplanned, but I think there was an aim; to refresh, or add some new experiences to reshape her life.    

But it would be wrong of me to drift too much into this kind of analysis because this day was not deep or heavy at all.

It was light and enlivening. Uncommonly easy, undeniably lovely.

And funny. We laughed. She even laughed at my jokes, lame as some were.

We made our way to the hillside below The Acropolis to watch the sunset before the moonrise.

We chatted and made small talk as the sun sunk below the western hills of Athens, The Acropolis above us, the Agora below.

I caught some photos of her that caught her playfulness, her infectious smile, her inner and outer beauty. And one or two more intimate; caught in reflection, in the golden light of sunset. 

We indulged our mutual curiosity, sharing our future travel plans (she was off to Naxos first thing in the morning), and the details of our lives, large and small...

She had a large family scattered throughout the USA, she loved the mountains and liked hiking (a big part of living in Denver) and being physically active. She’d been married, she wasn’t religious but used to, she’d taken her mum to Italy, didn’t know how to pose for photos, despite doing it well - she had more than enough beauty to get her through this world, but she was humble within it.

More details were shared, some remembered but not written, others forgotten.

We straggled off after sunset; she wanted to get back to get some sleep and I didn’t need the moon; everything to this point had been near enough to perfect.

And I didn’t want to miss a minute with her.

There was less talk, and time for a question to take hold; this was something, but what?

A self-contained serendipitous moment or the start of something new?

She was something. Oh, she was something!

This story would be wondrous enough; a recount of every impulse and misadventure that led both her and me to that city, that hostel, that room, at that time in the afternoon - so we could sit in a conversation a lifetime in the making; the commonality of our sixteen year old selves, our adult reflections, gratitude, and efforts to pay forward.

That’s a story in itself.

But the traveller’s tale of two people having a startling and rare connection is its own something too; meet cute, old-town stroll, coffee and shared yoghurt, golden Athens sunset. 

For a while I thought, it wasn’t about the city. Maybe I was wrong.

Either the uncanny collection of similarities or easy, blissful encounter would stand alone. But both? 

That might make it sound fated. But I don’t believe in fate. Should I?

Note: Maybe it was design…those Greeks gods with their wicked sense of humour conspired to put us in that room solely for me to introduce her to Greek coffee and yoghurt with honey and walnuts, only to snatch her away again!

I was clueless about what to do, what to say. She was leaving in the morning. We’d swapped numbers, but what next?

I’ve had great travel experiences, meetings, and even synchronicities but the sum-total of this day was a little disorienting.

I wondered whether I should let chance (fate?) put us together again or introduce intent and try to make something happen? To not let this slip but not push too hard either.

No, it was too much to imagine those Greek gods who put us into that room would do it again. And what if this was earned?

“Just don’t fuck this up, Michael” I thought to myself*. 

I fumbled some sort of ‘that was lovely, maybe think about Georgia after Naxos’ invitation.

If only the smoothness of my invitation matched the grace of her reply.

We had different paths and that was probably the way it would stay.

She loved the meeting and sunset but needed to be solo - for now.

‘For now,’ cushion for a soft landing or sliver of hope? I don’t know, it was just there, hanging over this encounter like the sword of Damocles.

“Goodnight, goodbye…whatever it’s meant to be” she said, laughing at her own fumbled uncertainty of which to use.

It was funny and sweet. She was still just a girl, after all. 

I dozed off only to be woken early morning by her shuffling as she gathered her belongings for Naxos.

I thought about getting up to but for what? Another goodbye? A hug? No, that would be too much and not enough, all at the same time. I closed my eyes and drifted off.

Something new or a closed loop?

Pursue or surrender? Either might be right or wrong.

Chance, design, or something earned?

Or maybe the Gods had an entirely different plan… they knew that if the moment meant enough, I would write it and pay it forward, just like I am. A reminder of something no postcard could hope to match. 

But let’s not overthink it. Let’s just let the story live in its simplest and sweetest form - for now...

I met a girl once. She said she loved mountains.

She slipped into my world in my slumber and slipped out the same way.

In between, something near perfect. 

*I kinda think I did.