I wonder what it must feel like to have such powerful femininity as that? To have such strength and belief in one’s own sexuality. Not purely for the purposes of commanding men as was the example from Guillem earlier, rather to be able to stand confidently in the centre of one’s own power. To know who you really are and to be totally comfortable and confident with that. That was what Guillem portrayed earlier in her performance. As she stood in her power, almost saying to the world, “Here I am, this is me, take it or leave it, but I’m a strong powerful confident and sexual women and I don’t care who or what you are, you can choose to enjoy my dancing or not - it will not change me because I know who I am.” It was truly inspiring.
I sense I have such a power lying dormant within me, a deep pool of still water surrounded by an eternal burning fire of desire, but I’ve not yet found the path to discover it for myself. So far, all of the men in my life who expressed any attraction to me, have ended up simply using me and therefore I’m becoming more and more detached from myself, from who I think I am inside. So much so that I fear I don’t know who I really am anymore, or where I belong. How can I be truthful with others, when I don’t know my own truth? Is this something I need to discover on my own or do I need another soul’s help to liberate me?
What I do know is that until I find the way to my own emancipation, I will always be living my life by someone else’s rules, to meet someone else’s expectations and I know that this will continue to affect me in every area of life, not just in my intimate relationships. But how do I change this? I’m at a complete loss.
It’s clear to me, now at least, that Jeremy simply doesn’t move me, he hasn’t found the way to unlock that pool of fire. He’s just another man, who as nice as he is, I’m allowing myself to be used by, to be swept along to fulfil his own needs, placated by flattery and pleasantries, and because I don’t know how to, I’m unable to guide him as to my own emotional and physical needs.
As Jeremy reaches his climax, he holds me close and leans forward to kiss the end of my nose, before looking deep into my eyes. He takes a deep breath in and says what I’ve been dreading hearing all day.
“I love you, Victoria.”
I close my eyes, in response to those most deeply profound words, giving him the false impression of my delight at hearing his devotion and commitment to me, when in fact by breaking eye contact I’m trying to detach myself from the moment.
“Me too,” I hear myself saying in return, still with my eyes closed.
And with that, I’ve just fallen down the drain, my leaf having been swept along by the rainwater in the gulley. I’ve reached the point of no return and I can’t see a way out of this situation. Not without someone getting deeply hurt.
Chapter 9
Chris
It’s been two weeks since the barbecue in Wootton Bassett and right now, I’m currently sitting on the open terrace of the Venetsanos winery overlooking the magnificent caldera of Santorini in The Greek Islands. I savour the breath-taking views as I take another sip of wine from my glass, the sixth wine we’ve tasted this afternoon. The sun is starting to drop in the sky, the heat of the day giving way to the still warm but cooler early evening air. The sky is full of red shadows cutting across the horizon, the colour matching the deep red elixir in my glass. The sheer cliffs of the side of the volcanic crater that originally formed this island, as well as its sister island, Therasia, visible over to the west, as well as the Kameni Islands at the centre of the caldera, fall sharply away. Plunging down to the bright blue Aegean Sea below where a couple of cruise ships are sailing gracefully away from the port, leaving v-shaped ripples in their wake. Taking with them hundreds of cruise passengers who’ve also sampled the pleasures of Santorini, if only for one short day.
I arrived earlier and gate-crashed an already organised wine-tasting tour. It’s a very laid-back atmosphere in our intimate group of seven, made up of a couple from the UK, two Americans, two Aussies and myself and we chat easily amongst ourselves, helped along by the friendly demeanour of our host, Joanna. In front of us is a platter of cheese and Greek tapas, which complement the flavours of the various grapes perfectly and is only mildly slowing the effects of the alcohol on our spirits.
Before coming out onto the terrace, Joanna had shown us around the cool wine cellars, built into the cliffside where the grapes are fermented and the wine is bottled. Now she is enthusiastically introducing each new variety with a detailed account of the grape, the local topography, the benefits of the volcanic soil and the perfect climate in which to grow wine. Coming from one of the best wine producing countries in the world myself, I listen with some scepticism but cannot deny the quality of the wines I’m tasting.
After the barbecue I’d packed my bags, headed up to London to crash with Michelle, then a couple of days after that I took a cheap charter flight from Gatwick to Athens which Mellie had booked for me. I soon realised that with over 200 inhabited Greek islands to choose from, as much as I would have liked to visit every single one, I decided to focus my travel plans on the Cyclades group of islands located to the southeast of the mainland and which includes two of the most famous of all the Greek Islands - Mykonos and Santorini - which I arrived on yesterday.
I spent only one afternoon and evening in Athens, before jumping on a ferry to Mykonos the next morning. So I haven’t yet seen the Acropolis or the Parthenon back on the mainland but plan to make time before my final flight back to the UK a few days from now. Instead I jumped into a taxi from the airport, checked into my accommodation and headed straight to the nearest bar.
I really needed and enjoyed that first beer. I’d felt like a coiled spring ever since the barbecue and the subsequent interrogation from Michelle when I stayed with her for a couple of nights in London.
“I watched you all weekend, Christopher. Don’t deny it, I can tell you really like Victoria.” Nothing gets past Michelle. “I’m just curious as to how much. Are you just being a hot-blooded male and lusting after her, or do you really really like her?”
“Nah, not in way you think, sis.” I attempted to throw her off the scent. The last thing I need is her telling Mellie and then Mellie sharing that information with Vicky. “She’s obviously an attractive girl, but what would be the point of getting involved with someone while I’m here. I head home after the summer so how would that work if things got serious? It would only lead to heartache and trouble.”
“Humm…” Michelle had taken a drink from the glass of wine she was holding “...perhaps.” I sense there is more she wanted to say but instead she chose to hold the rest of her thoughts in.
Michelle, being older, has obviously had more relationship experience than I have. She had one long-term relationship in her mid-twenties which ended a couple of years ago and is currently with a guy by the name of David, and despite the fact she’s obviously from New Zealand and may want to move back there eventually and he’s British, they appear to be serious and in it for the long-haul. So either my last comment has made her reflect about the future challenges in her own relationship, or she doesn’t believe that dating someone from the opposite side of the world is a problem. I’m not sure which. She’s definitely a big believer that love conquers all and that you should take risks in life. Like most of my family, we’re all pioneers. Distance and complications have never seemed to be barriers for any of us going after what we want.
So the bitterness of that first beer on my tongue after arriving in Athens tasted sweeter than any I’ve had since I left New Zealand. I needed some solace from my own thoughts and I welcomed the opportunity to simply sit and watch the world go by for an evening.
I really enjoy people watching. It’s one of my favourite pastimes. I suppose being someone who loves to travel and experience different places, people and cultures from all around the world, it comes with the territory. Rather than show up the differences between myself and the people I’m with (such as a differing language, or type of dress or custom), when you sit back and o
bserve ordinary folk going about their ordinary lives, you realise how similar everyone’s lives are and how connected we all are as a human race.
Ultimately, most people do an honest day's work for an honest day’s pay, look after their families and spend some of their hard-earned cash on other pleasures or passions. Be that sport, entertainment, or spending more time with friends or family. I might be travelling alone, but I never feel alone. I’m as comfortable in my own company as I am in the company of strangers.
Still, that first beer in Athens gave me the opportunity to disconnect from the multitude of thoughts that had persisted in whirring through my brain following that last weekend in Wootton Bassett, and instead, soak up the atmosphere and observe the people around me. I needed the distraction to regain my balance, and almost two weeks later I feel as if I’m just beginning to regain my centre.
For days Michelle’s question had been ringing in my ears. “Are you just lusting after her, or do you really like her?” and since putting some distance between us, I’m now no longer besotted with Vicky like I was when I left. There’s no doubt she’s a lovely girl and obviously very fanciable, but I realise now I was in danger of becoming obsessed by her. I realise now the intensity of my feelings were completely irrational and ridiculous in the short time I’d spent with her. These last few days I’ve decided that when I go back to the UK, I will continue with the original plans I had for the rest of the summer. Focus on spending time with the rellies I’ve yet to catch up with, visit the places I want to see and enjoy the things I want to experience.
For all this has been a relaxing holiday, it’s also been jam-packed as I’ve attempted to fit as many islands and sights into the minimum amount of time available. I spent that first evening bar hopping around Kolonaki Square engaging in small talk with the bar staff and the other backpackers that were out drinking and having a good time. It was impossible to sleep in the heat of the city, not really surprising for the middle of the summer in Athens. The next morning my bedsheets soaked in sweat, I decided to head straight out to the islands, jumping on the first ferry to Mykonos, in the hope that the islands would benefit from a cooling Mediterranean breeze.
I managed to get laid on my first night in Mykonos. It wasn’t difficult. I’ve heard about the ‘Brits abroad’ reputation but this is the first time I’d experienced it first-hand, and it was hilarious. I’d joined in with the party throng down at Paradise beach, throwing back shots of Tequila along with the hordes of other young British tourists. Gaggles of girls and gangs of boys all on holiday in big groups together. Some celebrating a specific event or birthday. All wearing the obligatory matching t-shirts printed with rude slogans on the back, or beauty queen style sashes ensuring their collective group identity, and all with the intention of attracting as much attention as possible from the opposite sex.
I only had to open my mouth and my Kiwi accent immediately made me appear exotic and seemingly highly attractive to the throngs of semi-naked British females. So before the evening ended, I found myself down on the beach making out with one of the party goers. A pretty girl with long dark hair, big breasts and loose morals, she seemed nice enough although I don’t remember her name. Neither of us were particularly bothered with minor details such as that, she knew what I wanted and I her, so we mutually scratched each other’s immediate itch, so to speak.
The next day I spent wandering around Mykonos town, checking out the ancient churches and the delights of Little Venice. After another cocktail fuelled evening, and milling among the throngs of partygoers once again, I hopped onto a ferry the next day for an excursion to Delos, an uninhabited island packed full of archaeological sites and ancient Greek ruins.
Just like the moment I turned down the corner onto the high street in Wootton Bassett and spotted the town hall and came face to face with real-life physical history, when I stood amongst the crumbling dusty ancient stones on the island, my mind struggled to comprehend the age of these uncovered temples. It’s almost impossible to understand that these ruins, worn away over thousands of years, document the creation of today’s modern civilization.
After returning to Mykonos, I hopped next to Paros which is a much quieter island and spent the next two days sunbathing and chilling out. In one sense it is a shame that such a beautiful island as Mykonos, with its traditional white-washed buildings with blue tiled roofs and long yellow sandy beaches is awash with young and very drunk British tourists that have no appreciation for the natural beauty of the area, but then on the other hand these types of holidaymakers appear to be very localised to specific towns that have sprung up to service them. You don’t have to go very far to get off the beaten track and discover the real authenticity of the place. It’s the exact same in Bangkok, or parts of Thailand or even Bali which are just shag- fests disguised as package holidays.
After my hedonistic sexually fuelled days on Mykonos I wanted my next stop to be authentically Greek. So, off the beaten track at Paros, I headed up to the north coast’s Kolimbithres beach. Small sandy coves join together like lines of private swimming pools, broken up by hard granite rocks. The clear water a welcome relief from the hot Greek sun that beats down relentlessly from cloudless skies. I had fun hiring a jet-ski to explore more of the coastline and only left the beach to gorge on the wonderful freshly caught seafood that is the staple diet on all of the islands.
Naxos became my third island hop. Exploring the island by car, it was nice to get up into the mountains and breathe in the cooler mountain air after just over a week of hot sticky beach living. On my jaunt around the largest of the Cyclades island, I discovered some stunning vistas. Steep barren mountains carved up by layers upon layers of terraces. Most impressive was the view from Mount Zeus in the middle of the interior, the highest peak in the Cyclades. I drove through surprisingly fertile valleys where an abundance of olives, grapes, figs and citrus fruits hung heavily in clumps from short stumpy trees. Enchanting mountain villages such as Halki and Apiranthos, with their hidden local tavernas, revealed themselves once I’d escaped from the tourist trail.
I arrived on Santorini from Naxos yesterday. I have two more nights planned here before a final hop to Milos for two nights, leaving me a couple of days to finish my explorations of Athens, before my return flight back to London. I’ll arrive back at Michelle’s in Richmond on Friday afternoon just before her party on Saturday, keeping everyone happy.
The wine continues to flow easily as I’m seated next to the British couple, Mike and Fiona. Their thicker pronunciation of vowels jars with my own ears as I learn they live just outside Manchester, or as they pronounce it “Man-ches-tar”. The conversation moves easily between the three of us as it turns out Mike, a sales manager for a logistics company also shares a passion for fast cars and dabbles in some second-hand car trading, and Fiona is a long-haul air hostess so also very well-travelled.
“What advice would you give someone like me, Mike, if I was to consider dipping my toe into the UK second-hand car market?”
“Loads,” Mike replies. “Certain brands such as Beamers, Porsches and Mercs always hold their value better than the French and Italian cars, so I would aim for the top end of the market if you can. Always aim to buy from the owners direct, rather than any backstreet dealers who will have already added their margin.”
“Yeah. I kinda figured that. I suppose it’s knowing where to go to find the best deals at the beginning of the purchasing chain.”
“You need to get your hands on an Autotrader as soon as it comes out on at the crack of dawn on a Thursday. And I would consider investing in a mobile phone or at least a fax machine. Then you have to be prepared to chase down the best deals over the next two days. How far you travel around the UK, you’ll need to decide. But all the best deals will be gone by the weekend,” he tells me. “The biggest challenge for me personally, because I also hold down a full-time job, is having the time to get into the market that early each week. By the time I’m able to properly research what is avail
able, most of the best cars have already been snapped up,” he continues. “Otherwise head to the auctions on a Monday morning, when the high street dealers have cleared their second-hand or traded-in stock from the weekend. Most people still buy new cars from the main dealerships on a Saturday, and unless their traded-in vehicle has a list price of more than at least £2,000 to £3,000, rather than sell them from their own forecourts, most dealerships just move the lower value trade-ins straight out the back door and into the auctions on the Monday.”
It’s unbelievably valuable information and I tell him so. “Mike, I can’t thank you enough for all of this advice. If I do decide to dabble in a few deals while I’m over here, you’ve probably saved me thousands in lost time trying to get to grips with the ropes and thousands in overpaying for poor stock.”
“You’re very welcome. It can also be useful to build a relationship with some of the high street dealerships in your area, who might sell you their traded-in stock even before it gets to auction. They like people like you that will just pay cash and help them ease the blockages in their system, but it takes time to build those relationships - plus you’ll have competition in that space.”
We clink our glasses together before savouring another sip of yet another wine Joanna has brought us. I genuinely like Fiona and Mike. They’re really good craic and easy company. I like people who can be both self-deprecating and engage in friendly put-downs without taking offence.
Belonging: Two hearts, two continents, one all-consuming passion. (Victoria in Love Book 1) Page 12