This last week has felt like a week of endings. of joyous journeys coming to a natural end. The past few weeks have been packed with adventures, jaunts and catching up – not just with my breath, but people, places, things. Books; Netflix series, after series; and my patience with accessibility on my laptop – have all come to their own sweet ends. Just like the endless days which now shorten to a time of encroaching darkness; greyer skies and lower temperatures – summer is on its way out and with it a new era is about to begin.

As Carrie said goodbye to her apartment, I felt envy, and somewhat empathy, for her new chapter when facing my own new one (well I did until Aiden put the five year order on her – I mean? What has happened to these icons?). My last supper was not served up by a Michelin chef, nor do I have a two storey New York apartment waiting in the wings. But, like Carrie, I feel like I am saying goodbye to something important. Something that has helped shape my journey as a person. The past months have been an eternity of golden hours; a quest for the perfect Bloody Mary (success at last) and endless long walks framed by blue skies and verdant landscapes – all spent with the best of people I know. However, with autumn around the corner, I feel some frustration at not achieving everything I set out to, and feelings of apprehension about the future.

RP does that to you…

Summer is my favourite time. For many reasons I wholeheartedly love it. Longer days give me time to breathe: enjoying a larger and brighter world. Higher temperatures mean I don’t need to wrap myself up in a million layers. School holidays mean vacation time – I get to explore and soak up sunshine and culture on some glorious island: basically, I get to live a more independent life. I get to live! my life becomes easier and I get to tick more things off my sight-loss bucket list. It leaves me lighter and with a feeling of resilience, of being able to do anything.

And…as much as I go on about me (I know, I am A Lot), there is something far more important that happens than my own private tick list of ridiculousness and frivolity – my family. Summer brings my family together. The Big E – my Dubai daughter and her family visit during the school holidays and this is a very looked forward to event. It is a time of high days and holidays. Where nobody really cares about anything other than having fun and being happy together.

But, as the tide of a new school year draws closer, all the things I had looked forward to, embraced and loved all summer, I have had to say goodbye to. Goodbye to various crappy series I’ve been addicted to streaming (why do we miss such shite worlds?). Goodbye to a plethora of worlds I’ve enjoyed via my vicarious reading habit (again, why do I feel I know these people?). Goodbye to my Greek odyssey (I will be back). And mostly goodbye to my family who are just starting their new school year 3500 miles away.

Bank Holiday Monday brought a heavy heart. Moth helped with a nice lunch and Barbie film. However, I still couldn’t help feeling cheated – that everything was ending too soon.

So, I did some soul searching. I made statements of gratitude. I listed all the reasons I felt, and continue to feel, grateful.

And I realised that I am spoilt. What right do I have to be sad? I thought. I am lucky, I am blessed, I am grateful…
So, with a renewed vigour I am taking the world on. In yoga we are told to rid ourselves of something that no longer serves us. Therefore, I have begun to physically cleanse – starting with my bedroom. I am facing what is around the corner (darker days, colder nights and a new academic year). I am reorganising my wardrobe (it is meant to be colour coded but we all know anything could have happened), I am sorting my drawers (again, I thought the white top I have been wearing for five years was pink). I made a list of anything I might need (more shopping and I am meant to be saving). And although this is just ‘sorting’ I felt it was a good step to being positive. By tackling the things I no longer need; throwing out rubbish and being strict with myself, I have achieved more productive and ready to face the journey ahead.

Once upon a time I would have allowed the darkness to descend. I would have allowed myself to crawl away and hide in its depths. The Fear would have been too deep and penetrable. I would have cowered and allowed myself to fall into an abyss. but, that was then and this is now. By facing up to things I have learnt to grow and not be afraid of the shadows. That old cliche ‘It is better to have loved than to never have loved at all’ springs to mind. As does the one about making ‘each day a new horizon’. And as sentimental as I am, my renewed strength and determination means I am starting a new tick list. I am going to embrace the honey days of autumn. I am going to warm myself in front of my fire. I am going to continue to grow.

It is not goodbye, just the turning of a page to a new chapter. Let’s hope it is even more exciting than the last…

3

It took Odysseus twenty years to get back to Ithaca.  Ten years fighting the Trojan  War and an epic ten trying to get back to his Penelope.  In that time he experienced the wrath of the gods, fatal storms and had to tie himself to his ship’s mast to resist the temptation of the Sirens.  

In contrast, although it’s taken me probably as many years to get there, my actual passage took an hour and a half.  And instead of being destroyed by Poseidon, I was slain by my own nemesis of gluten. 

Travelling is my passion.  I have had an intense drive to see as much of the world as possible before I lose the ability to see.  Travelling can be tricky with sight loss.  It can be daunting, overwhelming and at times confusing, when most foreign airports lack accessibility – although, not compassion.  However, the cherry on my cake is that that travelling with sight loss and a food allergy, it can be frustrating.  And this is because being me can be ‘a lot’ for some people, causing some to make snap judgements which lack understanding.  

Don’t get me wrong, most people are helpful.  Moreover, they think they are correct when they say you can eat something safely.  But, and this is not exclusive of being abroad, people don’t always understand what being a coeliac entails.  No wheat, no barley, no gluten.  This means that not only can us coeliacs not have flour products, we can’t have some pickles; beers and lagers, vodkas; grains; and even soy sauce!  This affliction and my sight issues can make me feel a right pain in everyone’s ass.  I think I appear high maintenance and miserable – like a snooty princess.  I can feel their judgement; I can sense the eye roll.  If only they knew, if only they knew…

I could kill a ham and tomato baguette and a cold beer…I’d love to find the toilet by myself, get a drink from the bar, and do bigger stuff like drive a car around the hairpin bends in the Kefalonian mountains…

But, I digress.  Back to Ithaca.  The morning we set sail, I was thirty six hours into a gluten issue.  My ‘poisoning’ – as Moth calls it – was intense and had particularly spoilt a jaunt up the coast to Sami and Fiskardo.  The homes of Captain Corelli and Tom Hanks, respectively.  Although I showed willing with my gung ho attitude of literally diving right into Mini Myrtos Bay, attempting a glorious fish lunch in a stunning Venetian harbour, and managing to sip a spritzer, I had been as sick as a dog.  So sick, that I couldn’t talk and cried myself to sleep as I wanted to go home to my own bed.  

Sometimes, I am such a baby.  

In fact, to unravel my gluten shite time further, the hotel breakfast I paid for ONLY contained gluten products.  Something, I’d previously raised with the owners via email before we arrived ‘I’m sorry, bring your own’ they said.  Instead, because I didn’t want to jam my GF bread into a toaster full of bread crumbs, I opted to pay MORE for omelettes instead.  

Do I appear cross?  I was more disappointed.  But I’m not here to moan, as kindness and compassion always finds a way and for this I am grateful…

Back to Ithaca.  After sailing the azure waters of the Ithaca Strait and winding our way around the mighty and rocky coastline, I felt like Amphitrite, waiting to be retrieved by a dolphin and loved by the powerful Poseidon.  Entranced by the translucent depths; expansive blue sky; vertiginous cliffs and the sense of Pegasus just being over the horizon, I felted more sated.  I was feeling less sick but as weak as a baby mountain goat – ready to explore but in need of sustenance.  We had just reached Gidaki Beach and the crew brought out some snacks.  I was expecting Lays in a dish.  Instead, mozzarella and tomato crostini’s were thrust our way.  They looked delicious and as I’d not touched anything since the fish lunch twenty hours previously, I was enticed by the plump tomatoes and creamy cheese. 

Dejected, I shook my head.  I had a bag of ready salted Lays to hand.  They’d have to do.  

The crew said ‘no gluten?’

I wanted to cry (again, big baby and I was feeling sorry for myself).

He disappeared into his tiny cabin and popped up again moments later with a box of GF toasts.

Elated (it’s surprising how wonderful it is when you are offered a GF solution unexpectedly) I could have kissed him.  So much for ‘you can’t get GF products on the island…

He made me GF crostini and my heart, and stomach, for the first time in hours, full.  

His kindness made my day.  He went into make me a GF lunch (in his tiny cabin) and made no fuss, eye roll, or made me feel ‘extra’ in any way.  And although I was not firing on all cylinders still, he made sailing around the stunningly mythical island more comfortable and enjoyable than I’d anticipated the night before.  

Kefalonia and Ithaca were all I dreamt of and more.  My gratefulness and gratitude for this trip are as abundant as the fish which fill the Ionian waters.  You might be reading this thinking ‘over privileged woman moaning about her awful food  experience in Greece’.  You might think there are bigger issues in the world.  You’d be right, and so evident when you look around the islands: the constant threat of fires – planes circling daily looking for signs; the intense heat even the Greeks are struggling with; the cost of living on the islands – it isn’t exclusive to the UK either; and as for living on an island where there’s a daily earthquake – with visual reminders of the earthquake which destroyed all but Fiskardo in 53.  So yes, I’m utterly fine.  More than fine! I’ve had the most amazing time exploring more of the Ionian and feel extremely lucky to have done so.  The food was the best I’ve ever had (even with poisoning) it was fresh, modern and exciting.  I’d put it on par with a trip to Venice many years ago.  We met some lovely, interesting and kind people, some of who regaled us with crazy stories about the islands intertwined with Greek mythology – it is there around every rock and in every cave.  I swam , laughed and gorged myself on cultural relics and stories.  My Greek odyssey was epic.  It was glorious and sublime.  My problems really are inconsequential really.  

That said, as much as I prefer to shove away my issues and focus on the beauty of the world, I’ve realised that this is not always healthy for any of us.  Like I previously mentioned, going away for somebody like me is tough.  Mapping somewhere new and finding your way around is a real challenge!  People don’t know you, so asking for help, advice and support is hard – it does not come naturally to most people.  After all, we like our independence – something which we find more precious post-covid.  But, it is worth pointing out that we all, at some time or another, require understanding and compassion, without you even realising it.  One person’s thoughtfulness can make another’s day.  I have many thanks to give…

Food for thought 

My sun scorched odyssey is over for this year.  A wild time of more magic than anything else.  When I travel anywhere I try and take away something from my experience.  This time I take away the joy, strength and kindness of the Kefalonians.