Fantasy Basel

My first Comic Con ever. My 14-year-old self would have lost her mind. She would also have spent ten times more money. Thank God I waited fifteen years to set foot on one of these. As soon as I did, though, looking around the self-consciousness of wearing Pikachu ears next to my Ash Ketchum cap wearing friend faded away instantly. Jeez. People REALLY do get into these things.

First and foremost, loved the instant perk of finding out what that imposing convention center of Basel actually looks like from the inside (largest one in Switzerland!). And I was surprised to be greeted by Doctors Without Borders right on the spot (“Hey, we both are doctors too!” Instant connection), as well as the Swiss Army (unthinkable in Germany).
But just 50 meters away or so… the first glimpse of actual artwork. And what a glimpse that was! I guess I did freak out a little after all, but I'd never seen graffiti artists of such caliber perform life, on half-finished murals that already looked pretty fantastic to begin with.

It didn't end there. Lots of highly skilled digital artist were awaiting us just one floor above. They were taking commissions on the spot, drawing people manga-stile, or just casually selling their artwork as prints, stickers, mugs… and even rugs. Talking to some of these people constituted another big highlight of this whole experience – a tattoo artist from Sweden, a Greek guy whose artwork brough all kinds of beautiful memories of this summer in Greece, two Swiss girls selling cute and hilarious designs as postcards and bookmarks who I heard the term Twint from for the first time in my life. I better get used to it!

I felt a sense of familiarity at the sight of some of these professionals using their iPads and Procreate just the was I do. But I also felt alien and awkward about so many other elements –fantastic weapon shop, high-speed internet gaming center, humongous Star Wars set replica… the gum sword fights and cosplay contest at the end made the prospect of stepping outside again just a little more appealing to us.

After 4-5 hours we left the convention full of bizarre, funny and confusing memories. We were greeted by the perfect afternoon to take a stroll through beautiful Basel and watch the sunset by the Rhine River. I think I've had enough for a looooong time but I know how these things actually go in my head. Next year I'll probably be back.

Ios

I just finished a refreshing, recharging session of star gazing at Milopotas Beach, on the west coast of Ios island. After everyone else had left for the bars in town, I grabbed a hoodie and my airpods and headed to the beach. I laid down on the now completely deserted sand and listened to Craig David’s full “The Story Goes...” album, singing out loud while processing, reminiscing and daydreaming (does that term apply when done at midnight?). 

Millions of flickering stars filled a whole spectrum of intensity —Not one single cloud in the sky, which has been a consistent norm for the past weeks. 

I remember how my mom used to say you shouldn’t start counting the stars, otherwise you’d get an ugly wart on your face unless you finished, which was impossible. 

I thought about our unbeatable night sky back home on mount Teide, with zero light pollution, and how I’ve always wanted to share that one star-gazing experience with the one person that settles in my heart and earns it for good.

I also took delight in my ignorance regarding astronomy and constellations, when even I could tell it was extremely possible that I was facing some pretty obvious ones at that very moment. 

That led me to reflect on how thousands of years ago people relied on the night sky for orientation at sea, at the very Aegean Sea whose crashing waves where playing in the background enhancing Craig David’s already beautifully enthralling vocals. 

I was filled with a sense of gratitude and wonder regarding life, which is easy to appreciate under a clear, warm starry night on a heavenly Greek island, but not so much during an often stressful and demanding daily routine. 

Life is what you make it —What you choose to see, to feel and to own. And I think some of the people I’ve met, the things I’ve seen and learned and the things I’ve felt are in a way God’s way of reminding me of that and keeping my mind and my heart joyful, hopeful, transparent and alive. 

PS.: I caught TWO shooting stars.

Mykonos

This new experience of waking up early to a party island has been rewarding so far. First row breakfast seat just a couple of meters away from the bright, clear Mediterranean shore, as the temperature rises slowly introducing another beautiful, hot day while everybody else is still asleep. This place is called Paradise Beach for a reason.

We headed into town on a (suprisingly) very punctual, very dusty local bus. This constituted the only 20 minutes of my day with a mask covered face. Being here is like stepping into another dimension where Covid-19 is just distant dream or at least a watered down version of pandemic reality.

We quickly realized that wandering around through the charmingly narrow alleys of Mykonos town during midday is very much different than doing so in the evening. Only the omnipresent slim and multicolored island cats seem indifferent to human crowds regardless of the time of day. 

We admired the neatness and harmonious homogeneity of white walls, blue door and window frames and soft, curvy edges of the local architecture, the bright contrast offered by lush bright flowers and colorful, locally owned and run shops. It took us ages to pick our gelato flavors at a small ice cream place, which reminded me of how much I love those moments in life where these are the toughest decisions I have to make.
The windmills were as picturesque as one sunset ago, only much less crowded. And so were the bay and the ocean promenade.

A traditional gyros and a new Greek Pandora charm were both crossed off my list. And so was getting D’s new dress fixed by the very stubborn middle-aged Greek lady who’d sold it to her the day before.

“Can you get this for me , please? Ah, young eyes can see everything!” She said with a sweet, thick Greek accent, while asking me to fit her thread through the needle. She then proceeded to tell us stories about her youth in Miami, past lovers and heartbreak. I ended up buying the same dress myself, which lead to a fun “twinning” dinner and party session that evening (I’m learning new words every day, just not Greek ones).

We got lost in the intricate maze of alleys on our way back to the bus. D efficiently asked our way back —you gotta love a fellow asker like that.

“Excuse me, sir. How to we get to Plaka bus station?”
”Uhm, D, I think Plaka was back in Athens, you mean Fabrica square”.
“First one right, two more left. And then ask again”.

Walking off chuckling on the confusion his loud voice and thick accent reached us from behind “Don’t say anything else, otherwise they’ll send you to Hell!”. Big eyes, laughter. How ironic considering the name of our destination beach.

After getting back I couldn’t resist the strong pull of the inviting Cycladic waters. Comforting shower, brand new dark red dress on my newly tan skin. Traditional Greek dinner with everyone including incidental plate smashing followed by an OPAAA! roar and millions of bright stars on a cloudless night sky giving me permission to act just a little bit crazy while dancing yet another perfect, hot Greek summer night away.