On The Record...

Before we left the shop, we had one last task to complete.  On the ceiling above the register is a spiral of names; a record of everyone who has ever stayed and worked at Atlantis Books.  We added our names right behind Deborah and Morgan. 

So now we're official.  And we're leaving.  After seven months abroad, I've booked my flight home.  For quite some time, all I've been able to think about is how much I need to go home, and how much I need to be warm.  I was so excited about coming back to California.  Until I bought my ticket.  Only seconds after pressing the purchase button, I began to have a bit of an anxiety attack.  What had seemed like months now seemed like only a matter of days, I had lists and lists of things that I still wanted to do, places I needed to go, things I was dying to eat.  I wasn't ready to leave, I hadn't been here long enough yet!

And even though the months now seem like days, I did have to admit that really have done quite a lot.  

I had the best oysters in the world, every Sunday at the marché in Bordeaux.

I ate at the best street food in Morocco, rode a camel across the Sahara Desert at dawn, and spent the night on a train.

I fell in love with Madrid, and Barcelona.

I roasted pizza in a three hundred year old wood burning oven.

I thought about home.  A lot.

I met up with this boy I really like, and went back to my favorite place in the world.

We went to Spain, and ate ourselves silly.

Through a series of serendipitous occurrences and good friends, we went to places we never thought we'd go and finally, found ourselves here.

I went to places I loved, and to places I hated.

And now, I'm going home.

I'm so glad that I have kept this blog as a record of those experiences.  It began as a way of keeping in touch with my family but now, it's really it's more of a time capsule for me.  Even though I'm a bit worried about going home, this will be a means of remembering this trip and inspiring future travels. And hopefully, those travels aren't too far away!

Sunrise...

Oia is know for its sunsets. But I find sunrise decidedly more captivating.

On our last morning at the bookstore, we woke up early to watch the sunrise from the roof terrace.  The air at dawn is so fresh and everything looks clean and alive.  I think that waking up with the sun really adds an energy to your day, and this sunrise kept me glowing for hours.

Santorini At Night...

The only downside of going to dinner at Petros the fisherman's house is climbing the two hundred and fourty steps back up from the Bay of Amoudi to the bookstore.  Especially after a Greek sized meal and several reikis under your belt. 

Luckily, the view from below Oia at night is amazing.  I stop about fifty thousand times on the way up the hill, under the auspices of taking in the scenery, to catch my breath.  The view is difficult to capture in a photo but just imagine a faerie village with twinkle lights and bright stars.  This place is enchanted.

I Hate Cats...

I'm not going to mince words here:  I absolutely despise felines.  Currently, however, I am residing with two of the worst behaved cats on the planet.  

Sylvie and Max are the two bookstore cats.  I'm not exactly sure which is which, so I just call them both monsters.  These two devils think it's fun to knock over dishes, chew on my fingers, push books off the shelves, waltz their dirty feet across clean book covers, jump into the middle of a chess game, among all sorts of other imaginable and unimaginable havoc.  And then! they think it's alright curl up on my lap and sleep in my bed!  What gall!

And yet, no matter how much I hate these two heathen monsters and their furry brethren, they are admittedly rather cute.  I still find myself reaching out to scratch their heads when I walk by.  Which is never a very good idea, and always results in a flurry of claws and teeth and sometimes blood...

I'd really like to skip their dinner and lock them out at night, but Ryan, who will always be a better person than I, is adamant that they stay.  Oh, how I wish they were dogs.  I am a dog person through and through- the unconditional love, endless trust, and the healthy appetites-  these are the sorts of characteristics I can really bond with in a pet and I find I have totally new found appreciation for bookshop dogs.

And, oh HEY!  Look-y there!  Evidence that I was actually on this trip!  It's not a terribly flattering picture, to be sure, but, as I'm always taking the pictures, this is really the only picture there is of me in front of the camera...

A Romantic Evening...

There is a teeny-tiny kitchen at the back of Atlantis Books and, after months of eating out, all I wanted was some home cooking.  Lucky me, I have a duel traveling companion/budding chef who is all too happy to whip up stuffed peppers and Greek omletes at my beck and call.  Trouble is, we quickly learned, when you plug in the oven here, the lights go out, so we spent our first evening in the dark with candles to light our plates.  I tried my best to imagine it being romantic, but I have to confess I was mostly just terrified the shop would catch on fire. 

I am happy to report it did not.

Atlantis Books...

I'll never forgive myself for not taking pictures either time I stayed at Shakespeare & Company, and I was adamant about not making the same mistake at Atlantis Books.

The shop is everything I expected; cozy, magical, and stuffed to the brim...it's a bibliophile's play land.

Like Shakespeare & Co., beds are hidden around the shop, doubling as reading benches, or tucked behind curtains, and like the other houses on the island, it's built like a cave with round sloping ceilings and has a secret passageway that leads out onto the terrace overlooking the caldera and out onto the Mediterranean Ocean.  

We were welcomed by another couple from London, Deborah and Morgan who had been minding the shop the week before we arrived.  They showed us the ropes of running the bookstore in winter.  Because we're here "off season",  we'll be lucky to see any visitors.  But we have other tasks: making bundles, checking the post office, feeding the cats, and maintaining the air of charm should an unexpected visitor stop by.  Deborah and Morgan spent three days with us; just long enough to get us hooked on chess, co-cook great meals, and introduce us to the neighbors.

I couldn't be happier here.

Traveling from place to place, even at the relaxed pace we were going, had been really exhausting.  In Madrid, we'd met backpackers who'd visited 18 cities in one month.  This sort of tourism just doesn't appeal to me.  Settling down in a place, getting to know the neighbors, shop keepers, and village dogs is much more my style.  And I think, watching after Atlantis books for several weeks will be the perfect opportunity to do just that.

Breakfast at Shakespeare And Company...

At home, my family eats waffles every Sunday morning.  In Paris there are traditions like this too.  Sunday mornings au bord de la Seine are for pancake making chez George.

George passed away three weeks before I came to stay, and even though he's not here to stir the batter, shout down at people out the window, or give unpredictable advice to his resident tumbleweeds, he lives on through (more edible) pancake breakfasts, stories reminisced, and maybe even as the bookstore ghost.

Thank you George, it's lovely to be back.