The Secret Beach
Ios, Greece
Yesterday we said we would go to the Pig’s Bar and have fat burgers. So that’s what we did. They were big and greasy and hit the right button.
I went to the beach alone. Realizing that there would be no beaches on our itinerary after this, I thought I ought to darken my skin as much as it would allow. I was reading The Beach and it evoked some thoughts. During one of my cooling off swims I just looked at the beach and the people. My bet is that most of the people are on holiday rather than traveling. There was a group of people that didn’t exactly look like they fit in. They occupied a space underneath an umbrella and had a stereo blasting hard rock. It went with their style—long hair and tattoos. The one thing that was missing was their Harley’s. I figured they’d have to settle for underpowered mopeds. And then the rest of the people, holidayers or travelers, what had drawn them here? Who had told them about Ios?
I was imitating swimming like a jelly fish, the best I could thinking about all these things. Then I tried to picture the first person to ever see this island. What did they think? Could they have ever imagined it as now? Spoiled. It really is. I am here, along with the other thousands, but the true beauty is lost. I imagined a snapshot hundreds of years ago. No yachts, no white villas on the hill, no cafés or hostels along the road, no road. No people—except that one who rowed here from some other island and found it for the fist time. Maybe he/she brought their love and they just stayed here living on the things that are now long gone. They lived, loved and died here surrounded by everything, yet nothing. That’s the way I’d like to think of it. Then a few more people found it, told their friends and paradise is spoiled. That’s why The Beach is so sacred and must be kept a secret. But it didn’t, hence the Purple Pig and its competitors.
Posted in introspective, travel - international, travel
