She was lucky enough to grow up in a house by the beach. Each day she’d gaze at the ocean and try to second guess the size of each new wave breaking onto the rocks. Surfers (also lovingly known as wax heads due to their obsession with their sleek boards) would ride their crests.
It was an obsession she could understand because the wild waves were the only unpredictable element in a land so routine and symmetrical.
There was no pressure in this orderly paradise on earth so far removed from friction. The buses would come at exactly the time stipulated on the timetable. Homework-free happy pupils would traipse back and forth to school with just their pencil cases. Nobody was hungry but everybody felt kind of numb, err tranquil. People were generally genuine and easygoing.
And then she read the word. Many words for that matter and they fuelled her excited imagination with restlessness. She could relate to nothing else in her environment but the craziness of the waves flagrantly flinging themselves on the rocks as if to break the pointless monotony of perfection.
No, she could not be a part of the stifling beauty of this land for there were fragments of the Balkans painfully etched within her soul.
Now she drinks her morning coffee on a balcony overlooking the Acropolis. And as she gazes at the teeny Parthenon (just visible over the cement jungle) she ponders the golden years of Pericles and has imaginary conversations with Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, even Homer...The fineness of antiquity makes an exquisite juxtaposition to the graffiti, chaos, corruption and pollution. On the one hand, ideology. On the other, human frailty and ugliness. Strange bedfellows co-existing in disjointed harmony. As in every marriage, one cannot help but distort and affect the other for better or for worse.
Is she happy living here in a place so far removed from paradise? The truth is that she does not have time to be unhappy. And at least people can spell her name right when she orders pizza. They could never quite master that in the land of Smiths and Browns.
And of course, she does have this blog.
PS Sometimes she looks at herself as a third person to try and better understand her choices and view them with objectivity. But nope, it still baffles me why she made the switch. Personally, I'm finding it hard to empathise. Leaving Australia - one of the most beautiful countries of the world - was pretty 'stupid' regardless of whether I look at it in first, second or third person! But then again, she and I were never ones to make logical choices.