An hour before the performance, we heard it bursting up from the hill, softening the landscape. The melodic sounds of the I Maestri Symphony Orchestra's practice gave background to the sunset's poetry.
We happened to be having dinner at a little place in Hora, overlooking the entire island. The Cave of the Apocalypse where the concert would be was visible below us, and the sunset over the sea and unending chain of islands beyond that.
The magic of orchestra and classical music, I believe, can only be fully grasped when it's live in front of you. No recording can ever deliver the same experience. This is music designed to be performed.
After we finished what Emily proclaims to be the world's best pizza, we zipped down the hill to the world's most ominously named amphitheater for a tremendous concert.
Something in the mix of the emotional selections, the warmth of stone and wood amphitheater with a view, the soft lights and the breezy evening created this calm, warming effect as the music overtook the island. People held their children, and each other close. It was hard to imagine anything wrong in the world. Time warped and the already relaxed and sleepy island drifted off in a sea of warmth and elegance.
Few things are as civilized as live, orchestra music. Few things speak to people so strongly without words. And all of Patmos was quiet and mesmerized.
Among other selections, the British orchestra performed "Enigma Variations" by Edward Elgar.
For Emily and I, time has warped and become an enigma. Over dinner we talked about hotel arrangements we need for Samos, my trip to France and then for both of again in Istanbul. We discussed dogs and birthdays and people we love only to realize, we've been gone less than two months. It feels as if it's been so long.
At the same time, the days fly. We arrive someplace and before we know it, it's time to leave. So why does Israel where we were last week seem so long ago? Turkey is already a distant memory where we say, "Remember that guest house man in Antalya?" as if we're reminiscing 20 years later.
Perhaps it's the changes in environment. Patmos is so different from Israel which was so different from Crete and Rhodes which were so different from Turkey. Each jump spans culture and setting so much that the last seems so different, and therefore, so distant. Although only a 50 minute ferry ride from Marmaris, Turkey, Rhodes is an entirely different world. It boggles the mind and humbles you to the powers of culture and nationality.
Despite that, it's hard to believe our wedding was just over two months ago and that we haven't really been gone that long. So much has happened since then. Our people too seem missing. The other day I thought, "It's been so long since I've written Ziv! I hope he doesn't think I left Israel and have forgotten him!" Then I realized it had only been a week since we saw him and I had emailed him a few days before and was actually awaiting his response.
And the people at home – the ones who are a part of our lives and our hearts live with us daily, but it also seems long ago since we've seen them. Sitting on a hill overlooking the islands of the Dodecanese, there are moments where you feel the space and time of distance. There are moments when you wish it was your dog riding around on that red motor scooter like he owned it instead of someone else's.
Of course, I prefer to combat the enigma of time by conspiring with people to come "visit" us and join in some adventures. We have several good prospects in the works to bring some of our people to us. Emily's mom and aunt will meet us in Bali in March. And we're on the verge of closing some deals with others.
We've discussed how it's a shame no one was able to join us in Patmos. Even without the symphony, the island itself is poetic and lyrical. We have what seems like an ample amount of time here and it is completely and utterly relaxed.
Sent from my iPad
