So we needed to make a sudden overnight stop in this small coastal town, to take stock about the wisdom of moving forward to our destination. A young woman at the local coffee shop gave us information on road closures in the area, and the fact that there had been two fires just outside the town just yesterday, before we arrived. Luckily, we found a small (though extremely depressing) set of extremely small hotel rooms to pass the night while we got more information on the progress of the fires in this part of the country. Opening the windows in the morning, the smell of acrid smoke is the first thing that is sensed, along with an unnatural kind of heat.
The owner of the hotel was an old Greek woman who had studied psychology in the United States decades ago. She cares for her husband, afflicted with advanced Alzheimer’s, while managing the hotel alone. A sweetly frantic woman, she was alarmed at our constant refusal of her offers of sweetened traditional Greek coffee.
As we settled the bill and parted ways this morning to make our way to another unexpected set of rooms while we gather further information, she said to Anetta in Greek: ”Those two Americans you are traveling with: one is so gentle and sweet, tinged with a sad purity; the other seems somewhat crazy, maybe wild.”
Interesting. I had not interacted with her directly, at all.
Zen masters all over the place.