In Which But For The Sky, There Are No Fences Facing

Here I am, with barely two weeks of work ahead of me, maybe less, and I don't know what I'm doing next. I purchased the Lonely Planet guide to Eastern Europe the other day, and it has caused me to become completely unhinged. I thought at some point I would travel up through the former Yugoslavia to Croatia, but now I also want to go to Prague, to St. Petersburg, to Kiev, Poland, Albania. I want to see Lenin in Red Square, I want to see Transylvania, I want to read Cyrillic. Oh, and of course, I also want to see more Greek Islands, including Crete, Santorini and I-don't-know-what-else, I want to swim in the Aegean, I want to see Knossos and hike Samaria Gorge, and stop by Delphi, I want to go back to London and see all the things I missed when I studied there and wander along the river and through Hyde Park, see Shakespeare at the Globe Theatre, go to Dublin and walk into eternity along Sandymount Strand, go somewhere else in Ireland and see the green that I have heard so much about, and just generally go places.
It's interesting, because so rarely in my life have I had so many options open and the freedom to decide, completely by myself, where I will go and how I will spend my time. On group trips and family vacations it's usually a compromise between several people, and on short trips it's usually about hitting the most famous, must-see sights. But with a decent amount of money in the bank and Europe and a good number of weeks stretching before me, I almost have too many choices. It makes me think about where I want to go, sure, but it also makes me wonder why I want to go to certain places and not to others. Why is it that some places make me jump around in excitement, and other places leave me cold, even when I know next to nothing about either place?
People ask me how I ended up in Greece, was it the ancient history or the culture or the history or the weather? I don't know what to say, exactly, because on one hand, I just sort of took the opportunity that presented itself. The truth is, though, that Greece has always fascinated me. A lot of people daydream about Paris and Spain, and I can see why those are appealing, but for some reason Italy and Greece have always struck me as the really fascinating countries of the Mediterranean. Maybe that's because I spent so much time studying Greek and Roman culture and literature in school. On the other hand, I spent five years studying Spanish in school and Spain is still not as fascinating to me. On the other hand, I was positively wretched at Spanish. On the other hand, I was even more wretched at Latin, and my family trip to Rome is one of my favorite travel memories ever. O the other hand, Latin class never had gelato like that.
The truth, which will be not be surprising to anyone who knows me even remotely, is that I like to go to places that I have read about in books. I want to go to St. Petersburg because I read Crime and Punishment. Somehow a novel about poverty, misery, sickness, corruption, murder and prostitution just gives me this great desire to see where it all took place. I want to go to the island of Ithaka because damn, if Odysseus spent so much time getting back there, it must be worth it. The World According to Garp has given me a fascination with Vienna and small hotels that I would love to satisfy one of these days. Sophie's Choice makes me miss New York, wonder about trips to Poland, and decide that despite my English major, I will never, ever go into publishing. (Do you remember the scene where some guy submits an epic manuscript of Norse verse that takes up a whole suitcase? Actually, mostly, that book just makes me want to write a book that good, while simultaneously reminding me that I probably never, ever, will. How many books fit that description!) I suppose it is no surprise, then, that I studied abroad in London, where practically every street and building seems to have some sort of literary past. I have a Greek friend who is absolutely baffled by the fact that I am giving up precious Greece-in-the-summer time to see Britain and Ireland yet again, but he just doesn't understand the pull of those glorious iambic Shakespearean syllables spoken under the open night sky, the stream of Joycean consciousness, incomprehensible until it is hilarious, and the simple joy of JK Rowling and Phillip Pullman (who are both, actually, a little more complicated than some might realize.) I didn't really get excited about Albania until I found out that it's the site of ancient Illyria, where Viola and Sebastian land in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night...and oh, yeah, the place where Lord Voldemort spends ten years wandering through the forest after he is outdone by an infant.
However, there are actually some other things that draw me to certain cities or countries. Some of these things are simple, like names. The first time I read the name 'Thessaloniki', I thought "wow, that sounds amazing!" I didn't know a damn thing about the city, but I knew it had an awesome sounding name with enough letters to make it difficult to fit into address forms. I resist the use of 'Salonica'; it's just not nearly as aesthetically pleasing. In truth, Greece is filled with appealing names, like Santorini, Xanthi, Samothraki, and Chalkidiki. They all sound like places you would want to see. Moldova, in comparison, does not sound nearly as appealing, perhaps because it conjures up images of puffy green growth on old bread. I would anticipate finding lots of old ruins in Moldova. But according to Lonely Planet, Moldova is actually a very lively place, where they recommend that you party a whole lot. Who knew?
There's also the appeal of the forbidden. I'd like to go to parts of the former Yugoslavia (or East Germany) in part because I couldn't have done that a few years back. Cuba is fascinating; so damn close to my home nation, and yet you can't go there or even buy cigars from there. I don't even like cigars, I think anything you smoke is pretty foul, but I would love to go to Cuba.
Ultimately, I can't discuss Forbidden Places without mentioning what I have recently decided is the Forbidden Holy Grail Fruit; Mount Athos. Mouth Athos, or Αγιον Οροσ in Greek, is the "holy mountain" on a peninsula filled with orthodox monasteries. This religious settlement was established well over a thousand years ago. People flock from all over Europe and even all over the world to see it and, if they are so inclined, to live there as monks. Visitors are permitted, although only in limited numbers, and in even more limited numbers if you do not happen to be orthodox. You just have to obtain a permit ahead of time. So what's the catch? Only male visitors are allowed. That's right; no women whatsoever. They don't even have female cows or pigs around and boats carrying women must remain a certain distance offshore.
Now, I respect that the monks on Athos have chosen to live a certain kind of lifestyle that they do not want interrupted, and I suppose they have that right, with hundreds of years of tradition backing it up. I don't know if I actually really want them to change their rules. But I still want to see Athos, very badly. I suppose it has something to do with being raised in a very PC environment, where I was constantly taught that women can do anything, be US president, go to the moon, whatever. I mean, I'll be honest; I'm not holding my breath on the whole president thing. But legally, it's possible. But on Athos, it's a whole other world, possibly one out of a whole other century, and they have no qualms about keeping women out. And thus I am fascinated. What are they doing in there? Would I, or any other woman, really disturb things all that much? And if we would, what would we disturb? Obviously, it's not something I could really be familiar with.
It's much like the dormitory here at school,where girls and boys are not allowed on each other's hallways. The girls come up to the door of the boy's floor every now and then (the boys are not even allowed upstairs to look into the girl's hall) and you see them peering in curiously, or, more often, reaching in just far enough to give a male friend a smack on the head before he runs back into safety. Every now and then I escort a girl or two through the boy's hall en route to something else, and she will usually watch with fascination as we pass various rooms, or else gloatingly announce her presence to every male within earshot. I suppose the monks would not like that so much.
Anyway, the end result of all this is, I'm trying to figure out where to go, and I am a little bit mind-boggled. Anyone who would like to recommend islands, eastern european cities or nations, or destinations in Ireland would be most welcome to comment.