use your (very small) noodle

I spent some of Saturday in a hotel room in Athens, watching the Pope die on TV. A few mohitos later, something inside me started to die, to die down, anyway. More than one noodle was involved.

I once read that the world’s most beautiful people (based on some innate, biologically determined standards of appearing healthy, symmetrical, and somehow suitable for procreation) are Thai women and Cretan men. The restaurant was supposed to be Thai (but the staff wasn’t) and I tried not to think about Cretan men, one in particular. I thought a lot about beauty, and not just the kind you look at.

I was in Athens again for a seminar this time, and I met four interesting people, three of whom were men. The first (not necessarily in chronological order) told me a story about a man who escapes the monotony of his everyday life by spending one great weekend in some exotic, dangerously inspiring location, only to find himself back in the same dull routine at the adventure’s end. If the outcome of this life-changing experience was that his life hadn’t really changed at all, was it worth it?

Some fires are hard to start and hard to snuff.

The second was a young man, an unassuming type, who turned out to be disarmingly charming in an understated, self-deprecating kind of way that I found extremely winning. He asked me some great questions, none of which I managed to answer to my own satisfaction or probably his. I have realized that there aren't too many chances in life to meet people you find really interesting, and if it happens, you shouldn’t let them slip away. So I invited this person to the blog, and I’m hoping he’ll put in an appearance soon. If he does, ask him who killed JFK. (It was not the dog, after all.)

The third was Marcello. Is the name not enough? He befriended me when the lights went out… and we had to change trains.