One of the classes I’m taking this summer is a travel writing class which includes, as you might imagine, a lot of writing. On our day trip to Hydra we were instructed to take three photographs that all portray the same theme and then write something about them. Here is mine (I’ll try to post the pictures later)
The island of Hydra contains exactly the right proportion of rustic buildings, adorable cats, pebbly beaches and tourist-friendly shops and restaurants to make it the perfect spot for a vacation. The visitors I observed on the island appeared to feel the same way, and were trying to make the most of their holiday through snapping countless pictures, eating Greek food and repeatedly muttering “What a sight, what a sight,” as they gazed at the ocean (while posing for a picture.) Many of those lucky enough to spend time on Hydra seemed fully aware of their luck and were in hot pursuit of the perfect summer day on the island. They were determined to enjoy (or pretend to enjoy) every minute of their trip, as if one moment of irritation or ungratefulness on vacation would be sacrilegious, so they had put on their vacation personality along with their vacation clothes that morning. However, there was one group of visitors that all seemed immune to the idea that happiness during vacation is mandatory, and it was these tourists that caught my eye.
Less than a minute into my exploration of Hydra, I ran across a girl of about twelve. What was remarkable about her was not her appearance or apparel, but rather the complete and total contempt she portrayed with her body language. Sprawled across one of the many whitewashed staircases, even her sunglasses couldn’t hide the fact that she. was. mad. Any joy brought by the morning that I assumed had been spent swimming and sunning (based on her swimsuit, wet hair and towel) had been completely erased, and everything from her folded arms to her pursed lips indicated extreme displeasure at her situation. As her mom bustled out of a nearby shop with arms full of bags, an annoyed “finally” escaped the girl’s lips, and I wondered how many times that same scene had been played out at stores back home. Oblivious too (or purposely ignoring) the edict that all vacation time must be filled with happiness, this child displayed all the angst and anger of the pre teen years in one candid shot.
Younger but just as sassy, a toddler stomped passed me as her mother followed. “Use your words,” the woman implored her daughter, but the child simply grunted and kicked the wall in obvious defiance.
“Are you hungry?” the woman asked, trying a different tactic with no different results. The toddler didn’t cry or yell, but simply continued to kick the stones, her brother and unfortunate passers-by in a way that clearly displayed her unhappiness with some unknown element of her life that could simply not be put on hold until after vacaction. “What amazing pouting,” I thought, simultaneously admiring her advanced use of the cold shoulder and pitying her future husband. This girl was mad, and she clearly thought she shouldn’t have to say what was wrong. Whatever was plaguing her was readily forgotten when her mother pulled out a juice box, but I had the distinct impression that her swift change of mood could just as quickly reverse. In this small child, I found a kindred spirit.
At the close of the day, exhausted and sunburned, I found myself eating gelato outside a small shop on the coast. Near the end of my scoop an extraordinary child, barely old enough to walk, graced the patio with her presence. She was not pleased with her ice cream nor was she annoyed with the situation, she simply gave off the distinctive air of being too far removed from the lives of commoners to take much notice of anything as mundane as her parents. She wandered around the area, ignoring the pleas to eat her dessert, and finally came to rest on the third step of a staircase where she could view the area in peace. Protected by her pink hat and sunglasses she surveyed us with what I can only call judgment, and it was clear that we were all a part of her dominion and were, perhaps, a little too close for her pleasure. She neither smiled nor cried, but simply observed her surroundings and assessed that nothing in the immediate area was worth her attention. Prior to yesterday I would have said it was impossible for a baby to be aloof, but I have since had to adjust my views on the matter.
Although I set out with the intention of capturing children having fun on vacation, what I accidentally ended up with was photo evidence of the amazing feminine ability to indicate everything from displeasure to indifference with nothing more than a single pose. As an advanced practitioner of passive aggressive body language myself, I felt a kinship with these three girls, and pray that no one ever takes pictures of me on vacation.
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