(Another old post I'm just wrapping up)

Weaving through the alleys of Mykonos, I encountered an artist who produced some amazing work. Magdalene Sakellarides was rubbing off gold and silver foil onto her canvasses to create the texture and dull shines she was looking for in her paintings, particularly on stones, and in leaves and sand. The result was that they needed very little light shined on them because they were self-illuminating--rather iridescent. It was an interesting process to watch and I really enjoyed the results.

One of the larger phenomena I considered (and it's hard not to think about it, really) was sunsets. They're so important to our sense of time, but less so now than they used to be. That said, take us out of our electric-lit abodes and dump us in the woods of Pennsylvania and that sunset becomes so much more important. I've found that just leaving the constant hum and glow of New York makes me a little more atuned to the role of the rising and setting of the sun in my life. In Greece, I find its role overwhelming, and yet the culture brings a massive eraser to it, recognizing it, and facing it. The answer in Greece isn't blinding road-work-type lights (I hate facing those while driving), it isn't a district that's lit up like the 4th of July, it's candles and dim lights--enough to get by and enjoy the evening. You have headlights on your car, and on most roads that's all you get. The actual hours surrounding sunset are quiet and peaceful. Most people have already head home and are relaxing and resting for the evening. Some enjoy watching the sun go down in the Mediterranean or the mountains. There's an immeasurable beauty it always seems to display. It might be because of how gloriously and intensely it shone all day. Relief and repose might characterize the night. Instead though, the cool air, the gentle breezes and the light of the moon inspire the denizens to take the hours they spent avoiding the worst of the sun and live freely. The sun is the beauty of the Mediterranean, but it is also the scourge, a dictator of sorts. And unfortunately, this summer, Helios is also a firestarter (albeit not the only one).

I also wanted to share a fabulous dinner and dining experience I had at Matsuhisa. Part of the Nobu family of restaurants, this one really outdoes itself. Drawing its inspiration from its Japanese-Peruvian roots, its ingredients from the Mediterranean, and its decor from the beauty surrounding it, the place really made you question whether price can be an object amongst such perfection. Every detail was attended to (wine and sushi temperatures were perfect), service was precise (you simply looked up and your dropped chopstick had been replaced), and their adaptation to Mediterranean cuisine was pure genius. We had the opportunity to dine over sunset, beside the pool, and as the sun finally nestled into the cool sea, the lighting that replaced it was so gentle, yet well-positioned that I felt as if several fireflies had been assigned to me to make sure that I had enough of their brilliant glow. I can only rave about the place.