“There she was. The belt tight around her waist with all the equipment she might need. She had climbed up the rock wall and was just waiting for the right moment to come to jump into action. The long brown hair was as always, tied up in a ponny tail and ending in a long braid that glided down her back, on her black attire. Always black. So she wouldn’t be noticed. So she woulnd’t disturb. So she could steal hidden moments. And keep them forever in her machinery. It didn’t matter it was 40 degrees out. The sun was about to set and then she would be one with darkness. Out of the way. Invisible. Invincible. Incredible!”
Well, this could have been an excerpt out of my alter-ego Laura Croft’s diary, but no. It was really the way I felt last weekend. No sharks, no bad-guys. Just this feeling of being invincible, of being able to catch life with my camera.
And that’s when it hits you: that you absolutely love your job, specially when it’s “served” to you in a foreign land, with the unexpected just waiting around the corner to be captured. And then there were the wonderful Greeks. And the wonderful couple and their adorable families.
The father of the groom gave them his old jeep as a wedding present. It was not any jeep: the groom’s sister is an artist and the jeep was decorated with a collage of her artwork and pictures of B and M. All of the groom’s friends helped fixing the car. And decorating it both outside and inside with regional flowers.
Veeeeery interesting to see how a greek-ortodox wedding is done.
I got to know that all exklusive hotels in that area have their own little ancient church where cerimonies can be held. Poseidon Temple in the background.
My favorite part of the ceremony when the priest puts these leaf-crowns on the couples heads, moving them from the bride’s head to the groom’s head a couple of times. And then the best man has to move them back and forth again back to their original places. Then, later on, the priest holds the right hand of the groom, the groom the bride’s and the bride’s the best man’s. And then they go around the little altar table, round, and round, and round, with the priest chanting holding his book high up and the guests throwing rice on the four of them.