Paula Brukmüller - Flowers from Greece - The Autobiography of the Journalist Who Turned a Personal Tragedy into an Inspiring World Tour

- Stop touching me – I raised my voice a little – Listen to everything I have to tell you carefully, please – I pulled away.

- Calm down. You’re angry for nothing. Tell me what I’ve done wrong and I’ll fix it – He walked in my direction trying to hold me again, but I pulled away immediately – You don’t want me to touch you in public anymore… I won’t. Deal!

- Luis, I don’t want to be with you anymore. I wanna tell you that in a good way, being polite. I don’t wish you anything bad. We’re not together, we’re not dating. I don’t want to kiss you, I don’t want you touching me anywhere. I don’t even want to be near you. That’s what I want you to understand – I poured everything out quickly so he couldn’t interrupt me.

- Did Luana say anything bad about me to you? That’s it? It must be. She must be jealous – He put his hands on his hips, staring at the horizon.

- No. Luana didn’t tell me anything about you. I want to be alone right now and you’re suffocating me. I didn’t want to kiss you yesterday, but now it’s too late. I can’t go back and undo it. So if you understood that this was a sign we’d be together as a couple, I’m here now to say no, it wasn’t. I made a mistake, I feel bad about it. But there’s nothing between us and I hope you understand and respect that – at that moment my voice was calmer, as if I were explaining to a frustrated teenager that he couldn’t go to the weekend party.

- It’s because of him, isn’t it? – Luís looked at me with anger and irony – I had already realized the way you look at each other.

- Him? Who? – I asked confused.

- The French guy. I’ve already noticed everything. Do you think I’m stupid? – That accusation made no sense to me. I didn’t know any French. I thought he was looking for some tactic to reverse things.

- I don’t know who you’re talking about. I came here to say that we aren’t together and I hope you won’t come close to me – I said, walking towards the exit.

- Right. I’m sorry. Are you going back to the bar? – he asked resignedly.

- No. I’ll go to my room.

When I got into Isadora’s house that morning, the radio was on and it was playing a very beautiful Greek song. My boss was beaming and humming along with the old stereo.

- Can you dance, Paula? – she asked me from the kitchen while her husband arranged the children for school on the living room couch.

- Greek music? This is the first time I’ve listened to it – I explained with my accented English.

- Come on, darling. I’ll teach you a few steps – She turned up the volume and took off her shoes as she dragged me by the hand to the living room rug.

The children, the boy was six and the girl was five, had fun watching our show, while Solon smiled, looking at the woman who was bubbling with happiness.

- Glad to see you like this, Isadora. This is a great way to start the day, don’t you think kids? – I commented. Sofia and Dimitri clapped.

- It’s this malaca ’s – Isadora released me and walked towards her husband, kissing him on the mouth.

Malacca was the only Greek expression I learned in my days in Corfu. The meaning was something like ass or big ass. Asshole, in English translation.

I worked less than 2 hours that morning and Isadora invited me to go downtown with her by car. She had some things to work out and wanted company.

- Luis is a good guy and he seems to like you – she told me, balancing her brown acrylic glasses at the tip of her nose and lifting her head to look at the road through the lens.

- I believe he is, but he got confused. We’re not together.

- But I saw you kissing at the bar. Yesterday he was working very happy, but today I noticed that he was very quiet. – She continued without looking away from the road.

- Yes. That kiss was a mistake. He insisted a lot, I drank a few more beers… – I tried to justify what was unjustifiable, and gave up. – I didn’t want to have kissed him and I still blame myself for that – I said, looking out the car window and watching the piles of garbage accumulated on the side of the road.

- Don’t worry. He’ll forget that soon. You must forget it too – Isadora comforted me.

The days went slowly and hot on this unknown island of Greece. I, at least, had never heard of Corfu. The beach near the hostel was bathed by the indescribable blue of the Mediterranean Sea and it had many rounded stones scattered across the coarse sand.

I had to be direct with Isadora to have my work schedule respected. In the early days, I was working 7 to 8 hours a day, when the contract on the work exchange website said 5 hours a day.

- Will you still need me today, Isadora? – I asked as soon as the clock struck one o’clock on my fourth day. I arrived at 8 am punctually, and was I missing the employees’ lunch break every day.

- Why? Do you have anything urgent to sort out? – Isadora asked curiously.

- No. But my 5 hours of work are complete for today and I’d like to enjoy the beach – I said calmly as she had a facial expression I couldn’t read.

- You can go. I’ll text you if I need anything later – she said a little annoyed. I could tell she understood my message.

After having some white rice with sautéed vegetables and pot roast for lunch, I spent all afternoon at the beach alone. I began to remember everything I had experienced in those eight months since the divorce. It was more than I had lived in my 36 years of life. How things have changed? How many times have things changed since the biggest change of all?

Lulu Santos’ [16] Lulu Santos, stage name of Luiz Maurício Pragana dos Santos, is a Brazilian singer and guitarist. song came to my mind as a message from my memory.

I cried copiously looking at the waves dying in the sand. Each one in a different way. I was so thorough that I began to become aware of the reality around me.

“It is impossible to have one wave like another. Not even the days are alike. In a few seconds the clouds move and the sky has already changed. The water that has just come has taken thousands of grains of sand and not even the beach is the same. Never. Everything, absolutely everything, is changing all the time. Every thousandth of a second things are changing and nothing is ever the same again. Change is the nature of the universe.”

After writing this down in my reflective journal, I wondered why humans are so resistant to change if our body itself is constantly changing? We’re made of the same changing matter as the rest of the world. I was sure that living this unpredictable trip was meant to teach me once and for all that nothing was permanent. But it still took me a long time to accept this lesson.