I want to ride on a scooter. With a scarf in my hair. A minty green Vespa or plum. Big sunglasses. Little sandals. This is a new idea, a thing I would like to do. And I worry about this thing I would like to do, because like, say, a crazy idea about moving to New York City, the things I would like to do tend very quickly to become the things I did last year. I worry because it’s dangerous. And because in America, it is not so much a girl thing. And because petrol is not a cheap thing.
But I want to glide through city streets, to just go. Like the girls do here, purses slung over their slim shoulders, eyes forward. Or with a friend on the back, on the way somewhere. A way to get there and a way to get home.
They tell me that you can hike to the next town beyond the monastery, that there are Minoan tombs, houses. So I walk.
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I'm a New York City-based writer and editor who loves to travel, whether abroad or just around the corner from my apartment. I …
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