The village of Lefkara is, in a word, whimsical.  

It’s not often a place can be called whimsical. There is always something not-so-whimsical around at least one corner. Not in Lefkara. Even the abandoned buildings in Lefkara are whimsical. 

I’m unsure of why I was so shocked by this. Obviously, a village known for literal lace making would have to be whimsical. It can’t look like New York City, decidedly the most un-whimsical place I have ever been.  

We walked down whimsical alleyways and got little glimpses of people in their homes, sitting in courtyards and smoking, or petting their cats and reading the paper. I only felt a little guilty about looking. I mean, these people live like this. I think I can spy a little bit and call it a tax.  

Being in Lefkara made me dread going back to Aurora, Colorado, where you can’t even call the nicest little house whimsical. I wondered if I could ever end up in a place like Lefkara. I certainly would like to. 

I think our visit to Lefkara highlighted what had been nagging at the back of my mind since landing in Athens, which is what my future could hold. It was scary to travel to Europe until the moment I got there. What had seemed so impossible from a distance became possible, even probable.  

I could see my life somewhere I had never pictured it taking place before, and I liked what I saw. 

It made me kind of sad when I got home to remember my favorite things about Cyprus, of which Lefkara was included, but it makes me excited, too. Because maybe one day, someone will walk by my house and see me water my plants or reading a book, and maybe they’ll find the same ambition that I did.