Athens, Catharsis And An Outdoor Cinema

Sometimes the Ordinary Moments of Travel are the Most Cathartic 

Crying from happiness is a beautiful expression. It means that the level of joy you feel is so massive, so joyous, so impossible to express in words that it has no choice but to burst from the soul and out into the open. And yet, in spite of that, I always try so damn hard to lock the floodgates when I feel the need to cry from contentment. And the experience that happened in Athens proved me wrong.

Who likes when people see them cry? It’s awkward for other people and it’s sure as hell awkward for the person crying. What’s even more difficult is explaining that you’re actually crying not from anguish, but as a result of happiness. I remember one of these moments—a feeling of exultation and thankfulness that brought me to tears. It was during our last night in Athens.

The theater

Audience members Ancient Greek theater have everything they need to undergo catharsis. It was Aristotle who first linked this psychoanalytical behavior to art, well, drama and theater in particular. Witnessing theater allowed people to collectively and appropriately release emotions that would otherwise consume an individual, and with no outlet, cause outrage and outbursts.

Many Greek tragedies deal with themes of fate. Through a theatrical experience in Athens, I was able to ponder my own new fate and undergo a catharsis of sorts. I was not, in this instance, observing an ancient Greek play. Rather, I was watching a film, set in Greece, and sat among the ruins and specters of the ancient Greek world while doing so.

Thision Open Air Cinema in Athens, Greece, is a cinematic experience unlike any other. A sea of red-orange chairs and circular white patio tables sit in neat rows in front of a large white projector screen. Deep green vines of varying sizes grow thickly and relentlessly over most of the walls. For this reason, the seating space, keeping in theme with the major attraction of the city itself, feels like an undiscovered ruin. Speaking of ruins, guests are treated to a view of the wonder of the acropolis in the background of the theater as the sun sets and the lights begin to illuminate the walls and aisles. 

Inner thoughts

Both native Athenians and travelers sat excitedly chatting away while waiting for the film to start. They tried to resist the urge to dive into and finish their buttery concession popcorn preemptively or drive the afternoon thirst away by slamming their ice-cold bottled beer. 

I wanted two of what they were having. I’m a popcorn fiend and I’ve never been known to turn down a beer. Knowing such, my husband dashed off to get us the appropriate snacks and left me sitting among all these strangers, as well as my own thoughts.  

Inner peace rarely happens for me. I’m a type-A and a Capricorn, so I let my ambition get the best of me. My mind is constantly whirring with due dates, self-improvement ideas, projects, and self-criticism. However, something about the cloudless and ethereal blue sky brought a stillness to the core of my being. It’s not often that I can examine the scene around me without worrying about the future. That particular evening in Athens, I got that chance for the first time in a long time. 

The unforgettable movie experience

The scene felt decidedly European and it was a great escape from the city walls. Where I live, outdoor movies are a fairly informal affair: laying on blankets, chugging bodega beer, wearing the sloppiest of messy buns, and even sweats are normal and accepted. Here, in Athens, people, particularly women, dress stylishly, complete with matching jewelry and closed-toe shoes. Guests sipped wine, beer, and frappes while waiting for the film to start — no bodega beers, boxed wine, or vodka in water bottles in sight. They chatted with friends using over-exaggerated hand gestures and small laughs.

Attendees kissed each other on both cheeks as they greeted their friends and stood with enviable posture. Beyond this, there was an undeniable buzzing energy that swept unequivocally through the patrons. As we roamed around Athens earlier that day, we heard how much people wanted to see “Mamma Mia 2” at this top-rated theater. For Athenians in the summer, attending an outdoor movie is preferable to sitting in a small, hot, apartment at night.

Reflections

I felt the first sting of happy, salty, tears in my eyes. These were the kinds of tears that burn the face but offer a comforting release of emotions — emotions that words can’t express. The casual enjoyment of a random night felt wonderful to me. 

I had seen so much and still had more to see. Typically, when I travel, I’m shocked by how quickly the trip arrives, happens, and is over. I often find myself saying, “I was so busy — I wish I had slowed down and paid more attention.” 

Sitting at the cinema allowed me to reflect a lot. I had worked extremely hard that school year, teaching an extra class during my lunch break and working at night school for extra money to pay for our honeymoon. I deserved to be here in this perfect moment — I earned it. That was perhaps the only time I’ve ever given myself credit for deserving anything. 

The catharsis

I realized that within the past few weeks I had heard fado in Lisbon, sunbathed in Bulgaria, and paid Dracula a visit in Romania. For the first time ever, I could appreciate not only the things I had already seen but look forward to how much more I had yet to experience. After all, we had not even gotten to the true “honeymoon” part of our trip yet. I began to dream of the blue waters of Mykonos, and the fiery sunsets of Santorini, and wondered how they would look and feel. The best was yet to come. 

My husband returned with a triumphant and slightly overwhelmed smile just in time for the film to start. From the first song onward, I let the happy tears in my eyes that I had been feeling moments before develop and cascade slowly down my face and come to fruition. I stifled my sobs, pretending that they were poorly-timed coughs.

Here we go again

Many of the musical ballads of the Mamma Mia sequel pierced my heart. I watched a story unfold of a young woman coming into her own with the people she loved by her side, which mirrored my own current circumstances. I was 27, newly married, and still finding my way in the world; still adjusting to living and working in a new place away from the comforts of home. All the while my loved ones constantly reassured me that they had my back. Drawing those parallels was a moment of immense and intense gratitude.

Our engagement until our wedding (and even after it) had been nonstop routine, work, planning, and obligations. The beginning of our honeymoon in Bulgaria and Romania was similar to the style of travel that we do all the time. That is to say, fast-paced and barely leaving a moment to catch our breath. Holding my husband’s hand, amidst the dark flicker of the projector screen, among a sea of people, in the best movie theater in the world, watching this romantic movie brought me to a realization to which I had only succumbed to at that moment.  

The ultimate lessons

It was the realization that I was to spend my life with my best friend. I was holding the hand of the man who has and would continue to see me at my most vulnerable. The moments where I’m curled into a ball on the floor, sobbing, overcome with fear, sadness, or uncertainty. His hands would be the ones who pull me through those dark days. I was holding the hand of the man who would celebrate with me in my success, dance with me in my triumphs and excitement, and laugh heartily with me in funny moments. I was holding the hand of a man who could take the most miserable and frustrating situation, like a batch of blackened-burned pancakes on our skillet and somehow make it unbelievably comical—the type of funny where I grab my sides from too much laughter.  

I had come to the realization that we were at the very start of a long journey together where anything was possible for us.  The calloused hands of all who loved us paved our road to a long and happy life together. The sacrifices and hard work of our families were so much a reason for our happiness and prospects of dreams for the future. 

Forever grateful

I had not felt such safety, gratitude, and contentment as I experienced in Athens in a long time. Taking comfort in the perfectly-round and glistening white moon in the sky and the collective roller-coaster of emotions that I shared with dozens of other strangers, I snuggled into my husband and gave myself permission to fully weep those happy tears of joy as Cher performed “Fernando” at the close of the film with the cast. As it turns out, I was not the only one who did so.

When I saw in Athens so many of these film attendees of all backgrounds shared a moment of being moved to happy tears, this was one of the most magical moments of my travels. The experience triggered a collective feeling of nostalgia and gratitude. Whenever I hear that song, I know I will feel a knee-jerk reaction to start crying. However, they will always be tears of joy remembering a magical evening together where all was absolutely perfect, and I was the luckiest woman on the planet—or at least, in our own little world.