"Take me down to my boat on the river,

I need to go down, I need to come down."

- Styx, Boat on the River

          We all must have heard someone express their desire for immortality at least once. Whether it was a friend, colleague, relative or just a stranger on the bus, each of us must have heard a gloomy “I wish I could be forever young …”.

          What’s so special about living forever anyway?

          My name is Lee Hyukjae, I’m 105 years-old and let me tell you this: don’t ever wish for immortality (unless it’s a common or generally accepted thing).

          Firstly, you’ll have to move a lot and won’t be able to maintain relationships as a result. What do you think will happen when all your family and friends start getting old, but you don’t? They’ll freak out, that’s what will happen. And you’ll freak out as well because you can’t explain it yourself. Hence, you’ll probably go away and never come back … that’s what I did anyway.

          Speaking of family and friends, unless you’re a sick sadist or masochist, witnessing your dear ones get old and die while you stay behind is not only sorrowful, but disturbing and damaging for the psyche as well. I surrendered to loneliness soon after all my family and friends passed away, because what’s the point in starting serious relationships if you’ll end up alone anyway?

          Secondly, you’ll have to fake all of your identification documents regularly, change your appearance every time you move to a new place and even your name a few times. Doesn’t sound like much fun, does it?

          Lastly, I guarantee you that no matter how many wild dreams, goals or ideas you have, you’ll get awfully bored at some point. I gave up when I was around 60 and tried to kill myself, but for some strange reason I couldn’t die no matter what I tried … but that’s another queer aspect of my life that I’ll get back to later.

          I could give you a hundred more reasons why immortality , however this is only a part of my messed-up life. There’s still more to go …

          Ever since I’ve turned twenty I keep having strange dreams, dreams that seem awfully real: I’m the steersman of a boat so old and badly kept that I always fear its rotten wood is going to give in under my feet any moment (the fact that I can’t swim does not help one bit). In these dreams, my task is to row people over a river. It is not a pleasant task at all, for the people are not normal people – their aspect is cadaverous, their figures deformed – and the river is an epitome of death – its surface varies between deep greens and dark blues and, even though it looks shallow, I somehow know that it’s as deep as the pits of Hell; sometimes there are ghostly figures floating on the surface around my boat and other times rancid corpses or skeletons can be seen on the bank.

          I don’t know why I’m having these dreams every night, but, as I said, they seem so real that some mornings I’m left wondering if they somehow actually happen.

          If I think about it, I also stopped aging around twenty. If there’s a connection between these two facts, I never bothered to find out what it is. Not until a year ago anyway …

          I have always known that there’s something off about me - except not aging and not being able to die, of course - that I’m not like all the other people. It’s not difficult to realize you’re not quite normal when you live in a society, though it took me some time to figure out the reason why I’m different: I have no soul; my soul is missing … but I’m determined to find it.

          I’ve never been the sympathetic, sensitive type; I shamelessly admit that. I guess that’s the reason why I never noticed that my soul is missing. It was something usual for me to get on people’s bad sides or to make bad impressions because of my behavior and way of thinking.

          The big revelation happened at a funfair in London during the summer of 2013. I had been living there for 5 years already and even though I didn’t have intimate friends, I was getting along well with some of my colleagues and they dragged me into their circle of friends. So we were at this funfair and Anna and Minzy convinced me one way or another to go see a fortune teller with them. The old, wicked lady there started making up improbable scenarios for my friends as they eagerly listened closely to every word. I could tell from her face and body language that she was only saying bull to get as much money as she could. When it was my turn, however, she froze for a few moments, staring at me like I had multiple heads or something. After she recovered from whatever shock she just had, she politely asked the girls to wait outside while the two of us talked.

          That witch-granny really gave me the creeps then. She said that there’s a deadly aura all around me and that my soul is missing … missing and less likely to get back. She also knew how old I was and that I can’t die, but I didn’t stick around long enough for her to explain anything to me. I told her she’s crazy and got the hell out of there.

          The following days, though, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt something, truly felt a real, deep emotion, not just ephemeral affections. By the end of the week, I had come up with a theory: what if my soul was stuck in that place I kept dreaming every night? It’s crazy, but it’s the only explanation I could think of.

          I went back to look for the fortune teller after that, but the funfair was already over and out of the city. I was on my own on this one, much like I was lonely regarding everything else.

          I didn’t know where to start looking for my soul, my dreams weren’t telling me much and no matter how hard I researched for a river like the one I was seeing, I couldn’t find anything. But giving up was not an option. I had to know what happened with my soul and what’s with those dreams I couldn’t get rid of.

          I spent the following months looking for answers. By the time the leaves started turning titian and the rain intensified, I started to lose my patience and my will faltered with each passing day. I began thinking things like “Why do I need a soul anyway?”

          Snow started falling and I completely forgot about my missing soul, being busy with other things, like actually living.

          Despite that, I think there was someone or something out there that didn’t want me to admit defeat, because the very next summer something in my dream changed: the statue of a god appeared. I have never been interested in mythology or religion so I didn’t know who it was, but it reminded me of Greece in a bizarre way. Maybe it was just a hunch, but I suddenly had the urge to travel to Greece. The next day I asked the company I’m currently working for to give me a one-week holiday.

          So here I am, at 8:30 PM on the 20^th of July, at the Athens International Airport “Eleftherios Venizelos”, suitcase in one hand and a guidebook of the most famous cities and places in the other.

          Hopefully, when the time to leave comes, I’ll be having my soul with me.

~~~

          Athens is fascinating. I’ve been wandering around only for a few hours, but I’m already mesmerized by this ancient city. The scenery is like nothing I’ve seen before, soft mountains on a side and sun-bathed beaches on the other; old and fancy blended together, creating an elegant atmosphere.

          The first thing I did last night after checking in at the hotel was collapse on the bed and fall asleep. I woke up today at noon and decided to have lunch somewhere in town rather than at the hotel; this gave me the chance to explore the surroundings a little and get familiar with the place. Then I returned to the hotel to change my clothes, because the weather is a lot hotter than I expected, and pack a few necessary things for the day as I was sure I’m not going to return until almost night.

          Now I’m on my way to the Acropolis, having figured there’s no better place to learn about gods than at the ancient temples. If I fail there, then I’ll move on to museums and if that doesn’t work either … I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens. I’ll probably give up and just enjoy the time I have left on this short holiday before returning to London.

          It’s only a 25 minutes walk from the hotel to the Acropolis and it’s also relatively easy to get there. I strategically chose the hotel to be both in the center of the city and close to the touristic attraction.

          There are quite a few tourists visiting, as expected, looking around the ancient citadel in wonder, moving from one archeological remain to another with curious expressions, taking as many photos as their phones or cameras allow them. Compared to them, I am much less enthusiastic and I’m sure that to strangers I leave the impression that I don’t even want to be here. Truth be told, if it weren’t for my riddle-like dreams and my missing soul, I would’ve probably never come here. Even though I often move between continents and countries, Greece never crossed my mind as a possible destination. Now that I’m here, I realize that it’s worth the effort of traveling all the way from whatever other place. Unfortunately, I can’t enjoy the new experience, not until I find my soul anyway. After that, maybe I’ll come back to revisit this place and pay attention to everything it has to offer.

          As time goes by and I fruitlessly walk around, I realize that none of these temples, altars or sanctuaries can provide me with any clues to aid me in my search. None of the statues resembles even slightly the one I saw in my dreams. Maybe it’s because of the disappointment and frustration, but I’m starting to wonder why I bothered to come here in the first place. What if that old hag just made everything up and my soul is right where it should be? What if I’m just a cold, emotionless person? What in the world made me believe in that “deadly aura” and “missing soul” bull?

          With these thoughts occupying my mind, I stop in front of the Parthenon and stare up at it aimlessly. I barely notice someone coming my way and stopping by my side.

          “It’s majestic isn’t it?”

          “I guess …” I mechanically answer, still lost in my thoughts.

          Is there really nothing to help me here?

          “I’ve always wanted to visit this place. It’s even more fascinating than I imagined. Well … aren’t you going to get in?”

          The sudden wave of Korean words manages to capture my attention and I lower my head to find the source of it. Standing a few steps away from me, just at the bottom of the staircase leading inside the Parthenon, is waiting a young man with Asian features. He’s watching me with an expectant look and a friendly smile. Why do people always feel the need to interact with one another? I was doing fine by myself and I don’t need this kind of distraction right now.

           Even though I don’t answer him, I start climbing the stairs nonetheless and he follows me without hesitation.

          “Did you know parthénos means maiden in Greek? Apparently the name Parthenon symbolizes temple of the goddess, because it was built in honor of Athena,” the guy starts talking. What is he, a guide? I say nothing, but that doesn’t seem to discourage him from sharing his knowledge. With a bit of luck, I may find something related to my problem in his rambling. “But the actual Greek word parthenon referred to unmarried women’s apartments. At first, Parthenon was just a single room in the temple,” he went on as we kept moving, “and the whole building was referred to as the Parthenon only starting from the 4^th century BC. That room should be somewhere around … there!” he points at a random empty space towards the back of the temple and moves towards it. I follow silently. “Historians actually argue about the exact location of the room, but it’s generally accepted to be the cella, because that’s where the goddess’ statue used to be. The statue of Athena was a fantastic piece of art, of 12m in height and decorated with gold. They say it was almost as expensive as the whole temple itself. Unfortunately, it didn’t last in time.”

          The guy stops talking and I take this chance to look over the place more attentively. Yes, its history is interesting and all, but it does not provide me any clue. I can feel frustration making its way to my head again.

          “Whatever,” I say and the stranger turns to me surprised, “It’s only a bunch of old stones anyway.” I walk away without another glance.

          “Ah, wait for me!” the stranger exclaims and quickly catches up with me at the bottom of the staircase. “Are you here alone?”

          “No, I’m with my ghost friend, Billy,” I sarcastically answer, causing the guy to frown. “Do you see anyone with me that I’m not aware of?” I snap at him and he grimaces at my harsh tone.

          “I actually meant if you’re here, in Greece, alone …”

          “My answer still stands,” I say and walk away. To my utter annoyance, the dude follows me. What the hell is his problem?

          “Well I thought … since we’re both here alone, maybe we can visit the other touristic attractions together” he proposes with a small voice. It’s the first time since he started talking, before entering the Parthenon, that there’s hesitation in his voice.

          “I’m done visiting for today,” I declare and turn to walk towards the exit in order to get my point across.

          “Not necessarily today. I’m here for the whole week so …”

          “Look, dude,” I rudely interrupt him and stop walking. “There’s a reason why I came alone, okay? I don’t need, nor want any company.”

          The look on his face turns from hopeful to crestfallen in a matter of seconds. He kind of looks like a kicked puppy right now, but that does not impress me.

          “Oh …” he says dispirited. “I’m sorry for bothering you then.”

          Now you’re on the right track, nosy stranger. Just say goodbye so I can move on with my miserable day.

          “But can we at least have dinner together later?”

          “No problem, good- … wait, what?” Needless to say, I did not expect this continuation. Cue the dumfounded look on my face.

          He blushes and starts rubbing his hands together in a nervous manner. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but I came here alone and now I kind of regret it. I had all this nice places in mind that I want to visit and now that I'm here I realize that I’d like to share views and thoughts with someone about it, not just silently stare around …”

          Oh, so that’s why he played the guide in the Parthenon. Now I really do feel sorry for him. I don’t have anything planned for tonight anyway and maybe I can squeeze some information from him, he seems to know a lot of things.

          “Fine,” I resign with a sigh. “What restaurant?”

          I swear, the smile that appeared on his face when he heard my reply could match the sun’s rays. He looks like he could hug me any second now and I’m relieved that he refrains from doing so.

          “Ideal. I’ve heard it’s the oldest restaurant still operational in Greece! I just hope it won’t be too expensive …”

          “What time?”

          “Uh, I don’t know. Is 8 good?”

          “Fantastic,” I answer with an impatient tone. “Can I go now?”

          He smiles sheepishly. “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

          I take a last look at him to be sure I’ll recognize him later tonight and then walk away. He doesn’t follow me anymore, but I can hear him calling again after a few meters.

          “Wait!”

          I angrily turn around as he runs to meet me. “What now?!”

          “I’m Lee Donghae,” he says and extends his hand to me.

          “… Hyukjae,” I reply, shake his hand only for a second and then leave.

          He doesn’t stop me anymore.