Beginnings

And what is it to talk of beginnings?
The plane leaves the ground in early morning fog
Leaps away from the grey things I know
Yet nothing ever begins where we think it does,
And perhaps nothing ever begins at all-
I don't know about that.

The Aegean gleams a salty blue.
The far shore is a steep hillside, almost a cliff
Dotted with white stucco houses like a beehive
Like the caves those houses replaced-
The evolution is not so extreme.
I think I am trespassing on the beach of a resort
But I spread my blanket anyway and relax.
A dark boy walks by, selling something that looks
Slightly like a pretzel.  I buy one with my play money.
Warm water, slow surf, this sea is nothing like
The waters of the ocean I know.
I feel like I'm on vacation.
Help.