Part II- Mal de mer

Thursday, May 18-Saturday, May 20

The happy dream continues. We awoke on the boat after a good night’s sleep and started to get to know the crew- our host and captain, Alfie, his loving partner, Sandi, and the fine young men who are the crew: Oliver and Scott. Their kindness and courtesy promised that this would be a fine adventure.

Today was designated a “lay day” on Zakynthos, so after a morning of strolling the shops of Zakynthos Town, our crew rented a car and took us for an afternoon tour of the island. The day was overcast, but the land still glowed. The tour served as a perfect introduction to the heart and soul of the Greek islands. Winding roads past acres and acres of olive trees, glimpses of Mediterranean/Ionian blue, switchbacks, sheep and goats, and little villages, each one with a taverna and a small shop or two, with proprietors standing in the door, smiling, calling and waving to try to get us to stop and buy. We did stop at an olive oil factory where we couldn’t resist buying olives and a tiny bottle of oil. At another village we bought a few olive wood honey dippers. At Cape Keri we took photos of the view and had some ice cream- it was the beginning of the discovery that Ben and Jerry’s is everywhere.

Statue in Zakynthos Town

Olive trees everywhere

The biggest, oldest olive tree I saw on this trip

The next day, we set sail on a windy, rocky sea. Hunt is famous for saying, “When you’re seasick, you’d have to get better to die.” I had always smugly assumed I was exempt from this malady. I was wrong. But I learned that if you lie in the direction the boat is going, and don’t open your eyes, you will eventually sleep. I lay on my bunk and wondered if I would be able to continue the trip. I felt miserable and sorry for myself, and very homesick. But it’s a truism that “the only way out is through.” Eventually the sea subsided, and after one long day of misery (and the worst sunburn since my childhood), the sickness subsided.

We put in to the most magical cove on the island of Ithaka/Ithaca. There were two small beaches; one with a tiny fleet of fishing boats, and the other was a swimming beach with a hand-lettered sign that read “NUDIST”. We took the dinghy to the shore and waded, collected smooth, white stones and sea glass. Back on the boat, we watched trippers hike down to the bathing beach and demonstrate the accuracy of the sign. Again, the scents and sounds of air and trees created a magical atmosphere. It diminished the suffering of the previous day like a blessing from heaven. We thought about Odysseus, who set forth on his journey from this very island.

Water so clear

We sailed on. The water changed from wine-dark to deep turquoise to brilliant teal-green. A sea turtle swam by, to everyone’s delight. 

The water was calmer, and, stoked on Dramamine, I was drowsy but untroubled by seasickness. We anchored in a cove on Meganisi and ate fresh tuna that had been caught the day before our arrival on board.

The next day we had a brief lunchtime stop at Lefkas, the great charter boat port. Acres of huge modern boats, monohull and catamaran styles, and all the facilities a vacationing sailor could want, from laundry to showers to “supermarket” (much smaller than a store with that name in the States!). Our little wooden boat seemed elegant in its simplicity by comparison to the monsters around us. We availed ourselves of the market, and Sandi, Oliver and I trekked across the docks while the rest stayed  to refuel the boat. We stocked up on what seemed to be mostly crackers, cookies, and chocolate, and the proprietor thanked us with a bottle of wine and a dark sausage which he urged us to hang at room temperature in a dark place for a day before eating.

We sailed on, past fishing weirs and out into the sea once more, until we came to the island of Paxos. From the early planning stages of our journey, when I first saw that name, I felt it would be a significant place – and it was. I will write about that lovely island next time.

Ionian Odyssey, Part I

"Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story..."
Opening words of Homer's Odyssey, translated by Robert Fitzgerald, 1961

Tuesday, May 16

Athens, Greece

How to attempt to begin to describe the amazing past twentyfour hours? The best I can do is to attempt a travelogue of images, and maybe a few reflections.

After an uneventful flight from Boston to Zurich, we had a 10-hour layover in that airport. We could certainly have taken a bus and toured the city, but our exhaustion made us stay where we were. We slept for a few hours in a spotlessly clean and efficient “Day Hotel” right at the airport, and spent the rest of the time eating and people watching.

We arrived in Athens by 1:00 AM and were whisked past customs without a glance. Right across the street from the international terminal is the Sofitel, a luxury accommodation that costs a pretty penny and is worth it. We spent the rest of the night there and woke at 8:30 AM. Greek time is 7 hours later than Maine, so our internal clocks were completely confused.

Our flight to Zakynthos was scheduled for 5:00 PM, so this time we planned a day to see the Acropolis and whatever else we could find. An information attendant told us that, as there was a metro strike, our only option was to take a taxi into the city. And so the next adventure began.

Theodor

Our cab driver, Theodor, turned out to be outgoing and friendly, with a decent command of English. He offered a deal, “You know, it’s 38 euros flat rate to drive from the airport to Athens. You have to pay that again to return to the airport. If you pay me 100 euros, I will be your tour guide and will drive you all over the city, and take you back to the airport in time for your flight.” And so it was.

This was the first major city for these country mice, so we were a bit daunted by the crowds at the Acropolis, the long line for tickets, and the heat. We elected not to pay to go into the Acropolis itself, but took a few photos, admired the view, sent a few postcards, and returned to our cab through a side path under arching olive trees. Although the crowds, noise and litter dominated, we could still feel the ages of history that resonate in that place. The land has a nobility and a rich sweetness, the very air vibrates with energy and beauty. 

Acropolis, Athens, with crowds

Olives

Now Theodor proved our trust in him. He drove us all over the Athens- to a high hill with a panoramic view of the white buildings and red roofs of the city, around the Parliament building in time to see the changing of the guard, 

Greek guards and graffiti

then to his favorite souvlaki café off the beaten tourist trap, where we first encountered the stray cats of Greece.

Finally back to the airport, whence we flew to the island of Zakynthos in time to meet our hosts for dinner at a tavern across from Impala. The owner and his sons play live music every night. The evening passed in a happy daze.

Our boat awaits!

To be continued...

Walk in Beauty

In a previous post, I once wrote about following the daffodils when I traveled north from France to Wordsworth's home in the Lake District of England, to Scotland and then home to New Hampshire. Daffodils have ever since resonated with meaning of hope and new life. And now, here we are in Maine, and it's May, and the daffodils are finally blooming!

After a few weeks of feeling a wee bit lost and confused, I am happy to report that hope and joy are blooming in Down East Maine. I am making friends, finding beauty in the land, and as always, I love nesting and making a house into a home. The fact that the grass is green helps- March and April are drab, colorless months this far Down East. 

But I find that even in the colorless months, I can find light and beauty inside and out. A May Day celebration at a local CSA (we just joined!), a little Fair Isle knitting, and always, the light and beauty of this stunning land, all create the outer vision to help me build beauty within. This stunning Navajo chant, sung by Libana, gives me a mantra to light my days.

Kaleidoscope

Life is richer and more beautiful the more varied and diverse it gets. We are discovering that life here Downeast is much more than lobster boats and beautiful views. This tiny region, for example, is home to the third largest Mexican population in Maine. They came for the blueberry harvest, and many found a permanent home here.

I have attended a library knitting group, where some very intelligent and wonderful people meet to do handwork and discuss whatever topics are of interest. We were interviewed for the Bangor Daily News! I will be back- friend-potential definitely exists there.

Last night we attended an annual meeting of Mano en Mano, a vibrant community that is comprised both of folks who work with the farm workers and immigrants to help them settle and thrive, and also  of the settlers themselves who come from Latino regions as well as the Penobscot and Mi'kMaq populations who have been here all along. At the meeting we met residents from across the economic spectrum; there were babies, parents, fishermen, young folks, retired people who have settled here, and many more whom we didn't get to meet. We are still getting to know the area and haven't committed to working with Mano en Mano, but we left feeling encouraged that such diversity exists here, and that the community works together.

We were also invited afterwards to the home of a local couple who settled in Milbridge after lifetime careers in Washington, DC. We toured their beautiful house, we were there before sunset so could soak up the incredible views of Narraguagus Bay, and formed the building blocks of friendship as they told us of the vibrant community in this region.

Tomorrow we will attend and hopefully perform at an Open Mic at the Steuben Library. We have no idea what to expect but as Woody Allen said, "90% of life is showing up."