Greece in reverse

Tuesday, July 2nd, 12:00 pm


I'm in McDonald's in the Athens airport, and all I can think of is punching this Swede. I'm just trying to sleep on the couch with a belly full of bad McChicken salad, and this guy just keeps yelling.

"When does our flight leave?" I mumble.

"2:30" Brett says.

This is my first flight cancellation ever. Our 9:30 to Munich just got rescheduled on Air Berlin on the same day. We're anxious for german food but I can still taste the honey covered fried Feta cheese of Amorgos.

Monday, July 1st, 8 pm

Mike welcomes us back to the Marble House Hotel, pleasantly surprised at our return. Unlike other Meditteranean peoples, Greeks have these brilliant blue and green eyes that pierce the soul. Mike's pleased we followed his directions to Amorgos, yes, the ferry rides went smoothly. Mike shakes his greying head, Naxos is too touristy for him.


We find blackcurrant sorbet in a supermarket and finish the rest of our Ouzo on the porch, perched on cheap white lawn chairs. Our bellies full of gyros from Savvas, a small restaurant with juicy lamb-packed pitas and greek beer, we talk about our time in Greece and culture in America under our wet underwear drying on the clothesline.

A door slams and Mike walks out towards the street. He's the kindest man I've met in Greece.

"Thank you!" we yell. He turns and waves as he walks home, his eyes glowing in the dark. It's the last time I'll see him.

Sunday, June 30th, 7:30 pm

"What time is it?"
Brett looks at his watch and points: 7:32 pm.

We have finally made it to Aparanthos on our 4x4 ATVs, the objective of a 5 hour lacsidasical trek across the island. Now I'm racing to get back to Naxos town on the other side of the island in an hour and a half before the rental shop closes down and we lose our passports and our deposit of a 100 euros. The price is steep for staying out longer, but I'm seriously considering skipping our flight to Munich, forgetting about the due date and sleeping on the beach.

Neither of us have eaten anything since lunch and we have to hoof it back. But seriously, we're in Greece, riding ATVs. I'm torn between returning to the real world and wandering back to that town I saw a way back, 'Filoti' I think, maybe asking that Greek girl to dance to the guitar music at the restaurant and finding some wine and a little feta. Maybe I'll pick olives and be a farmer.

Brett smacks on the back of the head and we're off. Just around the corner, Brett and I ride our ATVs at 50 kph down a winding mountain highway overlooking the center of the island of Naxos. The mountain behind us and to the left is called Zas, or Zeus, because the father of all greek gods was once believed to inhabit the huge rain-carved monolith of granite bursting from the sea. We had mistakened the hill just down the road for Zas, a mountain that rose to a pointed cliff, almost like a hooked witche's nose, and at the very top stood a white church flying a greek flag.

Just a few hours ago we were across the island on the coast, and I was jumping into endless blue green waters on hot sandy beaches. We'd cool off, jump back on our 4x4s and keep riding.

I've lost myself in paradise. The Elysian Fields I was promised are here, on Naxos.


Saturday, June 29th, 9 pm

"See Cygnus?" I point north towards the Milky Way, "that's the Northern Cross."

Brett and I are marveling at the brilliant specks of white scattered across the dark blue canvas of the Greek night sky. Constellations are clearer and more forceful than ever before, Greek names and constellations suddenly poignant on a crystal blue night.

Wandering on a near pitch black night, the trail back to the village of Aegali and our hotel is little more than stones in dirt, surrounded by olive trees and beying donkeys. I know there's donkey dung on this trail somewhere, and I'm in sandals. I could really ruin this perfect night with one wrong step.

We walked up to a small chapel built up high on a hillside overlooking the northern valley of Amorgos, a small greek island just two hours from Naxos. We watched a beautiful sun smear a blood red sky before slipping behind the mountains in the distance, then wandered down to the village below for dinner. We ate mountain goat, an eggplant dish that was to die for, and drank the house wine while eating baklava. The owner hunts sharks and runs the only restaurant in town.

Donkeys rustle near the trail as we walk back, leaning closer for our conversation.

Thursday, June 28th, 11:58 pm

I roll over in bed, exhausted from a long day of travel. Even with the fan on high, I'm sweating profusely in the 90 degree heat, waiting for morning. Our arrival in Athens was completely ad hoc; no plans, just winging it with a few guesses. I really had no idea how we were getting to Amorgos the next day.

''What the hell are we going to do in this Godforsaken place?'' says Brett.

''I have no idea''