Literary Indulgence

Chapter 5

Athens’s toxic pall had been cleared by a persistent wind from the Aegean Sea. From the plane the city spread broadly to the sea and to the mountains behind. Like most tourists, we wanted to see the Acropolis and Parthenon, and at different times, we each thought we had seen it first. There was no mistaking the real thing when it came into view. It seemed that everything modern beneath could never equal it.

We were stiff from the flight and flustered from being constantly jostled as we waited for our luggage. Finally, we boarded a crowded bus for the port of Piraeus. On the wharves, assaulted by the blast of ships’ whistles and the constant smell of diesel, we bought our tickets to Kos at a derelict box where an elderly man in a once-white singlet sat slumped on a stool. As he spoke, I was fixated on the stains beneath his armpits. The ship would be leaving in 10 minutes, we were told in awkward English, a fact that Madeleine noted as a sign that this journey was “meant to be”.

We eyed the docked ferries with approval – Minoan, Blue Star. They were big, modern and looked sleek and beautiful in the sun and I felt satisfied that we had elected to take a ferry rather than a connecting flight. This was my concession to a new way of life, to being more spontaneous and savouring the moment. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

Our ferry was the furthest away. When we got closer, we stopped and gripped each other’s elbows. A small gasp escaped Madeleine’s lips. The ferry was small, old and ugly and my mind spun at the thought that we were to spend 12 hours on it. Madeleine became subdued. Her adventurous nature did not include sinking into the sea in a rusty boat.

“It might be better aboard,” I said, as much to boost my own morale as hers. It wasn’t.

“But I’m sure the crew will be friendly,” I added, as we walked up the gangplank.

They weren’t.

On board, we ate a hasty meal of limp salad and sour feta cheese as soon as the kitchen opened and then slunk down to our cabin in the hope of oblivious sleep. The Aegean Sea in late April was wild and, I discovered, on the top bunk, with the ceiling edging ever closer to my nose, that it was not just claustrophobia I was suffering from, but a literal sinking feeling that we were headed into danger.

* * *

In the dark, Kos looked even more sinister than Kalymnos. We waited on deck with the other eight passengers due to disembark; two women, one with a teenage son and the other carrying string bags full of groceries, while the rest were men of varying ages.

A thick silence rested over our heads as we waited for the gangplank to be lowered. When it was, the others walked purposefully into their lives, leaving us to the mercy of the accommodation touts.