14. Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
The early morning light slicing through a crack in the curtains wakes me and with it, a rush of emotions as last night’s events come tumbling back into my memory.
Niko.
Dinner.
Our make-out session in the street.
Turning him down.
I groan aloud to myself and snuggle deeper into my blankets. Equal parts embarrassed, annoyed, and sad for myself.
I reach blindly towards the bedside table, feeling around for my phone. Finding it, I grab it and check the time. It’s 6:30am here which means 8:30pm at home. I can call Mel.
I tap through to her contact information, hit call and turn my phone on speaker so I can continue to lie in bed with my eyes closed as I talk to her. She picks up on the second ring.
“Well hello, girl in Greece! How are you? What’s happening? Catch me up.” Mel’s comforting voice flows over me and I relax deeper into the bed upon hearing it.
My response is a dramatic groan.
There’s a slight pause on her end before she asks me what’s going on and then the whole story comes rushing out in one giant, run-on sentence.
“I met a guy yesterday on a boat and he was super-hot and he asked me out and I said yes and we went for dinner and it was good even though he didn’t let me choose which was kind of annoying but then he paid and we left and we made out in the street. When we got caught, he asked to come back to my hotel and I told him "no".”
Part of me expected her to yell at me. After all, she has been teasing me non-stop about finding a Greek man to get over Theo and this was my chance. Instead, her throaty laugh echoes through the phone.
“Good for you.”
Good for me? What? Good for me for turning down the most beautiful man I’ve seen in years? I’m so shocked at her comment that I end up gaping like a fish out of water as I try to come up with a response.
“Good for me for saying no?”
“Good for you for choosing yourself.”
I pause.
“What do you mean?”
I hear her sigh down the phone and there’s a moment of silence as she collects her thoughts.
“Calla, you and I both know that you don’t always put yourself first. You bent over backwards for Theo and he couldn’t even do the bare minimum. You were together for months and he never even took you on a proper date but you kept trying. Kept hoping.”
I cringe inwardly, hating how she describes me and wanting to defend myself but the sad truth is, she’s not wrong.
“Now, here you are in Greece with this hot guy who actually does take you out on a real, proper date. He takes you to a restaurant, buys you dinner, and wants to take you home. It’s exactly the kind of date you have been waiting for. But you didn’t let yourself get caught up in that. You recognized something was missing, you didn’t connect. Whatever. And you stopped. You didn’t push ahead hoping. You realized it wasn’t what you wanted and let it go rather than trying to force something.”
She pauses, waiting for me to say something.
“Calla, I’m saying I’m proud of you.
I’m not entirely sure what to say. Only my best friend could call me out like that and make me feel equally shitty and good at the same time.
“Thanks, I think?” I grumble.
“You’re welcome,” she sing-songs back.
We chat a bit more but when I hang up, my mind is still spinning with what she said. About being the girl who always bends. But she’s right. Things with Theo weren’t good, I just wanted them to be. Our entire relationship, if I can even use that word, was very one-sided and I just went along with it hoping for better when it was never going to happen. I let him string me along.
In a single evening, Niko showed me that I deserved better. Sure, in the end, I didn’t feel attracted to him the way I hoped I would, but at least he put in the effort. He made a plan and took me out on a proper date. Which, let’s face it, really is the bare minimum. But it made me feel wanted and respected. Something I constantly questioned when I was with Theo.
As I come to this realization, any hold Theo still has on me breaks. I’ve spent too long missing someone I never really had. Too long thinking about someone who never thought enough about me. I kept telling myself the timing wasn’t right but that’s not true. He wasn’t right. At least not for me. And I was just too stubborn to see it.
Until now.
Everyone kept telling me that I deserved better and now, thanks to a random date in Greece and words of wisdom from my best friend, I know that I do.
I feel a sudden gush of warmth towards Niko, even if I did find him a bit presumptuous. That being said, I also don’t really want to see him again. I’m confident in the fact that my story with him is also over. While we parted ways amicably, he’s not someone I want to keep running into and if I stay here, that’s bound to happen. Which means that it is time for me to move on.
“Nooooo but you just got here!” Sophia objects, her usual mega-watt smile disappearing as I tell her it’s time for me to leave. Time for me to go to Symi.
“I’ve been here for five days” I tell her gently, “I only have a few days left before I need to head back to Canada and I really want to see Symi.”
“Five days is nothing,” she moans dramatically. “Stay in Rhodes!”
I put down my freddo cappuccino and scoot my chair closer to hers, wrapping my arms around her as she leans into my shoulder. I’m sad too. My time here has gone so quickly, yet in that short time, Sophia has become a close friend; having her has felt like having a little sister. I will miss her like crazy.
“You know I have to come back to Rhodes anyways, there’s no airport on Symi.”
I feel her nod into my shoulder.
“I’ll come back early, we can spend time together before my flight?”
She immediately brightens at the idea and helps me figure out the ferry.
Thankfully, the port is just outside one of the Old Town gates and there are ferries multiple times a day. Sophia helps me buy a ticket online but I still need to get it printed out at the office. She assures me it’s easy as the office is right beside the ferry terminal, but I’m still nervous I might miss it and plan to go early.
After hugging Sophia goodbye one last time, I head back to the hotel to collect my suitcase. Christopher is nowhere to be seen but I thank his father for a wonderful stay, and am rewarded with a genuine smile and well wishes for my journey onward. Suitcase bouncing across the uneven cobblestones, I make my way towards the city gate closest to the port. Heading in the direction of the smaller of the two ferry terminals.
As Sophia promised, the ticket stand for the ferry is easy to spot; located right beside where the ferry is moored. The ferry itself is significantly smaller than the massive Blue Star Line ferries I’ve been seeing on the horizon line. This one has only two levels, one inside and one up top in the open air. Plus, it’s for foot passengers only. No vehicles allowed.
I pass my printed ticket over for inspection and head inside, storing my suitcase in a rack by the door before heading to the top deck to grab an empty chair. According to my ticket, the journey is quite short; a little over an hour, so I figure that I may as well enjoy the sunshine.
The ferry isn’t very busy and most other travellers have chosen a seat downstairs in the air conditioning, meaning I have my choice of where I want to sit. I choose a spot on the left side, closer to the back for an unimpeded view as we depart.
I feel a pang of sadness as the ferry pulls away from the Old Town and into the open sea. I know that I will be back to catch my flight, but it won’t be the same. My time in Rhodes, at least for this trip, is over and the feeling of leaving it behind, despite all the amazing memories, is bittersweet.
As the Old Town walls disappear into the distance, the sea gets rougher. The relatively smooth waters that I experienced yesterday on the boat trip give way to larger swells and white-capped waves. The ferry bounces over them as it picks up speed, resulting in a light spray. At first, I don’t mind, the sea spray is kind of refreshing. But soon the light spray turns into a full-on super-soaker event and I end up completely drenched after a particularly large wave crashes into the side of the boat.
I suddenly understand why everyone else preferred to sit downstairs.
After the second massive wave, I give up and make my way carefully across the top deck, using the backs of the seats for stability, and take the stairs down to the main cabin. A few passengers look up from their phones or books as I enter, taking in my drowned-rat appearance as I search for an empty seat.
One man in particular catches my eye as I pass by. The sleeves of his navy button-down shirt are pushed up and he holds a paperback in his hand. I don’t recognize the cover but it looks to be in Greek. So does he, actually. His skin is a tanned olive tone and his hair is thick, dark and styled. He looks like someone who is headed to a business meeting rather than an island break.
The reason, however, that he caught my attention is because he looks oddly familiar. But I struggle to place him until it suddenly comes to me.
The man from last night.
The one who found Niko and I making out in the quiet street.
It’s him.
He’s younger than I had originally thought, early 30s probably, and while I did absolutely nothing wrong last night, my cheeks flare with embarrassed heat as his dark eyes meet mine over the top of his book. I see a flash of recognition in his eyes as he takes me in and I tear my gaze away, moving past him and the awkward memories of last night.
I spot an empty seat in the back and quickly curl myself into it. The air conditioning is on full blast which I would find chilly at the best of times. Given that I am now soaking wet, I find it especially frigid and the bare skin on my arms and legs quickly explodes with goose bumps.
Thankfully, the journey isn’t much longer and about thirty minutes later, I can feel the boat slow down. A few other passengers take this opportunity to head up to the top deck so I decide to follow. Partly because I’m freezing cold and desperate for some warm sunshine. Partly because I’m curious about the view.
As I come up to the main deck. I’m rewarded with a rocky coastline, a few scraggly bushes and trees holding on tightly to the steep cliffs. The water beside the shore is a lighter, almost turquoise colour, contrasting against the intense royal blue of the deep.
The ferry continues to slow down as a rounded bay comes into view ahead. I watch with several others as we cruise slowly inside, and the main town of Symi slowly reveals itself to us.
Symi is completely different from Santorini and Rhodes. Santorini had steep cliffs with white-washed walls and blue-domed churches. Rhodes was all stone and medieval structures, and Symi? Well, the best way to describe Symi is that it looks like it’s popped out of the pages of a children’s storybook.
The buildings are small but bright in various shades of yellow, orange, blue, red, and even pink. The windows and doors of each one a contrasting colour; yellow with white trim and blue doors or red with white trim and turquoise shutters. The rainbow of buildings stretches across the bay and up the steep hill, layering on top of each other as they wind up the mountainside. The colours, which pop so brightly against the grey and green landscape, shine brightly in the reflections of the water.
There are no large ferries or cruise ships in the port. A few small sailboats and little fishing boats, many of which are just as colourful as the houses surrounding them. I can see several waterfront restaurants in the bay, the ornate bell tower of a church, and what looks to be a few old windmills dotted on the hillside.
I thought it was beautiful in Evie’s photos but here now, actually seeing it all in front of me, Symi is magical.
Excitement bubbles up in my chest and even though I’m still on the ferry and have yet to step foot on the island, I just know that I am going to love it here.
I’m one of the last passengers off the ferry. Not that there were many to start with, but it does mean most have already dissipated, setting off to explore the waterfront area or narrow streets. I see the man from last night again, dragging a small, black suitcase towards a parked car. There’s a woman with a baby standing beside it and she waves excitedly as she sees him. It’s pretty cute, and I can’t help but wish I had someone to greet me upon arrival because now that I’m here, I have no idea where I’m going.
Symi doesn’t have nearly as many hotels as Santorini or Rhodes and many of the places to stay are more like B&Bs and apartments rather than proper hotels. The other day, I scanned through my options and settled on a small one-bedroom apartment with a balcony. It was simple, affordable, and most importantly, had excellent reviews.
The only problem is finding it. Since it isn’t a traditional hotel, I don’t expect there to be a flashy sign out front. That being said, Symi town isn’t very big either, so it can’t be too difficult to spot.
Grabbing my suitcase (all four wheels still thankfully intact), I head away from the ferry and pull up a map on my phone to lead me in the right direction. The screen half loads, then freezes. I can see some of the buildings but then it’s just an empty grid.
The blue dot that represents me doesn’t move.
I stop, giving it a few seconds to adjust itself and load and then start to walk again.
This time the blue dot does move.
To the middle of the bay.
I hold my phone a little higher, hoping it will somehow get a proper signal.
The blue dot stays put. As if it’s utterly confident that I am, in fact, in the middle of the water. As for the address I typed in, it still hasn’t loaded and I’m faced with an empty grid.
“Fine,” I mumble to myself, swiping out of the maps and pulling up the photos of the apartment. While most photos posted online are of the interior rooms, there are a couple that show the view from the balcony and I think I can figure it out from there.
I set off again, down along the waterfront, making my way to the centre part of the bay. I pass a couple of tavernas on my left with their rounded tables and traditional woven chairs. The shutters and doors to the actual restaurants, however, remain closed. At 3pm, it’s that quiet part of the day where everything shuts down until the evening.
Glancing at my phone, I try to match the balcony view from the photo to what I see. I’m definitely on the right side of the bay, with the church bell tower across the other side. But I can’t quite tell if the apartment is on the first or second street back from the water. The photo I’m using for reference shows the balcony looking across to a yellow building, with the bay in the background. However, there’s another balcony seemingly in front. I can’t tell if it’s on the same building or a separate one.
I glance up to analyze the buildings, looking for the yellow one that matches the one in the image. Of course, while there are houses of all colours, yellow is by far the most prominent.
I guess this isn’t going to be quite as easy as I thought.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m still standing on the boardwalk with my suitcase. I’ve walked up and down, peering into alleyways for signs and trying to figure out the balcony view with no luck. As for my map, it hasn’t loaded and my blue dot still blinks cheerily at me from the middle of the bay.
Spotting a bench, I lug my suitcase over and grab a seat overlooking the water. Reaching into my bag I dig out my own water bottle, take a swig, and consider my options. My map doesn’t work to find the actual address and I can’t figure it out based on the photos. It’s the middle of the day, so the restaurants are closed, meaning there are no staff for me to ask.
If this had happened when I landed in Santorini, I would have panicked. But now that I’ve been travelling through Greece for over a week, I find myself relatively unbothered. I’m safe, I have all my things, and I’m on a beautiful island in Greece. I can sit on the bench for a few minutes and figure this out.
I’m interrupted from my thoughts and look up to see an elderly man standing beside me. Round glasses frame light blue eyes and his wispy white hair is combed carefully into place. He’s quite tall and slim, dressed in a pair of beige trousers and a light blue golf shirt.
“Do you mind if I join you for a moment?” he questions politely in an accent I can’t quite place.
I nod, sliding my suitcase over so the man can take a seat on the other side of the bench. He does so slowly, using the firm back of the bench to help him settle comfortably in place.
“My knees aren’t quite what they used to be,” he tells me., “Happens with age, you know. One minute you’re hiking or skiing through the mountains and the next, silly little hills like this one leave you sore and winded.”
He gestures his hand to the hill behind me, the one with the windmills near the top. While certainly not a mountain, it does seem rather steep from here.
“Did you just come down from there?” I ask, a little shocked.
“You bet I did,” he nods. “I’ve been coming here for over thirty years and I always like to stay in the same place. A nice little spot run by a nice Greek woman. Well, it’s her daughter’s place now, I guess. But it has a lovely view over the bay. You can’t beat it.” He rubs absent-mindedly at his knees. "Well, except for the hill, that’s getting a little tougher at my age.”
“Thirty years?” I ask, unable to contain the shock in my voice.
He chuckles, “Before you were born, I’d say by the looks of you. But yes. Thirty years coming to this island.”
I wait, hoping he’ll continue but not wanting to be rude and push for a story he’s unwilling to tell. Thankfully, he seems happy to share.
“It was my wife, you know. Her name was Anne and she loved to travel. It started with trips around the UK, we’re Welsh. But soon she’d convinced me to go all over the world and do the craziest things. All my friends took their wives to Rome or New York but not my Anne, no, she wanted big adventures. We couldn’t have children, you see, so instead we had adventures.”
He loses himself in thought for a moment before continuing.
“I took her wherever she wanted to go. We went to Machu Picchu and the Amazon. Norway, Switzerland, France, and Canada for skiing. We even made it all the way to Hong Kong one year, that was something I’ll tell you. Anyways, one year we did a sailing trip and ended up here in Symi. She said it was love at first sight and talked about it for months after we left. So, the next year we came back to stay on the island for two weeks and, well, that was thirty years ago now.”
“Is your wife, Anne, here too then?” I ask, thinking about how much I’d love to meet this adventurous woman. A woman who took off to the depths of the Amazon and across the world to Hong Kong long before the invention of the internet and cell phones. Before you could just book accommodation online and know you had somewhere to stay or use Google translate when you didn’t understand the language. God, she’d laugh knowing I was too nervous to navigate the local bus from the airport in Santorini. Or here now, struggling to find where I’m staying because my map won’t load.
The old man’s shoulders droop, just enough to be noticeable.
“No, she passed last year. Cancer.”
I mentally kick myself for asking the question and hesitate at what to say next.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “She sounds amazing, I was just thinking I’d love to meet her.”
I breathe an inward sigh of relief as he visibly brightens up again.
“You’d have liked her. Everyone did. She was special.”
We sit together in companionable silence for a couple of minutes before he seems to take note of my suitcase.
“Waiting for the ferry then? What did you think of Symi?”
“Just got here,” I admit sheepishly. “I’m a bit lost actually. My map won’t load and I can’t find the apartment that I booked.”
“Oh dear, what’s the name of the place? Could be somewhere I recognize.”
I show him the screenshot on my phone with the name and address.
“Ahh. I do know it!”
He twists slowly on the bench to look behind us.
“That little street there, beside the taverna, you see it?”
I follow his finger to see a street that I have walked by at least three times.
“It’s just behind that taverna, one street back. I believe there is a small sign on the door.”
“Thank you!” I gush.
Shoving my water bottle back into my bag, I stand and reach for my suitcase.
“Are you ok here?”
The man looks up at me, his blue eyes bright and clear behind his glasses.
“Yes dear,” he tells me, nodding towards the edge of the bay where the boats come in. “I’m just waiting for my friends to arrive. You go on and settle in. Symi is a small island so no doubt you’ll see me around. Say hi when you do.”
I thank him again for the help and head in the direction he pointed. There it is, just where he told me it would be. Lifting my suitcase up the stairs I realize I never got the old man’s name. But I don’t feel too bad. As he said, Symi is pretty small and I’ll probably see him around.