18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
“I can’t believe you saw two of them!” Mary gushes. “You’re a lucky girl, Calla!”
The enthusiasm at seeing the two Mediterranean monk seals is still at the top of everyone’s mind now that we are back in Gialos.
The Elena docked around 5:30pm and I was invited to join the group for an end-of-the-day cocktail. Also part of tradition, so I’m told.
Which is how I find myself sitting in my shorts and bikini top, still wet and salty from the sea, with the most incredible cocktail menu in front of me.
“You can get pretty much whatever you want here,” Arthur tells me, “But this.” He taps the menu in front of me. “This is what makes this place special.”
The menu he’s handed me is a small dark blue folder. The front is crinkled and worn, no doubt from the hundreds of hands that have flipped through the pages. The front reads “G.T menu” and upon opening it up, I see that each page contains an image with notes. The bartender has taken the time to illustrate every drink on the menu with little hand-written notes beside them explaining the flavour profiles of the gin and the mixers as well as anything else included in the recipe.
I decide to try something local called the Old Sport. According to the image on the menu, it’s a gin and tonic with Greek botanicals, mastika, a slice of orange, and a cinnamon stick.
Everyone else, it seems, knows exactly what they want without having to look at the menu and the waiter comes over to take our orders. Unsurprisingly, he is familiar with the group and knows each person by name. Pleasantries are exchanged, along with check-ins as to how they all fared over winter. The general consensus is ‘fine’ but ‘glad to be back’ which, of course, brings a smile to his face.
After a few moments, he whisks away to the bar inside. I feel guilty that our large group of ten will keep him busy inside as he whips up our individual cocktails, but the fellow patrons don’t seem to mind. They all sit happily with their own drinks, looking out over the bay. After all, this is a Greek island. Nobody is in a rush.
The group starts chatting among themselves; of past memories, of other people they know on the island, of other tourists who may or may not come back this year. I lean back in my seat, happy to listen and take it all in.
“Ah, there’s Dimitri!” Arthur interrupts. “Let’s invite him for a drink, shall we? Dimitri!”
I look up and see Dimitri’s tall figure walking across the boardwalk, away from the Elena. His head turns in our direction as he hears Arthur yell his name. Peter and Dennis throw their hands in the air, animatedly waving him over. Dimitri raises a hand in acknowledgment and starts walking towards us.
“I should have known you’d be here,” Dimitri’s mouth quirks into a half grin as he arrives, coming to stand behind Arthur and clapping a hand on his shoulder. His eyes flick quickly over at me before focusing back on the group in general. “Some things never change.”
“Please,” Arthur says, “Sit with us. Let me buy you a drink.”
“Oh no, I…”
“I insist,” Arthur interrupts. “We haven’t seen you for three years! Lots to catch up on. Besides, Calla needs someone her own age to talk to. She’s been stuck with us old folks all day.”
“Hey!” Margaret reaches forward to swat Arthur, “watch who you call old!”
This earns a laugh from everyone.
“Ok, one drink,” Dimitri demurs. “You have ordered already?”
We nod.
“Ok. I’ll go to the bar, be right back.”
He heads into the bar and Arthur slowly gets up, shuffling his chair closer to Jim and Nora on his left side, leaving an open space beside me.
“There!” He says with a happy sigh, “he can pull a chair in here.”
Dimitri returns a few minutes later with our server, both of them holding a tray full of drinks. The server remembers everyone’s order and ensures that each cocktail gets into the right hands. I’m awarded a cheeky wink as he passes me mine before telling the table to enjoy and let him know if we need anything else.
The conversation starts to flow again, this time directed towards Dimitri. Where he’s been, what he’s done, how long he’s staying on the island for.
“Only a couple of weeks,” he admits. “I came to see Yiannis and meet his new daughter, of course. And to help Spyros so Yiannis can have a little time together at home with Angela and the baby before the tourist season kicks off. Then back to work in Athens.”
“Do you like life in Athens then?” Mary pipes up.
All eyes are on Dimitri as he plays with the shiny blue label on his beer bottle. While the rest of us all have fancy cocktails in front of us, it seems like Dimitri is a beer guy.
“Athens has good opportunities for me,” he says slowly. “More than I can find here on the island.”
“But do you like living in Athens?” Margaret pointedly asks.
Dimitri pauses, still looking down at his bottle and the now ripped label where his fingers play.
“Honestly? Not so much. At first, it was exciting. You know, the big city after so many years on the island. But now?” he shrugs. “For now, it is ok. But I hope it will not be forever.”
“Well, son,” Arthur claps him on the shoulder, “we’re happy to have you back, even if it is for just a couple of weeks.”
This earns another slow, half-smile from Dimitri.
“What about you? How long are you here for, Calla?” Margaret asks.
“I’ve booked my room for three nights,” I tell her. “I have a flight home from Athens on Wednesday morning.”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I feel a pang of sadness. Wednesday is only three days away. I’ve been so focused on the day-to-day that I hadn’t really realized that I’ve already been here nearly two full weeks. I can’t believe that my solo trip to Greece, which seemed so daunting in Santorini, is nearly over.
“Are you ready to go back home?” Nora asks me. As if it’s something I should be looking forward to. Like I should be exhausted from travel and ready to go back to my comfortable apartment. To sleep in my own bed. To be back with my friends and family.
And maybe I should be. Maybe most people would be. But the more I think about leaving Greece, about going back, the more uneasy I feel.
“No,” I admit, both to the group and to myself. “I’m not ready to leave.”
A couple of hours later, our drinks are paid for and the group has said goodbye for the night, everyone making their way back to their hotels, apartments, or guest houses. My contact list is several names longer as everyone gave me their number. I still have one more full day here and the expectation is that I will see some of them around. But I was told to call or text if I needed anything.
I’ve also been given a list of the things I should do before I leave, which caused plenty of disagreement in the group.
The Kali Strata, I’m told, is a must. It’s best seen early morning or evening when the sun goes down. On that same note, I’m told the monastery is fantastic and so are several of the local beaches.
“And to think people always think Symi is too small, only worth a day trip,” Mary chuckled, shaking her head so that her curls bounced around her ears, “There’s so much to do here. You need more time.”
I climb the steps to my building and fish the keys out of my purse, balancing my now-clean laundry bag, which I picked up on the way back from the bar, on my hip to unlock the door. The hallway is empty, and the building is quiet. The cleaners have long since gone for the day and other guests are out for the evening. For now, it seems like I have the entire building to myself.
I make my way down the hall, switching keys so I can open my apartment and step inside, locking the door behind me. Dumping my clean laundry on my bed, I strip out of my salt-encrusted shorts and swimsuit, heading straight for a hot shower to wash off the day and clear my head.
More time.
Mary’s words echo in my head as I stand under the hot stream, letting it pound against my back and shoulders as I undo my hair from the braid it’s been trapped in all day.
It’s hard to believe that a week and a half ago, I was tucked in my bed in Santorini, moping about Theo and nervous about leaving my little cave suite to explore. Yet here I am now, on this tiny little island that I’d never even heard of. Making plans at the last minute and meeting new people, new friends, everywhere I go.
So much has changed in so little time.
Scrubbed clean with freshly washed and conditioned hair, I turn the shower off and dry myself quickly. Padding over to the bed, I dig through my freshly washed laundry for something to wear. The smell of clean clothing envelops me as I organize everything into tidy little piles ready to be packed away. In the end, I decide to just stick with my pj shorts and oversized t-shirt. I’m still full from the late lunch and don’t feel the need to go out for dinner.
Instead, I brush out my wet hair and grab the blue binder off the desk along with a bottle of water to sit on the balcony. The sky is a dusky blue now, the lights of the surrounding buildings reflecting on the calm surface of the water in the bay. Symi isn’t nearly as busy as Rhodes or Santorini but, like the other islands, it comes alive in the evening.
Settling in, I prop my feet up on the chair across from me and flip the blue binder open, scanning the list of recommended things to do to compare against what the group today suggested.
Kali Strati- one of the best things to do!
St. George Beach, a must-see!
Panormitis Monastery- one of the most special places on the island!
I want to see them all but there’s no way I can fit all three things in one day, and that’s not even considering all the other beaches on the island I was told about.
With a sigh, I close the book and lay it on the table, leaning back in my chair and staring at the dark sky and the stars just starting to pop out. Tiny flecks of white in the inky black of the sky. I can’t see the stars like this in Vancouver.
Thinking of home gives me an uneasy feeling. Not that I don’t love my home, because I do. I love Vancouver. I love that I live by both the sea and the mountains. I love my cozy one-bedroom apartment. I love my job and my boss and that I can work from coffee shops and cafés or even from home. I love meeting up with Mel and being close enough to visit my parents.
I do love my life in Vancouver. But I’m not ready to go back to it. I’m not ready for those routines. At least not yet.
So maybe…maybe I don’t have to.
I swipe my phone off the table and quickly search my flights. Scanning through the small print, I see that I cannot cancel the ticket. But I can change the dates for a minimal fee plus the difference in the ticket price.
I pull up the fare calendar and play with different dates. I can extend my stay by a week and a half after my original planned departure for an extra $350. It’s not exactly what I want to spend $350 on but in the scheme of things, it’s actually not too bad.
Next, I pull up the booking site for this apartment. It’s available for another five nights after my original check-out date. It won’t cover the entire time I will have left in Greece if I extend, but that’s ok. Another five nights here should be plenty.
The final step, however, is getting permission from work.
Swiping through to my email, I immediately start a message to my boss, Moira. I officially booked two weeks off, but I am technically allowed three weeks of paid vacation with the added option of taking unpaid time. I just need to hope that Moira lets me. But I won’t know until I ask.
An hour later I press send. For such a quick email, I spent far too long agonizing over what to say and how to ask for the time off. In the end, I opt for honesty. I tell her how much I am loving my time in Greece and that two weeks hasn’t been enough time to see and do everything I wanted. With that being the case, I ask if I can extend my vacation and return at a date later than originally planned.
I tap the send button and then quickly turn off my phone to silent mode. It’s early enough back home that she will probably respond today. But I don’t want to sit and refresh my phone constantly hoping for that little ‘ding’ to notify me that I have a new email response. Instead, I trade my phone for my book, telling myself that I will have an answer when I wake up in the morning.