21. Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
The following morning finds me back at the marina facing a little kiosk-type stand. It’s for the taxi boats I read about in my blue binder; the ones that go to various beaches around the islands.
According to the list, I can go to Marina Beach, St. Nicholas Beach, Saint George Bay Beach, Nanou Beach, or Marathounda Beach. Saint George Bay, I remember, was listed as having no facilities and since there are no clouds in the sky and I can already feel the heat at 10 in the morning, I decide to give that one a pass for now. Marathounda was a name that came up a few times at drinks the other night, but the options for times are more limited so I figure it’s best to save that one for another day. Which leaves me the options of Marina, St. Nicholas, or Nanou.
I’m waiting my turn to buy a ticket and ask for advice when I hear someone come up behind me.
“Beach day?” a familiar, low voice asks.
I turn to see Dimitri standing beside me. He’s back in his t-shirt and board shorts attire, eyes hidden behind sunglasses and massive bakery bag in hand. A sure sign he’s going to be working on the Elena today with Captain Spyros.
“Yes!” I exclaim, then gesture towards the sign. “Which one is your favourite?”
He looks at the list and shrugs, “None of these.”
My face falls a little and Dimitri notices.
“No, no I’m sorry. They are all nice beaches. But they are not my favourite.”
I feel his eyes, hidden behind the reflective lenses of his glasses, scanning my face with concern that he’s somehow hurt my feelings.
“Ok, fine. Which of these beaches is your favourite?”
He assesses my outfit; shorts and tank top over my green bikini, and small tote bag with a water bottle, book, towel, and bottle of sunscreen.
“Not Saint George Bay, you aren’t prepared. It will be full sun and there is no taverna for shade or drinking water. Marathounda is nice, but you can also go by land. It might be more comfortable than the long trip on this little boat. I think Nanou you will like. Nice beach, good taverna, good prices.”
“Nanou it is then.” I approach the kiosk attendant and purchase my ticket. I’m handed two slips of white paper, one for the way there and the second half for the return back. Pulling out my wallet, I tuck the small papers inside so I don’t lose them. The taxi boat isn’t expensive, but I don’t want to have to pay for it twice because I misplaced my ticket.
“I hope you will like it,” Dimitri tells me as he adjusts his grip on the bakery bag in his hand. I now know from experience that it is full of fresh pita for the boat guests.
“I’ll let you know later.”
“Ok,” Dimitri nods, “See you.”
We say goodbye and I watch as he walks towards the Elena and Captain Spyros who is waiting beside the plank. The two men chat for a moment before Spyros looks in my direction and waves. I wave back before making my way to the taxi boat.
It is significantly smaller than The Elena, which makes sense since it’s just for transporting, not a day trip. I join several other tourists seated along the sides of the boat and at the appointed time, we cast off and motor through the bay, picking up speed as we hit the open water and follow along the coastline.
The water is a little rougher today, causing some of my fellow boat-mates a bit of stress as they struggle to hold on to themselves and their belongings. I watch as one woman’s water bottle slips out of her grasp, rolling down the bottom of the boat before coming to rest at the back, the liquid inside visibly sloshing with every wave we hit.
The taxi boat stops at two beaches, including the incredible St. George Bay which I definitely need to come back to, before arriving at my stop.
“NANOU!” the driver calls out loudly as he brings the taxi beside the long wooden dock. Grabbing my bag, I climb out of the boat, thanking the driver and heading towards the beach in front of me.
Nanou Beach is sheltered in a small cove, so the water here is calmer and protected from the wind. The beach is made of small white and grey rocks and there are a couple of dozen lounge chairs with umbrellas lying in wait. Further back from the beach is a small taverna but other than that, the area is empty.
I was the only passenger to get off at this stop but there are a few other people already at the beach. Some are reading or napping on the lounge chairs while others swim in the clear water of the bay. I spot one family playing by the shoreline, two children giggling as they throw rocks into the sea, only to run away shrieking when the waves come close enough to wet their feet. That being said, it’s far from busy and even with the playing children, Nanou feels like the perfect place to relax which is exactly what I had in mind for the day.
“Thanks, Dimitri,” I say to myself as I pick a lounge chair and set up. By the time I’ve laid out my towel and packed away my tank top and shorts, one of the staff members of the taverna has made his way over.
I hand over the cash for the chair and he kindly lets me know that the taverna is open for food and drink and reminds me of the times for the taxi boat. I thank him and he heads off to the next customer. With a contented sigh, I tug my hair back into a top knot and stretch out on the lounge chair with my book.
I had thought I might only stay for a couple of hours but I find myself relaxed and enjoying Nanou. A few more people trickle in on the next taxi boat, but it doesn’t fill up like the beach club in Rhodes, so it never feels busy.
Around midday, I grab my wallet and head to the taverna. The menu offerings are simple, not surprising as the beach is only accessible by boat or hiking in. I order another bottle of water and a Greek salad. The food is a little slow to arrive since there’s only two people working but I don’t mind. Instead, I grab a seat by the little area outside which, for some reason, is surrounded by a fence.
A little while later, my salad comes out, crisp veggies and a big chunk of local feta drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with herbs. I find myself wondering if the herbs come from the man with the sex tea back in Gialos, but chances are the taverna has its own supply.
I’m lost in my own little world when all of a sudden, I hear a funny noise coming from over the fence beside me.
“Maaaa.”
Pausing mid-bite, I turn to see a small white goat peeping at me through the fence.
“Maaaaaaaa.”
The goat bleats pathetically at me, or rather, at my salad.
Despite the somewhat creepy rectangular-shaped pupils, the goat is kind of cute. Its white coat is dusty and it has tiny little horns on its head. I don’t know much about goats but I imagine this is a young one. Or maybe just a really little one.
“Maaaaaaaa”.
Peeking around me to make sure nobody is watching, I toss a piece of tomato over the fence to the goat.
The goat looks down, sniffs it, and turns away uninterested.
“Maaaaaaaaaa.”
“Seriously?” I whisper, “free food and you’re going to be picky about it?”
I dig through my salad until I find a decent-sized chunk of green pepper. This one barely makes it over the fence before the goat gobbles it up. Only to then press closer to the wires, begging for more.
In the end, the goat, whom I have dubbed Pascal, gets almost all the green peppers out of my salad. I have secret hopes that Pascal will follow me back to the beach and hang out with me for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, it seems that Pascal is not interested in being friends with me and only likes me for my food. He doesn’t budge when I leave, and instead just turns his attention to another table where he starts his sad little bleating performance all over. So, I bid him goodbye and after paying for my meal, walk back to the beach towards my chair.
The midday sun is hot so after slipping my wallet back in my bag, I take a dip in the sea. The water feels deliciously cool against my warm skin and once again I can’t get over just how clear it is. I float until my skin prickles with goosebumps, then make my way back to shore. Scrambling awkwardly up the pebbly beach towards my lounge chair. I stretch out on my stomach and close my eyes. Enjoying the feel of the sun warming me back up and the sounds of the waves crashing along the shoreline. And then I fall asleep.
I feel the burn long before I can see it. That uncomfortable prickly sensation, like your skin is too hot and too tight. It’s not a good feeling. Sunburns are something I’ve always tried my best to avoid, especially given my pale complexion. However, that is exactly what I wake up with after my impromptu beach nap.
To make matters worse, it’s not even my back or my legs that I’ve burnt. Those have built up enough of a base tan over the last several days that they remain fine despite the fact that I forgot to reapply sunscreen after my pre-nap swim.
No, I’ve burnt my ass.
This morning when I got ready I pulled on my emerald green two-piece. The one with the cheeky bottoms. It’s only the second time I’ve worn this swimsuit on my trip, the first being on the boat where I spent most of my time making sure to stay covered. However here, on Nanou beach, I’ve gone and had a nap on my stomach leaving half of my very white butt exposed for the world to see and the sun to burn.
And wow, does it ever feel burnt.
I stifle a groan as I sit up, rolling over to protect it from any further damage. But the harm is done and I wince as I try to sit.
Oh god.
Despite the padding on the sunbed, my butt is screaming in pain at the pressure of being sat on. Which is not ideal for a million reasons, a very important one being that I have to sit on a boat to get back. A boat with hard wooden benches. A boat that will, undoubtedly, bounce across the sea on the way back to the port.
I wonder if I can just stay here for the night with Pascal. I shared my lunch, maybe he’ll share his nest or cave or wherever it is that Greek goats sleep.
I spend the next twenty minutes or so doing my best to get comfortable, which is impossible unless I want to continue lying on my stomach. I don’t want to do that either. Even though I’ve pulled my shorts on to help prevent more damage, even the indirect heat of the sun burns my now sensitive skin.
In the end, I give up. There is no chance I can enjoy any more of this beach day. I need a cold shower and a bottle of after-sun lotion as soon as possible.
I pack up my belongings and head for the dock. Thankfully, my timing works pretty well with the taxi boat schedule and I only have to wait a few minutes before it arrives. It’s the second last boat of the day so more people get on than off, which means that not only is the ride back bumpy on the waves, it’s also quite cramped. Leaving me to suffer not only from a sunburn but also from further discomfort thanks to having, well, a big ass. Right now, I really hate my butt.
Mercifully, the water starts to get calmer as we approach the bay and while my butt is still on fire, not bouncing anymore definitely helps.
I mumble a quick thank you to the skipper as I disembark. I’m desperate for a cold shower but also imagine I will need some sort of after-sun care for my skin. I can’t imagine wanting to pull on clothes again after I take them off so I decide I better hit up a pharmacy first.
“Calla!” Looking up from my pharmacy search on my phone I see Dimitri on the other side of the road, the Elena back in port behind him.
I watch as he waits for a car to pass, then jogs across to me.
“So? Did you have a good day? Did you like Nanou?”
“I did!” I tell him honestly. “It was beautiful and the water was great for swimming. I made friends with a goat.”
“Let me guess, it wanted your lunch?”
I raise my hand to shade my eyes. “How did you know?” I question sarcastically.
I’m rewarded with one of his half-smiles as he asks what my plans are for the evening.
“Umm.” I go back and forth for a moment, trying to decide if telling him my ass is as red as a fire truck after falling asleep in the sun is too much information. Then again, he might have some feedback on a good after-sun product to buy. So, I decide to go for it.
“Well, I’m actually looking for a pharmacy. I fell asleep in the sun and am incredibly burnt.”
He frowns a little as he looks at me, “You don’t look burnt at all.”
“Err, I burnt my butt. I fell asleep on the chair and my butt is now on fire.”
His eyes drop to my lower body as if trying to see this sunburn through my shorts.
“Blisters?”
I shake my head, “I don’t think so? It doesn’t feel like it but it’s really hot and sore so I wanted to find some kind of lotion…”
“Yogurt.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yogurt.” He repeats. “First have a cold shower, then put yogurt on your skin for about ten to fifteen minutes.”
I stare up at him, trying to figure out if he is serious or if this is some sort of strange joke.
“Trust me, Calla. Yogurt will help better than any cream. Do you need some? We can go to the store…”
“No, I have some at my apartment.” I tell him, still not quite sure if he’s pulling my leg. He clearly senses my hesitancy.
“Ok, we’ll make a deal. Give me your number. You go back to your apartment. Have a cold shower, and put on the yogurt. I will text you in an hour and check in. If the yogurt hasn’t helped at all, I will go to a pharmacy and find you something else. Ok?”
His face is one hundred percent serious and, even though he’s got sunglasses on, I can still feel his eyes on mine.
“Fine,” I tell him, rhyming off my number. He taps it into his phone and types out a quick message. I hear my phone ping from inside my bag.
“There,” he tells me, “you have my number now too. If there is a problem, call me. Now go back to your apartment. Plain yogurt, right? Not too thin a layer.”
“Yes, yes ok, I’m going.”
I say goodbye and head back to my apartment to do exactly as he says.
The shower feels great and terrible at the same time. The cool water is nice but I have to play with the showerhead a little so it doesn’t feel like needles on my tender skin. Thankfully, it’s not blistered, at least not yet, but it is lobster-red. If it didn’t hurt so much I’d probably laugh at how funny it looks. Bright red half-moons against the pale milky white of my normal skin tone.
After a shower, I dig out the yogurt and a spoon I grabbed from my bag in the fridge in the communal kitchen area. I’m not entirely sure how to do this. If I do it standing in front of a mirror, the yogurt is likely to just slide down my butt and legs. But if I lie on my bed, I can’t see. In the end, I spread a towel on my bed and lie down. Even though I can’t see, I can feel the burn so I figure it’s best to do it blind and then at least the yogurt will stay where it’s supposed to.
It’s a messy affair that takes longer than expected. However, as soon as that first spoonful of yogurt hits my skin, I moan in relief. It’s cool and gentle and somehow feels absolutely incredible. I continue to awkwardly spoon yogurt on myself, spreading it gently until the entire area that hurts now feels soothed.
This is amazing. But weird. So weird.
Dimitri told me to leave it on for ten to fifteen minutes so I Iet the yogurt to work its magic and pull out my phone, searching ‘Greek yogurt and sunburns’.
I get dozens of results stating that this is, in fact, an actual remedy. Something about lactic acids and probiotics and anti-inflammatory benefits.
Hunh. Who knew?
Moments later my phone buzzes with a message.
Dimitri: Is it working?
Calla: Yes! This feels amazing!
Dimitri: I told you so.
Calla: Thank you, Dimitri.
Dimitri: You’re welcome, Calla. Do you need anything?
Calla: No, all good here. I’m just going to hang out with my yogurt.
Dimitri: Ok. Do it again before you go to bed, it will help.
Calla: Will do. Thank you again. I owe you!
Dimitri: Have a good evening. I will talk to you tomorrow.
I re-read his last message three times. He’ll talk to me tomorrow.
I think about our first day, how he wouldn’t let me go in the water alone and helped me find the seals. Then back to last night, when he waited for me to be safely inside before he left. And now today, of him checking in on me to make sure I’m ok. My body is infused with a sudden burst of warmth and I try to tell myself it’s just because it’s nice to have someone nearby who cares.
Not because I’m developing a schoolgirl crush on this quiet, dark-eyed Greek man.
Because that would be a terrible idea.