22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
While I didn’t have an amazing sleep, it wasn’t as bad as I expected either. Dimitri’s yogurt trick worked wonders. I had read online to do it every two to four hours so I did it twice more before bed and was able to sleep on my stomach. This morning, it still feels warm to the touch and a little sensitive, but it’s a hundred times better than yesterday and at least I can sit. However, I think it’s best if I keep it fully covered and avoid the beach today. Which leaves me wondering what I should get up to.
I’m flipping through the blue binder looking for ideas when my phone buzzes beside me.
A message from Dimitri.
I ignore the excited little flip my stomach does and click through to read the message.
Dimitri: Good morning. How is the burn?
Calla: Much better, thank you. The yogurt really worked!
Dimitri: Of course, it did. What are your plans today?
Calla: Not sure yet. But probably not a beach.
Dimitri: What about the monastery?
I stare at the message trying to figure out if he’s offering to take me or giving me a suggestion on what to do.
Calla: I was thinking of doing that.
Dimitri: I can pick you up in 30 minutes?
I glance around at my room which looks like an explosion. I just threw everything on the floor last night when I came back. Thirty minutes. I can clean myself, and my room up in that time. Besides, we’re just going to a monastery. It’s not like it’s a date. He’s just being nice. After all, didn’t Mary say something about some girl back in Athens?
Calla: Ok, sounds good. Where do you want me to meet you?
Dimitri: I’ll come to your apartment.
Calla: Ok, see you soon.
I climb out of bed heading for the bathroom, picking up last night’s clothes as I go. I give my swimsuit a quick rinse in the shower and hang it to dry, tossing my salty tank top and shorts in another pile designated for laundry.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I pull on my softest pair of pants and a clean t-shirt, but not before covering myself in a layer of sunscreen, making sure I get every bit of my body that may see the sunshine. I’m not taking any risks after yesterday. I tie my hair back and throw my wallet, phone, and keys in my bag along with my water bottle. I have no idea how long I’ll be gone for or what the plan is but I can’t think of anything else I may need so I flick off the lights and lock the door behind me.
Even though I’m a little early, Dimitri is already waiting for me outside, standing astride his scooter. He’s on his phone speaking rapidly in Greek but finishes his call quickly when he sees me.
“Kalimera,” he smiles at me warmly, causing his dark eyes to crinkle. The gold flecks in them are extra obvious in the bright sunlight. Like the other day, he’s wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt that hugs his lean body and brings out the olive tones of his tanned skin. His hair looks slightly damp and is curled a bit at the ends like he just got out of the shower before he came here.
Hot. My mind whispers to me.
And he is. I’ve always been drawn towards light-eyed blonde men; the complete opposite of Dimitri. However, there is no question that Dimitri is incredibly attractive. I’m just not sure how it took me multiple days to see it.
Off limits. I chide myself, doing my best to push down the excited, bubbly feeling growing in my chest.
“Kalimera!” I reply brightly, hoping he didn’t see me checking him out. I hop down the steps to the scooter. He lifts up the storage compartment so I can tuck my bag inside and hands me something large, round, and black. A helmet.
“You do have a helmet!” I exclaim.
“Yes, of course. They are mandatory. I just wasn’t expecting a passenger the other day so I didn’t have it with me.”
“But you didn’t wear one either,” I accuse him.
He shakes his head, “No, but I wasn’t expecting to drive. I didn’t have time to get either from the house before we left. I wanted to get you to the sunset.”
“Do you live up in Chorio?”
He nods.
“Yes. My family has homes up there. The woman Arthur rents from is actually my aunt.”
Small world.
I lift the bulky helmet on my head, and then fumble with the clasp. In theory, I know how it works but it’s hard to line up the two clips up under my chin when I can’t actually see them.
“Here, let me.”
Dimitri reaches up and takes the two clasps from me, pushing them together in a satisfying click. I watch him, his brow slightly furrowing as he tugs one strap a little and adjusts it on my head.
“There. See, I told you I would keep you safe. Ready to see Panormitis?”
I nod and climb on the bike behind him. I hold my breath for a moment as I sit but while I can still feel the burn, it doesn’t hurt. Breathing out a small sigh of relief, I wrap my arms comfortably around Dimitri’s waist and he takes off down the street and away from Gialos.
It takes about 40 minutes to get to Panormitis. The road is in relatively good condition. It also seems to be the only main road on the entire island. We pass a couple of other scooters, cars, and even a small bus, but there really isn’t much traffic and after the first little while, I loosen my grip on Dimitri and am able to enjoy the ride and the views that come along with it.
I had expected Panormitis Monastery to be big, dark, and imposing, but like the buildings in Gialos and Chorio, it’s actually quite colourful. The exterior is primarily white with a little yellow. There is some terracotta red detailing around the windows and a matching roof. The main focal point is the bell tower, which reminds me a bit of a heavily decorated tiered birthday cake. It’s a pale yellow with white, terra cotta, and even a few blue decorative details. I see what look to be birds, seashells, flowers, and even faces on the exterior. It’s pretty but also a little strange when I had pictured gargoyles.
Dimitri finds parking and we stow our helmets.
“Welcome to Panormitis.”
I follow along beside him as he leads the way.
“How old is this place?” I ask
“Honestly,” Dimitri tells me, “nobody really knows. It is said that the monastery is built on top of an ancient temple, but we don’t know this for sure. The monastery has been here since the fifteenth century. Of course, it has had to be rebuilt a few times over the years.”
“Was it bombed by Germans too?”
Dimitri shakes his head at me, “No. I think the most recent restoration was in the eighteenth century. Before the Germans.”
My eyes take a moment to adjust to the change in lighting as we enter the monastery, but the inside is surprisingly even more colourful than the outside and covered in religious murals across the ceiling and the walls. There are only a few other tourists inside with us, but Dimitri drops his voice to a near whisper to remain quiet and respectful in the sacred space.
“The monastery is dedicated to the Archangel Michael - you can see the icon over there.”
I look to where Dimitri points and see a silvery icon and, in front of it, several brooms.
“What’s with the brooms?” I whisper.
“Gifts from pilgrims. It is common to offer a new broom.”
“So, I can make a wish and offer a broom in payment?” I arch my brow in question. Granting wishes in exchange for a broom doesn’t seem like a great bargain to me.
Dimitri rolls his eyes before explaining, “The Archangel requires something in return. It doesn’t have to be a broom, but brooms have become popular as legend says that people have heard him sweeping the monastery by night. But you can offer something else as well. You just need to keep your end of the bargain if you expect him to keep his.”
That sounds rather ominous.
“What happens if you don’t?” I question a little too loudly which results in a glare from an elderly visitor who is placing what looks to be a bottle of olive oil below the icon.
“He will show his displeasure.”
“How?” I ask, once again fascinated by Greek superstition.
Dimitri leans down a little to whisper in my ear. “The most common story is that a boat won’t start. They say if the engine on board doesn’t work, it’s because someone didn’t keep their promise. The engine will only start when the promise is fulfilled.”
I glance up at Dimitri who is looking very serious, though I recognize a playful glint in his eye.
“Good to know, I’ll keep that in mind when it’s time for me to leave.”
While I don’t consider myself religious, I don’t want to risk angering the Archangel so I ask for nothing. Instead, I wander around the interior taking in the incredible paintings and artwork.
We then move on to the museum which has icons, paintings, books, and more. It’s interesting, but all together, we spend less than an hour inside.
Exiting back to the sunshine, we are met by a crowd. Well, not by Santorini standards but there are certainly more people here than when we arrived.
“The ferry.” Dimitri nods to the left where a small ferry is moored, bobbing in the waves. “It brings visitors here from Gialos.” The crowd pushes past us, babbling excitedly as they enter the monastery and I’m grateful for our timing and my guide.
“Thank you for bringing me.”
He dips his head in acknowledgement.
“The monastery is special to the island, but there is another good reason to visit Panormitis, come.”
Dimitri veers away from the tourists, leading me to a small bakery away from the main tourist trail. Upon entering I’m greeted with the rich smell of coffee and baked goods.
Dimitri calls out to the woman behind the counter who greets him like an old friend. After exchanging a few sentences, she disappears into the back room, only to return moments later with a large paper bag that she passes over.
“I have our snack!” He wiggles the mystery bag in front of me with more enthusiasm than I’ve seen from him over the last few days and I can’t help but wonder what is inside that has him so excited.
Since he got our snacks, I purchase the drinks and we walk back outside in search of somewhere to eat.
“By the water?” Dimitri asks me.
I nod and we make our way to the waterfront where we find a bench to sit. Dimitri immediately opens the bag from the bakery, looking happily inside.
“Are you ready?” he asks me.
“For…?”
“The best croissant you have ever had in your life.”
I didn’t know what to expect from his bag, but croissant wasn’t it. Spinach pies, bougatsa, maybe some cookies, sure. But croissants? In Greece?
He sees the distrust on my face and pushes the bag towards me.
“Trust me.”
I reach in and pull out a croissant, the top layer is a golden brown and cracks lightly under my fingers. Croissant in hand, I look to Dimitri.
“Go on! Try it!”
I do as I’m told and take a bite. There’s a quick crunch as I bite through the top, followed by light, buttery layers in the middle. It’s delicious.
“See!” Dimitri tells me, pulling his own croissant out of the bag. “Best croissants ever.” He takes a huge bite from his, closing his eyes as he chews, letting out a small groan of happiness that causes me to laugh.
“I did not expect Greece to have croissants this good.”
“The best.” He corrects me, taking another bite. “This bakery is known for them. Most tourists don’t know of this spot but a few have found it. Then when they visit, they usually go for the typical Greek pastries. Us locals, however, know about the croissants. They will always be the first thing to sell out.”
“So how did we get them? We aren’t exactly here early.”
“I called ahead,” Dimitri admits, “told them I was coming and asked Kassandra to put some aside for me. As you saw, there were none in the display anymore.
“Tour guide, driver, and croissant wrangler,” I tease. “You do it all.”
“I try.” Dimitri takes another massive bite of his croissant and we sit under the sun, watching the waves as we eat our perfectly flaky croissants in front of the monastery.
I decide that if I ever come back and ask Archangel Michael for a favour, I’ll bring him a croissant. I think he might enjoy it more than a broom.