Alexander jumped up and walked to the door. His landlady had a bowl of fruit, freshly picked and cut as well as a glass of orange juice. ‘Parakalo,’ she said handing them to him.
Perfect he thought, just what I need. ‘Efharisto.’
The old woman smiled, turned and walked away saying something incomprehensible. Alexander was overjoyed and immediately began to eat and drink. With all the reading, he’d completely forgotten to have lunch. The fruit and juice were delicious, just like everything else in Greece.
A few moments after he’d finished eating, he was dozing peacefully. An ever so gentle afternoon breeze blew through his open door. It was another extremely hot afternoon and everyone on the island would be glad to have this breeze. Very few could afford the luxury of air-conditioning.
Alexander slept like this for an hour or more. When he woke up he was feeling quite refreshed. He looked at his watch and noticed that it was nearly 4 o’clock, so he decided to go down for a swim. As always it was a good idea because when he came out of the water he was even more refreshed. Two small children, probably brother and sister, played with a beach-ball supervised by their overweight mother. ‘Yassu,’ she called.
‘Yassu,’ Alexander replied. The little ones called out ‘yassu’ also.
That evening Alexander and Polychroni again enjoyed dinner at Maria’s restaurant. They had a completely different array of food, but it was as enjoyable as the first time. These two souls who were years apart in age but similar in so many other ways talked until all the restaurant guests had left. They talked about the books Polychroni had given to Alexander and about subjects the likes of which Alexander had never spoken to anyone about. It was an evening of enlightenment.
‘If you travel to India, Alexander, you will come across ashrams and centres of learning like nowhere else on earth. Travel slowly. Stay in one place more than moving around. If you feel comfortable or inquisitive in a new location, stay there and see what happens.’
‘Alright,’ he replied simply.
‘I really hope you come back Alexander. Come back and visit again. Meet my wife. Search through my library. You are welcome anytime.’
‘I know I’m welcome, and yes I think I will return. Thanks for everything.’
With that, they said good night. ‘I’ll come and see you off on the ship tomorrow.’
‘I look forward to that. Good night. Kalinikta.’
‘Kalinikta Alexander.’
The next morning, as Alexander was walking towards the port, he heard the ship’s horn blow from a distance before he saw the ship itself. Polychroni was waiting for him on the wharf.
‘It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you Polychroni,’ Alexander stated emphatically.
‘The pleasure’s been all mine,’ replied Polychroni.
Within minutes, the ship had dropped anchor and was reversing into the wharf. Polychroni embraced his young friend. ‘Do return, please.’
‘Thank you for everything. I think my rucksack has some exceptional knowledge contained in it. Meeting you has changed me a lot. All the opinions and knowledge of the world is contained inside the covers of books. My journey to discover this has now begun thanks to you. Yassu.’
With that the two parted and Alexander boarded the ship with a small group of others. He climbed to the aft deck and waved to Polychroni who in turn waved back.
Then the ship blew its horn, ropes were loosened by the fishermen on the wharf, the engine revs increased and the ship pulled slowly away.
CHAPTER TWO
The wind had come up early and the ship gently rode the small swell out of the harbour. Alexander could see fishing boats dotted all over the place, men busily pulling in nets with little mechanical assistance. The smaller fishing boats bobbed around quite boisterously on the increased off-shore swell.
Alexander chose a bench out of the wind and sat to continue his book, peering up one last time to view the port as the ship rounded the southern headland and the town dropped out of sight.
Even though it was nearing the middle of summer, the ship was by no means crowded. Alexander settled down to read until they were nearing Paros, a journey of just a few hours. He read and read, excitedly turning page after page soon realising the similarity between Goldmund and himself. He wondered if this was the reason Polychroni had given him this particular book but thought it more likely that the reason was that it was simply a very good read. He started to wonder what all the other books he’d been given were about and was looking forward to each with anticipation.
By early afternoon the island of Paros was coming into view. Waves crashed on the tiny rocky outcrops off the harbour entrance and the Meltemi winds blew the spray far into the air. As the ship rounded the northern point, Alexander noticed a beautiful little whitewashed church and the ruins of a building nearby. I’d like to make that my first sketch here, he thought to himself.
Within minutes the ship had blown its horn, dropped anchor and was reversing into the dock. He packed away his book, and headed down to disembark. Again a group of locals greeted the passengers with handwritten signs advertising their hotels and rooms. This time however Alexander decided to search for a place without assistance. He wanted to be right overlooking the water this time and ended up choosing a quaint little room upstairs from a café and a stone’s throw from the water. He had to share the bathroom with the other guests but his room was just perfect. From the pillow of his bed he could see the harbour entrance and the pretty little church that he planned as his first sketch. Paros, he considered on his first afternoon on the island, was even more beautiful than Tinos.
His first few days on the island were filled with discovery. He did take his Hesse book with him, but spent more time learning about the history of the island, of the Crusades and the Ottoman era, of the high-quality Parian marble said to have been used in the construction of the Venus de Milo. Whilst wandering around Parikea on his first afternoon, he found the church of a hundred doors, Panagia Ekatontapiliani, parts of which are 1,600 years old and just like the church on Tinos, Panagia Evangelistria, he felt compelled to enter and explore. He was beginning to realise how resplendent all these major churches in Greece were.
Later that afternoon he put in a call to his mother back in Holland. He’d promised to call her regularly and thought that once a month was sufficient. He told her all the news: where he’d been, where he was planning to go next, even what he was reading. She told him that all the family was fine and each and every one of them was missing him. He promised to call again in a few weeks but in the meantime if she wanted to send a written message to Poste Restante Santorini, he’d be happy to receive it.
On his second day he set off around the harbour to the tiny church he’d noticed from the ship. Sketch-pad, pencils and charcoal in his day pack, he walked around the waterfront, over hills and along beaches to his destination just over an hour’s walking distance. Seated in the shade of a tree he sketched in great detail the tiny whitewashed church. Birds visited him, boats passed by and the wind remained a constant gentle breeze. When he finished, he was very happy with the result.
Returning by the same route, he plunged into the waters of the harbour again and again. By
