to the wharf. With so many locals enjoying their Greek coffee and conversation, the ‘Harbour Café’ seemed the place to be. Several octopuses hung on the awning railing in the afternoon sun, a sight that Alexander was soon to get used to. When the waiter arrived he ordered a Greek coffee and took out his book. He stayed there an hour or so reading and ordering a second coffee.
Parikea seemed considerably busier than Tinos had been. A nearby taxi rank with battered old Russian and Australian cars offered trips to locations that the few buses didn’t get to. Alexander took note of the possible destinations as buses came and went. He wanted to explore further afield the next day.
When tomorrow came he chose the bus to Naoussa, a small fishing village on the north side of the island. The journey was only about half an hour but the rickety old bus rumbled and shook the whole trip. On arrival he was greeted by an extremely quiet town square surrounded by tiny shops and cafés. As there were a few trees offering shade, he chose to sit and read. Ordering an apple juice he took out his book and continued on from where he had left off earlier.
When the waitress returned with his drink he noticed a beautiful young lady sitting several tables away. How gorgeous, he thought to himself. I wonder if she’ll look in my direction. He was really taken by her beauty. Brilliantly blonde hair, adorable skin slightly sunburned, strikingly deep blue eyes and cute farmer’s overalls. Just then she got up and walked off. Alexander felt compelled to follow her. A bicycle parked nearby leaning against one of the trees beckoned him. He looked around for the owner and, when he found him, offered a single finger indicating a one minute loan, and called efharisto as he rode off. Just outside the town limits he caught up with her.
‘Hello,’ he began. ‘Are you on holiday?’
‘Yes, I am,’ she replied with a fascinating accent.
‘Where are you from?’
‘From Bavaria.’
‘Have you been on Paros long?’
‘Just over a month,’ she replied with a hint of annoyance.
‘Could we meet later for a drink?’
‘Yes, if you want,’ she replied rather unenthusiastically.
‘Are you staying in Parikea?’
‘Yes, near the windmill at the end of the harbour.’
‘Okay, I’ll find you I’m sure. Bye.’
As he rode off, he was horrified at how stupid he must have sounded. Back at the café he found it difficult to read. His mind was almost entirely on the young lady. I didn’t even ask her name, he realised. I hope I find her later.
He spent the day exploring Naoussa and the surrounding countryside. I could live here, he thought to himself. At the end of the day he caught the bus back to the other side of the island and immediately began searching for the pretty lady. He hung around the windmill with his book pretending to read. Then he had dinner at a restaurant close by in the hope that she would walk past. He waited hours but he didn’t catch sight of her. Hours after the sun had set and after several attempts walking the streets near the windmill to no avail, he decided to call it a night. Feeling quite despondent, he walked back slowly to this room.
In bed with a half-moon shining upon the harbour waters, he couldn’t sleep. He lay awake thinking of her, what her likes and dislikes might be, what music she might like, what books she might read, or if she liked books at all.
The next day, after a difficult night of little sleep, Alexander chose to again start the day with a swim. On the way down to the beach, he saw somebody who resembled the blonde lady from the day before, softly playing a guitar sitting in the sand. Sure enough as he got closer he discovered it was her.
‘Hi,’ he called excitedly as he approached.
‘Hello,’ she replied.
‘Can I sit with you?’
‘Of course, but can you sing?’
‘No,’ Alexander replied cautiously. ‘Don’t let me interrupt you though.’
She continued to play and sing, and Alexander with his limited knowledge of music, guessed the piece to be Bob Dylan’s How Many Roads.
‘That was beautiful,’ he said when she finished.
‘Thanks, it’s a pity you don’t sing or play also. Would you like to go in the water?’
‘First I’d like to know your name.’
‘It’s Barbara.’
‘And I’m Alexander.’
‘Come on, let’s swim Alexander.’
This was something quite new for him. Alexander had never been swimming with a girl before, apart from his younger sisters but not a girl like this. He’d also never been on a beach with a girl playing guitar before. As they swam together, he felt quite excited.
They spent the day together, talking, playing music, swimming more. Barbara even got him to sing with her. After dinner that evening he invited her back to his room. They talked for hours, sitting on his bed and later they made love into the early hours, passionate and intense.
The following day was all music and conversation. Barbara played the most delicate and sublime music. The guitar she used was on loan from another traveller, and not a very good guitar at that.
‘You must be astonishing on a decent guitar,’ he told her.
‘Thank you, I play a lot. Music is extremely important to me. I love to play. My father taught me that music is an international language. Even the word music, musik, musique says this. Music travels in many forms he says … it is the soft subtle notes of a mandolin, the voice of a young child, the wind in the trees and so many other things.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. I don’t play any instrument but I’d love to. Perhaps in my travels I’ll discover an instrument that I’d like to learn to play.’
Alexander remained on Paros for some weeks spending most of his time with Barbara. After he finished Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund, he took a rest from reading. Instead while Barbara played guitar he sketched. Sometimes with pencils, other times with crayon and charcoal he would sketch Barbara’s hands as they played the instrument, her exquisite face as she constructed a musical piece, the faces of other people who walked by, animals in the fields, donkeys in particular. He sketched more churches, fences—the stone ones which separated the fields—and he sketched flowers and herbs. He drew fishing boats, their nets and paraphernalia in great detail, all the while enjoying the special music offered by Barbara. His favourite sketches though were of her.
They became close during these weeks. He presented his new love with a drawing nearly every day. She was appreciative and brought him flowers and ouzo. Having been on the island much longer than he had, she knew where to get the best brew. Next door and downstairs from the post office, there was a tiny Ouzo and Raki shop. The owner made it himself at his home not far out of town. It was by far the best ouzo around.
They made love nearly every day. He asked her to travel with him, but she refused. He tried to persuade her continually, but she stood her ground.
‘I
