ATHENS

Our FIRST Little Story  (A and  Z: the Book Ends)

“The Young and the Retired Taxi Cab Philosophers”

The Mamma Mia adventures began the moment we landed in Athens and went to the cab queue, where we were instantly divided into two cars, despite trying to stay together.  Did the other two Mammas even have an idea where we were headed? Would they remember to turn their airplane modes off and check all my past emails for the itinerary with the name of the Airbnb? I didn’t have time to process that whilst just SURVIVING the absolute scariest car ride of my life (thus far).  My bestie and I had the “pleasure” of being introduced to Greece by a young, handsome, suave Greek man who went WAY, WAAAAAY over the speed limit, weaving in and out of traffic, all the while honking (or being honked at) and turning to talk to us, attempting to point at significant landmarks (are we on a mountain right now??? Is that a cliff we just about went over?? Why is he looking at his phone?! Who is he calling???),not at all following the cab we insisted he remain behind with our precious friends in it.  He turned and looked at us.  “I FAST”, to which I adamantly said, “NO”, firmly gesticulating with my hands. Parakalo (please).  Also, I pointed to the road ahead.  Parakalo keep your eyes on it.  When we finally exited the highway, and entered the “slower” city limit, we both felt our stomachs fall back into place from our throats.  Now that he was going “only” about 70 km, he felt it the best time to rip off part of his receipt paper to scribble the name of the “Number one, the BEST!” restaurant we should visit.  As he told us all about it (we never did find our way to it), and while we started breathing again, we started to actually enjoy the views. After ensuring  the golden ticket was pressed firmly in my hand, he once again faced forward and sideways, highlighting, with his attractive accent, the many interesting landmarks we came across: That is the famous King George hotel where celebrities stay. That is the Government Office.  Up there, lots of shopping….

As we came to a sort of stop near the fancy, way bouj hotel, we started people watching. Wait….Is that an Orthodox Priest in that black robe and tall black  “hat” on the sidewalk? Did he just look inside and BLESS US??? (As it turned out, this was not the only time this happened on our trip. One of the other Mamma Mias told me after it happened several more times, that perhaps they weren’t blessing us, but rather, just trying to wave down a cab?  I prefer my version, so that’s what I’m sticking to.). We could have used him BEFORE we got into Speed Racer’s cab, but we took it as a very, very good sign. This was all SOME introduction to Greece!!

 I was now able to properly message our friends, since I wasn’t bouncing all over the back seat as we were slow-ishly moving from stop light to stop light. I tried to enjoy where we were and the experience we were already having, whilst simultaneously surmising where they were and if they were safe.

When he reached our destination, a PEDESTRIAN street, he kindly explained we would have to walk from there. He lifted our luggage out and pointed to where we needed to go (there was a sign) and made sure we understood. Denise and I  admittedly already knew we had overpacked with our individual backpacks, carry-ons, AND one shared piece of medium sized checked luggage, as we eyed the cobblestone ahead of us and imagined the non-elevator ride up to where our flat would be. In heat WAY hotter than the forecast we checked out from back home had said.  But, it was not too far at all. We could do this.

After settling quickly into our place (a friendly waiter at the restaurant beneath walked us up and introduced us to the lovely lady who was preparing the flat. She let us in early and set us up with our key etc…), we ventured out to find the other two Mammas.  Needing refreshments immediately, though, we thought, “Welllll, they’re already missing. What’s a short bevvy break at the patio out front?” The logic: maybe THEY would come to US, after having figured out on their own that they had the information they needed all along in their emails. 

We finally did get a WhatsApp reply from them in our group chat.  They were situated on the popular pedestrian street, seemingly just blocks from us, having drinks with their backpacks and carry-ons. They SAID they were great and were enjoying the moment.  We were worried they were merely trying to be polite, so we finished our beverages and sought them out.  It was actually quite hilarious when we came upon them. They were in fact CHILL. Like, sooooo ZERO stress, we needed to coin a new sub-zero term.  They were maybe even a little drunk already? I was just so happy to be reunited with them, as I had feared the worst in our separation at the dang taxi cue at the airport.  I asked, to be sure: “Are you ok? Was it all ok?”.  They had had an easy peasy, safe, and comfortable drive here,  with “Number one. The BEST!” cab driver.

And thus began the first of a long line of these exclamations.

To BOOK END our Amazing Athens stay, we had yet another colourful cab ride BACK to the airport! This time, the “older” gentleman driver allowed all four of us into his cab, even though our luggage took up quite a lot of space in the trunk (thus, some of us sat with our heavy backpacks on our laps. The important thing was we were TOGETHER this time.).  True to what we had discovered about cab driver form here, our fellow was quite pleasant and friendly.  Along the way he peppered us with his philosophical musings (were we really ready for this at about 7:00 am?? ).  What a delightful treat that he drove SAFELY through rush hour city traffic and along the major highway, whilst simultaneously giving us one heck of a philosophy lecture that outshone even my most interesting university 101 classes!! I KNEW I would love him the moment he asked if we would like to hear a little story? YES, PARAKALO! He was everything you would expect a Classic Greek Philosopher to be, albeit, the Taxi Cab version (thus, our fond nickname for him: Taxi Cab Philosopher).  He touched upon the meaning of our existence by referring to the great sky (as he pointed out the window).  “Where is Medusa’s Head?”, he asked. Of course, we had no idea.  Pointing again, to the sky, he informed us it was in the MOON. And what of the STARS and the UNIVERSE?  What of it, kind sir? Parakalo, tell!!! Well, that is how we know we are all alone in the world. YET all together.  “We are nothing.  Yet, we are EVERYTHING.  The moon…it is Madusa’s head.  You see?  We are MAGNETS.  North Pole.  South Pole.  We are alone.  We are NOT alone.  We are connected. What is out there? In the universe? You see?”. 

He turned to make sure we could in fact see (but could HE see? As in, the highway we were driving on…..)

 I see!  I see.  We nodded. 

Finding satisfaction in that, he carried on.

“We are NOTHING.  Yet, we are EVERYTHING…  You see?” The repetition, like a chorus, hit us. We each felt like somehow this orator, not randomly placed in our lives but purposefully so, had himself perhaps come from that great universe or at the very least, from a time portal that swooshed him here from that very ampitheatre we had just seen the day before at The Acropolis.  We felt let in on a special secret (but also wondered: how many other tourists did he likewise charm all day, every day?).

We are alone.  We are NOT alone. We are magnets…. We are nothing. We are EVERYTHING. You SEE?

Whoa.  I see.  I see!!!!

Before we knew it, we had arrived at our destination.  We thanked him most sincerely. What a way to finish off the “classic” leg of our adventure in Athens, home of history’s greatest philosophers? We grabbed our luggage (my pink BARBIE pieces now looking pretty ridiculous in light of Medusa’s Head and the stars and the universe), and we rolled on into the airport, dazed for sure (what had just transpired??? Is it even REAL???), but absolutely not confused.  We had been imparted with the “Number One! The Best!” tidbit of life wisdom all for a mere cab fare (and of course, a fantastic tip!).

Our BONUS Little Story

WHY WE NEED THE EVIL EYE!! (As told in THREE Acts, like a Classic Greek Play)

Tip: Follow along as you read about each new place, so as not to give any of the other “stories” away….

Chorus & Prologue: The beautiful LIGHT and DARK blue circular (eye) symbol you will see EVERYWHERE in Greece is called The Evil Eye (or…Kako Mati: the Greek Eye), and it is interestingly, intended to protect you from curses or ill intentions put upon you by jealous people shooting you an evil glare.  The folklore is dated all the way back to Classic Greek times (so, around 6th Century B.C.!). It is believed that cute children or really attractive women are particularly at risk for being the targets of envious eyes and their ominous glares.  Well then….this makes sense, because my super beautiful bestie, Denise, had a “series of unfortunate events” the entire time we were in Greece.  The first time she had a little mishap, we all echoed as though an actual CHORUS: “Buy yourself an evil eye!!! IMMEDIATELY”.  These little “Acts” are humorous, for sure. But they also perhaps lend much support to the folklore and the helpfulness of  arming yourself with the Kako Mati protection! 

Act 1- THE BEGINNING  (Athens)

How the vibe started… Our first full night in Athens, as we were all getting ready to go out, we were each either showering or sitting in different areas of our spacious Airbnb, listening to music, having some “getting ready” wine, and chatting and laughing.  Quite randomly, seemingly out of nowhere, the suction cupped travel sized magnifying mirror that Denise had stuck onto the dressing mirror (we are of “that age” where we need magnifying mirrors to apply make-up) suddenly and quite forcefully fell to the tile floor and SHATTERED.  Into tons of itsy bitsy pieces.  We carefully swept up the entire area, as the floor is tile, so the shards slid everywhere, and joked about there possibly being an evil eye curse upon her.  The NEXT night, while again getting ready, she took out her “waaaaay bouj” eyeshadow palette out of her toiletry bag on the bed, and it somehow LEPT out of her hands and crashed down, breaking several of the eye shadows apart….all. Over. The. Beautiful. Tile. Floor.  I was AGHAST.  I could NOT afford the cost of fixing this mess if that floor stained NOR the bad airbnb guest review!! Denise grabbed some baby wipes and started wiping.  The mess GOT WORSE!!!! Insert Edward Munch’s “The Scream” here for punctuation. I next attempted sprinkling some salt and dabbed carefully with ALCOHOL wipes from my medical kit, thinking the combo of these two properties would break up the oils in the expensive eye shadows. WHEW.  Must have been the evil eye ring that I had purchased in Capri the year before and that I intently wore through Greece (did NOT take that baby off!) that cinched it. The floor was spotless after several rounds of this tactic.  TWO things in succession seemed to clue her in as to the validity of the curse.  LOL  But wait…there’s more:

Pretty much, en route to EVERYWHERE, her giant metal water bottle became its own THING.  As though it were a beautiful supermodel zapped with a jealous woman’s glare….it kept fumbling out of her grip, crashing to the ground in a cacophony that only METAL can bring.  It started to show its wear and tear before we even left for Santorini.  She was resolved to get herself fashioned with as many evil eye pieces as she could…..

ACT 2  The MIDDLE (Santorini)

Right from arrival, while deplaning via the back of the plane down a portable staircase onto the tarmac, her backpack strap (I had the exact same backpack!), got snagged on part of the metal ladder, and yanked her back AND ripped part of her bag and nearly made her topple down the stairs.  I had gone down the stairs ahead of her, so missed the happening, but Tracey was directly behind her and helped her untangle herself and ensured she didn’t hurt herself with a fall.  Upon catching up to me and Janine on the tarmac, she promptly showed us her torn strap.  Of course, being such sympathetic friends, we laughed our tushes off.

That first afternoon in our airbnb, after settling in, we wandered out and did some souvenir shopping. Denise purchased several “evil eye” accessories.  She put them on. Things were looking up!! Until…

The next day, whilst making coffee in our beautiful airbnb cave house, Denise came to stand next to me, and suddenly, as though a force took hold, the HOT coffee I had just poured for myself weirdly seemed to JUMP out of my hold, spilling all over my brand new, never been worn, thin and gauzy WHITE pants, BURNING my leg, and the startling caused my mug to slip from my grasp, careening to the tile floor, shattering into little mosaic like pieces.  This mug was from a charming little set of FOUR.  I later messaged the host to offer to buy a whole new set….just please tell me where.  She was very kind about it and luckily, didn’t seem to worry too much about it.  As for my leg….well, I applied aloe vera from my medical kit and took some advil for the pain.  Luckily, I was ok. As for my pants….well, luckily again, I was able to wash the coffee stain out by soaking in salt water and shampoo.  As for Denise….she admitted that she had taken her evil eye accessories off the night before when she showered. 

Woman. Put them back on!!! Immediately.  LOLOL

But wait, there’s more!  Whilst getting ready to go out, she attempted to use her blow dryer with the adapters we had brought.  But, you guessed it. She blew it out, and there was some smoke (but no mirror. Remember, she broke that too, in Athens.  LOL).  Later, after our Tracey got sick and was bedridden on the rooftop, we made a run to a local “mini mart” in search of Raman noodle soup for her, and Denise  dropped a bunch of chocolate bars off the shelf, making a ruckus, causing people to glare at us (oh no. More curses). In my effort at distracting the people and Denise, I pointed to a random thing I saw atop the entrance door: a little window ledge full of…BINDERS.  So odd.  But in my pointing that way, it seems a young man standing just outside the entrance door, but UP the stairs (closer to the window’s height), mistook my pointing as “waving”. At him.  And next thing I knew, I had innocently not cursed, but charmed him into an affectionate return of a wave and a smile and a wink.

But wait…there’s still MORE!

Prior to leaving for Greece, I had encouraged everyone to download e-sims.  It took us all a bit to figure it all out, but it seemed we had been successful! However, at this point in our trip, Denise kept getting calls from “Croatia”, so she naturally ignored them not wanting to get long distance charges.  After several days of this, we discovered that  all the while it was her husband, calling from back home,  trying to check in! We will never know why his call kept registering as coming from Croatia? Perhaps that was the nearest cell phone provider for the e-sim she supposedly hooked up OR maybe it wasn’t connected to her e-sim at all but her normal one?  In any case, finally he got through via social media messaging, and she could put his mind at ease that she was alive and well (except for the curse upon her).

ACT 3 (The ENDING)   IOS

Well, typical of a DENOUEMENT, Ios seemingly gave Denise a break from the curse.  For a few days, we knew peace and relaxation, meandering, dining, beveraging, sunning, and swimming.  But, she let her guard down and removed her protective Evil Eye wear and put it on the sink ledge.  And BOOM.  She got hit hard with some sort of cold/flu.  At first, we thought it was from the excessive heat, and walking up the mountain in the thick of the day in it (for I, too, was zapped along with her after our ambitious walk back WAY UP to the villa after already being at the beach for hours). But as a few days passed, and she was not getting much better, we dove into the medical kit for meds and procured all sorts of extra electrolytes (we had, surprisingly, gone through ALL of the stash Tracey had brought for us!), raman soups, crackers, etc… to help her kick it.  Luckily, she had a beautiful place in which to convalesce, and a spectacular view of the port. IF you have to get hit hard with illness, THIS was the place, and time, to do so.  We were stationed here for the whole week, so she didn’t have to worry about packing up and getting on the go.  She finally started to come around, in time to enjoy some final moments on the island.  Did this happen to coincide with when she remembered to put her Evil Eye wear, ALL of it (not just one piece), back on?  Well, that is for you to decide. I know what I think. 

But in case you thought this special BONUS play in Three Acts wound down on a not so humorous note, wait….

As a final KICK, exactly punctuated with the way the propellers in the water whipped the sea jet away from the port and back into the port at Piraeus, Athens…., in both embarking and disembarking, Denise’s famous giant metal water bottle lept from her hands, tumbling down the metal staircase, ding ding dinging all the way down.  Breaking its seal. At long last.  I swear I heard it sigh in its resignation.

She threw that bottle into the first garbage can she saw once we were on land. 

And she kept her blue protective Evil Eye wear on like armour until she was home.  Safe. 

SANTORINI

Our 2nd Little Story

“The Legends of the Captain AND The Lost City of Atlantis”

Denise, Janine, and I had “Number ONE! The BEST!!!” excursion on a luxury type catamaran (unfortunately, Tracey was sick and stayed back to rest). It was truly the most amazing way to see the island of Santorini, from the sea…looking up at the Caldera.  As highlighted in the blog, we got to stop several times to swim, were served unlimited beverages (wine, beer, bubbly), and had an incredible, intimate traditional Greek bbq feast, conversing with the other charter guests from all over the world.  SPECTACULAR.  But, not without its hilarity!!

First, after learning the cap was in fact a “legend”, as per Edi, the Fabulous First Mate/Orator, I just HAD to befriend him (which I did, as you saw in the blog).  It maybe saved us, as I later discovered….

Right after our first swim, Denise and I needed to use the bathroom, which you got to via passing through the kitchen, where the lovely cook was busy preparing our feast.  I, dripping from my long hair and heavy ruffle bikini top, skirted past no prob.  Denise, perhaps having forgotten to wear ALL of her Evil Eye gear, not so much.  She was TOLD by one of the crew to STOP.  She was “too wet”, and was directed to ‘GO BACK”  to the aft, where she had to further dry herself off with her towel, which she also had to leave hanging.  This may have put us “friendly” Canucks on their radar?  For soon, when we were called to the bbq feast, she needed to use the bathroom again. As did Janine. They made sure they were good and dry. 

As they went there, my new friend, the legendary Cap, told me to sit at the table in the aft. I was given what I think was the “Number 1! The BEST!” spot on the boat, for we had a full view of the water we were anchored in and a fresh breeze coming through (being on the aft) and a circular table, which allowed for great conversations with the international guests who joined me. They started to bring the food out. 

“Where were my friends?” was THE question of the moment, asked of me by the First Mate, another crew member, AND the legendary Cap. I tried explaining by pointing and gesturing that they were using the bathroom.  Soon, Denise joined me. But no Janine. Had Denise not seen her in the bathroom area? The boat was not exactly ginormous. How could we lose her???

Apparently, they could not/would not begin service until all were properly seated.  I totally understood this and felt quite bad about holding things up.

“Janine?  Janine?!!!” I started calling, after the First Mate told me she was not in fact in the bathroom as I had said.

“Ya!  I’m in HERE!!!” I turned to see her waving from mid-bench at the dining room table inside by the kitchen. 

The Cap did not look impressed.  I smiled sheepishly and apologetically at my new friend.  And waved her a$s over.  Like, never in my life had I been so emphatic with a wave.  He TOLD her “You sit THERE” and pointed at the empty seat beside me.  Her new friends shuffled off the bench and she scooted out quickly. When she took her rightful seat at our aft table, service finally started.  And everything  was SPECTACULAR.  I suppose it’s easy to roll with it (and not think too much upon being the goofy Canadians who held things up) with enough bubbly and grilled Greek style prawn towers.

To compensate for our bbq etiquette fail, we made sure to listen EXTRA intently when Edi gathered everyone around for “Story Time” as anchor was hauled and we moved from the bbq toward the next swim stop, which would be right in front of the Caldera.

In a very passionate, engaging tone, he told us how we were supposedly, according to legend and also history, atop the famed LOST CITY OF ATLANTIS!  It had been buried by a tsunami that had been caused by volcanic eruption, wiping out a 5000 year old civilization.  Did we know that that ancient civilization was perhaps more civilized than even the present day??? (Was that a dig at we Canucks for our poor bbq etiquette?)  They had not only built impossible structures, but had managed to have running, HOT water into their homes by using volcanic energy and the natural hot springs that came from the thermal geo sources. It was rather profound, to think of what existed long, long before us, in a time that we assumed was so primitive. And how it had been wiped out so very suddenly.  With everything starting all over again. From scratch.

We anchored a final time and we were able to swim.  We were told the water here would be remarkably COLDER than that of the first stops, as we were right in the part where volcanic eruptions had carved a giant hole, and this particular place was over 400 m deep! We took turns leaping off the aft (some opted to leap from the upper deck), and I swam around in the cold, trying to magnetize (we are “magnets”, afterall!), with my fluttering feet, the energy from what was supposedly buried way beneath me.  Trying to connect.

We are alone. We are NOT alone. We are connected. We are nothing.

We are EVERYTHING.

Everything felt “different” when I climbed the ladder to get back on board.  I looked up at the giant Caldera (and actually saw our airbnb!) and felt very humbled.

It was a rather intoxicating feeling.  But, that may have had something to do with yet another pour of bubbly. 

It felt bittersweet to say goodbye to that catamaran, that crew (they were ‘NUMBER ONE! THE BEST!!”), and that experience.  IT was EVERYTHING.

Our 3rd Little Story  (In Transit from Santorini to Chora Port, Ios)

“The Fast and the Ferry-ous”

The boarding process is NOT so much “Number 1, the best”.  “Hi Barbie!” (the girls nicknamed me this because of my pink luggage) almost bit the dust.   The very long, organized line that we waited in for an hour, in EXCESSIVE HEAT, suddenly moved into chaos once our ferry WHIPPED into the port.  As we were waved into 4-6 rows, we watched car after car and person after person RACING off the ferry amidst traffic directors and whistling and waving arms. Once the ferry was emptied, the cars drove on. Then…the humans.  It all happened so fast. If I ever wondered what it felt like to be herded… .  We had to move quickly.  The rows all converged onto the boarding ramp and once inside, dodging not only people but cars, we had to make our way to the back of the boat where the stairs were to the passenger area.  I had to hold onto my Barbie luggage AND have my phone out to show our boarding passes.  It suddenly felt like 150 degrees in that hold (and may have been with all the people crowded together), and the ferry started pulling away from the docks as we were all trying to get up the stairs. I became, in a forceful whoosh, extremely dizzy and faint.  I talked myself out of passing out, because I knew it was temporary and I just had to get up the stairs. So I took many deep breaths and with the help of my friends, also each struggling in their own way (Denise kept dropping her ginormous metal water bottle or getting snagged on things with her backpack straps!). But alas….we MADE IT!!! We were on the passenger deck and now got to make our way all the way to the part of the boat we had just come from to find our seats.  We situated our luggage (that we opted to NOT put in the hold as apparently theft can sometimes  be an issue. But in looking back now, to do it all over, I would probably take my chances and free myself of it) at a little area near the stairs, and plopped into front row seats that had lots of space and leg room.  And AIR. The girls asked me if we had assigned seats.  I thought we didn’t, and decided….no one would care.  So we got comfy where we were.  UNTIL… some ladies about in their 70’s, very nicely dressed and not sweaty messes at all, like us, approached us and pointed to the seats and  their tickets.  Ooops.  Seat numbers.   I guess someone would care afterall.  We gathered our things yet again, and I looked at my phone.  Yup.  Hee hee.  We DO have assigned seats. Luckily my kind friends didn’t put an evil eye curse upon me, and we made our way to our actual seats (in the middle, near the back. They weren’t too shabby at all).  We had brought snacks and water bottles (filled with electrolytes), so we started to dip into these.  But, as it turned out, the ride was  in fact, as advertised, FAST.  We were maybe seated 30 minutes tops?  That was enough to scarf some energy back and then we got up, made our way over to where we had stored the luggage, and attempted to get ready to exit (fearing the process would happen so quickly that we may miss getting OFF the ferry!).

We noticed a “secret stairwell” right where our luggage was stored. It seemed to lead down to where we had entered the ferry: the car and luggage hold. I snuck down and saw through the exit door at the bottom that we could do it, but there was also another exit door after that. I was afraid that we’d get stuck in between the two doors. It would be our luck (with Denise’s Evil Eye curse….lol….) that they’d both lock on us and we’d not only get trapped in 150 degree heat, BUT we’d miss our disembarkment.  There were a few other people looking down at me; they seemed to have the same plan, but that didn’t ensure it was a good one. So, I reluctantly redirected us to the front of the ferry.  It seemed silly….lugging our stuff all that way again only to end up exactly beneath where we could have just popped down to via that “secret stairwell”.  When we did get to the hold again and made our way to where we would exit, we saw those very people, who had had the same plan, push through that 2nd exit door.  Apparently they didn’t get stuck between the two. They looked all fresh and non disheveled. I looked at my sweet and sweaty Mamma Mias and shrugged, giving them my “Number One! The BEST” I love you smile.   I’m sure they wanted to toss me overboard.

But then we would have missed the excitement of that long walk back down: Denise’s  metal water bottle doing its entertaining clang clang clanging thing as she dropped it several times; the dizzying feeling of DIZZINESS as the wall of heat hit us in the gut once out of the passenger deck; the fascinating way we wobbled down the several levels of stairs, balancing ALL our luggage and our SELVES to the not so gentle swaying of the ferry as it neared the port; and most of all, the Cross Fit style workout we just had, burning off enough calories to have a FEAST that night, extra baklava and all.

IOS

Our 4th Little Story

“Signs”

After getting situated at our GORGEOUS airbnb at the top of the mountain, the lovely host Vasilis told us how to easily walk back into town and down to the grocery store, which was at the bottom of the path. He said to go back along the road until we saw a little walking path. Take that and then look for the “sign” that pointed to the town, then follow THAT path down.  So off we went, following his exact instructions (so we thought).  We turned on what looked like a footpath off the road, the first one we saw, as he had said.  And, as he had also said, we did see a sign.  A lopsided, handwritten one (in black permanent marker) right on the stone of a wall, but nonetheless…. A sign. It read “To the Village”, and had an arrow pointing that way. So we went that way.  The path took us through what seemed to be a very private residential area, with the backsides of  homes, small hotels, and apartment buildings.  We felt like creeps walking through hanging laundry or seeing tv shows through opened windows or  hearing laughing and conversations at kitchen tables.   But this became our route, for our entire stay, and so eventually, we saw the same things and people over and over. Sometimes we saw a little blonde boy, maybe about age 7 or 8? He had some serious play going on, and by that I mean, cap guns and slingshots and such. And we caught a glimpse of his (handsome) father inside their house, maybe preparing some lunch or dinner? The boy must have gotten comfortable with our passing, because one of the times, he pointed his cap gun at us and fired.  It was delightful!  As we neared the bottom of the path, we saw the same small group of round bellied men sitting on chairs (people watching, chatting it up with each other).  We did this trek several times per day, daily. The sitting men started smiling and nodding when we passed by.   We really felt like we belonged.  Like we had blended right into domestic life here, without anyone really having any sort of chagrin. Only to learn, in the final days of our week-long stay, that this was never the path Vasilis had intended for us to take!! There was one a bit further down the road, with a more formal, government style sign AND a bus stop. The first time we actually walked it, we realized not only how much EASIER it was, but that it in no way infringed on anyone’s privacy, being an actual public pathway.  Insert palm on forehead emoji here.  And the skull (because we definitely died of laughter).  

There is so much truth to the old saying that the best things are found when you are lost.  Well, we weren’t lost per say, but we ventured where we were not meant to.  Took the path “less traveled”.

And “it made all the difference”.

Our 5th Little Story

“Bus Business”

Our first group bus ride took us to the somewhat nearby Mylopotas Beach.  Tracey and Janine had already sampled the bus, having taken it up the mountain from the harbour to the stop nearest our villa. They loved it.  So, we hopped on, clarified with the driver that this particular bus would in fact take us to our desired location, and then we hoped for the best.  We figured the worst case scenario was that the island is small, so we would end up seeing all of it if we somehow missed our stop?

Money is collected by a “Corrector Collector” on the bus, who wears a little holster and quickly cha-ching chings out the tickets. We added the “corrector” to his title because on one particular route, when I clarified we were  going to “Mylopotas”,  he (a school aged boy of about 12) corrected my pronunciation (in a kind and helpful way). He is also the one to call out, often quite emphatically, the stop names. And, keeps the driver company, spilling the Ios tea (at least, that’s what we imagined they were talking about).   When we arrived, he made sure to nod at me. I loved that he was so helpful.  The stop was right at the beach. And oh so cheap at about 1.60 Euros!!!

The return to Chora from the same stop was a little more dramatic.  We waited with just a few others along the roadside and having just come from swimming in the sea, we were happily wet, thus keeping us cool in the sweltering heat. We were pretty much bone dry by the time the bus rolled around.  However, I was wearing yet another ruffle-y swimsuit, and the ruffle hadn’t fully dried yet, making my white linen beach cover-up wet in that spot. As well, the tips of my wild poofy sea hair were still a bit damp, but definitely not dripping or anything.  We boarded the air conditioned bus and as we took our seats, one by one, I got “told” by the driver that I was “too wet” to SIT.  I looked around. Was he talking to ME??? He looked at where my ruffles were and the wet spot on my cover-up. 

Damn those adorable ruffles.

I politely obliged, for I did not want us getting kicked off for being insolent. So, I grabbed hold of the seat handle where my Mammas were sitting and braced myself by planting my feet firmly (the route was up and down and around mountainous terrain). We laughed our tushes off the entire way back.  I do want to stress that I am grateful for being made to stand, as it created a STORY and I HIGHLY recommend the Ios bus service.  It is a ginormous bargain, very easy to use, super comfortable, and a fantastic way to get out and about to see more of the island. And the drivers and “Corrector Collectors” are quite helpful.

In all honesty, I do understand why they have such a policy after picking so many people up from the beaches around the island, so I was a very good sport about it.  Here I am in my “wet suit” with my “wet hair”.   LOLOLOL

Our 6th Little Story

“SUPing, Sharks, and Brad Pitt”

After getting situated on loungers on the famous Mylopotas Beach, which we had almost entirely to ourselves being off-season, Denise and I started getting restless. We had already walked the length of the beach several times AND had gone swimming.  We decided to rent the nearby SUPs. We just saw two girls, around age 25, head out on them and they looked like they were having fun.  So we walked over to the kiosk to check out the options. We started asking questions of a friendly lady working there. But soon, a young attractive guy popped in next to her.  Apparently, as per him, he was the water sports’ company’s owner’s son, and he  asked where we were from.  I told him Canada.  He then exclaimed that his DAD loved Canadian women and that we would be perfect for him.  Would either of us like to be set up with him?!  He went on to clarify that his dad was in his 60’s, RICH, and a “Brad Pitt” look alike  (the dad was, of course, conveniently out of town so we couldn’t verify this fact for ourselves).  We weren’t sure what to make of this, for although we are in our mid-50’s, we definitely didn’t feel too flattered when a young guy in his late 20’s just assumes we are old enough to be set up with his 60 something year old Dad.   The INDIGNITY at not being mistaken as a 40 year old! Huff. (lol)  

We gave him a typically polite Canadian “No Merci”.  He looked quite disappointed, so we told him that maybe our other single friend might be interested?  We asked him to give us a moment, to go tell her, and also to grab my credit card for our SUP rental.  We thought this strategy would deter him, and we did tell Janine (she and I are the singles) about this amazing opportunity. She surprisingly said she wasn’t opposed.  And then,  much to our surprise again, when we returned to pay the kiosk lady, he pointed to where we had just come to confirm he had the right woman to approach, then actually set out to pimp his daddy out!! We excitedly waved behind him at Janine, to give her the heads up he was seriously on his way!  But he approached the wrong ladies (there were only about 10 people in total on the entire beach, so how he missed the mark was baffling given our excellent pointing skills).  Upon his return, he seemed both perplexed and happy.  He HAD approached the wrong lady with the “60 year old, RICH, Brad Pitt” offer.  BUT also, en route to the wrong lady, he had met a young hottie, and now seemed eager to return to her. So he quite quickly got us situated and sent off to sea…

He gave Denise a board that looked like a shark had bitten the nose of it off.  He pointed at the rock jut that we could venture out around, but we opted to stay in the sheltered bay area. We had one hour! As we were underway, we saw him chatting it up with his new female friend, totally oblivious to our waving, picture taking friends, one of which could have turned out to be the love of his Daddy’s life. He did finally come to attention when Denise’s board got further away from me and more toward the beach. Suddenly we saw him running and waving and shouting.  She thought he said, “Watch out for the shark!! Watch out for the shark!” (remember: we were in a sheltered little swimming bay).  When in reality, he was shouting, “Watch out for the SHORE!! Watch out for the SHORE!”, because she was dangerously close to knocking some shoreline swimmers’ on the noggins (at least, from his perspective it looked that way). From where I was, I both heard what he said and also saw my bestie fall off her board in grand style, and I wondered why watching out for the shore caused her to topple over.  I paddled over to check on her and she told me she threw herself off the board purposely so she could swim to shore to get away from the shark.

I know. 

You can see why the threat of SHARKS is so prominent in this sheltered little bay.

Our 7th Little Story

“Mamma Mia: Our Siren Call”

It was a Thursday night, coming upon the weekend.  The town’s nightlife had been, in comparison to its summer party vibe, a bit lacking in life, but we were not complaining as our whole experience on Ios had been “Number One! The BEST!!” so far.  After having dinner and drinks at my “Bucket List” place: Lord Byron’s, we wandered through the main square, and much to our delight and surprise, it was alive with all sorts of people! There was a palpable energy that we had not yet experienced here.  We realized the weekend “holiday makers” had arrived.  We circled around several times to decide where it would be best to wander in.  We decided to just let the vibe speak to us.  We were, interestingly, walking away from this hub to see if our local fave “Helios Rock Bar” had an influx as well, when we heard it. Our Siren Song. The theme song for which this vacay was partially named. 

“Mamma Mia” blared from inside this unsuspecting bar at one of the corners of this busy courtyard of activity.  We saw a few guys in white linen shirts (that became their names) sitting at the bar and a group of young girls (in their early 20’s. Our kids’ ages!) dancing. They waved us IN to join them.  Of course, SASSIE had to have her way when it came to dancing to this particular song, and I led my girls in. At first, we shyly kept to ourselves, but then I called a Team Huddle.  I reminded them of where we were and for how long we had dreamed of this place.  I rallied them HARD to get on that dance floor with those lovely girls.  So we did.  And it completely changed the trajectory of the night, for not only us, but the entire bar.

The girls, and their one guy friend, were a lovely bunch from New Zealand, and they became our new besties.  Next thing we knew, there were rounds of shots (they were only $1 to 4 euros!).  We became our own dj’s at the laptop/sound system, and we had lined up some doozies for that dance floor, repping all the eras, especially ours.  Soon, when one of “my” songs came on, Daft Punk “Get Lucky”, the two white linen shirt guys bounced off their bar stools and pounced onto that dance floor like madness had taken hold of them.  And they ROCKED it.  Before we knew it, a crowd of more 20 somethings, guys and girls, emerged from a dark corner of the establishment, to also join in the dance party.  We now had us a real dance party. 

A few more rounds of shots later (at that price, everyone bought rounds for well….everyone), and the vibe of “Johnny’s Electric Bar” must have electrified the courtyard outside, because a new Siren Song (for men) was blasting: ACDC’s “Thunderstruck”.  An entire group of handsome men, ages 25 to 65, came in. They were all wearing blue shirts and all had accents (to us). They were sailors (stationed at the Chora port for this ONE night, before continuing on with their mapped out adventure to the next Greek island of Naxos).  And they were Thunderstruck.  We were a global dance floor sensation now. The more outgoing white linen shirt guy was crouched down, kicking his legs out wildly in a traditional style dance of his nation.  To ACDC.  NEVER, had we EVER seen so many men dance so HARD. 

It then turned into a “Dance Battle of the Nations”. We had Canada, Bulgaria, New Zealand, Albania, Germany…. .  We took turns playing songs that best repped.

Not sure what the best received was?  It is definitely a toss up between the New Zealand’s choice of  Men at Work’s “Down Under” (with everyone shouting out the “vegemite sandwich” line)  OR Canada’s Biebs’s (with Ed Sheeran) “I Don’t Care”?

On that note, prior to that, I had the young NZ girls type in my song requests for me, because I was wearing my contact lenses and therefore, my “up close” vision was not good.  I had forgotten to bring my cheater glasses.  I could have borrowed from my friends, but I didn’t want to give my age away in this fun, youthful environment.   However, when it came time to type in the Biebs, the handsome young German Sailor insisted on coming with me to the laptop to watch me enter the song. He didn’t want to wait for the “surprise” of what it would be.  He also wanted to BUMP it to the top of the playlist, something I did NOT know how to do, so we could immediately dance to it.  I was at a loss.  I couldn’t see and didn’t want to admit that.  So I found the little bumps on the “f” and “j” keys, and away I went.  But it turned out, when he read it, eager to see my song selection, he informed me it didn’t make any sense. In otherwords: gibberish.  It read something like, “dnjpoa opdnf l aeitg eohf”.

I was BUSTED.

I told him I was maybe a “wee bit drunken” and laughed it off.  He either believed me or figured the con out. He kindly typed it in for me and voila…soon the dance floor was groovin’ (the fact that I just said “groovin” alone gives me away) to our National Anthem and it made me smile to listen to everyone catching on to the chorus and loudly singing along (oft off key): “ I don’t care when I’m with my baby, yeah, all the bad things disappear, and you’re making me feel like maybe I am SOMEBODYYYY” in all the lovely accents.

We Mammas took much pride in beliebing (yes. Pun intended) that we WERE the vibe.  At 55, we were definitely ALIVE!!

It was a glorious night. Such small things make the “Number ONE! The BEST!” moments.  And the moral of this story is:  ALWAYS dance to your siren song when it calls to you.