A Christmas Odyssey I

We had hitchhiked across Europe: around the Alps, through the Communist East and finally arrived in Greece: cleaner, whiter, warmer, musical Greece… da-diddle-da-da over and over again! 

The autumn sun shined brighter the further we headed south, and when my friend and I reached the Aegean, it felt like summer! 

But the political climate wasn’t that warm. Greece may have been the original birthplace of democracy, but it was no longer a democracy in 1970. A military dictatorship had deposed the constitutional monarchy; General Papadopoulos had overthrown King Constantine and age-old prophecies that a Constantine would once again reign in Constantinople-Istanbul faded into a fantasy past. Oh great! 

I’ve never been in a military dictatorship before: I wonder what that’s like! 

Right away I liked Greece and its culture: prawn feasts on the beach, cheap hotels, cheap wine, oranges to pick right off trees in the town squares! 

 We arrived in Athens, visited some of the sites I’d long read about in the history books, hiked around the Acropolis, toured the Parthenon, and also tried to discern the next step on the way to an even warmer destination – Israel. Maybe Kriti?... but we met a couple of travelers just returned from the eastern Aegean and they told us people were still swimming in Kos in December, so we decided to head for that island off the Turkish coast! 

Life is meant to be explored, enjoyed… even exhausted to the last drop if need be! Merely knowing our destination beforehand was not most important. The journey itself was the essence; each day in itself opened up a new destiny. 

We tired of Athens’ gray, smog-filled atmosphere and decided to leave for Kos as soon as we found a ferry. I’d never heard of Kos before, but somehow the schedule felt right – overnight, so we could sleep on board and arrive next morning, hopefully refreshed enough to check out the island in daylight. We got Student cards from a German Student Office – that would be useful later on! and checked out discount flights to Israel. I also bought a copy of Lord of the Rings and lazed around, reading in the Greek sunshine! 

Sometimes the best travel memories happen unplanned and one afternoon, we had quite the revelation of what lay beneath the surface of the seemingly serene Greek life. We’d been checking out the menu in the window of a rather fancy restaurant and gasping at their prices when a passing young man shouted, ‘Expensive!’ We nodded in agreement and ended up walking together with him for the next 5 blocks. 

A short distance, but we learned a lot. Never got his name, but he was from Kriti and had been looking for an interpreter job for the last 3 months in Athens… but no luck. 

‘Why no job?’ we wondered. ‘I’m too old,’ he said. 

 He didn’t look old, so we pressed him a step further, ‘How old is too old?’ ‘30’ ‘That’s not old!’ 

 And he then recounted his family story. During the war, his father had fought for partisans and now his name is recorded, and so are all his family, and none of them are able to get work under the new regime. ‘Have a nice trip. Adio!’ and he left us flabbergasted by his tale! 

It was hard to conceive of a social system which did not allow people to work because of a relative’s political involvement so many years before. Plus we were amazed at how he’d so freely confided this truth to us foreigners! 

We took the subway to Piraeus, bought our ferry tickets to Kos and boarded the Knossos. As our ship pulled out, we watched the diamond, emerald, ruby and sapphire necklace that was Athens slip away. Its lights disappeared; I had my first taste of ouzo and settled into our overnight deck-class airline-recliner seats. No staterooms for us; we’re travelers, not tourists! 

830 the next morning, the Knossos pulled into Kos. It was barren! only a few palm trees poked through what looked like Crusader castle ruins. We explored downtown: narrow streets; an old dried-up Turkish-looking fountain; a few minarets still standing amidst ancient Greek columns scattered randomly in the now vacant fields. The people seemed friendly and we stopped to eat our breakfast: bread, cheese and wine, among the ruins. 

Unfortunately, our overnight seats on the boat hadn’t left us much refreshed for the day ahead. Nor were we much prepared for camping out. We had sleeping bags and a portable propane cooker for food, so we bought spaghetti, potatoes, and onions …but what about water on this island? We filled an empty pop bottle and the Tourist Info guy assured us there was plenty of water along the south coastal route, but the further we hiked the less water we found. 

We’d wanted to camp on the beach to save money, maybe even go swimming? After all, we’re in a warmer Greece! Where’s your sense of adventure, guys? So we chose the dusty-dirty road less traveled. And there were definitely fewer people that way, eventually even none! 

Our road soon became a one-lane path, then a dirt rut, suitable only for goats and donkeys? 

And then it led to a fork: either follow along the edge of the cliff or down to the beach. 

We left the path and headed for the beach. That worked well until the beach ran straight into a rock face jutting out into the sea, stopping any further progress. So… back to the path, up and over the cliff and back down again. 

This time we descended to a beach in a deserted cove, surrounded by fantastic rock cliffs and wind-weathered caves. It was a postcard-perfect beach, except for one lone building, squeezed up against the rock face. A good place to camp for the night, eh! We were both tired from walking, must have covered a couple miles in 3 hours since we’d left the town, so we decided to stay there. 

We checked out our beach: couldn’t see anyone around. 

All the house windows stood closed and shuttered. We called out to anyone around, but … no answer. Most likely our English scared them off if they were… or more likely, our lousy Greek! The beach was bare… no sand, only rocks: small, smooth, black rocks; and around us, only a stark, treeless cliff. 

On closer inspection, the building wasn’t just a house, but more like a summertime bodega or Greek cantina …a confectionary beach house? And now summer was over and both clients and proprietors had moved back to their villages for winter. I thought: a ‘Magus house’? It was empty…or was it? 

All around us was lots of water… but the Aegean, beautifully blue and clear, was still salt water and although we tried hard and long, we were unable to get the water to boil and cook our pasta! 

To tell the truth, we couldn’t even get a steady fire going in the even steadier wind either! 

Maybe there were some goodies left in the house to sub for uncookable pasta? 

Or perhaps there might even be taps inside and we could get some good water to make good pasta? 

All we had to do was get in through one of the shutters? 

It didn’t take long and we found one with a loose hinge that didn’t quite hold together when slightly forced. Just a little extra prying and it came off … just like that – almost on its own!

And in a few minutes, we were inside a dark basement of what appeared to be a now empty restaurant. Smoking has its advantages… at least you carry matches. So I scratched one up against the plaster wall and as the paper match flickered and failed, we could see nothing of value to augment our camping needs: only a couple pots and some firewood. We used up a few more matches to search out the darkest corners, when suddenly a sharp ‘Crack!’ outside shattered the silence. 

‘What was that?’ We looked at each other in shock. 

Our matches all burned out, we timidly edged from the darkness towards the light outside our broken shutter. Our illicit entrance had become our only exit and we wondered what ominous form might now confront us there. We peered out the window slit as inconspicuously as possible: high up on the cliff behind us stood a silhouetted figure, both feet planted solidly atop the rock, looking down on us, holding a rifle across his chest!  

We froze! 

 Not exactly what you want to see in a country ruled by a right-wing, fascist-like, shoot-first and ask questions later military dictatorship. It felt like trouble… deep trouble! 

We watched the mysterious figure, but I felt he was more watching us… our every move. His eyes seemed to sense our every shiver, but we were unable to see any of his shadow-covered face. 

 Five minutes seemed like an eternity as he stood there, without moving… and neither did we.

 And suddenly he disappeared, just like he’d first appeared! Retreated into the sunset… or did he? 

 And was that a gunshot we’d heard? Was he military? Police? 

We knew we were definitely in the wrong. 

Was he now making his way down the cliff to apprehend/arrest us? Was he only 1? Were there others? Would we have to fend off the whole Greek army? What were those whistles? 

Other such fantastic and ridiculous thoughts raced through our minds. We both realized we had to quickly get out of the building, so we hoisted one another up through the window and replaced the broken shutter on its broken hinges to hide our trespass as well as we could.

By now the shadows had lengthened against the setting sun and we hid ourselves under their cover for a time, waiting to see if our ‘friend’ would reappear. Cooking supper was no longer a priority and we settled for a meal of raw carrots and cucumbers - a quickie Greek salad with some very salty half-cooked potatoes. Our unknown ‘friend’ did not make himself known, so we tried gathering peace and wood to get a fire going. 

Everything happened quickly. 

The sun went down quickly… a red ball behind the black Turkish mountains. 

The wind rose quickly from off the Aegean and it quickly grew chilly. 

The only thing not ‘quickly’ was our fire. Our boy-scout fire-starting skills weren’t very skillful (we hadn’t even thought to bring any paper) and with the gusting wind, our every effort proved futile. 

So…scratch the fire. 

It was dark and we were on a deserted beach, but unsure if we were indeed alone by ourselves? 

Out came our reserve chocolate bar… an excellent resolution to any threadbare meal and fearful situation! We both felt better instantly! Only ice cream could have made it better! 

We talked: shared our concerns about the stranger; and after a while concluded we were more the strangers and he was the island’s resident! Amazing what a change in perspective does for truth, eh? Even in small doses! Nothing better to do: no movies to watch, no games to play or books to read, so we just sat on the beach, gazing out in the darkness across the sea, entirely lit up in the moonlight… a shimmering, idyllic perfection! 

We called it a day and climbed into our sleeping bags on a beach pebble mattress with rock pillows. Next morning, we woke with the sun: groggy but awake. Surprisingly, we’d both had quite a good sleep! Our ‘friend’ had thankfully still not reappeared and the wind had died down, but not before it had loosened my sleeping bag stuff-bag during the night and blown it away! But my bag was bright blue and I figured it should stand out against the tan beach and cliff and shouldn’t be too hard to find? 

It couldn’t have gone very far, for only 100 yards further, the beach ended in that massive cliff jutting out into the sea. But I couldn’t see that bright blue anywhere against those bleak brown rocks? 

Perhaps it had blown around the cliff and was waiting for us to find it on the other side? 

So we took off our shoes, waded out in the water, skirted the cliff...and that’s when we made our amazing discovery! Walking close to the cliff, the water felt much warmer! 

And instead of my stuff-bag, we found bubbles bubbling up from under the cliff’s base. 

I put my hand up against them: they were hot! Really hot! Right away, the light came on for both of us! We started pulling rocks away from the cliff, dammed a separate pool and in minutes, the bubbles had become a pool of steaming water. And soon we had -- our own hot tub! 

Our search for my stuff-bag had led us to our own Fountain of Youth; we stopped just looking and jumped in! It was wonderful: must have been 110 degrees! and when it got too hot, we’d just pull ourselves over the pool’s edge and chilled in the chillier Aegean. 

We spent the whole morning in our own private hot springs! Some Greek fishermen passed by. We waved; they shouted in approval! We were kings in our own private resort! 

I forgot about finding my stuff-bag; in fact, never did find it: but didn’t really miss it compared with what I did find! 

 (Many years later, Erica and I sailed past Kos again, right past our beach and wouldn’t you know it? someone had opened a Hot Springs Resort in that very spot! Guess we should have had more of a developer-entrepreneur vision! Years later I sailed by again, on my way from Patmos and …more development! We might have been millionaires!) 

But back to my story… 

That morning I realized I no longer needed to measure time on my wrist and I left my watch there on the beach. 

But we also couldn’t spend all our lives or even all our trip in this Eden. We needed to move on: we needed food! So… we walked back to Kos-town, bought supper, got a cheap hotel, and that’s when my friend decided he needed to turn around, go back to Athens, get some letters he’d missed and clear up some unfinished business. So we agreed: he would return to Athens while I continued by boat to Israel. In a couple weeks, after he’d done what he needed and picked up money for both of us, he’d then fly to Israel and meet me there on Christmas Eve. 

We pooled and split our resources: I got $45US to last me over my next 2 week journey. 

My prospective itinerary: get a cheap boat to Rhodos and another boat to Cyprus and then all the way to Israel? Sounded good… but would this $45 be enough for my travel, food and lodging expenses for all those 2 weeks? 

Even at 1970 prices, this mony would have to stretch a long ways to make it so long so far! 

I penned this on leaving: 

Of Kos 

With pain and death in the one hand 

And joy and life in the other 

He walks amid the valleys of our minds 

Seeking meadows to receive His Seed; 

Sowing children for love’s growing hope, 

Reaping the aged: seeds of springtimes past, 

Searching out the youth which sleeps 

Within the willows’ grasp, 

Unaware of His close passing. 

Prisoners of the reeds – We struggle. 

Raised upwards to the sunlight, 

Tenderly kissed with rain – We grow. 

And eagerly reaching for a greater part of all, 

We strike out on life’s highway

 In quest of Elysian Fields 

Somewhere in the future, 

Oblivious to the warmth of His Presence. 

Passing lonely winter hours within canyons of self-doubt 

Or lengthy summer afternoons in citadels of self-confidence, 

We dwell among the feasting and the starved, tread upon the clover and the thorns 

Feeling their pleasure and there pain, 

Inflicting ourselves on those among the grasses 

Ignorant of life’s final sting. 

Of the stream, we drink its crystal waters, 

Yet think nothing of the life we take. 

Of the tree, we eat its golden fruit 

And feel only the void filled within our-selves. 

From selfish joy to unknown pain, 

Fate blows us from our course. 

Our rafts lie wrecked upon islands of ego, 

And we, stranded, gaze longingly ‘cross The Pacific, 

Seeking out the albatross to bear our burden and the eagle to bear our selves 

Homewards to security. 

Frightened, we hide 

Within fortresses of isolation, 

While seas boil ‘round us 

And wait… 

Till the wall is breached and the tide rushes in 

And the blood runs warm from the open wound; 

A soul weeps crimson In pain we pray 

Begging trees to wash our sorrow free 

And once again reveal the joy which we no longer see. 

Clinging to pillars of our past 

We are swept up by waters, 

Tossed high from wave to wave 

And finally thrown upon shores unknown, 

Soft with a mother’s sigh. 

And there against the cliff – a new-found land, 

We meet Our selves Within His eyes – 

The image of sense within Imagination. 

From the rocks resound His Word, 

Above us are the gifts He holds on high, 

Wrapped in love’s rainbows, 

Embraced in bonds of truth and understanding. 

Life and death 

We behold but a breath Apart, 

Within His Hands they are as one: 

Natural complements our souls need not fear, 

Each the merciful fulfillment of the other 

Revealed as history continues to unfold And men live and die and live again – 

Brilliant flowers on the human landscape.