Lynn found herself on a ferry to Paros before she had time to catch her breath.
Her doubts and stresses had calmed as soon as Stavros made peace with her confusion and outlined his plan for the possible new home. He had no longer insisted that his ideas were the only way forward. On the contrary, he left the final decision to his wife. This, in itself, was reassuring to her. As long as she was not forced to make an immediate choice between her life in England and a problematic existence on a remote Greek island, she could retain some semblance of control over the entire enterprise.
The sense of restored peace had lasted long enough for her to survive the plane trip to Athens and the landing on the runway. After that, the ferry to Paros was an anticlimax. She deliberately did not think beyond the next hour. Stavros had promised to make the Easter trip less troublesome for her.
As soon as the weekend festivities were over, they would head for Santorini for a day or two, and then a ferry trip back to Paros where they would stay in a hotel in the town and travel by bus out to the site Stavros had described as ‘a piece of unspoiled paradise by the Aegean’.
Lynn reserved her opinion on that description until she saw it for herself. She was determined not to be swayed by her husband, despite his well-honed skills as a passionate orator. She would try her best to remain neutral while keeping a firm hold on the promises Stavros had made.
First, he was employing her brother Philip as architect.
Second, Lynn had a free hand to confer with Philip about all aspects of the house design, including ample space for visiting family.
She was not so naive that she did not fully realize the implications of these promises. Asking Philip to be involved was a clever move to meet a stated objective of her own to get closer to her long-lost brother.
The idea that she could insure the house met her need to provide a holiday home for Sarah and her family, was a subtle way to get her to agree to sell up in England. The house of a size that would be required could never be financed without the sale of their home in Horam.
As she stood alone by the railing of the ship with the sea breeze blowing through her hair, she committed these conclusions to memory. Stavros was guarding their luggage in the upper deck lounge.
He had left her to ‘blow away the cobwebs’ in the hope that his new reserve would work in his favour. He knew the results of this trip would be the most crucial of their whole lives and affect their future, if there was to be one, in every way possible.
He intended to restrain his natural impulses to persuade Lynn further. Now was the time to let her decide for herself. He was confident that she would see the reason in his arguments, given a little time.
In his mind was a clearly defined picture of their future life in retirement and that picture could not have been more different from their decades in England and his work situation in the university. He tamped down the excitement the very thought that future created in him.
Just a little longer. Take it easy and wait for the results.
Time would tell. Time was on his side.
Kyriakos family members were waiting at the dockside in Parikia when the Blue Star ferry arrived. Lynn stood back, as she always did, while Stavros was engulfed in a flood of excited Greek language and the welcoming arms of his sisters and brothers. By now, Lynn knew them by name but it had taken years before she could distinguish one from another, so alike were the siblings. As one of the younger members, Stavros stood out with his head of thick, black hair. His brothers, Dimitri, Costas and Yiorgos showed various stages of greying hair but it was all similarly abundant. They seemed to retain dark moustaches and eyebrows whatever their ages. The trio of sisters who approached Lynn, and welcomed her, were fashionable women from Athens and their hair, makeup and clothes demonstrated that amply. Among the little old ladies of Paros on the dockside, dressed in black from head to toe, these women looked like colourful peacocks.
Lynn knew the senior members of the family waited at the old home in the centre of town. There were fewer of the old ones each year as lifetimes of hard work in the Kyriakos’ grocery store took their toll.
In fact, as Lynn cast her eye over the assembled group she wondered where Stefanos and Daphne were. These two usually never missed the chance to cover their big brother in kisses as soon as possible.
She linked arms with Alexa, the sister nearest in age to herself, and followed the large and voluble group as they pushed through the crowd waiting to board the ferryboat and headed for the old house behind the store.
Stavros no longer elected to stay at his parents’ crowded home, preferring the comparative peace of a room in the nearby small hotel where Lynn could get a break from the constant chatter and late night noise of a family reunion. Their first hours on the island would always be spent on folding chairs set up on the yard between the house and the back of the store while the paschal lamb slowly revolved on the spit above the huge barbecue and the family news was shouted from one to the other over copious bottles of Athos beer and the fumes of the ever-present cigarettes. Children and grandchildren milled around contributing to the chaos and added volume to the general noise.
Lynn, in her new mind set, refused to be upset by any of this and contented herself with deep breaths of the warm air and the calming sea sounds. Even the cries of insistent seagulls hovering over the fishing boats in the harbour could not disturb her mood.
This was Stavros’ special time and she would do nothing to spoil it for him.
Alexa fetched Lynn a cool drink of lemon water and settled down beside her to keep her company while Stavros brought the family up to date with his latest career developments. His work in England was admired by the rest of his siblings, none of whom had made such a drastic move away from their beloved Greece. Lynn knew he was keeping his plans for retirement under wraps at the moment until final decisions had been made, so she contented herself with small talk about Sarah and the grandchildren, sharing similar stories with Alexa who had five grandchildren of her own.
Lynn asked Alexa if Stefanos and Daphne were arriving later and was surprised to discover they would not be attending the annual feast this year as they had both recently moved their families to Malta where they had business connections.
“You must have heard about riots in the streets of Athens?” she asked Lynn. “The economic situation is so bad, many fear they will lose their jobs and others know they will never be able to pay the extreme high taxes that are coming for all of us. Our new prime minister has vowed we must tighten our belts to stay within the European Union. It is a very bad time.”
Lynn nodded sympathetically as Alexa continued in a whisper, “As you can see the parents are getting older. It is too difficult for them to manage the store nowadays. Dimitri lost his job with the port authority and now he has taken over the family business. We are all helping out one way or another but it is not clear how long this can continue.”
In a much louder voice, but one in which even Lynn could tell there was forced cheerfulness, she called out, “We are going to enjoy this Easter season here at home, no matter what is happening outside Paros. Am I right?”
Everyone responded with enthusiastic cheers to this positive declaration and Lynn thought to herself that the changes happening throughout this large Greek family were no less devastating than the ones she was facing in England. We have this much in common, she concluded. I will try to be sympathetic even if I can’t yet explain the situation Stavros and I are in.
Well before sunset, the women of the family disappeared inside the house in their turn and emerged with their hands full of platters and bowls. The lamb continued to revolve on the spit. It would take twenty-four hours to reach perfection and that Easter delicacy would be shared after the church service in the morning.
A long trestle table was set up in the yard and it soon began to fill with fresh salads liberally topped with the finest feta cheese, tomato, shrimp and zucchini appetizers and delicious local sardines baked in special sauces. Lynn looked for the traditional moussaka in individual dishes and knew she would enjoy that with room left for baklava. She gave the chilled ouzo a miss as it had a bad effect on her digestion, despite its reputation, electing instead to enjoy a cafefredo, the iced cappuccino which was Costas’ specialty. She needed the caffeine to keep her awake until the festivities drew to a close.
It was close to midnight before Stavros could drag himself away from the arms of his family. Lynn had waited patiently with a warm wrap over her shoulders but she was glad to walk with him along the shore road towards the small hotel. From past experience she knew he would be somewhat unsteady on his feet so she held tight to his arm and steered away from the grass verge. The outdoor tables at the tavernas were still occupied at this late hour but the customers were wearing heavy jackets to ward off the chill evening air. Nevertheless, it was more pleasant than Lynn had remembered to breathe the scented air of the evening stroll beneath palm trees strung with tiny lights.
She finally felt herself relax. Today had not been as bad as she had feared. In spite of herself, she was viewing everything through a different lens, now that the idea of living here permanently had been broached.
The entire town converged on the small Greek Orthodox Church on the highest point of the island, early in the morning for the Easter service. Lynn accompanied her husband as a mark of respect to his family although she understood little of the ceremony. It was a time for her to admire the perfect white building against the purity of the blue sky and to appreciate the sincerity of the worshippers as they welcomed their risen Lord with faith and joy. It was a mark of the importance of religion to Greeks that every island she had visited had dozens of gleaming white chapels with bells suspended from an arch.
Everyone walked down the hill and through the labyrinth of narrow alleys in the town, greeting friends and neighbours and wishing them a happy Easter. When they reached the Kyriakos’ house, the women went inside to change out of their church clothes into something more comfortable while the men merely loosened ties and waistcoats then assembled around the lamb whose fragrant smell they had followed eagerly all the way home, commenting loudly on the skill of the chief barbecue expert and the quality of the lamb as chosen by his brothers.
Lynn’s gift of herbs and spices had been accepted gladly and now appeared in another parade of superb dishes emanating from the tiny kitchen inside the house. It soon became apparent that a kitchen in the grocery store was also called into service to prepare the feast.
By the time the lamb had been carefully sliced into mouth-watering, tender portions, Lynn and Stavros were, like everyone else, suffering pangs of hunger. Silence descended for a full ten minutes while due appreciation was given to the delicious lamb. Soon ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ of delight spread through the family as the complementary flavours of meat, vegetables and wine flowed together in the mouth.
The entire group ate their fill and the rest of the afternoon saw smaller groups break off to chat and smoke cigars and cigarettes while the grandchildren played with new toys and chased around the courtyard at top speed in pursuit of any local cats or dogs foolish enough to be attracted by the cooking smells.
Lynn saw her husband approaching with a plate of fresh fruit and some honey-drenched treats. She told him she could not manage even a mouthful after two plates of lamb with all the side dishes, and he smiled in acceptance as he put the plate down on the ground for the younger family members to enjoy.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I am doing very well thank you. It has been a beautiful day and I have enjoyed it more than I expected to. I can’t deny how warm and close your family is, Stavros. I have never experienced a family gathering to compare to this in England and I can see how selfish I have been to insist on keeping you distant from them for so long.”
“Don’t say that, darling! I have been happy in our home with our family. Our lives have been in England by choice.”
“Perhaps, but you must regret the missed opportunities to enjoy a large family. I wish we could have had more children.”
“Hush, Lynn! Our Sarah is a treasure beyond compare. I regret nothing. Let’s not think about the past.
We have a wonderful future ahead of us.”
Lynn was aware of what he meant. But, her husband’s arms were warm around her, someone was softly playing a bouzouki guitar and the stars were beginning to sparkle in the night sky. She decided to put the hard decisions aside for now and to let the next few days point her in the direction she should go.
Tomorrow she would be on Santorini with her husband.
The ferry arrives at the island of Saint Irene across the caldera, approaching the sheared-off cliffs topped with a thick icing of white houses that melts down the cliff top in perilous drips. It was a view that never failed to astonish Lynn. To build a town on the top of the remains of a gigantic volcanic eruption seemed to be either extremely foolish or a testament to the abiding optimism of the Greeks.
Lynn was never able to take the zigzag tourist route to the top of Thira. She felt sorry for the donkeys and mules laden with travellers in all shapes and sizes who lurched up the steep stairs winding up the rock face. She had once tried to walk up the route but the steps were slick with donkey droppings and she soon discovered how fast one had to move when the donkey train arrived at the same corner as the walkers.
Stavros approved, and they took the bus along the less spectacular road to their hotel on the heights overlooking the other side of the island where the gently sloping fields led to black sand beaches.
Lynn stood on the walled balcony outside their simple room and breathed the air of her favourite island.
Although it would be wonderful if Stavros had decided to settle on Santorini she knew the summer months when tourists overran the place would be impossibly crowded and busy. Not to mention the cost of buying any of the limited suitable land would be outrageous. Stavros often visited the Akrotiri site to inspect the latest archaeological findings so she reckoned Santorini would likely be available to her whenever she wished, if she lived on Paros, of course.
The bus to Akrotiri wandered through several villages and eventually stopped at the beach area to disgorge tourists. Lynn had once tried sunbathing there, only to find out that black volcanic sand retained such heat that sunburn was an inevitable result.
Akrotiri, itself, was right at the southwestern edge of Santorini and the parking was limited to local and tour buses with stands for a few taxi cabs. Stavros had the public bus schedule with him so they could enjoy the area without the need to rush back to join a tour.
They walked briskly down the stony path toward the sea and Lynn allowed her husband to draw ahead of her. It happened every time they visited the site. Stavros could not wait to consult his colleagues and see what had been unearthed since his last visit. She smiled at his receding back and advanced more slowly watching the placement of her feet in their beige slip-ons on the rough path. She had learned on prior visits to wear sand-coloured clothing as the excavation area was dusty and darker colours suffered the most from the fine particles floating in the air.
The metal superstructure came into view first. It looked like a partially-constructed warehouse but it was designed to shelter the exceptional ruins from the effects of wind and weather. Beneath the metal superstructure lies a small percentage of what was the largest Minoan city outside of Crete itself. Stavros claimed, less than five percent of the amazing site has been excavated and wonders will still be revealed. As far as Lynn was concerned, the fact that a 3000-year–old place, buried under thirty to forty feet of solid pumice, had ever been discovered at all, was just as astonishing as the finds inside it. Stavros spoke in hushed tones of Professor Marinatos who first dug tunnels through the volcanic ash and found signs of an advanced civilization there by the sea. Lynn thought his descriptions rivalled the unearthing of the tomb of Tutankhamen in the Valley of the Kings in Thebes.
She was always glad to walk along the streets of Akrotiri between two and three-story houses and imagine she trod in the steps of the 30,000 inhabitants who must have rushed to their boats just before the ash cloud from the gigantic volcano’s explosion reached them. No bodies had ever been found on the site so she was pleased to envisage the men, women and children escaping the rest of the disaster and re-establishing themselves somewhere safe. She had seen murals of the boats the Minoans used for trade and travel and although no trace of the residents or their transport had ever been found, she preferred to think some at least had found safe harbor somewhere. This was an infinitely better prospect than that of the bodies found in Pompeii where the agonies of their last moments could be seen clearly on their remains.
The murals and frescoes were no longer situated in their original Akrotiri locations, being considered too rare and valuable to be left in the open site. Lynn had seen the originals and some expert replicas in various museums in Greece and the impact had been staggering. It was immediately obvious that the Minoans enjoyed a very high standard of living to have time and leisure to produce such fine art to decorate walls in the inner chambers of their homes.
The scenes of the saffron pickers were the ones that impressed her the most. Stavros had a poster of just one of the women from the wall paintings found in Akrotiri. Whenever she passed the poster at home she drew breath at the sheer beauty of the woman at her work. From the top of her head where a blue cap covered her skull, (or could it be a shaved head painted blue?), leaving a wisp of hair over her forehead and a long, high ponytail at the back, to the detail on the pantaloons that covered her legs, she was a picture of style and decoration in every part of her costume. Lynn loved the tiny tassels that swung from her short-sleeved and embroidered, golden over-vest and dangled in larger version from the layers of her costume as if to keep the various materials in place. The sleeves, in a very light fabric, were edged in a blue bobbled circle. The detail was incredible and her large gold hoop earrings combined with what looked like make-up on her exquisite face, gave the unknown woman a modern look that belied her century.
Lynn knew that even today, women in Afghanistan were employed to pick the precious spice from crocus plants because their fingers are smaller and would be less likely to damage the delicate flowers, but to think of these Minoan beauties in their individual fantastic costumes working amidst the wild plants in a rocky field where swallow-like birds frolicked and exotic flowers bloomed, was to be filled with wonder at an age lost in the far reaches of time.
She stood on the paved streets, looking up at the two and three-storey houses where she knew sophisticated drainage systems had been found amid stores of pithi jars containing oil and wine. There, where everyday kitchen utensils lay abandoned when the earth roared, Lynn could imagine again the splendor that once adorned the walls of these homes.
She could see Stavros further up the street that wound between the houses. He was deep in consultation with two dust-covered young men. Often, one or both of the resident archaeologists was a graduate of her husband’s courses. No doubt they were discussing progress on the latest excavations.
It was a painstaking endeavour to extract the rock-solid pumice without destroying what might lie beneath.
Lynn left them to their deliberations. She knew that Stavros would regale her with all the important news when they relaxed over dinner later. In the meantime she would conduct her own leisurely exploration looking for signs of daily life 3500 years ago. Then she would wander out to the shoreline and sit by the sea thinking of the past and the future and trying to decide what was best for herself and for her family.
She knew Stavros would find her there eventually.