by Nick Jenkin
Nick and Nancy Take a Trip
Nick Jenkin
Austin Macauley Publishers
Nick and Nancy Take a Trip
About the Author
Dedication
Copyright Information ©
It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time
September 2017, Let the Games Begin
Into the Unknown
Sailing Away
Lost in Belgium
Day 2
Night Train
Day 3, ‘We Next Play Verona’
Day 4, Pass the Port
But Who’s Driving the Boat?
Yippee! Greece at Last
Day 5, The Road to Athens
What a Surprise!
Just an Afterthought
About the Author
Nick Jenkin was born in London. After teaching in the East End and the West Country, he went onto study Philosophy at Sussex University.
Amongst other things he worked as a merchant seaman, a teacher in Wormwood Scrubs, a shoe salesman in Regent Street, a canoe instructor, a painter and decorator, a manager of a Citizen Advice Bureau and then with young offenders and homeless youth. He finally settled into a career as a Citizen Advocacy manager, supporting the rights of adults with learning disabilities.
As well as being politically active, he sang with ‘The Chorus of The National Orchestra of Wales’ for 8 years and with other choirs in Cornwall, Ireland, France and Palestine.
He now lives in Greece with his wife, Nancy.
Dedication
Dedicated to Nancy, my co-rider, and to
Wilson and Sandy for finding it amusing in the first place!
Copyright Information ©
Nick Jenkin (2020)
The right of Nick Jenkin to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Although every effort has been made to corroborate the facts and figures quoted in this book, the publishers take no responsibility for any inaccuracies.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528937399 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528969086 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
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It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time
Nick – It was about a year ago that we decided we needed a form of transport to get around the island.
You see, a year before that, in 2015, against all advice, Nancy and I sold up shop in England, bought a house in Greece and moved to live there, lock stock and barrel. We chose the island of Symi.
It is a beautiful little island, set in the blue Aegean Sea, in Southern Greece. The people are as warm as the sun and made us feel especially at home. We took lessons in Greek and when we tried out our fumbling sentences on them, it was the source of much amusement, but the fact that we had tried really seemed to help.
Nancy – Why Symi? Well, I met Nick there 12 years earlier and the island holds many strong feelings for us – of discovering a soulmate, falling in love, holding hands for the first time, that first kiss; and it was all wrapped up in sunshine, sparkling blue sea and happiness.
Nick – I am sure it must have had something to do with all the wine that flowed. It was a singles holiday. Can you believe it? I can’t. I was single and so regularly went on holiday with a mate of mine. He was terribly good company but this time he decided he was going to California to drive the coast road on a Harley.
As a single man, I find it very difficult going on holiday on my own. I’m not much of a joiner. In the tavernas and restaurants, everyone feels sorry for you, and as for lying on the beach, well you are a pariah, a predatory male with a 30-foot space around you.
And as if anyone meets a soulmate on a singles holiday! One look at all possible options and you know you are doomed to 2 weeks of solitary misery. But the advert for this singles holiday sounded different. Twelve people, over 25, who stay in a big house, on a hill, overlooking the harbour and all you had to do was eat evening meals together that were especially cooked for you. The clincher – as much wine as you could drink, thrown in free. For the rest of your holiday, you had no obligation to spend time with anyone else, the day was yours to do with as you pleased.
But there she was, standing on the ramp to the ferry, looking shy but intelligent, self-contained but sociable.
Nancy – Nick told me later that he saw me straight away and, when the ferry was underway, he went around and introduced himself to everyone on the holiday just so he could stop and talk to me. How flattering!
I didn’t think that I would meet anyone either, but Nick was funny, interesting, kind and seemed to like me! We married a year later, to the month.
But then jump 10 years to our anniversary and we decided to return to Symi just to see what it was like. We had very low expectations because, of course, islands develop and the magic dies but it was as if we had never left. No towering skyscraper hotels, no dreadful disco’s beating into the night, just the same Symi. We went back to the place where I had lost my camera, because we couldn’t stop kissing and had got all dizzy, but it wasn’t there! Then we visited the spot where we first held hands and I thought immediately, we could make a home on Symi.
Nick – Actually there had been some building developments on the island but the regulations are so strict that we couldn’t tell. Any new houses looked just like the ones that had been there for years, centuries.
Symi is an irregular shape, like a large hibiscus flower that has floated down from the sky and settled on the sea. It is about 8 miles east to west and 5 miles across, with most of its 2,500 people located at the eastern end in a village, on top of a mountain, which then tumbles down into the sea.
Our house is in a quiet bay called Pedi. It faces the sun and dangles its feet in the sea but here is the draw back. To go to the shops, to a restaurant or simply for a glass of wine, it is a mile up the mountain to the old village and then another mile down to the more bustling harbour.
In summer, our quiet bay boasts 2 tavernas, 2 shops and a small hotel and there is an hourly bus service which serves us well but in winter everything closes. The bus takes a siesta in the afternoon, stops at 8 in the evening and on Sundays it is only active till midday, just long enough to transport the faithful to and from the churches.
Hold on, you might say, there is a kiosk for emergency supplies. Yes, Giorgo is very long suffering and sits there all day waiting to sell you cigarettes, alcohol, biscuits or sweets, which is wonderful if you want to smoke or drink yourself to death but not if you’ve forgotten the milk.
In winter, the beach reverts to a boatyard and the locals stop fishing for tourists and start fishing for fish. It is wonderful because all the tourists have gone home, and the island reverts to being itself. The only drawback is that forgotten carton of milk. Then it is a mile walk up to the shop or a wait for the bus. Woe betide you if you fancy going out for an evening meal. Then you have to break off at 8 for the last bus or face a walk home, up and over the mountain.
Hence, after the first winter we decided we needed independent tr
ansport and that’s when the fun started. What kind of transport?
I was all for a scooter, the more common means on the island of getting from A to B.
Nancy – I wanted a car. There are fewer cars on the island but in the depths of winter it would keep us warm and dry and we could offer a lift to our friends and neighbours. Nick wanted a scooter so he could pretend he was a Greek man and show off around the island.
Nick – I wanted a scooter because it is easier to manoeuvre through the narrow lanes and to take to other islands, on the ferry, for jaunts. And as for the summer months of the year, driving a car on the island is like driving an oven, even with the windows open. The decider – scooters are cheaper to buy and cheaper to run. So…
Nancy – So, I was overruled.
Nick – I don’t think that is fair. We did discuss it at length.
Nancy – Then I was overruled.
Nick – Anyway, our Greek tutor said – never buy a second-hand scooter because it will be thrashed to within an inch of its life, always buy new.
Now, the nearest place to our island to buy a new scooter is Rhodes but all the models I saw there were Vespas which, to my mind, were absolutely boring. I would be buying something practical but not something I liked or wanted. My view is, if you are going to do something, do it in style.
The other argument was that the new Vespas cost around 4,000 euros, £3,500 at the current exchange rate, which I thought was way overpriced. Also, I had secretly been surfing the net and seen a beautiful, retro scooter for sale at a mere £1,250, new. It was an AJS Modena, 125 cc. AJS is a good make with a good British tradition behind it but these little scooters were made, you’ve guessed it, in China and simply assembled in Britain!
Nevertheless, it was a saving of – well you work it out. The problem was, that as far as I could tell, it was only for sale from outlets in England, one in France and one in Italy. If I really wanted this bike I would have to work out a way to get it from England all the way to our island in Greece.
More difficult than that, I was going to have to convince Nancy that this was the bike for us.
Nancy – This is where Nick loses it and goes off on one of his fancies. For example, when we got married 14 years ago he had the bright idea of hiring a white horse to carry me to the church. Any sensible person would have chosen a horse and carriage but no, for Nick it had to be a romantic white charger bringing his princess to be wed. Romantic yes, practical no. When I got on the horse, cameras flashed, the horse reared up and I slid to the ground, very gracefully without showing any underwear, according to my mother, but scraping my leg. I ended up limping to the church and arriving late. The new high heels may have contributed to the limping.
Nick – Nancy is correct of course. I got it wrong, but if it had worked it would have been a memorable moment, for the right reasons.
So, this plan to get the bike I wanted had to be good, watertight, make sense and, above all, be attractive to Nancy. But how to get a scooter all the way from England to an island in Greece and still save money?
By road?
Well that would mean driving 2,300 miles through France, Belgium, the tip of Holland, Germany, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Serbia, Bulgaria and Turkey, and at the end of it I was not sure we could get a ferry from Turkey to Symi. Moreover, there was no way we could drive 2,300 miles, at 40 to 50 miles an hour. First of all, it would be a mammoth marathon that would take weeks and cost an arm and a leg in hotel bills, secondly, by the time we reached Greece, the scooter would be knackered and thirdly, and more importantly, Nancy would never go for it – hour after hour sitting on the back of a bike. She would simply leave me to it and catch a plane. If we were going to do it, it had to be attractive to Nancy – an adventure, something we could share and that would make good memories. So, driving it overland was out.
Shipping it, in a box?
Well, where is the fun in that? It was the most practical option but I was glad when it proved to be more expensive than expected. Also, I had real difficulty finding a company that would dare to take it anywhere beyond the Greek mainland. You would think that the Greek islands are in the back of beyond and, I suppose, in some people’s minds they are! So, that was out.
The best option was a ferry from the English coast all the way to Greece.
They don’t exist.
When we first came to Symi to live, we drove the car over. It was loaded with household goods: TVs, computer, CDs, clothes, bedding, crockery, cutlery and so on. That proved to be great fun. We took our time moseying down through the French countryside, along the French Riviera, stopping at Assisi in Italy then finally caught the ferry to Greece. It would be possible to do it on the little scooter but it would still ask more than 1,000 miles of it, even if we caught the ferry from Venice, in the north of Italy. The journey would be onerous and, at the end of it, we would still have one half-knackered bike let alone knackered backs. However, as it stood, it was the best bet.
Then I had an idea.
Nancy – O dear!
Nick – Option number 4. Euro Star would get us from London to Paris and save miles.
No, it wouldn’t. They only take motor vehicles from Folkestone to Calais, just the hop across the channel, well, under it in fact! Euro Star would save us no road miles and, when I looked, it cost about £80. Gosh, we could take the ferry for less than £30 and get the sights and sea air for free!
It was then I discovered a site on the net which described the motor rail routes in Europe but, sadly, most of the old, romantic trains had been scrapped. What on earth would Poirot make of that?
But some remained, even though they only ran during the summer months when they could make a profit, and one of these ran from Dusseldorf in Germany to Verona in Italy. Dusseldorf is only 300 miles from London and Verona only 70 miles from Venice where we could catch the boat to Greece! Hmm, this was beginning to look interesting.
Nancy – The man’s a fool but, I suppose I have to say, he never gives up on an idea!
Nick – Yes! Well, if I put my sensible hat on, the cost of the motor rail fare with a private couchette for 2, including the scooter, made the price of the AJS scooter more than if I bought a Vespa in Rhodes. Where was the logic in that?
I priced it up – with an evening meal for 2, the train alone came to over 500 euros, £440. That’s a lot of dosh. However, Nancy would love it. A romantic overnight express hurtling through the heart of Europe, a cosy cabin for 2, a meal in the restaurant car, a murder in the next carriage and Poirot investigating. She wouldn’t be able to resist. (I lied about Poirot and the murder.)
Nancy – Okay, it was beginning to sound interesting. The sleeper train was making the idea of sitting on the back of a slow, cold scooter, wrapped in leathers, for mile after mile, a little bit more attractive. And I have never been on a motor rail or a sleeper train before, nor eaten in the restaurant car of a train. Neither had Nick. How exciting! I was already beginning to think about who I could nominate to be murdered! But 500 euros?
Nick – Yes, it was pretty steep but it would not only save us 650 miles driving, that is 16 hours or 2 to 3 days on the scooter, but also save the cost of overnight stops into the bargain.
The imaginary journey would go something like this
drive to Dover
catch the ferry across the channel
drive to Dusseldorf to catch the train
hop from Verona to Venice
then catch the ferry to Greece.
This was beginning to sound feasible, but the cost was still prohibitive. £450 on top of the £1,250 pounds for the bike, then 3 or 4 overnight stops in hotels, the price of the channel ferry, the long ferry trip from Venice to Greece and the ferry from Athens to Symi, oh, and the petrol! It all added up to loads of money. Nearly as much as the boring Vespa in Rhodes!
I gazed longingly at the internet site, “treinreiswinkel.nl.” (Train Shop, Nederlands), a Dutch company. Well done the Dutch. There was this fantastic pictur
e of a train, loaded with bikes and cars, speeding through the beautiful European countryside, vines and mountains in the distance, and I wanted it.
It was then, while I was trying to find the cheapest date to travel, I noticed that on the very first day of the service, 19 May, and on the very last day of the service, 30 September, they had special offers, probably because, unlike us, no one wants to travel just one way. I priced it up and the sleeper, motor rail journey came to only 300 euros including the meal and the scooter, which travelled for just 9 euros. That was only £260. It had to be a mistake.
So, I phoned them up. They were brilliant. No press button 9 for option 6, a live person answered straight away and was efficient, spoke English perfectly and confirmed my findings.
But, alas, I couldn’t book now. The timetable and prices for the following year, 2017, didn’t officially open until much later, around Christmas. I got the date and spoke to Nancy. Did she fancy an exciting adventure, relaxing on the back of a beautiful, special scooter as we wended our way across Europe?
Nancy – No.
Nick – It would be fun, tootling through the countryside with the air on our faces, 3 exhilarating ferry trips, a special couchette on an overnight train, with a delicious meal and I would throw in a special bottle of wine.
Nancy – What am I letting myself in for? The last time I was on the back of a bike with Nick was on our honeymoon in Naxos, another Greek island. I didn’t do very well. Every time he leant to go around a bend I leant the other way, to counter his weight. Of course, that was wrong, although it seems very sensible to me. Also, I felt very vulnerable as there was nothing behind me to stop me falling off. I kept imagining Nick turning around to see me gone.
Nick – Nonsense. Nancy was very good. It was just a learning experience. Eventually she agreed to grab me round the waist and stick herself to my body like glue. I couldn’t breathe but I held on until we stopped at some deserted dunes, on the other side of the island, where we worked out our differences!
