One Summer in Crete

by Nadia Marks

  ‘We like to drink some wine with our lunch every day,’ he told them, ‘and then of course we have our siesta; we always go to our bed, we never go without our after-lunch nap.’ He smiled and turned to give a mischievous glance at Sophia, who in turn leaned across, cupped his face with both hands and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek. That was something that Calli was to encounter often during her meetings with people on the island. Apparently a healthy sex life well into old age was normal practice on Ikaria.

  ‘See? What did I tell you?’ Sylvie said with delight after they left the old couple to their desired afternoon bedtime and made their way to a bar on the beach. There they had arranged to meet Maya, who along with Sylvie had taken a keen interest in Calli and her assignment.

  ‘They are the age of my grandparents, those two, and they act as if they are newly-weds! I never saw anyone that age behave like this in Germany!’

  ‘Could it be that that’s the secret of Ikaria?’ Calli laughed.

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised! We should all be having more sex!’

  ‘It’s more like the Red Hot Zone around here rather than the Blue Zone!’ Calli added, smiling.

  They met Maya sitting on a bar stool in cut-off jeans and blue T-shirt, drinking ice-cold mountain tea as she talked to Stavros, a young local man who was serving behind the counter. She was a good-looking woman, Calli thought, about the same age as her own mother she guessed. Her hair, a rich chestnut woven with natural strands of grey, fell on her tanned shoulders while her dark eyes and strong nose gave her a classically Grecian air. In fact, Calli mused, something about Maya reminded her very much of Eleni. The easy smile and the straight speaking were not unlike the Cretan women in her family, whose manner she had encountered so many times in her grandmother’s village. It wouldn’t surprise her if Maya didn’t start asking her why she wasn’t married or had had children yet. That familiarity, she decided, was the reason why she didn’t take offence at the woman’s blunt approach; in fact she rather liked and was amused by it.

  ‘Joking apart,’ Maya said after the two women told her about their morning visit, ‘we are all too quick to underestimate the power of sex.’ She took a sip of her drink and continued, ‘It definitely keeps you healthy, and I firmly believe it has something to do with the longevity of people here. Not just the sex but the love too . . . you feel it everywhere on this island.’

  Calli could not deny that even after a short time on Ikaria, so far she had encountered nothing but goodwill and warmth.

  ‘One thing I’ve heard repeated on the island over the years,’ Maya went on, ‘is that this is not a “me” place but an “us” place . . . They look after each other, these folk, nobody feels alone here.’ She gave a sigh. ‘Take all of us in the big cities – there is so much loneliness, especially among the old. We don’t take care of one another, so how can we thrive into a ripe old age?’

  ‘This acceptance of strangers goes back a long way,’ Sylvie added, reaching for her coffee. ‘Look at the story of Icarus, look at us – we are strangers from all over the world – we come here year after year and they welcome us as if we were locals.’

  Maya nodded in agreement. ‘It’s true. I believe the kindness and love on this island travels across millennia. Mythology was based on truths.’

  Like most people, Calli knew the legend of Daedalus and his son Icarus, who plummeted to his death into the sea fringing Ikaria after disobeying his father, but she had always believed it to be a cautionary tale of youthful defiance. She had read the story many times as a child and had done so again recently after accepting her assignment. But she didn’t follow why it was relevant to what they were discussing now. She was struggling to understand the implications of love and kindness to which Maya and Sylvie were now alluding, until the older woman began to explain.

  The journey of escape from cruel King Minos in Crete, which had started with such ingenuity and hope for father and son and which ended in tragic disaster, Maya claimed, indicated not only the extent of compassion and care among the citizens of Ikaria but also their tolerance for strangers.

  The curious alien pair who disturbed the inhabitants’ peace one summer’s day arrived at their shores not by sea but from the sky, like two giant birds of prey flapping their wings. People stood on the shore looking up at the cloudless heavens, blinded by the bright scorching sun, witnessing a sight so inexplicable and disturbing that a more hostile people would have reached for their weapons in fear of their safety. Yet they did no such thing; instead of launching an attack they stood and waited in order to establish who or what the unearthly phenomenon approaching their land might be. Once they realized that the ‘giant birds’ were in fact men and that one of them had begun to spiral dangerously towards the sea, they rushed to this stranger’s aid. One after another, they dived in turn into the sea in an attempt to save the curious bird-man, but by then all that remained floating on the water were the wooden wings and feathers which the boy’s father had so lovingly crafted for their escape.

  Unable to save him, the locals did their best to retrieve the drowned youth from the seabed and respectfully set about attending to his body before burying him in accordance with the island’s rituals; the inconsolable father was given refuge and solace. Maya often brought up the story of Daedalus and Icarus as an example of the island’s legacy of compassion and acceptance.

  ‘I have always believed that this tale is one of the reasons why the angels favour this island . . .’ she said and gestured towards the sea. ‘I know they are here, I see them everywhere, and I often feel the boy’s presence.’

  ‘Did you know there is a monument to Icarus on the island?’ Sylvie turned to Calli.

  ‘Yes, I do . . . Is it far from here?’

  ‘Nothing is that far from here.’ Maya smiled. ‘I will drive you there on Friday, but not to the recently erected monument, beautiful as it might be, but to the ancient rock that stands in the sea on the exact spot where the boy fell.’

  Calli gazed at the older woman, perplexed. How on earth could anyone know the exact spot where Icarus fell? Not to mention the fact that the story was a myth . . . But saying nothing, she put her logic and pragmatism to one side for once and allowed herself to be swept along by her new friend’s magical thinking.

  ‘Have you noticed all the rock formations on the land, Calli?’ Maya asked. ‘To me, each and every one looks like a monument and not only for that poor foolish boy. I will show you tomorrow.’

  ‘Be sure to be back in good time on Friday.’ Sylvie turned to them both. ‘I would like to come with you, but I promised Christian I’d spend the day with him, preparing for the evening. He is setting up the telescope on the beach.’

  On Friday morning, the day of the eclipse, just as the sun was appearing above the line of the horizon, Maya picked up Calli in her yellow open-top Citroën 2CV and set off for the village of Vaoni, to visit the fated spot where Icarus had lost his wings. Equipped with her camera, notebook and swimsuit, Calli could hardly believe her luck. The most she had expected for this trip was to find a taxi driver who would be willing to drive her to some places on a budget, or to hire a small motorbike and find her own way around. Finding new friends who were not only willing but wanted to help her was not what she had anticipated.

  ‘Glad to see you didn’t forget to bring your bikini,’ Maya shouted cheerfully over the car engine as they chugged along the twisting country roads. ‘Every beach we’ll drive past you’ll want to dive into,’ she added, pointing towards an emerald cove just beneath them.

  ‘It’s wonderful to know that this ancient amphitheatre is still in use,’ Maya said when they arrived at their destination. ‘Can you imagine sitting here to watch a performance?’ She gestured to the semicircle of steps around them and then pointed out to the shimmering sea, towards the stone marking the spot where Icarus fell.

  Calli stood mutely gazing at the rock. The sight of that monolith rising from the sea no more than fifty yards from where she was
now standing made her head swirl and her vision blur. She had no warning of the impact this would have on her: the noise of the wind sighing through her ears, the hot sun beating down on her and the sunlight playing on the water, flickered like the wings of a thousand birds. She closed her eyes and stumbled back. Maya rushed to her aid; with her arm around her shoulders she led her to the steps of the amphitheatre. They sat together for a long while without words.

  The older woman was the first to break the silence. ‘You have much pain in your heart, my friend.’ She reached for a bottle of water in her bag and handed it to Calli. ‘I sensed it from the moment I saw you . . .’ She hesitated. ‘You are grieving for your loss, I know, like the father of this wretched boy grieved for his loss, so long ago.’

  The younger woman sat mutely with her eyes tightly shut. That rectangular column emerging from the sea had looked nothing less than a tombstone to her. A humble monument marking the death of a beloved child, any child whose life had been cut short. When she opened her eyes again, two large tears ran down her cheeks.

  7

  Calli wiped her tears with the back of her hand and turned in disbelief to look at Maya. She had never spoken about the loss of her baby, the break-up of her relationship or about her grief, to her or to anyone since she arrived on the island.

  ‘How did you know?’ she asked almost in a whisper.

  ‘It is who I am,’ the older woman said softly and reached for her hand. She held it tightly for a few moments before continuing. ‘I would like you to know, Calli dear, that there is someone who is by your side, someone who is looking after you . . .’ She hesitated for a second, then shifted a little closer. ‘That someone,’ she continued, ‘is Raphael. He is your guardian angel.’

  Calli turned sharply to look at her with unblinking eyes.

  ‘Don’t look so shocked, my girl.’ The older woman gave a little laugh. ‘I know what I am saying; Raphael looks over you, always.’

  Calli stared silently for a long while until finally she managed to speak. ‘If that’s the case,’ she said under her breath and pulling her hand away from Maya’s, ‘then he isn’t doing a very good job of it, is he?’

  ‘You might not think so now, my friend,’ she replied solemnly, ‘and you may reject what I am about to say . . .’ Maya paused again for a moment to think before continuing, ‘But things always happen for a reason and—’

  The younger woman’s response cut her short, coming fast and sharp. ‘What possible reason do you suggest there was for me to lose my baby and for my life to be turned upside down?’ Her cheeks were blazing, her voice raised.

  ‘I know it’s a harsh and painful thought . . .’ Maya paused again, unsure if she should continue. ‘But you see . . . you had to be free.’ She hesitated again before speaking. ‘And now there is nothing that ties you to that man . . .’

  Calli leapt to her feet before Maya had a chance to finish; her eyes flashing with fury, she looked down at the woman still sitting on the step. There was much she wanted to say but no words could come out of her mouth. Her thoughts were jumbled, uncertain. She knew James was not worthy of loyalty or mercy and it was true she wanted nothing to connect herself with him. But that poor innocent soul – what harm had she done?

  ‘What I am saying,’ Maya said gently, trying to soothe her, ‘is that it just wasn’t meant to be, my friend, not any of it.’

  Calli continued to stand facing her defiantly, her emotions jumbled, her head aching. Having spent a couple of days with Maya she had come to realize that she had never encountered anyone quite like her before. This was a woman with a different slant to the world, a different reality and vision from her own. Until now Calli had found this intriguing, but now she felt that Maya’s attitude had gone beyond her acceptance.

  ‘You see, Calli dear’ – Maya continued in the same gentle tone of explanation – ‘it’s a chain of events and the loss is truly tragic. But some things must happen, no matter how painful they are, before others follow, before change will occur. Believe me, my girl, I know what I am speaking of. Out of sadness will come joy for you, I promise. This lunar eclipse we are about to witness tonight, it will bring change, it is a given, and change never happens without the loss of something.’

  The drive back to Armenistis was subdued. Calli had been shaken by her experience at the monument, and the conversation with Maya disturbed and confused her, giving her much food for thought. Maya, concerned that her earlier rhetoric had contributed to her friend’s agitation, refrained from saying more. The two women sat in the car in reflective silence until a rock formation in the distance on a small hill by the roadside caught Calli’s eye.

  ‘What is that ahead?’ she pointed, leaning forward for a better look. ‘Is that another monument?’

  The stones, or rather giant boulders, which were rapidly coming into closer view looked as if they had been arranged intentionally in such a way as to resemble some kind of memorial site or shrine.

  ‘No, it is not,’ Maya replied. ‘This is one of those natural formations of stones I was telling you about yesterday, remember? Isn’t it magnificent?’

  ‘Can we stop?’ Calli asked, reaching for her camera. Earlier she had been too preoccupied and disturbed to think about taking any photographs, but now with her camera poised for action she was halfway up the hill, intrigued by the sight ahead of her. Calli stood in the shade of the rocks and looked up. If not for their size they could be a pile of pebbles balanced one on top of the other, but these ancient boulders rose to a height of some twenty feet. No one could have arranged them one above the other without the aid of modern technology. As she snapped away, she fancied that the hand of a giant had playfully piled them up in a childish game.

  They arrived back at the village in the early afternoon, in good time for a siesta before the evening celebrations on the beach. They had stopped for lunch at a roadside taverna, Maya relieved to see Calli’s mood restored, and feasted as usual on whatever had been cooked that day. They drank Maya’s preferred infusion of ice-cold herbal mountain tea whose benefits she was always praising.

  ‘Mint is an antioxidant, rosemary stimulates the immune system, dandelion cleans the liver . . . I could go on and on,’ she laughed, ‘but no one else seems to drink it cold here,’ she told Calli as the old man serving them pulled a face when Maya asked for iced tea.

  ‘We don’t keep cold tea,’ he told her, ‘we have to boil the water to make it.’

  ‘By the time you bring us the meal, the tea will have cooled down . . . Put some ice cubes in it and a little honey, that will do it!’ She gave the old man a broad smile. ‘Just wait and see,’ she turned to Calli, ‘they will be so slow in bringing us the food, the tea will be cold whether I wanted it so or not!’

  Like everything else on the island, nothing was done in a hurry, but when the food eventually arrived it was well worth the wait. A Greek salad of home-grown vegetables and feta cheese, black olives and chunks of sourdough village bread were the first dishes to arrive on the table. Kyria Elpiniki, the owner and cook, was a little slow at preparing the food today, the old man told them, so they would have to be patient. It wasn’t difficult, and above all it was expected. The new friends were content to sit in the gentle breeze, shaded by the ubiquitous green canopy of a vine, and snack on whatever they were given.

  ‘There is no rush,’ Maya told Calli, ‘this is Ikaria. We have all the time in the world.’

  Next came a large bowl of chickpeas cooked in a tomato sauce, followed by a plate of horta – field greens – in olive oil and lemon dressing. By then Maya’s sage tea had arrived, chilled and fragrant. They ate at a leisurely pace, drank and chatted for as long as it took and by the end of their meal the blues and sadness Calli had felt earlier had totally lifted. For the second time since arriving on the island, she was infused with a sense of hope for what might be ahead of her.

  When Calli awoke from her siesta the preparations for the lunar eclipse celebrations on the beach had already begun. S
he felt refreshed even though it had taken a while for her to fall asleep, her head whirling with the dazzling and confusing events of the day. Maya was indeed a strange woman; Calli wanted to reject her reasoning and her words which echoed confusingly in her ears, but she found she could not. Eventually she fell asleep and dreamed of Icarus and angel wings.

  She stood on her hotel balcony and watched the stream of people carrying food, drink and preparations down to the shore. She dressed quickly, remembering to wear her bikini for a moonlit swim under her shorts and T-shirt, and hurried to join the others. She found Christian and Sylvie, the telescope already in place, filling a cool-box with drinks and snacks.

  ‘What can I contribute?’ Calli asked, aware that she had been a guest since she arrived.

  ‘Nothing,’ Sylvie told her, ‘it’s all in hand, just enjoy yourself.’

  ‘It’s going to be a long night,’ added Christian, ‘so we are making sure we have everything we need.’

  ‘Why? How long will the whole thing last?’ she enquired, curious to see people arriving on the beach with yet more baskets of food, drink, and blankets to lie back on, in order to gaze at the night sky. She had assumed that this evening’s event would last two or three hours maximum, about the same time as the previous moonrises.

  ‘The entire phase of the “blood moon” eclipse will take less than two hours,’ Christian explained, ‘but the whole celestial event will last for many more.’

  ‘More than four, actually,’ Sylvie added, handing Calli an ice-cold beer. ‘But that doesn’t mean we go home after it ends – no way! We’ll party till dawn!’