Unfettered

Something I quickly learned while traveling around the countries bordering the Adriatic, Aegean and Mediterranean Seas was that distances between them could be incredibly deceptive. The maps made everything look so close; Italy, Greece, Yugoslavia and Turkey seemed no more than the jump of a checker piece, but sailing on ferries and taking plane flights was much more time consuming! I also found that simply arriving on one Greek Island didn't mean you could easily jump to the next one, there were certain days for certain routes and certain routes for each island, most seeming to embark from Pireaus, the industrial port city linking Athens with the Aegean. Like it or not, I traveled back and forth many times to Athens and Piraeus simply to access to other areas.

The rest of my stay on Serifos was spent in the company of my new friends from Germany - whom, I will add, were not the dour, uptight, judgmental folks that Germans are stereotyped to be -  but a welcoming, creative, intelligent, humorous bunch, fans of the Greek island lifestyle, its music, food and luminous sun. Each afternoon we spent together at the beach cove that was their campsite and each evening returned to Orange Juice and Makis for our nightly roundtables of conversation, laughter, and much alcohol. The Germans' tolerance for liquor astonished me and I envisioned them as infants nursing from steins of beer instead of their mother's breasts. I mean, how else could they consume the vast quantities of beer and still be coherent enough to argue life, politics, and art until the wee hours of the morning? At some point in the early a.m. I would stumble back to my walk-up rooftop room - the cheapest the small hotel had, about $14 dollars a night in early June, before high season pricing kicked in - and brandishing a sandal would smack mosquitos against the white plaster walls before passing out on my wobbly, narrow cot of a bed. I'm certain they had to give the room a fresh coat of paint after my depature, just to cover the dozens of red blotches left on those walls.

I didn't want this blissful (and boozy) time on Serifos to end but I had pre-paid for a 16 day tour of Western Turkey with a British tour company called Explore. The tour was called "The Aegean Coast and Asia Minor" and would begin in Istanbul and follow the coast of Turkey south visiting "Classic Sites and Harbor Towns" to the Turquoise Coast. It was time for me pack up and get on the road again, making my way to northeastern Greece where it borders Turkey. Flights within Greece are quick and cheap when using the national airline Olympic Air, but crossing borders the fares jump substantially and in any case Olympic Air didn't have flights into Istanbul at that time, so my next destination would be Alexandroupoli, a smallish town near the Turkish border. From there I would take a bus into Istanbul. 

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Aegean Calling

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Path to the Palace (Knossos, Island of Crete). Oil on board.

There are journeys made for rest and recreation, a way to push one's "reset" button. Necessary and fun, we return from these travels in a few weeks and dive back into our routine. But there are other journeys that begin from a deeper need, a restive urge to lose oneself a little (or a lot) and turn one's perspective 180 degrees. These can be life changing journeys.

Some years ago I left a job in an advertising department, a job that should have been a stepping stone but had become a rut, like a fraying security blanket. I needed a change badly and I knew that finding it would require more just changing jobs. Why had I stayed in this boring job for so long? What goals had I shelved in order to keep that monthly paycheck coming in? What did I want my future to look like? 

I took a risk and quit that job. I allowed myself to follow an urge, a romantic vision that I'd held since childhood, of exploring Greece and Turkey, seeing the Mediterranean Sea and Aegean Islands, being surrounded by people and cultures that were completely foreign to me.

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Lindos I (The Roman theatre midground, Temple of Athena rear). Pastel on paper.

The trip began with my partner at that time, who took time off from work and accompanied me on the first leg of the trip - the vacation portion. We toured the northern Italian cities of Milan, Verona, and Venice, the cities of Pula and Dubrovnik in what was still Yugoslavia, and the Greek Island of Corfu before he returned home to San Francisco and I began my journey in earnest.

On the dock at Corfu we bid our good-byes as he boarded a ferry heading west to Brindisi, Italy and I a ferry east to Piraeus, the port of Athens. Because I planned to be on the road for several months I was traveling with a backpack, which I quickly learned was akin to flying the international flag of the world traveler, at least in those days before rolling bags became ubiquitous. That backpack made introductions with other travelers so easy and was how I happened to meet two Aussie girls, their friend a Kiwi (New Zealander), and a Canadian who suggested I travel with them to the Greek island of Serifos in the Cyclades Islands in the Aegean Sea.

[ Meeting and networking with other travelers while on the road can be immensely beneficial and opens up many new possibilities. I can't stress enough the benefits of having a beer, a bite or a conversation with other travelers as you'll always learn something worthwhile. The sharing of tips and recommendations is the biggest perk because no matter how many guide books you've read there will always be more "insider" information that you can glean from those who have just been where you're headed or have traveled through the area in the past. You'll learn of "off the beaten path" restaurants, hidden beaches, caves, waterfalls, terrific accommodations, geographic features, and sometimes the names and numbers of welcoming locals who are friends of the travelers. ]

It was on the island of Serifos one evening as I strolled past the open air tavernas that lined the seaport that I fell in with some friendly travelers whom I sensed were sympatico, an American fellow and a group of Germans that included a photographer, a filmmaker, a woman who worked in radio and two young art students. The Germans were camping out in a sheltered cove a short hike from the seaport area. The proprietor/bartender of the taverna, called Orange Juice, was a gregarious fellow called Makis who had taken a liking to the group because Julia, the radio journalist, had taught herself Greek and had produced a documentary (a pre-internet podcast) on the Greek Rebetiko movement: the folk music of the working classes which had seen a revival in the 1960's and 70's, paralleling the protest music of the same era in the USA. Makis was a great host and spoiled our group, making sure our drink glasses were full in the evenings and preparing his special melon and liqueur smoothies for our table in the mornings. 

Lindos II, Temple of Athena (foreground), Byzantine chapel (rear)   Pastel of paper