Greek Ferry trips

Norsk utgave (Norwegian edition)

Jesus from Naoussa.
North on the island of Paros is a small fishing village called Naoussa. We didn’t manage to find a room in the harbor area where we could watch the boat life from the veranda. Instead we ended up in Hotel Aliprantis with a balcony towards the market. The price was NOK 225 per night for a double room. During the evening, a group of youths with national costumes crossed the market square headed for the harbor. We followed them and experienced a wonderful show of folkdances and their mothers served us cakes and soda. This arrangement could not have been sold to the tourists by Star Tour, even for three times the price, as it was made for the locals and not for the tourists.

We went back to the market square, where there was a humming of voices, grasshoppers and traffic, which of course was not directed outside the center of town. And there he stood: the young Jesus from Naoussa, in a white coat, with long curly hair and a guitar, as taken straight out of Flower Power and High Asbhury.  He sings out one of the most worn out clichees of rock: “Everything’s gonna be alright” – with such a convincing sound that I almost started to believe the guy. Throw a coin in the guitar box, and let yourself be seduced. Steven, Stills, Nash and Young couldn’t have done it better. And I thought those days were gone, and only appeared in pale copies of the Woodstock film.

A little later, Jesus from Naoussa comes over to me, tells me his name is Pedro, he’s 23, from Canada and lives on a farm in Paros, where they have undertaken the task of saving threatened species of birds. Thereafter he continues telling a complicated story of a film project he is involved in, which involves showing the resemblance between the Indian shamans divine revelations and the schizophrenias hallucinations in meetings with God. Unfortunately he has not managed to persuade the Canadian government about is great idea. “Sorry Man”.

Jesus, sorry Pedro, goes back under the tree in the square and presents a version of “angel” without many people paying attention. But I feel 30 years younger.

Myconos
We are standing by the windmill above Chora on Myconos, and looking down on the white city. Nowhere else in the Cyclades are the sugar cube houses so white, and the verandas and doors so freshly painted, colorful reds, blues and greens. Here, food and housing are more expensive than anywhere, but no one should be frightened by this. We have lived inexpensively a little bit out in the countryside and found good food and drink for about NOK 100 per person. But it is not difficult finding a place in “Little Venice”, centrally located with sea spray on your table, and lunch with lobster, shrimps, calamares and oysters for NOK 600. While you are there, you are surrounded by people who give the impression that money doesn’t matter.

This phenomenon has it’s parallel when it comes to life on the beach. The beautiful beaches are located as pearls on a string. Why stop at Paradise beach when you can take a boat to “Super Paradise”? The hunt for the good life doesn’t lead to satisfaction, only to platforms for new leaps.

Sunset, blue sea and blue sky embraces the red fireball. At the end of the day, the light gilds the white town, the Greek Soria Moria. Outside the harbor the old ferries makes some fumbling maneuvers before straightening up and sailing calmly into the sunset. Goodbye old “steamer” – tomorrow is filled with Sea Jets and High Speed’s.

Paros harbor
In a stream of Island strollers, we are emptied out of the mouth of the Sea Jet yet again in Paros Harbor. The house sharks throw themselves upon us. The competition for customers is tough and the capture aggressive.  We make our way through the crowds and find a central spot in one of the cafés, order coffee, orange juice and a Norwegian newspaper. 3 Norwegian guys, size 14 years with skateboards on their backpacks are an easy catch for the house sharks. They have to learn the tricks themselves. An older man is playing wildly on his bouzouki behind us. A Swede is shouting in his mobile phone at the table beside us. We turn quickly as we hear a “roll of thunder”, 4 shiny Harleys with black leather bags and fattest handlebars I have ever seen. The “Easy Riders” show off their ultimate image, power and freedom. “Mother of all motorcycles” has entered the islands.

The local boat to Antiparos which is straight in front of us looks very small in this swarm in the harbor, the most busy harbor in the Cyclades. Small Antiparos is something special. Earlier on, we had looked forward to the islands beautiful houses, overgrown with red jasmine, beautiful beaches and a room with a view of the harbor, with the nice price of NOK 175/night.

The captain of the local boat had pointed out the place of the tragic ferry accident last year, two cliffs  pointing out of the sea. I didn’t ask for his comments to the writings in Norwegian newspapers, a few being that the crew were watching a football match when the accident happened, that they didn’t know how to use the safety equipment on board and that they left people drowning, as they themselves used the lifeboats.

“Blue Star” glides majestically in the harbor, the new generation big, open ferries ready to take over from the old ferries. Escalators take us from the car deck to the sun deck. We find ourselves a spot with a view of the ocean, a big experience for someone with a passion for Greek ferry trips.

The end of the journey
Back at Santorini, Svein and I go the Nicolas tavern the last evening. We have tried twice at 9 o’clock, but given up because of a cue. It says it all when most restaurants on the waterfront have people dragging you in, but Nicolas has to arrange a cue outside his tavern. This evening we meet at 7 o’clock. The boss is sitting in the restaurant with gray, distinguished hair, and looking at us, knowing he runs the last original tavern in Santorini. We order lamb and beef with onions. If you ever go there, overlook the fact that he has a fridge with a glass door, revealing coke and water, and a TV on top. Take a look at the paintings on the walls, the wine barrels and the cupboard with the model ships. Enjoy the food and think of how your grandmother prepared the meals when you were small. The food tastes exactly like that.

Nicolas looks like he will continue with the tavern for many years. You will find him in the middle of the north-south bound alleys.

Svein and I continue our evening stroll to the “gold-street’s” glittering shops and continue to watch yet another Greek sunset. The best experiences in life are free. From the view around us, we can see that beautiful towns attract beautiful people.

Yet another evening is spent looking at the sky and sea forming a blue union, and I am reminded of life’s endless possibilities and our difficult decisions. But this sight also gives nourishment to those who have feelings of political symbols. In these waters, all ships have two flags, the Greek flag en the EU flag. This combination has resulted in a lot of cash.

One can ask oneself: Has tourism involved the Greeks having to prostitute themselves?

There are fewer old women dressed in black, and old men with moustaches on the donkeys back. The same goes for the fishing boats. The paradox is that what we intruders look upon as the Greek idyll, is associated with symbols of poverty which we have long since put behind us. I would allege that Greece never has been as Greek as now, in the sense that the houses have never been so white, and doors and verandas have never looked so freshly painted. And living accommodations have kept their original features because it is not permitted to build higher than 3 floors, something the Spanish and Italians could learn a lot from.

But I don’t think any of us would want the job as a donkey driver on Santorini with demanding cruise tourists as customers.

Tonight they are playing “Get your kicks on route 66” on stage in Langesund. I have told you about my route where I got my kicks. Welcome to the theatre of dreams. You will have to create devotion yourself.