Читать книгу Moon Over the Mediterranean - G J Maher - Страница 7
ОглавлениеCHAPTER ONE
Let me tell you a story, one full of learning and intrigue, travels and inspiration. It won’t take long. Sit back and relax. Make yourself comfortable. Perhaps you could close your eyes and dream a little as I relate the story of someone I met a long time ago, a dear friend of mine. Imagine an ever so gentle breeze touching gently on your face, the aromas of sage, chamomile, wheat and barley in your nostrils, aromas so prevalent in Greece and her islands. Just sit and think for a moment as you read these words. Imagine the sounds: the chorus of the cicadas, their song reaching your ears in waves, a distant horn from an arriving ship, birds singing in the shade of the sparsely positioned trees. Look at the colours that might catch your attention: the delicate mauve of the chaste tree whose stems have been used for centuries to make wicker items for the home and market; the bright red of the cherry tree loved not only for its tangy fruit but also for its prized wood; the pomegranate, pear, apple, fig and olive and of course the grapes, and a thousand herbs, bright colours and subtle ones too, colours of the entire spectrum amidst the brown, often dried earth of the islands of the Aegean.
The year is 1967 and Alexander was yet to discover any of this. He was on board a small passenger ship, the Portokalis Ilios, on her maiden Greek voyage departing Piraeus and he was bound for Santorini eventually, although he would have to change ships to get there.
It was 9 am and already the sun was hot. It’s like that in a Greek summer, always hot, the sky always blue. Alexander had never been to Greece before. He had also never been on a ship, so everything was new. Alexander was born in a little village in the south of Holland. His family had been cobblers for generations. His father and grandfather ran the family business there, but Alexander didn’t want any of it. He found shoes boring and couldn’t imagine making them and repairing them for the rest of his life. If anything, he’d have preferred to follow in his mother’s footsteps as a cook. Her stroopwafels, oliebollen and poffertjes were simply exquisite. Dutch cooking was not known for being the best in Europe, so Alexander’s mother, in her patisserie, specialised in German and French sweets and had become so well-known that she supplied other patisseries in a hundred-kilometre radius around her shop. At the end of her fifth year in business, she had eleven staff, and now, ten years later, she had a factory too and employed fifty. But Alexander didn’t want this to be his job either.
In fact he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, apart from travel and see the world. At 19, he could wait no longer, and so here he was after a bus trip from Amsterdam to Athens, leaning on the railing of a ship with the wind in his hair, heading to an island he knew nothing about, Tinos.
Why, you may ask, had Alexander chosen this island? It’s quite simple really. When he had reached the port of Piraeus early that morning, after journeying from Amsterdam to Athens, Tinos was the only island with a ferry leaving for it that morning. Remember the year. In 1967 there were far fewer ferries travelling around the Mediterranean than there are today. That changed in the decades that followed, but back then, Alexander’s ferry was one of only three leaving on that day, and it was the first.
The month was June and, as I said, it was already hot, in the thirties in fact and not a breath of wind. The Portokalis Ilios was a slow boat and it took all morning to reach the island, but when it did, Alexander was greeted with something that would mark him forever.
Ropes were skilfully tossed ashore by hardened sailors whose facial features and gnarled hands told a thousand stories. Slowly the hydraulics of the ramp kicked into action and Alexander watched from behind a small crowd of locals as they prepared to disembark. Vehicles started up and belched choking smoke over the passengers as they moved toward the sunlight which drenched all those out on the wharf, bright sunlight, Mediterranean sunlight.
As Alexander himself disembarked, a small group of island folk greeted him and the small group of other travellers with hand-written signs on cardboard reading ‘rooms’. The Greek word ‘thomatio’ was one of the first words he therefore learned. He chose the oldest lady and went with her through the narrow streets lined with white-washed houses to a simple home in a garden full of mature fruit trees: peaches, pears, figs, apples and oranges. Her home reminded him of a doll’s house. The old woman showed him all the rooms and he decided upon one with a glimpse of the harbour for 40 drachmas a night, which at the time was about a dollar. She brought him a Greek coffee and spoke in high-pitched fast-paced Greek interspersed with lots of smiles and gestures. As he sat sipping his coffee listening to this old woman chatter, he began to realise that his life was changing right then, right there. Greece does that to people. It changes them deep within.
He felt something he’d never felt before … an ease, a contentment, a relaxation like no other. He had very little idea what the words being uttered from this old woman were, yet it didn’t seem to matter. He finished his coffee, thanked the woman, briefly held her hand, smiled his infectious smile and said farewell. ‘Yassu,’ the old woman replied as Alexander walked off towards the harbour.
The ship by then had gone, the few vehicles too had dispersed and just a handful of fishermen remained, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes as they repaired their worn nets and spoke words to each other which, although Alexander didn’t know it at the time, he would soon be learning. He noted their clothing, old and tattered, each man wearing a black fisherman’s cap, little protection from the hot Greek sun of summer.
‘Yassu,’ one of the fishermen called as Alexander approached.
‘Yassu,’ he replied.
‘Ti kanis?’ another asked.
Alexander just smiled because he didn’t know what ‘ti kanis’ meant.
The same man beckoned him over and offered him his pouch of tobacco. Alexander graciously accepted and sat on a wooden fish crate rolling his first Greek cigarette. There were half a dozen men within hearing distance all repairing or folding nets and all of them seemed to want to talk with Alexander.
‘English?’ one of the younger men asked.
‘No, Holland,’ Alexander replied.
‘Speak English?’ the same man attempted.
‘Yes I do.’
‘Where you from?’
‘Holland,’ he repeated.
‘Hollandia,’ another offered.
‘Yes, yes,’ answered Alexander excited that his message had got through.
‘Word is neh,’ the first man told him.
Neh means no not yes, Alexander thought to himself.
‘Manolis,’ the fisherman said, ‘name Manolis,’ pointing to his chest. ‘You name?’
‘I am Alexander.’
‘Roh … Alexander Great,’ Manolis said with respect, and all the men including Alexander laughed.
‘Me Polychroni,’ another stated offering his hand.
Alexander shook the man’s hand and one by one met the others, Michaeli, Thanassi and a couple he couldn’t quite get his tongue around.
‘You holiday?’ Thanassi asked.
‘Yes holiday,’ he replied.
‘Good. Tinos, plenty psarades, fish, plenty Ouzo.’
Again they laughed.
Finishing his cigarette, Alexander got up and gestured a farewell. ‘Yassu,’ he offered, his second word of Greek.
‘Yassu,’ the men called, as Alexander smiled and walked off, marvelling at the quaint Greek fishing boats tied to the side of the wharf and gobsmacked by the clarity of the water everywhere he looked. The waters of his homeland were not clear like the waters before him now that was for sure.
On his first day on the island, he simply wanted to wander around town and see what he could find. It didn’t take long for him to come across a truly stunning building, the Panagia Evangelistria, the church of the Megalohari (Great Grace) where, in 1822, an icon was discovered by a nun after having been directed to it by the Blessed Virgin Mary herself who visited the nun in a dream. The icon was purported to have had miraculous powers and thus the church was built soon after. Alexander marvelled at the ornate exterior, so different to any church he’d ever seen before, and upon entering the church was blown away by the spiritual atmosphere. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings and a thousand candles burned brightly, gently flickering with the continual opening and closing of the many doors.
He wasn’t a holy person, but he knelt down anyway and was immediately cloaked in that feeling he’d experienced moments before with the old woman, a feeling he could only call contentment, but it was something more, something much more.
After a few moments of quiet contemplation he left and meandered further, through streets of houses whiter than any white he’d ever seen. Holland is such a grey and colourless place compared to this, he thought.
It didn’t take long for him to reach the outskirts of the town.
The impressive jagged mountain of Exobourgo stood proud before him beckoning to be climbed. The track was bordered by stone terracing which had been constructed centuries before. A labyrinth of these paths criss-crossed the island, used by island folk to transport their produce by donkey as they had done for many centuries and still do today.
Alexander climbed for half an hour to the very top and before him lay the entire island and many others off into the distance. He noticed then that someone had been following him and was about to arrive.
‘Yassu,’ Alexander called after a few short moments.
‘Yassu,’ the man replied. ‘Ti kanis?’
Alexander gestured that he didn’t understand.
‘It means “How are you?” in my language. People will ask you all the time.’
‘Yes I’ve wondered.’
The man stopped beside Alexander and took a few deep breaths.
‘If you are good, you answer kala, perhaps even kala efharisto.’
‘Which is …’
‘It means good, kala good, efharisto thank you. You try.’
‘Kalar efhaistro,’ Alexander replied awkwardly.
‘Ah is almost right. Try kala ef-ha-risto.’
‘Kala efharisto.’
‘Kala, my friend, is good. You speak good Greek. How long have you been in Greece?’
‘This is my first day. I arrived in Athens this morning early. Then I caught the first ship. It was coming here, so Tinos was my choice.’
‘Good place Tinos, very good island, poly kala, very good.’
‘Poly kala,’ attempted Alexander, pleasing his new friend.
‘Pose leni? What is your name?’
‘I am Alexander.’
‘Oh poly kala, Alexander the Great,’ the man replied, quite impressed.
‘And your name?’
‘I am Polychroni.’
‘I met another Polychroni today.’
‘Means many years … poly is many or very, chronia is years. So my name is many years. I am old man,’ he said laughing.
Alexander thought him to be in his forties, not old at all.
‘Tell me Polychroni, what islands are these?’
‘Oh you see so many. In front of us here is Paros and to the left, Naxos. Beyond Paros is Ios and the furthest is Santorini … is a clear day so can see very far, but because they are in line, you can’t tell where one starts and the other finishes, katalaven? You understand?’
‘Katalaven,’ Alexander replied. He most definitely did understand.
‘Hey Alexander the Great, you are kala with your Greek, poly kala!’
‘And the other islands?’ Alexander asked.
‘Poh, we have 6,000 islands. From here you see dozens. To your right is Sifnos and Serifos, then Kythnos and in front Syros, our administrative capital and the little one, the old prison island Gyaros. Behind us Andros.’
‘How many are inhabited?’
‘Only two or three hundred.’
It was a lot for Alexander to take in on his first day. ‘It’s so beautiful here,’ he said. ‘You have a beautiful country.’
‘Yes,’ Polychroni agreed, oreo beautiful, poly oreo very beautiful.’
They sat together in quiet contemplation for a long time. Way down at the harbour a fishing boat left the port and Alexander thought it may well have been one of the fishermen he met earlier, off to catch some psarades.
After some time, Polychroni asked, ‘So Alexander the Great, how long you plan to stay in Tinos?’
‘I have no plan, perhaps a few days, perhaps longer.’
‘Is good plan to have no plan. Just let happen what happens. I see you again. I go now.’
‘Will I though, see you again?’ Alexander asked.
‘I think so, is a small island. I find you. Is no problem endaxi?’
‘What is endaxi?’
‘Endaxi means okay, endaxi?’
‘Endaxi.’
‘Yassu my friend.’
‘Yassu Polychroni.’
Polychroni stepped down the rocks with great agility, deciding not to take the trail, but instead a shortcut. Alexander reached into his day-pack and pulled out his water bottle and a book, had a drink and started to read. It was Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha, and although Alexander was nearing the end of the book, he understood only parts of what he was reading. He thought to himself that perhaps he should read it again when he finished it.
He sat back with his day-pack as a pillow and continued to read. ‘Gentleness is stronger than severity, water is stronger than rock, love is stronger than force.’ This made sense, but so much of what he’d read to date did not. Perhaps the reading of such books had to be done in the right place and in the right state of mind, he thought. He read on. He kept reading until he had finished the book. It was only the final thirty or so pages that he read sitting there on the mountain of Exobourgo, but suddenly the whole book made sense, even the previously difficult-to-understand sections. The right place and state of mind was crucial, he realised. He looked in the direction of Santorini, past Paros in the foreground and Ios beyond, and felt enormously refreshed even though the afternoon sun was unrelenting. He opened the book at another page, just to see if he could remember where on the bus journey from Amsterdam he had read it, but also to see if it had a clearer meaning this time. ‘It taught him how to listen – how to listen with a quiet heart and a waiting soul, open soul, without passion, without desire, without judgment, without opinion.’
I remember reading this, he thought to himself. It was very much in the beginning of his journey, at night, near the Belgian-German border, confused and distracted by the border activity he noticed outside the bus, of armed guards. On the Belgian side they were relaxed but moments later when he reached the German border control, the guards were more authoritative and mean-looking. It was only twenty odd years since the end of the Second World War, and everyone with a uniform in Germany had kept their menacing demeanour. He compared Hesse’s words on how to listen with those of one of his teachers who, years before, had said: ‘We have two ears and one mouth. We should go through life using them in that proportion.’ He laughed at this memory knowing well that he shouldn’t compare the profound words of a great writer with those of his high school teacher.
A gentle breeze began to blow. Alexander picked up his day-pack and began the journey back to town. Unlike Polychroni, he chose the real track, rather than testing his own agility. As he walked, he started to notice all sorts of things: the aromas of the fields, rosemary growing in every nook and cranny. Even the smell of cow dung seemed beautiful. As he got closer to town he heard music. He had never heard a bouzouki before, and the beautiful sounds were mesmerising. Children were playing a game like hopscotch, laughing and screaming as he approached. Beyond the children a group of men were playing games of backgammon on the balcony of a café. Beside them, a man wearing an apron, most likely the owner, was playing the magnificent string instrument.
Alexander decided to enter the café, taking a seat just inside the main entrance where he could see and hear all that was going on.
‘Yassu,’ called a woman from behind the counter. ‘Oreestey?’
Alexander had no idea what she was asking, but assumed she was asking him for an order. He decided to go to the counter and to see what was on offer.
‘English?’ she asked.
‘I am from Holland,’ Alexander replied.
‘You want ouzo?’
‘Yes please.’ He thought to himself, why not!
‘Endaxi, sit, I bring.’
‘Efharisto,’ Alexander replied.
A moment later the woman arrived with a glass of ouzo. Placing it on the table in front of him she said, ‘Parakalo.’
Alexander again said the word ‘Efharisto.’ It was his first day and already he had a handful of words in his repertoire.
Sipping the drink he’d just ordered made him even more relaxed and together with the men playing backgammon and the bouzouki music, he decided life was pretty good. The woman then returned with a small plate of something which Alexander thought looked quite unusual. Together with a large slice of lemon, he peered inquisitively at the woman.
‘Oktopous, you like, eat.’
‘Kala,’ he replied.
‘Kala,’ the woman repeated, ‘yes, is good.’
Alexander squeezed the lemon onto the tiny morsels and started to eat. It was delicious. Coupled with the ouzo, it was the perfect combination. It was a little salty however, but before he could ask, the woman brought him a glass of water, saying, ‘Nero, water.’
Again he said thank you, ‘Efharisto,’ his pronunciation of the word now almost perfect after having said it a few times.
Devouring both the octopus and gulping down the ouzo, Alexander signalled for the woman to bring more. Pointing to both items on his table, an empty plate and an empty glass, he said, ‘Same please.’
‘To ithio parakalo,’ she said. ‘Same please.’
It was getting a bit much for Alexander and with that first large ouzo making him a little drowsy, he decided to keep his Greek lessons for another day. He just sat back and enjoyed the music and the colourful vista of the port, the fishing boats and the sapphire blue waters.
Why is the water so different from back home, so beautifully blue? He wondered. In Holland, it’s grey or brown but not like this, never like this. As he pondered the blue of the waters, the music stopped and the man with the apron stood up and walked inside the café.
‘Hey filos, you want another ouzo?’ he called.
‘No thanks, I still have some left.’
‘You like the octopus?’
‘Absolutely. It’s poly kala.’
‘So you speak Greek, neh?’
Using the Greek word for yes, Alexander replied, ‘Neh.’ He laughed and then added, ‘No not really.’
‘But your Greek is good, yes?’
‘I’ve only been here a day.’
‘You speak Greek before you come?’
‘No, the few words I’ve learned have all been taught to me today.’
‘Well my friend, you pick up this language quickly.’
‘Efharisto,’ Alexander answered proudly. ‘We Dutch do that. We’re pretty good with languages.’
‘How many languages you speak? Asked the owner.
‘Dutch, English and German.’
‘Is impressive,’ replied the owner.
‘You stay on Tinos long?’
‘Maybe a week.’
‘You will like it here. Is very good life. No crazy people. All sigah, sigah … slowly, slowly. Why you travel? What is reason?’
‘To open my eyes and my mind,’ Alexander replied.
‘Is good answer. Just remember one thing my friend … seemerah, today is the first day of the rest of your life. Make it count, tomorrow too,’ the man said with a smile.
Alexander thought about these words as the owner went on with his chores, chatting quietly with his wife. Make it count, he thought to himself. That should be easy.
The men continued to play backgammon and a local bus pulled up outside depositing its passengers before the driver crunched the gears and drove off.
Alexander stood up, paid his bill and gestured a goodbye calling, ‘Yassu,’ to the couple behind the counter, as he walked out of the café.
‘Yassu,’ they replied in unison.
Alexander stepped into the bright afternoon sunshine, smiling at the men playing backgammon, and slowly walked off towards his accommodation. He was in no rush.
‘Hey Alexander Yassu.’ It was Polychroni from the mountaintop.
‘Yassu Polychroni.’
‘See I told you we’d meet again. Is a small island. Hey you want to have dinner afterwards?’
‘Sure,’ Alexander replied. ‘That’d be good. First I want to have a shower though.’
‘Endaxi, we meet in an hour?’
‘Yes but where?’
‘Here is good.’
‘Yes okay, see you back here in an hour then.’
‘Endaxi,’ replied Polychroni with a smile.
‘Endaxi,’ laughed Alexander, before walking off with a wave.
Returning to his room, he took a quick but invigorating shower, changed and headed off in the other direction in order to do a loop around the part of town he hadn’t yet explored, seeing how people went about their afternoon chores, watering their plants, bringing in the washing and just sitting and resting. Then he wound up back at the port a few minutes ahead of the planned meeting time with Polychroni. The remaining fishing boats were coming in with their catch. A few townsfolk were heading down to meet them. Alexander decided just to sit with his legs dangling over the side of the promenade searching for fish as he waited.
There were fish literally everywhere. Alexander had never seen anything like it. He thought for a moment that the fishermen didn’t need to go out in their boats at all. They simply needed to throw a line in from the side of the wharf. No, he thought, they must be hoping to net them in larger numbers.
Just then Polychroni approached. ‘Hello my friend, yassu.’
‘Yassu Polychroni.’
He sat down with Alexander and asked, ‘What would you like to eat?’
‘I’m happy with anything you choose.’
‘Well, do you like fish?’
‘I had some octopus before and it was great.’
‘My sister and her husband have the best seafood restaurant on the island, so how about we go there?’
‘Fine with me. Tell me Polychroni, what is your job here on the island?’
‘I am a teacher.’
‘What do you teach?’
‘Art and history at the local high school.’
‘Which do you prefer?’
‘I have no preference. I have a love for them both.’
‘I was never any good at history, but I love art. I carry a sketch-pad with me everywhere I go.’
‘I’d like to see some of your work. What do you like to sketch?’
‘People and animals mainly, but now that I’m travelling, I’d like to draw other things as well.’
‘Come on,’ Polychroni started as he got to his feet, ‘let’s go and eat.’
Alexander hopped up and together they headed off to the restaurant. It was nearing the end of the day and the sun was about to set next to or behind the island of Syros. It remained to be seen where the sun would sink.
They arrived at the restaurant and Polychroni introduced his sister to Alexander.
‘Maria, this is Alexander.’
‘Yassu Alexander. Pleased to meet you.’ She showed them to a seat with a view of the harbour, and brought a menu. Polychroni immediately ordered a bottle of Retsina.
It was a scrumptious dinner they ordered with Polychroni suggesting every plate. They had calamari, tzatziki, a Greek salad, saganaki and moussaka, all shared in true Greek fashion.
Over dinner Polychroni asked Alexander what his favourite pastimes were.
‘Reading and riding my bicycle,’ was his reply.
‘What you like to read?’ Polychroni inquired.
‘Today on the mountain I finished reading Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha.’
‘That’s impressive. What’s next?’
‘I intended to look for a bookshop tomorrow.’
‘Perhaps you will allow me to loan you a book.’
‘Yes all right,’ replied Alexander thankfully.
Alexander’s first Greek sunset was about to happen, setting into the Mediterranean just to the north of Syros. The entire sky had turned orange.
Alexander learned that Polychroni’s wife was away in Athens visiting her sick mother, but when she was here on the island she ran the local newspaper The Tinos Pharos. Both of them were educated people and as Alexander ate the delicious foods and drank the unusual Retsina, he learned that these two were a lot more than just an educated couple. Polychroni had taught at prestigious institutions both in Greece and abroad and his wife was a published author. Alexander looked forward to meeting her. He asked when she might return to the island.
‘Within a few days, I expect,’ replied Polychroni. ‘Her mother is improving every day.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ Alexander stated sympathetically.
‘Tell me,’ started Polychroni, ‘what’s the real reason that you’re travelling? Surely at your age you should be doing national service.’
‘That’s true. I’m escaping my responsibilities.’
‘You do realise, I suppose, that you’ll have to stay away from your country for quite some years. Your government won’t want you back without some form of punishment.’
‘Yes I do realise this fact.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Travel and keep travelling, I suppose.’
‘Do you think that’s wise?’
‘It’s worrying not being able to go back and see my family and friends, but we can meet for holidays in countries near and far from Holland, and that’s exactly what we’ll be doing I presume.’
‘It’s not ideal though, is it? Do you have another choice?’
‘Not really,’ answered Alexander sadly. ‘I’m a pacifist, and the alternative service option is no real option at all. I don’t want to spend eighteen months of my life doing something I sincerely don’t want to do.’
‘But aren’t your options things like helping the ambulance service or assisting at a primary or preschool?’
‘Yes but I don’t even want to do that.’
‘Good luck then, my friend. You’re going to need it.’
The twilight sky was now turning to deep purple. The Retsina was taking effect. Alexander felt quite drowsy. ‘I’m going to have to call it a night. I haven’t slept properly for three days.
‘I completely understand,’ replied Polychroni.
‘I’ll call for the bill,’ said Alexander.
‘You most certainly will not. I will pay. My sister owns the restaurant. I get a good deal.’
‘Well thank you very much. It’s been a superb meal and it’s been great getting to know you.’
‘Let’s continue this talk tomorrow. Would you like to?’
‘Yes actually I would,’ stated Alexander emphatically.
‘And I’ll bring a book or two, something I think you’d like to read.’
‘I’d appreciate that, thanks.’
‘And you can show me your drawings.’
‘No problem.’
‘Kalinikta Alexander.’ Kalinikta is Good night.’
‘Kalinikta Polychroni.’
They shook hands and parted company.
Alexander walked home slowly. The first stars of night were now visible. Just a soft glow remained in the western sky. The sounds of a Greek village gently bombarded his ears: dogs barking in the distance, conversations in Greek here and there, the chores of washing up being performed, the sound of a motorbike with a faulty muffler in the distance.
That night Alexander slept like a baby. He woke not long after sunrise and decided the best way to start the day was to have a swim. He walked down to a stretch of sand he’d noticed when he met the fishermen the day before and plunged in without hesitation. It was his first swim since last summer and it was a beautiful feeling. Even here in the harbour there were fish everywhere. After a long time in the water, Alexander dried off and went to find somewhere for breakfast. He was well aware that he had to watch his money. While finishing high school he held down two jobs, one assisting in his mother’s bakery and the other in a local bicycle repair shop. Together with a substantial gift from his grandparents and parents he had enough money to last him a year, maybe longer if he was careful. His entire family including his two sisters were sympathetic with him not wanting to join the army. The older members of the family knew war well. Nearly everyone in Europe had been affected by the loss of someone close.
He sat down at another of the many harbourside cafés and ordered his breakfast. As he had nothing to read he just watched the world go by. It wasn’t until several hours later that he ran into Polychroni.
‘Here, I have a couple of books for you to read. Both of them are by the author Krishnamurti.’
Alexander excitedly accepted the books. ‘Thanks very much. Who is this author?’
‘Krishnamurti is one of the greatest thinkers of the twentieth century,’ replied Polychroni. ‘His views on life, God, the seeking of pleasure, relationships and so much more have encouraged many others from all corners of the world during his life and since to go within and seek answers to the complexities of life. If you, Alexander, are the type of person to read Hermann Hesse, then you will appreciate the writings of Krishnamurti, I am sure. I loan you these two books in the hope that they will affect you as they did me.’
Opening the first book, Alexander got that same feeling again. He looked Polychroni straight in the eye and said, ‘I can honestly feel that what I am holding here is enormously special. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.’
‘Say no more. Enjoy the reading. Now might I see some of your sketches?’
‘Sure,’ Alexander replied as he reached for his sketch-pad and handed it to Polychroni.
‘These are excellent,’ said Polychroni as he viewed each of the dozen or so drawings. ‘You have a very unique style.’
‘Thank you,’ Alexander replied pleased to get the compliment.
‘Reading and art and travelling the world … an admirable combination.’
With those words Polychroni turned to leave. ‘Yassu Alexander. Enjoy the books.’
‘Yassu, efharisto.’
The days ahead for Alexander were astonishing. Never before in his life had he read such meaningful words. Of course being 19 years of age, it was an extraordinarily influential time of a young man’s life, and reading Krishnamurti opened Alexander’s mind like never before.
Krishnamurti described things that Alexander found both moving and disturbing. Sometimes he understood every word on a page. Other times he became confused, even annoyed at what he was reading, annoyed because his mind seemed so limited. He’d often arrive at dead ends. He walked around the whole island with these life-changing books. He read passages and whole chapters on hilltops, headlands and beaches. He made notes of his favourite passages, some from the books themselves, and others from the notes that Polychroni had placed perhaps as bookmarks of his own favourite passages. ‘Truth is a pathless land. There is no guide, no law, and no tradition which will lead you to it but your own constant and intelligent awareness,’ one read.
In just three days Alexander had devoured the first book loaned to him by Polychroni, titled ‘This Matter of Culture’. Immediately he began the next book. He’d not seen Polychroni for days. He’d now been on the island nearly a week. The realisation of the right book in the right frame of mind and in the right location became even more evident as he read page after page of this great writer’s thoughts. Upon reading the final page, Alexander again experienced that sublime contentment. His mind was racing with ideas and thoughts, but he was exceptionally relaxed.
Almost as if on cue, Polychroni arrived on Alexander’s doorstep less than an hour after Alexander had finished the second book. ‘How are you Alexander?’ he asked as he reached out and offered his hand.
‘I am particularly well,’ was his reply. ‘Have a seat.’
‘Have you enjoyed the books?’
‘I have just this morning finished the second one, and yes I’ve enjoyed them immensely.’
‘What have you learned?’
‘I’ve learned that I must keep reading so as to learn more.’
‘A very wise thing to say. What are your next plans?’
‘I will leave soon and travel to other islands. Has your wife returned yet?’
‘No, her mother has taken a turn for the worse. She feels she must stay in Athens for a while longer.’
‘That’s a shame. I probably won’t get to meet her.’
‘Perhaps next time Alexander. Most people who come to Tinos return one day.’
‘I certainly hope I do. But I think it’s time to move on. The world is a big place and I don’t just want to visit Greece.’
‘Where else would you like to travel?’
‘Having read a little of Krishnamurti, I think I’d like to go to India after here.’
‘But first Santorini, yes?’
‘Paros, then Santorini.’
‘I’ll give you some books to travel with. I’ll drop them by tomorrow. What day might you leave?’
‘Probably the day after tomorrow. There’s a ship leaving that day for Paros.’
‘Endaxi Alexander. Then we must have a farewell dinner tomorrow, yes?’
‘That would be great.’
‘I’ll see you first thing in the morning with the books. What time do you rise?’
‘Usually a little after the sun comes up.’
‘See you then, yassu.’
‘Yassu Polychroni, and thanks again.’
Alexander spent the rest of the day in contemplation. He certainly had plenty to think about. His biggest concern ever since he received his papers to go into the army, was war itself and the absolute insanity of the human species to involve itself in war. He thought long and hard while he was completing his high-school studies as to the best choice for a conscientious objector and in the end decided quite simply to hit the road. He didn’t think he was escaping. He just wanted to find his real self and somehow be of good to his fellow man. Always popular at school, his decision to travel was not looked upon favourably by his fellow students. Yet his closest friend, Thomas, supported him 100 percent. Now in this semi-remote Greek island, Alexander felt his decision was the right one.
Next morning shortly after sunrise Polychroni arrived with several books.
‘What have we got here?’ asked Alexander, keen to find out.
‘A few books this time. I know you’re travelling and books are heavy so what we have here is a very select group. Handing them to Alexander almost ceremoniously and one by one, he said, ‘Firstly a book called The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, then The Republic by Plato, and this one I’m sure you’ll like, Hesse’s Narcissus & Goldmund, George Orwell’s 1984, Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy and finally Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. It gave me enormous pleasure to put together this handful of titles. Alexander I have literally thousands of good books, some of them quite exceptional as I’m sure you’ll agree after reading this second group. These are your books to keep or to pass on to whoever you think might be a worthy recipient.’
‘Efharisto a thousand times over, Polychroni. Again I can feel in my hands and my heart that what you have given me here is more than special. There is just so much,’ he said, almost shocked at the number.
‘Remember my friend, it’s not the quantity of books you read, but the quality.’
‘Of course.’
‘Now if you return to Tinos at any time, and I sincerely hope you do, I have many more books for you to read. So, back to normal things, where would you like to eat tonight?’
‘Your sister’s place,’ Alexander started, ‘but I want to pay,’ he added emphatically.
‘We’ll see. Now I must go and work. I have some private tutoring today.’
‘See you later then.’
‘Yassu Alexander.’
Again Alexander started to read as soon as Polychroni was out the door. As was often the case with Alexander and a pile of books, he would first read a few lines or flick through reading a little of each book before deciding which one he would start with. That was the case again with this group. In the end he chose Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund. He sat back on a wicker chair in the partial sunshine, a bottle of water beside him and began to read.
Hours later feeling the effects of the sun, he went inside to lie down. His mind was racing. His physics teacher in his final year of high school told him one very important fact and that was that the brain is the most complicated kilogram of matter in the universe. He was finally understanding what his teacher meant. His brain actually hurt from the input.
Alexander found it absolutely astonishing to be able to absorb all that he was reading, or at least most of what he was reading. He had never considered himself particularly intelligent but in his final two years of high school he’d received better results in his exams that he had in all the previous ten years of schooling. Clutching Hesse’s book to his chest as he lay on his bed, he felt confident that he had the personality as well as the intellect to comprehend almost anything which had been given to him by his Greek friend. He was excited to say the least at what lay ahead. This is my first week of travel, he thought to himself. ‘I have already read books by Hermann Hesse and Krishnamurti,’ he said to himself. ‘I have in my possession several others, all of which I presume are equally mind-expanding.’ With a plan to travel further within the cradle of civilisation and beyond to countries like India, he was sure his knowledge could even grow exponentially.
‘Alexander,’ his landlady called.
Alexander jumped up and walked to the door. His landlady had a bowl of fruit, freshly picked and cut as well as a glass of orange juice. ‘Parakalo,’ she said handing them to him.
Perfect he thought, just what I need. ‘Efharisto.’
The old woman smiled, turned and walked away saying something incomprehensible. Alexander was overjoyed and immediately began to eat and drink. With all the reading, he’d completely forgotten to have lunch. The fruit and juice were delicious, just like everything else in Greece.
A few moments after he’d finished eating, he was dozing peacefully. An ever so gentle afternoon breeze blew through his open door. It was another extremely hot afternoon and everyone on the island would be glad to have this breeze. Very few could afford the luxury of air-conditioning.
Alexander slept like this for an hour or more. When he woke up he was feeling quite refreshed. He looked at his watch and noticed that it was nearly 4 o’clock, so he decided to go down for a swim. As always it was a good idea because when he came out of the water he was even more refreshed. Two small children, probably brother and sister, played with a beach-ball supervised by their overweight mother. ‘Yassu,’ she called.
‘Yassu,’ Alexander replied. The little ones called out ‘yassu’ also.
That evening Alexander and Polychroni again enjoyed dinner at Maria’s restaurant. They had a completely different array of food, but it was as enjoyable as the first time. These two souls who were years apart in age but similar in so many other ways talked until all the restaurant guests had left. They talked about the books Polychroni had given to Alexander and about subjects the likes of which Alexander had never spoken to anyone about. It was an evening of enlightenment.
‘If you travel to India, Alexander, you will come across ashrams and centres of learning like nowhere else on earth. Travel slowly. Stay in one place more than moving around. If you feel comfortable or inquisitive in a new location, stay there and see what happens.’
‘Alright,’ he replied simply.
‘I really hope you come back Alexander. Come back and visit again. Meet my wife. Search through my library. You are welcome anytime.’
‘I know I’m welcome, and yes I think I will return. Thanks for everything.’
With that, they said good night. ‘I’ll come and see you off on the ship tomorrow.’
‘I look forward to that. Good night. Kalinikta.’
‘Kalinikta Alexander.’
The next morning, as Alexander was walking towards the port, he heard the ship’s horn blow from a distance before he saw the ship itself. Polychroni was waiting for him on the wharf.
‘It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you Polychroni,’ Alexander stated emphatically.
‘The pleasure’s been all mine,’ replied Polychroni.
Within minutes, the ship had dropped anchor and was reversing into the wharf. Polychroni embraced his young friend. ‘Do return, please.’
‘Thank you for everything. I think my rucksack has some exceptional knowledge contained in it. Meeting you has changed me a lot. All the opinions and knowledge of the world is contained inside the covers of books. My journey to discover this has now begun thanks to you. Yassu.’
With that the two parted and Alexander boarded the ship with a small group of others. He climbed to the aft deck and waved to Polychroni who in turn waved back.
Then the ship blew its horn, ropes were loosened by the fishermen on the wharf, the engine revs increased and the ship pulled slowly away.
