Lil’ Georgia of Santorini, who is she? I have this little girl in my memory for so long and many have wondered who is this little girl. Let me elucidate.
This little girl was someone that I chanced upon and who left an indelible mark in my memory when I was in Santorini, Greece. To let you understand her true significance, I have to let you know the background of this chance meeting. I was backpacking back in 2003 in Western and Eastern Europe and Greece was my final stop in Europe before I head to Bangkok. Throughout my trip, there wasn’t much of a hiccup or anything that I could complain much about the places I had visited except Budapest, but I’ll leave that detail out for now.
Greece, from my experience, was the land of all imaginable fuckups that could happen in a trip. The beginning was already ominous. My Israeli friend Hilla was supposed to meet me in Athens. I had not met her since I met her in 2000 in Israel and I had planned my trip so that I could meet her in Athens while my traveling mates would be heading Italy. She broke the bad news to me when I was in Poland that she couldn’t meet me because her employer had ran off with her salary and she was too broke to travel. I had already booked my flight. I was utterly disappointed. The first sign of things to come.
I stayed in London for a night at my friend’s apartment as I couldn’t get a budget flight that coincided with my return flight from Berlin. My London friend was going to Greece with me and he had to leave 6 hours earlier as we couldn’t get seats for both of us on the same flight. The 1st fuckup occured. I sent him off to the tube station only to find out soon after that he forgot to pass me his apartment keys. I was locked out with my backpack in his apartment. I waited for his house mate to return 3 hours later and had to rush to the airport to catch my flight.
Here comes the 2nd fuckup. The train broke down in London’s archaic and filthy underground tunnel with hordes of people jam packed like sardines. (The first stop of my backpack trip was in London and I stayed there for 5 days. Throughout my stay in London, the infamous tube didn’t break down.) It was inching bit by bit to the next station and I was panicking. Fortunately, I had a distraction. There was this Italian guy ranting and gesticulating feverishly about how he is screwed for the second time. He had missed his earlier flight on the same day because the train broke down and now it happened to him again! I found out that he was on the same flight with me to Athens. I was rather amused at his predicament. As the train painstakingly crawled to the next station, I took the connecting train to the airport with my heart in my mouth. I had an hour left before departure time. Upon reaching the airport tube station, I discovered that I had to take a bus from the tube station to the airport. Wonderful. I ran with the Italian guy and begged the bus driver to start his engine as we had a flight to catch. 15 mins left before departure time. At the check-in counter, we had to beg again to be let in for our flight. Our sorry tale of the screwed up tube warranted their sympathy. We got on our flight 10 min later than departure time and had to endure the disapproving looks of the passengers. What a way to start my Greece trip.
Greece, the once cultural epicenter of the world boasts of many historical jewels that still leave us in awe. Much of what remain requires a lot of imagination to bring to life of what words so inadequately tries to describe.
I landed in the wee hours of the morning and looked for my London friend waiting for me in the airport. All seemed well until my first encounter with a Greek. Greeks are notoriously rude but I thought I had prepared well myself when I had visited Israel. Then my friend and I discovered another fatal flaw about them. They are liars as well. We were trying to get a place to bunk in and had decided to try for this particular area known for its relatively cheap accommodation. We asked for direction from 4 Greeks and each of them gave us different and WRONG directions. We finally found the area through sheer luck. There was more. We chose a modest motel and the receptionist was an Indian Greek. This guy turned out to be our unexpected nightmare. As we thought that he was a local, he would know the RIGHT direction to get to certain places. We were wrong. He gave us WRONG directions ALL THE TIME. He told us that the place we wanted to go was nearby and made us walked for long distance only to discover that we ended up on the wrong side of the map. We stopped trusting Greeks thereon. I stayed in Athens for 2 nights, bad choice, and had already seen enough of the Acropolis. There was nothing much else to visit in Athens. The rest of the historical attractions were not in Athens and cost 100 Euros and above for an overnight trip. It just wasn’t worth it to pay so much for stones and rocks and galaxies of imagination.
We had planned to catch a ferry for the islands in the morning after we checked out only to discover that the ferries were fully booked. It was our fault, as we didn’t book in advance. The next available ferry was 10.30pm. We had more than 12 hours to kill. We went to a local beach where no tourists ventured. We received dagger stares that could perforate even the most advanced tank armor. I had received stares in Zakopane, Poland, but those stares only made me feel like I was from Mars or an exotic animal in a zoo. 2 chinks walking on THEIR beach was probably very offensive for the Greeks. Nevertheless, the next fuckup happened. The ferry was late, 2 hours exactly. Soon, I learnt that schedules in Greece never worked. Everything was inefficient.
The first island we went to was Ios. It was an arduous 8 hours ferry ride to reach the island from Athens. It didn’t look that far on the map but the ferry had to drop by every island along the way and that explained the snail pace. Ios was alright, nice beaches with plethora of babes sunbathing. The sun was scorching and the island was filled with tourists from all over Europe. Geek islands are popular destinations for Europeans in the summer. We stayed in Flying Pigs at Mylopotas Beach. The ferry for our next destination, the island Santorini, was once again late. It was an hour plus late.
Santorini is a volcanic island with black sand beaches, Perissa and Perivolos, and a dormant volcano. The port was located 20 min away from the rest of civilization and we had to take a cab. We chose a motel, cheaper than most but was quite a distance from the beach. I was pretty skint by then. I only had 2 days in Santorini and I bought the return ferry ride to Athens upon arriving Santorini. The ferry departure time was 8pm. As I didn’t have much time and money left, we decided to do a day tour to one of the volcanic island, Nea Kameni, to fully utilize whatever I had, on the day that I was leaving. The scheduled end for the day tour was 5pm. I figured I had more than enough time to pack my stuff back in the motel room and to take a bus to the port for my ferry at 6pm. The drop off point at the end of the tour was 15 min walk from our motel. I was down to 50 euros and it was to last me all the way to Athens aiport the next day.
Alas, disaster struck again. The tour ended late, 2 hours late. That wasn’t the best part. We were dropped off at the wrong point, a good 35 min walk from our motel! My ferry was at 8pm. We ran with our cracked soles, caused by the extreme hot and dry climate, back to our motel room. It was a pandemonium. We got the motel staff to call a cab that cost 15 euros just to get to the port. It was 7.45pm. I got into the cab at 7.50pm. Now, from my experience that the ferry was always late, never once departed on time, I felt safe, knowing that I had a good chance of catching my ride, even though I was late. I couldn’t help but laugh moments later. The cab driver understood my desperate situation and drove with lightning pace. As I was reaching the port, I saw my ferry leaving. It was 8.02pm. Splendid. Excellent. FUCK! Missing this ferry meant I would miss my flight to Bangkok the next day. What am I going to do? I was so fucking broke, down to my last 35 euros.
I was so lost. I went to the ferry booking counter and asked the lady what was my alternative. She told me I had to take a flight from Santorini to Athens in order to catch my flight to Bangkok. It will cost me 80 euros, excluding my taxi ride from the port to the airport. I didn’t have that kind of money! I tried to contact my London friend, who was leaving a few days later than me but the reception was poor and I couldn’t get him. With 35 euros, and apparently no alternative and time running short, I was doomed. The cab driver saw my plight and pitied me. He didn’t want to take the 15 euros for the cab ride but I insisted because even with 50 euros, I was still doomed. Then the first “miracle” happened. He talked to the lady behind the counter in Greek. After 5 min of talking, the lady “discovered” that there was indeed an alternative that I could afford! There was a ferry to Mykonos island and from there, I could take a connecting ferry ride to Athens and I still would be able to catch my flight. It cost 30 euros. Why didn’t she say earlier?! I didn’t know what the cab driver spoke to her about but it worked. I was too relieved to be angry that the lady caused me unnecessary anxiety. The ferry was at 10.30pm. Down to 5 euros to last me till Athens.
This entire Greece trip was fuckup. I was pissed that I had pay another 30 euros because of the fucking day tour earlier. With 5 euros, I couldn’t get myself a decent meal, as I would need at least 3 euros to take the bus to Athens airport from the port. Hungry, lonely, pissed, I went to the cash point hoping for another miracle. My friend was supposed to transfer me some cash into my account and I was hoping that the transfer was completed although I knew it would take at least a day and I had only told him earlier in the day. I was to be disappointed.
Just as I was at the cash point feeling dejected, I felt a tug. I looked to my left and saw this little blonde girl, not more than 3 years old, gesturing me to let her play with the cash point buttons. I carried her up and let her pressed the buttons. She grinned cheekily and with her tiny fingers, pushed the buttons as if she understood what she was doing. She was talking to me all the time and I couldn’t understand a single word. It sounded like Greek (pardon the pun) but I guess it was baby talk. Next, she held my index finger with her tiny hand and dragged me to a café next to the ferry booking counter. There were eyes peering inquisitively at the sight of a toddler with a Chinese sporting a punk hairdo in tow. She wanted me to play with her. She sat down on the café sidewalk next to empty tables and chairs and gestured that I sit next to her. “Come here, sit next to me.” She seemed to tell me with her gesticulation. She was indeed precocious, having no fear of engaging strangers, especially a species that she probably never seen before. I sat next to her and she just went on with her baby talk. Her innocence suddenly struck me, how I had lost it, how so many of the ‘grown-ups’ had lost it, the isolation and inhibition we incarcerate ourselves in, she taught me things I couldn’t fathom entirely. There was a slope beside the sidewalk and we ran up and down. I felt like a kid again. Time seemed to stop and I knew that this was a moment immortalized, a moment that I would reminisce for a long time.
As with every beautiful moment, forever came and left. Her parents came to pick her up and we had to bid farewell. She didn’t want to leave and her parents had to carry her off. Our “friendship” was fleeting and it was beautiful. I forgot my dire situation, I was transported to another dimension, I escaped, at least for some time. As her parents took her to their car, she kept looking back at me with sadness in her eyes. She waved me goodbye as the car slowly disappeared in a distance. I didn’t know her name. I left my camera in the motel room so I couldn’t take a picture of her. I went back to the ferry booking counter and asked the lady. She told me she was the daughter of the café owner next door and she was always around playing on her own. She wrote me her name on paper. Her name was Georgia.
I had a dolphin crystal with a handcrafted wooden box bought in Krakow, Poland, and I gave it to the lady. I told her to pass this little gift to Georgia.
Ever since then, I wondered if that bloody lady did pass the gift to Georgia. I hope she did but I would never know. Will Georgia remember me? Probably not. I was probably a passing playmate, kids’ memory at that age is a blur. She would probably wake up the next morning not remembering much about the stranger last night who played with her. What would she be doing now? She is probably 5 or 6 by now. Is she going to school now? So many questions, so few answers. I tell myself that I will visit Santorini one day and hope to see her again, at the same café.
Back to reality. It wasn’t the end of my nightmare. Let me finish on my Greek disaster. I reached Mykonos port at 4am. It was freezing. I had earlier tried to sleep on the open decks on the ferry. The winds were merciless and I only had a thin windbreaker. At the port, there was only a couple sleeping on the other end of the port. It was a rundown port with dusty benches. I felt like a drifter. The connecting ferry was at 8.30am. I tried to catch some sleep.
At 7.30am, I woke up. The port was still empty with the couple and me. It looked odd. Are we the only ones taking the connecting ferry? Only 3 of us? Something was wrong. I went to talk to them and they felt something was amiss. Fortunately, the girl, her name was Beatrice, was a Greek who could speak 5 languages, Greek, Italian, Spanish, German and English. Her boyfriend was Italian, his name was Frederico, a Milan fan. She asked the locals around and true to our horror, we were at the wrong port for the connecting ferry! It was 8.10am already. I was fuming. Why didn’t that bitch tell me that? If I had not met this couple, I would be fucking done by. They called a cab and gave me a free ride to the other port. With 5 euros left, I could only afford to buy the 2 of them hot tea to repay them. I was lucky to have met them, the only saving grace of my nightmare. And Georgia as well.
So now, Lil Georgia of Santorini, etched in my memory, brimming with life in my heart, was the light in my darkness for a temporal time. Yet, its very impermanence, paradoxically, gave it eternity. Such is life.
