Amorgos Once Again

It’s Wednesday evening. I’m at a beachside table, at one of the many restaurants and bars that dot the 500-meter crescent-shaped beach of Aegiali, in one of Amorgos’ two port villages. A bottle of Mamos beer, half-poured into a chilled glass, is in front of me along with a wicker, napkin-lined basket that holds several pieces of fresh, thickly-sliced white bread. Soon a traditional Amorgian salad will be delivered to me. Think what we normally refer to as a Greek salad back home, but with no lettuce – rather peppers, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, capers and herbs - and a soft, rich, salty, mushy cheese instead of the firmer feta. I’ve grown to love these damn things and have had one nearly every day I’ve been here. So many flavorful, fresh veggies, and the cheese is to die for. With the bread, it’s a meal.

One-foot-high waves crash about every 3-5 seconds just 30 feet to my right, the sun edging toward the horizon – setting in about two hours. The beach in Aegiali is narrow, just twenty feet or so separates the stone boardwalk from the water. Trees line the boardwalk, providing nice shade throughout the day for those of us too lazy or cheap to buy a beach umbrella. A large sailboat bobs on the waves a hundred meters out, some ladies have a lively conversation in French just below me, many folks are in the warm Aegean Sea, with others still catching the remaining rays of the day, and the pier where I’ll catch my 8:00 pm overnight ferry is jutting out into the water, across the bay on the other side of the white-stoned, hillside village. My friends, Mameaw and David will be joining me shortly, coming over to have one last beer/snack together and to watch some Wimbledon on their computer. They’re staying on Amorgos a few more days before setting off for Kalymnos, an island in the Dodecanese Islands. I booked a spot in business class for my ride to Athens with the hope that I’ll nab a couch and a good night’s sleep.

My time on Amorgos has been restful, and calm for the most part. Lots of beach time. Late dinners. Late mornings. Some days not much happened at all. Other days were more eventful, with long hikes or island exploration or unique nights out. It’s a beautiful place out here, Aegiali being our home base, but the hilltop villages of Lagada and Tholaria beckon, and are reached by footpaths in just over 30 minutes. A rugged, uphill, hot climb, yes, but not so difficult as to let the experience pass us by. One evening David, Mameaw and I walked to Lagada around sunset, dined at the same Cretan restaurant we ate at last year, visiting once again – and drinking with –owner Voula. Rakija is the drink of choice following a meal. And this rakija is a special recipe made by Voula’s father in Crete and shipped to Amorgos. We had several drinks with Voula, talked into the night, then made our way back down the hill under the stars, Mameaw’s cellphone flashlight guiding the way.  Last night was a special night in the other hill town, Tholaria. Once again the three of us scrambled up the hill, just in time for a perfect sunset view across the valley, down toward Aegiala and out to the sea. Joining us last night were friends Theo and Pukki. They are friends of David and Mameaw’s but I guess now I should consider them my friends as well, considering I saw them here last year and was greeted warmly by both upon my return. We feasted on grilled meats, salads, deep-fried cheese with honey, green beans, traditional dishes of meats and vegetables cooked in clay pots, and liter after liter of red wine. Honestly, it was just the type of night I was hoping for on my final day on the island. Lots of laughs, views across the hills and bellies filled with delicious food and drink. We ended our night at a sheik little outdoor bar in Aegiali for Cuban cigars, more red wine, and lots more laughter.

Bookending this extraordinary meal was the meal I enjoyed on my first night in Amorgos. Again, we were joined by Theo and Pukki, but also by friends Tony and Lydia. This was the feast to end all feasts, with small plate after small plate of Greek specialties endlessly dropped onto our table. Again, salads, grilled meats, fried cheeses, octopus, stews. I could hardly keep up. But keep up I did because the food was just such a beautiful thing, and being my first night in Amorgos, I couldn’t let one morsel of delicious food go to waste. There was also live music at this outdoor place, the same place where I’d gotten up and joined the circles of locals dancing traditional Greek dances last summer. Unfortunately, this time, the dancing was much more subdued, with just a few people at a time getting up in front of the musicians to strut their stuff. I didn’t feel as motivated this time to join in the fun. As the food began to taper, and as our plates began to be cleared, and as the jugs of red wine got emptied and the cigars were lit, I began to wonder how, and when, we were going to pay for this fantastic meal. I inquired of David and was shocked and amazed to find out that the owner of the restaurant was covering our entire bill. Holy shit. We ate like starving lunatics and drank like fish. This entire meal was paid for? I couldn’t believe it but was thoroughly grateful. Theo, Pukki and Theo’s brother own a restaurant and complex of rental properties on the island. Tony and Lydia own and run a hotel. Apparently, this is just how things work on Amorgos. Small businesspeople on the island take care of other small businesspeople. They throw business to one another, and they’re happy to comp a meal or a room or drinks or whatever. Still, I was blown away by the hospitality.

Last year I made an epic all-day hike up to Lagada, down to a hidden beach on the other side of the island, back up to Tholaria and then home. It was an exhausting hike, but one of the signature experiences of my stay here. This year I wanted to do something equally as rewarding, but yet different. So, on Monday morning I set off at 7:00 a.m. along Trail #1 on a 4-hour trek up into the hills to the central town of Chora. In my bag I had some fruit, a cheese sandwich and a huge bottle of water. I set off early due to Amorgos’ constant sunshine and because temps easily rise into the low 90s in July. Getting an early start meant the first hour or so of my hike was shaded by the mountain at my back that thankfully blocked the rising sun. Joining me on my hike was one other solo traveler, a man in his 60s with flowing grey hair and long, baggy tan pants. I encountered him inside the tiny white-stone church of St. Nikola, a church perched high atop the side of the wind-swept mountain, exposed to all the elements Amorgos can muster up. This man finished his prayer then invited me in as he vacated and continued his hike. I stood inside for a few moments of reflection, then went back into the sunny morning and again took to the trail.

I could tell I was hiking at a faster pace than this grey-haired gentleman, so I plotted my strategy. Slow down and let him set the pace, knowing he’d always be in my sightlines just a few hundred meters ahead. Or quickly scamper past, putting him behind me and feeling the solitude of a trek with no other hikers in view. I chose the latter plan and eventually scurried past him. Feeling energized and strong and ready for the three next gorgeous hours, I continued on my way, a smile on my face, a song in my heart, along ancient rock walls, over wobbly, football-sized stones, and past the occasional collection of grazing goats. My confidence was high. Too high, as it turned out. As I followed one particular rock wall into a field and along what I thought was Trail #1, after 15-20 minutes of glancing and searching for the red dots or red and white lines painted every so often on rocks, marking the trail, I began to wonder if I’d gotten off course. A glance behind me and I saw my trekking partner setting off into the distance, in a completely different direction. Dang it! Just like the tortoise and the hare, this hare went prancing off, clearly not paying enough attention to the trail markers. I retraced my steps, found my red markings and got back onto the #1. But then, once again, I found myself gaining on my friend. “Pass him a second time?” I felt sheepish about the idea.

Thankfully I didn’t have to. Soon I saw the man veer toward a small building on a flat section of rock. David and Mameaw had told me about a tiny café that existed about half-way to Chora, along the trail, but they said each time they’d done this hike, the café had been closed. It appeared, this time, it was open. Hallelujah. A coffee or piece of cake at this beautiful oasis would certainly hit the spot. My new friend was already seated at an outdoor table when I sauntered in. “You want something to drink?” he asked, with the owner standing beside him taking his order. “Greek coffee,” I said. “No Greek coffee,” snapped the older woman. “Espresso. You want espresso?” My hiking friend had ordered a frappe. “Frappe,” I said, feeling like I needed a little more hydration than what a thimble of espresso could provide.

It was then that my new friend and I finally made our acquaintance. Just like the namesake of the tiny church on the hill, his name was Nikola, and he was from France. In his rather broken English, he explained to me that he walks this path multiple times during each of his visits to Amorgos. It’s a spiritual pilgrimage of sorts for him. We sat, mostly in silence, drinking our coffees, enjoying the shade and our break from the trail.

Then came time to pay. I pulled out a 20 Euro note and handed it to the owner. She proceeded to glower at me, but accept it, then walk back inside the café. Moments later she returned. “No,” she barked. “Can’t take it.” She didn’t have enough coins to change my 20 apparently. I nervously rooted around in the pockets of my backpack, hoping and praying to find some coins that I knew, deep down, were not there. I could only muster a measly 60 cents. The frappe had cost 3 Euros. I asked Nikola if he could break my 20. He then followed suit, and began fumbling through his change purse, clearly not having enough to change my 20 either. He counted out three Euros, then four, then five. At this point I realized he was covering the cost of my coffee. But, his change, too, was running out. With my 60 cents, and Nikola’s contribution, we were luckily, finally able to cobble together the six Euros needed to pay for our coffees. I shook his hand and thanked him profusely. He said with a smile, “It is your destiny.” I gave him a courteous bow and set off down the path, grateful for human generosity, chance meetings and the unexpected kindness of a fellow hiker. A coffee had never tasted so sweet.

The #1 trail took me over several hills, past more goats, braying donkeys, a farmer leading his herd of 4 or 5 cattle, and around a ridge that had me walking cliffside for 30 minutes, the beautiful Aegean Sea to my right. I hiked past the 2^nd oldest monastery in Greece – the Monastery of Hozoviotissa, built in 1017 and hanging 300 meters above the sea. After a difficult and blisteringly hot climb, I finally made it to the top of the mountain and the beautiful village of Chora. I found a bakery we visited last year, sat at a small table in a teeny tiny stone lane, changed out of my sweat-drenched shirt and enjoyed a piece of orange pie and a cappuccino. Success!

But the story doesn’t end there. Haha, of course it doesn’t. Following my bakery treats, and following a 20-minute wait in the unrelenting sun, I took a bus back to Aegiali. Back to my room for a shower, a nap, and to teach one of my online English classes, then a stroll into town around 6:00 for a beer and something to eat. Turning one of Aegiali’s many winding corners, you’ll never guess who I ran into? Well, maybe by this point you will. My new friend Nikola! This time he was with his wife. Not wanting to waste an opportunity to pay forward the gift of coffee given earlier to me, I offered to buy Nikola, and his wife Zazia, a drink. We sat, they splitting a small carafe of white wine and me tipping back a large, cold beer. We talked Greece, life in Europe and our children, who are of similar ages. “Destiny,” is how Nikola had put it earlier. Destiny indeed.

I met several other people during my time on Amorgos, most notably Oslovians Ove and Camilla and their two college-aged children. We met on the ferry - Ove guarding my bags when I went to the counter for food - then bumped into each other many times on the island. Ove, for those friends and family from Princeton who would know, was a Norwegian Jim Lakmann. Tall and thin, thick head of wavy hair, jovial, full of smiles, talkative and, like Jim, a teacher. We had much to talk about on our many encounters – mostly American politics and Scandinavian socialism. Meeting folks like Ove and Camilla is one of those treats of travel. Sometimes you’re not particularly eager to converse with a stranger, but other times you are, and in those times it can really pay off. Wonderful people to meet out there, from each and every corner of the globe.

OK, that’s a wrap. Time to catch my ferry and to, once again, say a bittersweet “goodbye” to Amorgos. After my overnight sail it’s off to Madrid – to hang with nephew Santi, spend time with god-daughter Kenia and her roommate Yuri, and to enjoy a dinner or two with friend and Eden Prairie colleague Mariela. Along with family and good friends, sunshine and heat also await. Afternoon siestas and evening paseos are in my immediate future. Let’s do this thing.