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?’