Chapter 56A: The Summer Town (part 1)

I took the exit from the highway that was at the northern entrance to the town. Since she hadn't been here before, I gave her a running account of the lay of the town, pointing out various spots we passed while I drove to the town center.

There wasn't much to see in the northern section; it was, for the most part, an industrial area consisting of small workshops—auto repair, machine shops, and similar—and small factories that produced olive oil. I reminded her that this was considered the land of olives, because olive trees covered most of the land, followed by tobacco and cotton.

"Remember the movie? The young rich guy whose family owns several olive plantations? I'm not sure but I think they made use of one of the small factories here in this section of town. Most of these factories are family owned and operated. There's also a big factory next to the highway about ten miles to the south." When I mentioned the name she recognized it since it was a household name; after all, olive oil was one of the main staples in most parts of the country. "There are a couple more olive oil production plants further past the town center, in the side streets, but they are very small. Almost all of the plants are located here," I added while she took in the sights.

"I think you're right. This looks familiar from what I remember of the movie," she said.

"Mom usually visited them at the end of our vacation. We prefer homemade to the name brands. The quality is definitely better than what is sold at the factory outlet. Of course, it's less refined, but it has a richer flavor and smells better than the factory stuff. I think it's because these small production facilities haven't changed much; they still use centuries-old methods of pressing, filtering, and maturing. It's not that the modern mass production processing is bad or their quality is low; it's just... too refined!" With a grin, I continued, "And people here, they wouldn't touch that industrial stuff. No respectable olive oil producer would!"

She laughed at my quip and nodded her understanding.

The road continued almost in a straight line; we passed the bus depot where various coach services had their offices and terminals, and a small fleet of cabs awaiting fares to drive them to the town. Since the tourist season was over, there were only a few cabbies and buses. "Before we had a car, we used to take the coach service," I said.

Remembering old times, I continued. "It's quite a long trip. We hardly used the terminal. Our flat was next to the road, about hundred meters away, so we would ask the driver, and he would pull over by the side of the road. They would also pick up the passengers along the way, as long as the drivers were notified where to pick them up. Most of the buses would visit several hotels along the beach to pick up passengers before they hit the highway, and then stop at various places along the way. You just have to make sure that proper instructions were left at their office while booking your trip. Later, when we had a car, it was much more comfortable to travel. In the summer heat, it was stifling on the buses; the air conditioning units rarely worked properly, and the only recourse was to open the windows. Sometimes we took the night bus, but Mom was always scared that the drivers would fall asleep; she didn't trust them to be properly rested. Well, you know the statistics on traffic accidents."

"So, who drove?" Dana asked.

"Kathy and I drove, since Dad and Mom never had a driving license. We never had the need for a car. We grew up using public transport and occasionally a cab. When we were attending middle school, our schools had their own bus service, and in the later years, Kathy and I used public transport. When we were very young and visiting my grandparents, we took either the train or the bus. Later, when we started taking vacations at our summer flat, it was solely the coach service, because there was no train station close by. Then, when Kathy and I got our driving licenses, Mom bought a car. I think she was tired of the uncomfortable long distance travel. Shopping was a major hassle, too, because our flat is located some 10-12 miles out of town. Unless you have a car, you have to rely on the municipal bus system to get to the town, or get a lift from one of the neighbors. Anyway, I know I was sick of the long coach trips in the summer heat. At the time, most of the coach services were really bad; even today they are mediocre in terms of comfort and safety. Of the few companies offering luxury travel, only one has regular service to this town and others around these parts, but that's a pretty recent development."

The sky was slightly overcast, and a weak sun was making brief appearances through the occasional patches of blue. The road was a wide four-lane strip with cars parked in front of the shops on both sides. We were almost at the town center, the main square. There were only a few cars and vans parked along both sides of the road, and the traffic was almost non-existent. The tourist season had been over for more than a month now, the crowds of tourists having left for home or destinations much warmer, so the town looked empty with only the original inhabitants and a few visitors like us.

On a whim, I pulled over in front of an apothecary, and turned to her. "Do you mind if we take a short walk, and catch some sun? Unless, of course, you want us to find a room in a hotel, first?"

She considered my suggestion for a few seconds. "What's the plan?"

"Well... The sun is out, although it looks windy and cold. I thought a little bit of fresh air and a quick bite would do us some good. I'm kinda hungry. I can show you around a bit, and then we can find a hotel. Afterwards... it depends. Whatever you want. Otherwise, I can catch a bite in the hotel."

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Five past three."

"OK! Let's do it."

I turned off the engine, and we got out. I took my windbreaker and she put on her coat. To the left of us, across the boulevard, there was a narrow street lined with small shops: grocery, bakery, patisserie, and such. We walked the street while I pointed out the various shops, before I steered us into a small café-patisserie, mentioning their excellent selection of pastries and sweets. She shook her head amusedly, and told me that I had a 'sweet tooth.' I told her that most of their products were very low on sugar, and rich in fruits.

While I made quick work of a slice of cake—she took a few bites from my plate as she wasn't feeling hungry—she had a cup of cappuccino. We left the place shortly, and I directed us to the market square which was 50 meters further away, to the left. Lined with grocery stores and other shops on all sides, it was mostly an open area with areas marked for setting up fresh produce stands.

"In summer, this place gets really busy; the stores with their displays, and the farmers setting up their stands in the middle with their fresh produce. Until early evening, it's a lively place with people milling around, shopping, and haggling over prices, the smell of vegetables and fruits filling the air... it's an explosion of colors, sounds, smells, and activity. I love it. The vendors put up tents between those trees," I said, pointing at the now bare limbed trees, "for shade, and the whole place feels like something from the middle ages. And it goes on and on. Even late at night, you can find a few of the shops open." Then, I pointed at a small store that sold hunting and fishing gear. "That's a favorite among a few of our neighbors who enjoy hunting. There's a small lake nearby our place with a forest surrounding it. There are wild geese, ducks, and rabbits, but not much of bigger game animals. I suspect they are more into the camping and the chance to get away from the city for a short while. So, this store is where you'd come for supplies and gear. In summer, it usually caters to amateur fishermen."

Pointing at the exit in the far corner, I continued. "There are jewelry and clothing stores, tailors, small bakeries, and others in that street. To the right, there's a winding cobblestone street that leads to an old church up a short slope; I think an orthodox church, now a museum. There isn't much to see. I think they just labeled it a museum to attract people and make some money. But this market, it is really the heart of the town."

We left the market square, and walked further along the street, away from the main boulevard. The shops and eateries slowly gave way to old style stone houses that changed very little since they were built, and the street got narrower, intersecting other narrow cobblestone streets.

"It's really a mosaic of cultures... this town," I said while pointing out things of interest: the kitchen windows with lace and half-closed curtains, flower pots and olive oil bottles sitting on the window sills, decorative doorknockers with strange designs on big doors, figures engraved on the walls, the colorful stone houses of every shape and size—a few dilapidated, but most in very good condition, built to last. "In summer, it's so crowded you can hardly move in these streets, and traffic is... well it's a pain in the neck. Pickup trucks and delivery vans fill up all the streets around the market square and at times they double park and block the traffic. Then there are the shoppers. Even with one-way routing it's a real mess. The only thing good about these narrow streets is that, you are protected from the sun except during the noon hours."

Dana gave an emphatic nod and said, "Yes, it's the same all over the Aegean or the Mediterranean. Most of the small towns and villages have narrow streets, and traffic is usually a mess, regardless of the country. I've seen some places where they are constantly busy dismantling and rebuilding to deal with the overcrowding, but it doesn't help. Besides, it destroys part of the charm of such places."

I nodded. "I agree. I would hate to see the charm and beauty of this town destroyed. It's been an idyllic little town for a long time, but sometimes, I wonder how long it will stay like that."

After looking around and taking in the sights, we walked back the way we came, and returned to the boulevard. We turned left and headed to the town square. To our left were offices, a few old coffee houses, and electronics shops advertising satellite TV dishes. A bit further away, there were several buses lined up next to the bus stops. "That's the municipal public transport that serves both this town and the towns nearby," I said, pointing at them. "In summer, they have a regular hourly schedule until late at night. In winter, I think it is every two hours or so."

To our right, across the boulevard was the harbor. We crossed the square and the boulevard to get to the other side, and walked along the shore. Numerous boats of all sizes and types stood swaying gently to the rhythm of the small waves. They were tied to iron cleats bolted in the cement. The water was a dirty-green color because of pollution, but also because the harbor was pretty much closed-in by natural barriers which allowed for very limited water circulation. Despite its color it didn't smell bad like it did in other places.

We took in the scenery. A few miles away, a large landmass stretched from left to right, seemingly bracketing the harbor on both ends as if it was a rectangular lake. It was a series of rolling cliffs and gently sloping hills; mostly bare rock with the occasional green patch. The shoreline was broken into sequestered flat areas by jutting bluffs or cliffs. Most of the inhabited areas occupied those flat stretches, but also extended up along the slopes of cliffs or hills overlooking the water. There were also a handful of small communities consisting of motley houses which were confined to the depression in between some of the cliffs further inland.

Pointing at the landmass, Dana asked, "Is that part of the mainland?"

I shook my head. "No. It's an island."

Dana let out a surprised, "Oh!" before she quickly scanned the scenery. "I thought it was part of the mainland, and this harbor was in a bay. It looks closed in on all sides..."

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it? But it's misleading. Without the island, the harbor would be open to the sea." I swept one hand from left to right covering the extent of the island, and said, "It extends from south to north and form a natural barrier." I turned half-way to the right and pointed at a spot hidden from our view. "To the north—behind those buildings—about a mile or two away from here, the harbor is bracketed by natural and manmade barriers. First, there's a landfill that extends out to the sea which ends at a tiny island. Across from it stands a wedge shaped corner of the bigger island. The two are connected by a bridge over a narrow gap of shallow water."

Dana nodded as she tried to visualize my description. "What about the south?" she asked.

I gave her a wicked grin, and remarked, "There, things get very interesting."

She arched an eyebrow in question and smiled amusedly. "Interesting... or complicated?"

Putting on a serious expression, I rubbed my chin as if mulling it over carefully.

"Tease!" she retorted.

"I don't want to scare you," I said, dropping my act.

"I'm not scared. So, tell me how interesting does it get."

"To tell the truth, it's the most beautiful part of this town," I replied. Because it's been a while, I took a short pause, and closed my eyes to recall the exact lay of the land. Opening my eyes, I turned us to face the southern end of the harbor. I pointed at a slight rise that jutted out to the sea. Behind that rise, the land seemed to curl out to the sea and join with the island as if the island itself was an extension of the mainland. "From here our view is blocked by that rise. Behind it, the mainland coastline continues due south in a straight line for a mile or two, and comes to an end with two adjacent coves. Both coves are somewhat elongated rather than circular, and they are positioned in a rather interesting manner. They are adjacent to each other, but their mouths almost face each other at a slight angle. Together they sort of resemble a much distorted 'W'. Can you visualize it?" I asked.

"I think so," she replied a bit hesitantly.

To help her, I curled a thumb and forefinger on each hand in the shape of a cove and then touched my thumbs at the tips to indicate how the two coves were joined together and positioned relative to each other. "Like this," I said.

She nodded and waited with an expectant look in her eyes.

"Those two coves form a bracket similar to the northern section of the harbor, generally extending to the west, out to the sea, but remain hidden from our view here. The outermost tip of the land extends further north as if trying to meet with the southern edge of the island. That's where the harbor opens up to the sea. Because the island extends behind the tip of the mainland, from here, you can't see that opening, because of overlap. It's somewhere due southwest."

She looked to the south end, and began a careful scan, looking for the inlet. She must have visualized my description better than I thought, or perhaps she had managed to read the contours of the mainland and the island very well, because she pointed out the exact location of the inlet. It was where the mainland gently sloped down and joined to the range of cliffs on the island, almost in a seamless manner. Well, almost seamlessly, unless you paid attention to perspective and the subtle hints of geography. "Somewhere there, right?" she said.

I grinned at her and shook my head, surprised at her success but also wondering how she accomplished it.

"Did I get it wrong?" she asked.

"Nope, sorry! You just surprised me. It's exactly there."

She answered with a complacent smile, very pleased with herself. She looked adorable, and I pulled her in my arms. She let out a surprised squeak that quickly gave way to a laugh, and then she settled against my chest. We held each other enjoying the closeness.

She looked up and said, "Sarah mentioned a hill. Where is it?"

I released her from my embrace, and turned her around. Then I stepped beside her and pointed at the southern end of the harbor. "To the south. You can't see it from here. It's some distance behind that rise which blocks our view of the two coves. The hill is located between the two coves, close to where they seemingly intersect each other, so it overlooks both coves. Actually, there's another hill right before it, skirting part of the first cove's shoreline, but it's a relatively small hill."

I closed my eyes briefly remembering the beautiful view from the top of the first hill. "That first hill is a real tourist spot. There's a big restaurant and a large parking lot. During summer busloads of people visit it, especially late in the afternoon. It's the highest point around here, and offers an incredible view. The sunsets there... they are just..." I trailed off searching for a good word to describe it in vain. There just weren't words good enough to describe the magical quality of the scenery and the feelings it would evoke in a person when they had seen it for the first time... or a second, or a third time, for that matter. It just was... is!

"So, that's what Sarah was talking about?"

"Yes, my love. Beautiful doesn't even come close to describing it. As I said, it has a very commandeering position. From west to east, you'll see the two coves. Further away, from west to the northwest is the big island, and to the north is the rest of the harbor. It's all pretty to see, but there's one other thing which is breathtaking! You'll see many small islands. It's as if someone has broken the string of a pearl necklace and all the pearls have spread on a turquoise floor, except these pearls are all different sizes. It's an amazing sight!"

"Ohh, mmyyyy!!! That does sound beautiful!"

"It does, doesn't it? Even though this town isn't as well traveled or known, it is beautiful. This town is much different than the big name vacation spots which draw large crowds with their noisy entertainment and a plethora of other excesses. It has a quiet, dignified beauty, a tranquil quality. A friend of my dad—a columnist in one of the major papers—who is a long time vacationer here, had once written: 'The summer nights are long and everlasting here, filled with an unpretentious yet ethereal beauty!' in one of his commentaries about vacation spots. I think that says it all."

As I was telling her about the view, I looked at the harbor with unseeing eyes until my gaze fell on her face. "I wish... I wish it were summer. I could show you so much..." My voice faded as the gates of my memory started to open. Almost reflexively I shouldered them shut, and changed the subject swiftly, not wanting to visit the roads that I had once traveled not so long ago, but what felt like a lifetime and a half ago. Right that moment, my visit to this town almost felt like a—

Like a pilgrimage?

I didn't know how to describe my feelings right then, and I didn't want to assign any labels to how it felt. In fact, that particular word made me feel very uncomfortable! Was it because of what it implied? Not wanting to dwell on that question, I took a deep breath of the harbor air, and then turned my attention back to Dana.

"Here, on this pavement, it gets pretty crowded," I said, pointing at a few empty stands that stood in front of a few of the fishing boats. "In the afternoon, the fishermen set up stands with the days catch. Although most of the boats usually deliver their main load to the shops at the market square and to the restaurants with which they have agreements, this is where an impromptu fish market is set up. Some shop and restaurant owners prefer to look around and make their choices daily, so they come here. Then there's the normal folk and tourists, of course. Some of the more enterprising souls among the fishermen even set up a small grill and do brisk business."

"You've enjoyed yourself a lot here," she said.

I arched an eyebrow.

"Am I wrong?" she asked.

"No, you're not. Did I sound too enthusiastic?"

She laughed. "Yes, that too, but it was the way your face lit up that gave you away."

"What can I say? I enjoy simple things, like fresh fish hot off the grill in a bun with an ice cold beer," I said and pointed at one of the benches that stood a few meters away facing the sea, "and sitting there, watching the harbor at sunset. Listening to the hum of humanity and nature around me... the summer heat surrendering to late afternoon breeze..."

"Mmmm... very poetic," she said.

"That which I am not!" I replied with a strained smile, because I felt very self-conscious. "Haven't you been listening to me? I just described one of the most beautiful pieces of land on earth as though I were reading a map; and you call me poetic?"

She returned a reproachful look as if she was admonishing me. Then, her eyes softened and a tiny smile graced her lips. "Oh, yes, you are," she came back, her tone indicating it would be wise for me to keep my mouth shut. "I can see the view from the top of the hill; I can smell, taste, and feel the harbor in your words." She turned to face the sea, threw her head back slightly, and closed her eyes, as if trying to demonstrate her words. I saw her nostrils flare briefly. Then, she opened her eyes.

"Yes, I can see it all," she said softly.

We stood facing the sea, and I inhaled the smell of the sea mixed with other smells. The wind was coming in from the sea in infrequent gusts, cold but refreshing, carrying the scents from further away, and then dispersing them. The seagulls circled in the sky, now and then diving into the calm waters, before rising again with something caught in their beaks, but most of the time they came up empty. They must have been somewhat used to human presence, because a few of them didn't hesitate to land on the pavement, taking their pick from the leftovers set aside by the fishermen.