8
Ben woke ready for the road to Thessaloniki. Megalahori had been good to them and the flowery perfumed air had been weirdly revitalizing. Already, in his dreams he had climbed the mountain and bowed before Zeus and was made welcome. Kevin was looking forward to being on the Aegean again and sailing through the islands to distant Crete.
Kevin believed he knew why the ancient Greeks believe the gods lived on Olympos, 'I think Olympia in the south is named after the Olympic gods, but Olympos itself was their Homeric heaven. It was remote, and very high. Its gods had to be powerful to live there. You could see Olympos from a ship at sea; you could see it from the Pelion down in the south and some prehistorians think the first Greeks must have lived just below Olympos before they moved south into what became their world.'
'Yes, and you can imagine they'd probably have a god of weather and a god of wandering shepherds which might be how a rumour of his distant mountain could take root.' This was how they loved to speculate, pretending to know what they were talking about.
The mountain is grand, and from the distance appears as a pile of vast blue rocks as ragged as clouds. The course was fine and lined with aspens and well constructed but after a while it became apparent they were on the wrong track.
The distance between them and Thessaloniki seemed to grow. With the town of Larrisa behind them and Katerina coming up Ben realised he had to make a decision soon on whether or not to bypass Mount Olympos and just aim for the evening ferry. With all his travelling he had long ago come to the conclusion that if two people travel together and they come to a place that either one does not like or is not sure of, you must both move on to a better place. He realised the most convenient way to reach the 2,000 metre summit is not to approach it from the seaward side which was the road they were on, but from the western side which was where they weren't, and that's how he chose to push on without further fanfare in a slightly disappointed, but philosophical trance to the city of Thessaloniki.
Almost immediately they arrived they took an instant dislike - too modern, too flash and far too busy. To think it was once a whitewashed town full of peaceful minarets but now the historic sea wall had been pulled down and over the years seaside villas and ambitious office blocks had mushroomed. The best that had survived was a few Byzantine churches and one lone white tower of that sea wall, built in the fifteenth century.
It felt weird cruising to a halt at traffic lights in a real city and being mesmerised by the illuminated colours on the pole. But where to buy the ferry tickets? Everything was hustle and bustle as you'd expect but they just sat, tickled by the changing electric colours on display until they noticed, exactly across from them, and most definitely a compensatory gift from Zeus, the actual ferry ticket office waiting with a list of island destinations on a board above the door. It took seven or eight seconds studied appraisal to arrive independently at the same conclusion. 'Kreta! Kriti!' It just had to be Crete.
The ship to Iraklion would be the Kristina and she would weigh anchor at ten pm. After steadily churning her way through Aegean waters for a delirious twenty-four hours, threading through, almost, completely calm islands she should arrive there, the capital of Crete, t118-118he following evening. Crete, birthplace of Zeus and Ben's favourite drink, Raki - although the Cretans pronounce it Ratchi.
There followed a little running to and fro to catch the banks but without any further hang-ups, they parked on a quayside yet again awaiting yet another ferry, each with safely stored ticket within shirt pocket and a goodly bottle of Amstel in grip. A mere four hours to wait, but then waiting is a way of life when you're travelling and you just have to get used to it.
'Thessaloniki is a huge crescent of a city, arching the bay, and rich and heavy with city trappings. So a very expensive stop-off for a couple of vagabonds like us,' said the emissary. And before they realised, the sun had sunk, the last coloured light drained away after it, and the sea had darkened to oil. The Zorbus was safely on board the Kristina, as was a beautiful dark haired girl on a motor bike, but they were sharing a cabin with the invisible man. The sky was glittering and twinkling in good humour and sparkling optimism, wine and beer.
Mobike Girl was friendly and told them she was going to work in Crete for the summer so it wasn't long before she was off to sleep after waving farewell to the last of her enthusiastic gang on the quay. The bright lights were fading into the waves as the big white boat eased her way through the waters of myth and legend. The Plough and Orion's belt are always the most obvious star patterns but the total effect of the Milky Way is always astonishing. Its vastness is overwhelming and yet also reassuring and you know it makes Ben smile.
During the night Ben looked up from his bunk and realised the missing third person in the cabin had in fact arrived and was lying asleep in the bunk above, seemingly unconscious. Later, stifled from the stillness of their metal box and from some strange stale smell, Ben stumbled along to shower before making for the deck.
Kristina wafted her way from Skiathos and Skopelos down to Mykonos where a compact fleet of spectacular cruise liners, hydrofoils and several of the less flashy vessels were moored. It was as though half a dozen space ships had landed in the historic port - definitely surreal. Full steam ahead for Paros and the formidably historic Thera, or Sandorini as it is now known, a recognised inspiration for the legendary city of Atlantis.
During various forays around the public part of the ship, Mobike Girl was often seen spending time with the purser, or this officer or that crew man and one could not help but wonder whether or not she was making extra cash or just being friendly, but whatever she was up to she was certainly the sailor's friend.
During the voyage Kevin and Ben met Eivald, a most unusual man. Six foot- thirty tall, of grey beard and grey hair; darkly tanned, peaceful and cycling through Greece. He had a houseboat in Kashmir, was a technician in Berlin and had made several television travel documentaries about Tibet and exploration. He was a pioneer in yoga techniques, Zen meditation and living without illusion. They began chatting, asking questions and sharing laughter until gradually Kevin and Ben spoke less and less and eventually, just sat entranced.
Eivald explained, 'Over the years I have looked at many different belief systems but most of them seemed like adolescent superstitions until I came across Buddhist and Hindu philosophies and slowly, logic and philosophy began to sift through the stories and eventually gave me something to share with nature.' They were transfixed.
'There came realisations of how we see ourselves as people living separately from the natural world when the truth is we are all inseparably connected with the whole of nature. In fact, we are nothing less than the whole energy of the universe. And in truth each of us is one with all there is - absolutely a part of it all. I suppose these conclusions showed me a simple, less troubled way of life, a whole way of dealing with situations and an orientation toward the external world.'
Ben and Kevin were staggered. Eivald was open and optimistic and refreshing. They were with him for several hours, he even bought them lunch and by the time they parted Ben realised Eivald and his thoughts had had a profound effect on him. Things were simplified and he felt awaked and reassured. Particularly when Eivald said quietly, 'You know, every single thing is interdependent. Everything. We are just as much a part of the cosmos as the planets and the stars, insects and grains of sand. We humans are simply another species in nature. We're a process. Think of life as a meadow with seasons. We are part of that meadow and we come and go. We come and go like every other microcosm in all this phenomena. It is an accepted law of nature that energy cannot be destroyed, which means, of course, nobody is really born and nobody really dies.'
Lying off the bow, still and silhouetted against a deep azure sky, lay their dark, shadowy, mountainous destination, the island of Crete. They were almost there now.
Over the tannoy came the old sound of Wonderful Land, a Shadows tune from the fifties. They chuckled and shook their heads in disbelief. They knew every note. Kevin passed Ben a handful of juicy grapes he'd bought before they set sail and gave him a nudge, 'I say, old fruit, how do you feel about a venture through the Samaria Gorge? It almost cuts the island in two. We could put it on our list of things we want to do.'
'Kevin, old fruit, we haven't got a list of things we want to do.'
'We have now. And anyway, I was talking to the grapes, not you.
They ran up to the second deck to get a better view. And arriving in Iraklion late in mild spring darkness, slowly swinging and turning through the calmer waters of the old Venetian Harbour after twenty-four hours at sea, twisting in, always closer among those knowing and ancient stones, nodding to Koules Fortress as they passed, must be one of the greatest pleasures Ben had ever known.