13
Later, up at Theo's Bar, Kevin and Ben had a long talk. Kevin confessed he was getting really low on the money front. 'There are boat loads of desperate people straining to escape tyranny and oppressive regimes in their mother countries. They are pouring into any country that offers the slightest chance of a better life, taking any menial job available and working for peanuts.'
It was becoming more and more obvious Ben and Kevin might be sliding into a complicated situation. They had to find work.
Their conversation turned to people like them, travellers, who visit foreign lands and meet absolute strangers yet with whom we seem to have so much in common and how really, as we have been told by all the wise men, sages and gurus since time began that all anyone needs to show is some kindness and understanding towards each other for life to get along.
When travelling and there's a regular meeting between familiar faces, the familiarity often becomes a friendship and this can add to the holiday spirit, until there's an incident forcing you to quietly avoid such predators, and this is what happened with Sally and Fiona. Once it became obvious Sally only wanted a little holiday entertainment and Fiona was her lap dog, cruel but true, we avoided that particular barrier reef for our own safety.
Sitting with Kevin on Theo's patio in the scented evening, with a Mr Bob Dylan, one of the regulars, telling them 'the times are a-changin', and that the answer was 'a- blowin` in the wind', and reminding them 'to say hello if you see her', Ben felt the music and the words retrieved their friendship and within that ambience, a refreshed comfort was established.
Anyway, on the stumble back home to the Villa through the darkened cemetery lane, guided only by pools of yellow torchlight, Kevin suggested perhaps it might be taken as a little disrespectful in the eyes of the oldster Greeks when visiting their departed loved ones, to have to put up with a holiday bus flagrantly disregarding their mourning, especially when tourism and flashiness had no place in their memories. And so they agreed to move on to the campsite at the next opportunity and perhaps even take showers.
Ben's addiction to all television crap had vaporised. He'd not heard nor read any current news reports and was unconcerned about world events. He was carefree in the endless natural wonder of living his life just as it unfolded without any goals and even began to realise he didn't mind being him. He was a child in a bubble having fun. As he got ready to sleep, he felt fortunate, almost gleeful. He could accept his life with all its minuses because there were also plusses and simply, he accepted responsibility for everything as it was, in the moment, in all the endless space. Then he lay back and dropped off, listening to his breathing and the pump of his heart.
Early next day they moved to the camping ground and were greeted with great friendliness by another Madame Maria who made a good price per night for two people and the Villa. Her daughter told them to choose whichever space they preferred and after a brief stroll the unanimous favourite was the shady spot near the side exit to the beach, right opposite the showering facilities and within sight of the camp supply shop.
Ben became a little concerned at having parked the van right above an ants' nest where it would be subject to their comings and goings but Kevin reckoned they should simply ignore those insects along with all the others and let them take their chances. Kevin saw the ants as the possible problem whereas Ben saw themselves as the possible problem. Perhaps Ben's wildlife concerns were beginning to get on Kevin's nerves.
Next, laundry duties in the communal sink with soap flakes Ben brought along but since they don't dissolve properly in cold water, all darker clothes were left smeared and spotted. The twist of washing line was stretched between the rear vents of The Villa and a nearby eucalyptus, and everything was hung out to dry. A table was dragged over from a deserted parking spot and with the folding chairs set around the entrance to The Villa everything just seemed to fall into place. A hot shower, Ben's adventure of shaping his new beard until it looked more like Eivald`s, some fresh clothes and they were walking on rose petals again.
Opposite Cleo's a new travel agency appeared offering trips to the Samaria Gorge starting mostly around six am and returning around 11pm. Ideal! A full day away and no driving but before booking they'd have to drop in at the bank and check their balances. Apart from this everything seemed fine. Evenings were easy and old mellow Kevin made Ben feel mellow too. One or two rakis later, a kindly invitation from Cleo to sample the evening menu in the kitchen and the evening began. A young, open-faced couple from Switzerland, Lucy and Bruno, sitting at the next table asked if they could join them for a chat.
Kevin and Ben were surprised by their openness and charmed by the frail, doll- like girlie and the humour from her sturdy, thick-set young man. They all liked each other very much and became friends very quickly to the point where Bruno invited Kevin and Ben to visit them the following year at their home near Lausanne. They nodded and showed their gratitude all the while knowing they probably never would. Delicate big- eyed Lucy chats and chats and is delightful between her take on life's problems and her easy change to the romantic talk of Ben's joy. And as they all troop out, drifting toward the exit on their way to sleep, Ben tries to kiss Cleo his thanks but she pushes him away, 'No! Ochi - No! No need!'
Ben woke before the orange blue dawn. Rip Van Winkle was snoring faintly to himself. Ben slid open the door and slipped outside onto the grass. Nothing moved in the perfect silence except the faint lapping of the sea. Not the rustle of a mouse, not the call of an owl, just a simple, faint illuminating stillness. The softness of the air and the brightness of the full moon riding the sky above the harbour shone down upon the wetness toning the barbecued mountains deep purple in their sleep.
There was a faint sense of the mysterious and the enduring about it all and not just because he could not see beyond the shadows, but something else, it was as if a different dimension, something new, had opened to his senses. And indeed it had. Gliding drowsily over the horizon came a gentle glow. It seemed to take him to another consciousness, one where he was totally content in just being, just watching, not thinking. It must have been like this in the beginning and is something we hardly ever consider now except at the dawning. It is the sun's light washing the turning earth a little more with each vibration. Then came the realisation of a possible new beginning, and Ben was filled with anticipation.
All at once the smell from the bakers down in the harbour was irresistible. Off he went in search of a crusty breakfast. Their loaves were fresh and almost too hot to hold but with a million deafening cicadas buzzing and clicking all at once from amongst the greenery all around him, Ben soon forgot the heat and heartily devoured his breakfast.
He greeted Cleo on her doorstep and they stood watching the street in silence for a few minutes. Out of the blue, and for no apparent reason she told him with a grave silvery smile, 'I am a widow of eleven years and I've lived in Crete all my life. I did visit Athens once when I was a girl but I did not like it. I haven't left the island since.'
Back at the camp Kevin studied Ben's face. 'Your nose and your forehead are rotting,' he said.
Ben looked in the mirror. Certainly, his face was burning up and turning into an peeling orange. He needed something soothing such as the After Sun cream protection he'd seen advertised in St. Tropez so he wandered into the little supermarket in search of remedies, and not just for his skin but several things seemed to be breaking down.
As he began his expedition through the aisles investigating all the interesting commodities for sale, he came upon the Health & Personal Care section where a tube of moisturising cream caught his eye. He squirted a blob into the palm of his hand and, smoothing it over as he looked, continuing his mission.
After weeks of travelling in heat his oh-so-practical leather dark tan walking shoes had become impractically scuffed and lifeless just like his head so he decided on some shoe polish. Then he remembered how every fly in the world seemed to be using the Zorbus as a social club so he bought fly paper for the van.
Once back in the van he opened his tin of polish, which for some reason turned out to be white, and completely ruined one shoe by massaging the wax deeply into the leather and thereby staining it a pale cream. He guessed this was due to the leather having been baked dry and lustreless so the polish wouldn't sink in, just like his head. He hung the fly paper both from the windscreen and at the back over the engine, but the flies had seen him coming because they completely avoided it. By then his head was stinging and making him wince, so after all his efforts for Ben it was an early night and a book, his remedies for everything.
Tuesday first light came in bright blue dress, warm and welcoming and inviting them once again down to the waters and the beach of Kolpos Messaras. Kevin had the grumps after spending a restless night fighting off zapping mosquitoes biting and nibbling the corners of his eyes. He was firmly convinced you can go blind if they get you in the wrong place. Ben organised their breakfast of chopped apples, grapes again, bread, marmalade, yoghurt and all was delicious even before the day began.
Their first port of call was the bank. It was a simple, small, square, low-ceilinged concrete room with huge steel safe filling a quarter of the overall space. Sitting on the top was the brass bust of a bespectacled gentleman. On the wall opposite the entrance hung a large monochrome photograph of what appeared to be the same man. He looked familiar.
There was just one clerk. Happy and slow in the usual Greek way and after their depressing transactions, Kevin asks him about the man in the big photograph and as to whether it was the same man sitting on top of the safe. The clerk smiled then slowly and seriously explained the man was Eleftherios Venizelos. A great man, a man of the people and Prime Minister between 1910 and 1915, leader of the Revolutionary Government in Thessaloniki, Social Democrat Leader between 1920 and 1932. He was assassinated or executed by the fascists for his beliefs during the political turmoil in the following year.
Throughout the history lesson the queue behind them grew and grew and all were totally included in the talk as the clerk became more and more animated and involved in his lecture and throughout, not one person complained and no one interrupted. All waited in a respectful silence.
Afterwards they wandered over towards Cleo's, and while Kevin invaded a dark and dusty hardware store for the interestingly shaped bottle he'd seen in the window, Ben sat and sipped a cup of green tea for a change. It was unbelievably pleasant just sitting there in the street at what had become his usual table with its green and white gingham oil cloth top and from where could be seen the reddish-brown mountains under the pale blue dizzying sky dressed with just one white cloud like a flower on her dress. It was the street full of restaurant tables with one narrow space for those strolling toward the shimmering silver speckled sea and still early and lazy enough with just ten or twelve breakfasters dotted about. Above everything came the chanting from the church service as the congregation wandered in and out during the marathon of prayers carrying their hot bread from the bakers most likely for their holy communion. Kevin returned with the little bottle shaped like a glass amphora. He got it cheap because the stopper was missing.
'Not a problem, a cork may do.' And off they went to swim.
Crunching across the smooth round pebbles as far as the furthest beach, a place preferred for being fairly isolated they hardly passed a soul. Over about five hundred metres to the east they only saw two people and over about five hundred metres to the west, also two people. They had no choice and did what came naturally, stripping off and jumping into the cool clear water.
Ben lay on his back watching through his eyelids as thoughts came and went. He wondered why people were so insecure, so hell bent on gathering so much stuff? Was it insecurity? Mindless materialism? Society teaches us to be needy. Being presently nomadic, they had hardly anything yet their lives were rich. Maybe collecting things bolsters that insecurity. But just looking around on their travels Ben had come to realise nothing at all is permanent so what's the point? They were fairly healthy, fairly content, and fairly trusting, or maybe not when he thought about their own different values, but at least they were free, living as they did within the grain of nature, and always it is dear nature in control. His thoughts began to spiral out of control. They felt the sun's heat across ninety-three million miles of cold space and considered the eight minutes it takes to arrive. Without it everything would die. No one has dominion over nature. The best way to eliminate stress at work is to stop going to work. Doctors now believed vertigo was not as serious as hitting the ground from a great height. Scientists have linked caffeine intake with coffee and tea. Motorists now prefer using mobile phones to actually motoring. Once, a drug trafficker was caught speeding in the High Street in Falmouth. Lemon Man is the only man with juice enough to save your skin and give you the pip at the same time.
He sat up. From his bag he took out his, 'Kiddies First Paint Set', and settled down to paint the view of Galini along the coast using sea water in a plastic bottle lid. But he was uneasy. If the day was hot it was sizzling. In no time his face and pate were stinging again. After sardines and pears he took his body into the sea yet again but had to give in and leaving Cousteau there to enjoy the swimming with a promise of coffee at Cleo's within the hour. It was when he was returning to the Villa that he had The Encounter.
It happened as he was making his way back to the van through the dehydration centre with its congregation of devoted sun worshippers, prostrate in homage to Apollo, the Sun God. Amongst the throng and quite by chance his eyes fell on a female form reclining in a shallow sandy sun pit. Although he could not quite see her face, her explosion of black curly hair, shapely legs and tiny stumpy toes all seemed familiar. Immediately she reminded him of a girl he once knew, long ago. A girl called Amanda.
He didn't want to stare too obviously as she was trying to change into a bikini without attracting too much attention so he walked on until after a few more strides he came alongside a guy lying on his stomach furtively studying her every move with a voyeuristic concentration from beneath the shadows of his hat. Ben looked back at the girl and glimpsed a display of unmistakeable frustration with her straps. He receded in shock! Could it be Amanda? Definitely it was her! Well, ninety per cent definite. He was stunned! How could it not be gentle Amanda?
From the very first time he saw her he knew she was different. She always stood out in a crowd because of her mass of dark curls and her singular dress sense. And before they were together, if ever they spoke she was always graceful, friendly, and charming.
She liked to laugh. Amanda was out and about Falmouth quite a bit in those days. Her handsome boyfriend was at the Art College in the town but he just couldn't resist tinkering with the girlies. Amanda became downhearted and dejected and with Ben deeply attracted to her, inevitably she and the boyfriend eventually broke up. She and Ben grew very close and their relationship was strong for almost five years but they both knew deep down it couldn't develop. He lived in bedsit land Falmouth and her family practically owned Stratford-Upon-Avon. Eventually she went to Fashion College in London and he went off to America which was how they came to an end.
Ben walked on until he came to a stone wall where a man and a girl were patiently fishing. He looked back at the crowded beach wishing he was invisible but since the girl was at least 500 metres away and now lying on her back in her sun pit, he just couldn't be one hundred per cent sure it was her. On he walked home to The Villa in a daze. Half of him hoped it was her and half hoped it wasn't.
Strip washed and changed, he retraced his strides towards the beach wary of everyone coming until he arrived at the cafe on the edge of the sand where he sat and waited with a lemonade and a book. Sure enough, around the corner from the beach she came, positively lovely Amanda and a young man whom he presumed was not her lover by his dress sense and their body language. Ben ran off, scuttling up steps to the next terrace of hotels and shops, past the Post Office waving to Kris, round the last set to Myro's where he grabbed a coffee and opened his book to wait with the friendly pepper tree. It wasn't long before they drifted into vision and meandered to within about twenty feet of where he sat but there was no sign she recognised him.
Ben returned to the safety of the van and changed his clothes once again, deciding to keep his arrangement with Kevin for coffee at Cleo's. He spotted Kevin at their table outside and opposite, sitting with their backs to him, the unmistakable Amanda and chaperone. As he grew near they turned. Ben pretended to be amazed. Kevin scraped back his chair, stood beaming and announced, 'Well, that's me. I'm off to get changed' and winked, leaving Ben to fend for himself. Barstard!
The moment he took his seat, Amanda looked astonished, embarrassed and couldn't stop talking, 'Ben? My goodness, you look well. How is Falmouth?' She smiled a smile and reduced him to a quivering blancmange. She introduced the chap with her as Michael, her cousin, and said they were there for the week. They had drinks, or rather, Ben had a raki and they had coffee. Their chatter was frivolous, nervous, superficial and clumsy and light and ungainly and the pauses seemed never ending and to make matters even worse, when eventually they stood to go, Ben stood too and felt so awkward he knocked Kevin's empty glass off the table and simply stood and watched it shatter on the paving. Kevin reappeared all spruced and nimble with Bruno and Lucy, so Amanda and Michael decided to stay for one more drink and the evening came and flickered on until about eleven when it was suggested they all have an early night since the following morning would be an early one for their expedition to the Gorge.