Chapter 11

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You might have heard of the actor Bill Pullman. Born in Hornell, New York, he made his big-screen debut in 1986 in the comedy Ruthless People, which starred Danny DeVito and Bette Midler. Bill followed that with lead roles in Spaceballs, The Serpent and the Rainbow, The Grudge and, among many others, Sleepless in Seattle. I have done the research and he really does have an extensive body of work. Nevertheless, he is not the first actor you might think of, given any particular situation.

The following day we said goodbye to our gracious hosts after breakfast and we took the taxi that Mr Rigas had arranged to take us down to the Old Port. Sure, it cost €15 - much more than the bus would have cost - but it was a far more civilised way to get there. And given that the Old Port is one of the less civilised places I have had occasion to visit, I viewed the taxi ride as the teaspoon of sugar that made the medicine go down. Part of that sugar was our taxi driver who - rare in my experience with taxi drivers, London Black Cabs aside - was a likeable character. Not only did he arrive on time but he was friendly and knowledgeable, so that when we told him the island we were heading for he replied, 'Ah! The Dimitroula', in reference to the boat we were about to catch. A quick check of our tickets confirmed his knowledge.

I have to say that the name Dhmitroula did not fill me with confidence. Just as Fairstar, in Australia, was the funship I kept thinking that the slogan for such a ship might be 'Dhmitroula, the death ship'. This is silly, I realise.

We had a more than a little time up our sleeves before our slow boat was due so we grabbed something to drink at one of the dubious looking cafes located at the port. If you are watching the pennies, this is a bad move and I would advise against it. It cost us €2.50 for a Sprite and €3.50 for a frapaccino. Ouch. Surprisingly, to me anyway, was that Mel told me that it was a damn good frapaccino. This brings me to a point: the Greeks make a damn good coffee. Not that I drink coffee, but if Mel's feedback can be used as any guide you should find good coffees for the drinking in Greece, even in a dodgy spot like the Old Port of Santorini. Contrast this with the difficulty Mel seems to have in finding a good coffee in so-called cosmopolitan London and it makes you wonder why the hell the Poms are finding it so difficult to learn how to make a coffee. Briefly, I will put in my two cents here: I blame the proliferation of coffee-chains in London (Starbucks and Cafe Nero come to mind) and the surprising lack of Italian and Greek emigrants here (surprising given the proliferation of just about every other nationality here in London) who bring coffee making skills and tastes with them. This is one of the things that makes my home town of Melbourne in Australia so wonderful: The Poms may tease Australians for what they perceive as a lack of culture - an assumption made due to the comparative youth of Australia as a nation. But the abundance of first, second and third generation Australians of foreign origin has brought with it many positives including, or so I am told being a non-coffee drinker, great coffee that is abundant. Which is why, it seems, the chain of Starbucks is not making quite the speedy inroads into the Australian market that it has elsewhere. How do I know this? One, I watch a too much TV and I think I picked up on it on a current affairs show in Australia. Two, we met some Starbucks employees on our travels. But the remainder of that story is one island hop away. So I had better return to this slow boat we were waiting for.

As the Dhmitroula pulled into the port I could not help but notice that it was not a new, shiny boat by any stretch of the imagination. I immediately had my doubts as to whether it was a well maintained boat as the hull was discoloured with what might have been rust, especially where the part of the boat the anchor retreats into when it is not in use (which I trust has a name, but I am no seaman, confirmed by my lack of swimming ability). We board the boat and following the instructions of the crew we make our way to a seating area known as the Pullman Seats, though I cannot be certain whether or not they are named after the not-the-first-actor-you-think-of Bill. These seats are are strictly economy class. At the time of purchase we were not given a more expensive option though at that point in time I kept thinking that if there was a more expensive option avalaible then we should have taken it. I make certain that I am aware that the life jackets are about 15 metres directly ahead of me (note to self: life jackets are called Zozibia in Greek - that might come in handy) and I sit down in my allotted seat which, again, was some distance from where Mel's allotted seat was.

What was it with the people that book the tickets in the Greek Islands? Not that the girl who booked our ticket wasn't a nice girl. Indeed, this particular girl was the classic example of how charming Greek women are when it all comes together. She was charming, confident - almost bordering on bossy - and with slightly sleepy eyes that show that she is going to do things her way and at her pace. Though she had more facial piercings than I am comfortable with, she was helpful, patient and, yes, attractive. At least Mel thought so ...

Anyway, mindful of the incredibly rude woman we had previously seen in full flight on the Naxos and not wanting to create such a scene we sat alone and far apart in the Pullman section of the Dhmitroula waiting for it to fill up. It never did and just after we pulled out from port I went to join Mel.

I probably need to explain my nervousness about being on a boat that looks far from the state of the art. The simple truth is that Greek Island ferries not only can sink, but they have. Quite recently, in fact. In October of 2000 the Zeus III ran aground just after leaving Naxos for Santorini. It sank in 20 minutes. Despite the lifeboats on board being out of use, all 38 passengers were rescued although an 82 year old American tourist died later due to a heart attack. Three days earlier the Express Artemis ran aground carrying 1,026 passengers. It was refloated and could continue its journey to Piraeus and, thankfully, no injuries were reported. Two days earlier the Express Samina - sister ship to the Artemis - hit an islet as it approached the island of Paros. Water rapidly filled the lower decks and the ship sank within half an hour of the collision. At least 77 people died. The Express Samina would have been taken out of service the following year on reaching the 35-year age limit for Greek ferries. Every time the Dhmitroula shuddered - and though I do not know why, but it did shudder quite regularly - I looked at the sign marked Zozibia and thought about the Express Samina.

Fortunately, my thoughts were distracted by a couple, also in the Pullman Seating area, one of whom had the loudest most annoying mobile phone ring tone. As it turned out, it was a Greek dance tune, but it could just have easily been Girls Aloud - it was just plain annoying. And the owner must have been popular, given how often it rang. At the risk of sounding just a little staid, what happened to phones that just rang instead of sang?

Then the boat shuddered again. Dhmitroula, the death ship.

Fortunately, the other couple in the Pullman section came to my rescue again. The girl of the couple, not happy enough to have an annoying ring tone, was now playing a song on her phone on speakerphone so that we can all share in the experience. I think it might have been the same song as the ring tone, but I cannot be certain because even this early on in the holiday all Greek music is sounding the same to me. Not happy with this, she starts to whistle. Whistle. Whistle loudly though, it must be said, with no vibrato as she could not have been older than 28 years old. By now, you should know my policy on whistling so you can make up your own mind as to my level of angst at that point. Not happy with her level of public annoyance, she then starts to click her fingers. Sure, she kept great time and I can appreciate that. But I can't say that I was appreciating the talents of this one man band at that point. At that point I am almost begging for enough silence to return to my 'Dhmitroula, the death ship' train of thought. Certainly, the boat tried to help as it shuddered again and again. But the annoyance of this woman ... it was really something.

And her boyfriend did not turn out to be the voice of reason to take her off this course of nonsense. He did not touch her on the arm and in a lowered tone tell her 'Darling, there are other people on this boat and they may not appreciate all of this noise you are making ...'. Rather, he joined in by dancing a jig along with the speakerphone, the whistling and the finger snapping. On top of this, he started playing with his beads.

'Playing with his beads' is not a euphemism for something else rather less sanitary. I saw many Greek men with a set of beads - about 10 beads - on a string about 8 inches long. They would either just shift them about, much like you would beads on an abacus, or flick them around like mini-nunchucks. It is this flicking that drove me a little crazy because they make noise. Not loud, nor rude. But annoying just the less. But as travelers to a foreign land ... well, you know where I am going with this.

It was, then, with great relief that I walked up to the top deck so that I could witness our entry into Vardia Bay. Vardia Bay is the main port of the island of which I knew the least about. It was my off-the-beaten-track island. It was the island most people miss on their brief encounters with the Islands. And that is what made me nervous. Did people avoid this island for a reason? Or was it just small enough, just out of the way enough to have eluded detection on most people's radar?

And with that thought in mind, we stepped of the Dhmitroula and onto the island of Folagandros.