Page 10 of Take a Chance on Greece

Her words should have had a sobering effect on me, but they just made me even more determined to prove her and everybody else wrong.

‘It is rather extreme, I’ll admit that. And probably a tad silly. A lot silly, really. But I’m free, I’m single, I can choose what I want to do, and what I want to do is live a bit. Why shouldn’t I? I’ve spent the last few years dutifully doing what was expected of me, and did it make me happy? I thought it did, but now I’m not so sure. I think I was existing, rather than really living. Maybe the reason I got the “Awesome Andreas” tattoo in the first place was because subconsciously I felt that, and I was trying to give myself an excuse to find my freedom. Or maybe I really did meet an amazing man named Andreas and he’s somewhere here on this island waiting for me to find him again.’ I felt a thrill just talking about it. I knew it was probably ridiculous, but heroines in books never got their happy ever afters by passively waiting for them to happen. It was time I channelled their bravery, and went out to discover my own dreams, rather than doing what other people wanted me to do. ‘I want to find the man I deserve to be with. And who deserves to be with me. And in the meantime, I’ll enjoy following my own path, experiencing something new and different and exciting.’

I was definitely talking myself further into my preposterous plan, but the more I spoke to Kat, the more I realised what I was saying was true. Why shouldn’t I have some fun for a change and really live my life? And yes, I was woefully out of my depth, but what was the worst that could happen?

Kat laughed. ‘Jim would definitely say you’ve been reading too many novels. But you’re right. You deserve to be happy and not to be held back by him anymore. And I hope you have fun while you’re on your Andreas hunt. What I wouldn’t give to be back out there in Greece with you, feasting my eyes on all the beautiful people who live in the sunshine.’ Her voice became more serious. ‘Promise me you’ll call if you need us. Any time, day or night. We’re only a few hours away by plane. And keep us posted about how things are going. Have fun, and stay safe.’

Kat’s words were echoing in my ears as I finally found the strength to exit the terminal building. I could talk the talk on the phone, but could I really follow through on my rash plans? While I was in the airport, I felt like I was still in transit and therefore not fully committed to this strange new future. Somehow walking out of that air-conditioned bubble and into the bustle and chaos and heat of the area directly outside would confirm there really was no going back now. I steeled myself, donned my sunglasses and strode out, hoping that feigned confidence would help the real thing come along.

Exiting the terminal now couldn’t have been more different from when I’d walked out of it a week ago, Kat and Amira either side of me, carefree and happy, eagerly anticipating our break in the sunshine. Now I still had a sense of anticipation, but it was mixed with a hefty dose of trepidation too. Although I was surrounded by crowds of people, I felt completely separate from them. They were being shepherded by solicitous reps onto shuttle buses to holiday resorts, or jumping into taxis which would whisk them straight to their hotels. They all had someone to look out for them and they knew what to expect at the other end of their journey.

That, more than anything, made me realise how alone I was at this point. Nobody was expecting me, and I was the only person who could make things happen. Now I was an I, not a we; everything was entirely up to me, a thought that was both liberating and terrifying. After years of asking myself ‘What would Jim do?’, it was time to focus on ‘What should Lydia do?’

First things first, I needed to consider the practicalities of my situation. With only fifty euros in cash on me, and having kissed goodbye to my regular salary along with my non-fiancé, I knew I’d have to be careful with my modest savings and make every penny, or in fact cent, count. I’d have to find somewhere to stay and a means of supporting myself before I did anything else. The backpackers I followed on Instagram made it look so effortless and fun, but now I was in their position, it felt very daunting. I’d never been abroad alone before. In fact, I’d not been abroad much full stop. My family had never been able to afford regular foreign holidays when I was a child, and Jim had always preferred UK breaks, in case a work crisis arose which only he could sort out. Was I really brave enough to follow this adventure through? And was I capable of doing it?

I told myself to woman up. If I could walk out on Jimandmy job, then I could take this next step too. I hovered near the taxi rank, trying to summon up the courage to speak to the drivers and ask how much it would cost to get to Sami, the scene of that infamous night out. That seemed as good a place as any to base myself. The mysterious Andreas could be anywhere on the island, but it made sense to start my hunt in the place where I’d acquired the tattoo. The only trouble was, Sami was on the opposite side of the island to the airport and I wasn’t sure my meagre euros would be enough to pay the taxi fare to get there, and I certainly wasn’t going to take the plunge and hire a car. The thought of driving on the wrong side of the road terrified me, especially when I knew my destination wasn’t exactly around the next corner. The transfer bus had taken a couple of hours to make the journey across the mountains and along the coast. But then again, we had been stopping multiple times at different resorts and I was pretty sure the driver hadn’t taken the most direct route. It wouldn’t do any harm to find out the facts. I decided to channel Kat’s unfailing self-confidence and strode up to a group of taxi drivers who were enjoying a quick cigarette break between fares.

‘Kalimera,’ I said, using up fifty percent of my total Greek knowledge. ‘How much is it to get to Sami?’

‘Good morning,’ replied one of the group cheerily. ‘For you, fifty euros.’

My heart sank as my worst fears were proved right. Yes, I had that exact amount of money, but what was I meant to do once I arrived in Sami if I had no cash? Jim says you should always have enough cash on you to pay your journey home. While a lot of things Jim says should be taken with a pinch of salt, there was sense in that particular pearl of wisdom. What if my bank freaked out at my sudden return to Kefalonia and thought my cards had been nicked and cut them off? What if I needed to buy water and they only took cash? I remembered the guidebook saying that cash points on Greek islands aren’t always regularly topped up and given that it was holiday season, they were probably in big demand. I couldn’t take the risk. My dilemma must have shown on my face because the driver beckoned for me to follow him.

‘Ela, come, you see over there? There is a bus which goes to Argostoli from that stop. You go to Argostoli, then you change there to get the bus to Sami. The journey is longer than by taxi but the two bus tickets will cost you less than ten euros, and you will see much of the island.’ He smiled broadly, looking delighted that he’d been able to impart such a useful bit of knowledge.

‘That sounds perfect, thank you so much.’ I couldn’t believe how kind he’d been to tell me this nugget of information when he must have wanted to get the fare instead. I decided it was a sign that I’d made the right decision to come back to Kefalonia. Hopefully everyone else would be as friendly and as welcoming too.

My naïve optimism was put to the test by the journey, which turned out to be nearly as long and torturous as the holiday shuttle bus route had been. I was the odd one out, an obvious tourist among a crowd of locals who were clearly on their daily commute. They didn’t do anything to suggest this was the case, in fact they smiled at me when I got on board, but I still felt rather weird. It was probably partially to do with the fact that I was still in the clothes that I’d been wearing the previous day, so I felt grimy and uncomfortable, and although I’d taken the precaution of once again covering up the tattoo with a bandage, I felt rather exposed and fearful that my fellow passengers would laugh at me if they discovered the nature of my mission.

I stared out of the window, trying to concentrate on my surroundings and live in the moment rather than worrying about my decisions and their long-term repercussions. Amira always says that’s how she gets through difficult situations in the hospital, and although my circumstances weren’t exactly life and death, surely the technique would still be valid.

Our route took us across the middle of the island, the smooth tarmac climbing high up through the hills and snaking its way around the steep bends. The ground on either side of the road was reddish brown, dry and dusty, but the trees were green and lush, and the gardens of the white-painted buildings were riotous with plants of all colours. Every so often there was a miniature shrine at the side of the road decorated with flowers or candles in memory of a loved one, a sobering reminder of how dangerous these mountain passes could be. But given that the other drivers seemed to make a sport of overtaking the bus on blind bends, it wasn’t completely surprising. I was glad that I wasn’t the one behind the wheel.

We climbed so high that my ears popped, and then eventually the bus started winding its way back down the hill. I leaned into the aisle so I could see through the windscreen, eagerly watching for a glimpse of the Ionian Sea. Despite all the drama of the last forty-eight hours, I couldn’t help feeling a thrill of excitement at the thought of being back here, surrounded by that beautiful turquoise water. Living in West Yorkshire, I couldn’t have been further from the sea, but I’d always loved the big skies and big views that came with coastal life. If nothing else, it would do my soul the world of good to be able to enjoy such beautiful scenery.

By the time we reached the coast on the east side of the island, there were only a handful of people left on the bus. I imagined who they were, telling myself their stories as a distraction: a mum travelling home to reunite with her family after working away, a teenager arriving to start a summer job, a yachtie about to pick up their boat and head out to sea. I wondered what they thought of me and if any of them would happen to know an Andreas.

I tried tuning into conversations to see if I could understand anything of what was being said, but I couldn’t even make out where one word ended and another began. The magnitude of what was facing me seemed even bigger. I must have made my eavesdropping obvious, because someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around to see a woman smiling at me.

‘Happy holiday,’ she said, confirming my suspicion that I stood out like a sore thumb.

‘Efharisto,’ I replied, using up the other fifty percent of my Greek knowledge to thank her for her kind wishes. Her friendliness made me feel a little less alone. If I was going to stick around here for longer than a holiday, then I would have to make a stab at learning the language, a daunting prospect and yet another thing to add to my list of stuff which I probably should have considered properly before jumping in at the deep end. Numbers had always been more my thing. But I forced myself to look on the bright side, reminding myself that I was already in a good position because I knew certain letters of the Greek alphabet from studying maths. I wasn’t sure realistically how helpful that would be in terms of picking up the lingo, but a bit of blind optimism was what I needed right now.

Fortunately, the road signs were written in both the Greek and English alphabets. I felt a clutch of nerves mixed with excitement as the bus turned a corner and I spotted a sign saying ‘Sami’. As we descended into town, my heart started beating faster in anticipation. What was going to happen when I arrived? How would I even start my search? I told myself firmly to take each step as it came. I was committed now. There was no point in worrying about the what-ifs. I tried to spot the hotel where I’d stayed with the girls, eager for the reassuring sight of somewhere familiar, but we’d arrived at the other end of town and I was struggling to get my bearings.

The bus screeched to a halt by the port and most of my fellow passengers quickly departed, hurrying to where a ferry was speedily coming into harbour, the water churning and chaos reigning. Moped drivers revved their engines in eager anticipation of getting on board, while foot passengers crowded along the dock, eyeing each other up to work out the best place to stand to be first on the boat. Everyone seemed to be rushing, but while there was plenty of jostling for position, people were smiling and laughing with each other.

I took my time getting off the bus. After all, with no particular plan in mind, I wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere. There was only one passenger who was moving more slowly than me, an elderly lady with a bag even more cumbersome than mine. I smiled at her and tried to appear as unthreatening as possible as I mimed helping her. She nodded and allowed me to pick up her bag. Thankfully it wasn’t as heavy as it looked, although it was still a struggle to balance it with my own luggage.

Once we were off the bus, she beckoned me to follow her across the road to where a driver was waiting, engine running. I stowed the bag in the boot and gave her a final smile. And then I froze in horror as she made a sound horribly like she was going to spit at me, and muttered something under her breath.

I retreated as fast as I could. So much for doing a good deed. I hoped this wasn’t an omen as to how my Andreas search in Sami was going to pan out. I dragged my bag of dirty washing to a bench on a shady side of the harbour and sat down to contemplate my lot as that crushing sense of panic overtook me once again. What on earth was I doing? The idea of tracking down Andreas had been ridiculous from the get go, but now that I’d arrived in Sami, it seemed even more implausible that I would ever be successful. Where was I even meant to start my search? And was I up to the challenges of living by myself abroad? After the odd encounter with the elderly lady I’d tried to help, I was more nervous than ever about putting myself out there.

Despite the heat of the day, the town was full of people, tourists wandering around enjoying their ice creams, and locals gossiping outside coffee shops, smiling indulgently at the visitors to their small piece of paradise. A couple walked past me, smiling and laughing together, hands entwined, completely wrapped up in their own company, their body language a perfect mirror of each other. There was a total ease in their interaction, a sense of unity, which I was beginning to acknowledge that Jim and I had never achieved. We would never have walked down a street like that, oblivious to the rest of the world, eyes only for each other. It saddened me that I had settled for less than I deserved, that I had tolerated, perhaps even indulged his behaviour, because it had been easier to go along with the status quo rather than upsetting everything by advocating for my own dreams and desires. I might be homeless and alone in a foreign country, but at least I was no longer trapped in a relationship which was never going to make me happy.

It was that thought which gave me the confidence to stop wallowing and start doing. I decided the first logical port of call would have to be the tattoo studio. Putting aside my concerns about the artist’s ethics in inking me when I was tipsy, I was keen to find out if they might be able to shed some light on the inspiration behind my tattoo. Drunk Me must have made a convincing explanation as to why I wanted that particular inking on my back. Perhaps they’d even be able to point me in the direction of the mysterious Andreas? I would track down the tattooist, discover who Andreas was and then find myself somewhere to stay for the night. Sorted.

I stood up, more hopeful now that I had a plan to follow. Then I realised that I didn’t have the first clue where the tattoo studio was. I pulled up the map function on my phone to help me navigate my way, but just as I was zooming in on my current location, the battery died. I was truly alone now.

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