Page 25 of Take a Chance on Greece

My experience with Athletic Andreas, while not providing me with the happy ever after I'd been hoping for, at least boosted my confidence on the dating front, proving that I was brave enough to put myself out there again. The girls sent me texts filled with gifs of Beyoncé proclaiming that girls rule the world, cheering me on from afar. Alexis meanwhile followed up his check-in message, stopping by the hotel the next day, his arms full of freshly baked circular breads covered in toasted sesame seeds. He claimed Yiota had asked him to bring them, but I got the feeling he was using it as an excuse to confirm that I really was as OK as I had claimed in text messages.

‘Everything alright?’ he asked, watching me intently, as if wanting to reassure himself that I was still in one piece. I nodded, feeling warm under his gaze. I wasn’t used to a guy looking out for my welfare like this. He was a good person, a true friend.

‘You smell delicious,’ I said, caught up in the intensity of his expression. ‘The bread, I mean. The bread smells delicious,’ I covered hastily.

I thought I detected a slight flush in his cheeks.

‘Ti kaneis? O kairos einai kalos.’ I attempted some slow and painful Greek to distract him from my awkwardness, asking how he was, and commenting on the beautiful weather.

Alexis’s face lit up. ‘Poli kala, very good. You have been studying from the phrasebook?’

‘I’ve been trying, but I’m not sure I’m doing particularly well.’ I got my notebook out of my back pocket and waved it at him. ‘I’ve been writing new vocab in here, but when it comes to piecing it together in actual sentences, I’m not having much success. I’m so worried about offending people by pronouncing something wrong, that I’m nervous to try it out on them.’

‘You tried speaking to me, and I didn’t get offended, quite the opposite,’ said Alexis.

I gently nudged my hip against his as we walked towards the kitchen together. ‘But you’re too kind to take offence. I feel safe trying stuff out on you. Tell me truthfully, I can bear it. How badly did I mangle the words?’

Alexis laughed. ‘No mangling at all. I knew exactly what you meant. But you were perhaps a little English-sounding. It doesn’t matter. I know I speak English with a Greek accent.’

‘How can I do better?’

He put the bread down on the countertop and turned to face me.

‘You are doing very well.’

I pretended to frown at him.

‘Fine, if you insist. I think perhaps you need to move your mouth a bit more,’ he continued. ‘Push your lips forward in order to get the “o” sound in thekalos.’

He demonstrated what he meant. I watched his lips closely, but I wasn’t sure gazing at his mouth was going to help me with my linguistic skills. In fact, it proved to be rather distracting.

‘Your turn,’ said Alexis. ‘Remember, move your mouth around the words.’ He reached out and gently touched my cheek, the contact so brief that I wondered if I had imagined it.

The sound that came out of my mouth was neither Greek, nor English, but a confused jumble of the two. I pulled myself together and made a concerted effort to follow Alexis’s instruction. I felt his gaze on my lips, and tried my best to imitate the movement he had suggested.

Alexis cleared his throat.

‘Much better,’ he said, turning aside, suddenly focused on removing a smudge from his glasses. Then he checked his watch.

‘I had better go to open the shop. I can’t disappoint the crowds of tourists who will no doubt be waiting on the doorstep for me.’ He hurried away, but paused on the threshold and turned back to face me. ‘If you would like more language practice, you only have to ask.’

And then he was gone.

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind as I tried to concentrate on work and attempted to ignore the scene in the kitchen which kept playing on repeat in my head. I needed to focus on my Andreas mission, not get distracted by Alexis, however good a friend he was to me. When I finally clocked off, I decided to build on the experience of my first dating sortie and seek out another opportunity.

Although Kat was still urging me to go on the pull in a local bar, I knew that while my confidence was higher than it had been, it wasn’t yet that high. Instead, I headed online again, and found a forum where locals and tourists posted in English as well as Greek, about everything from where to find a good beach to what was the best channel for reality shows. I couldn't care less where to catch the Greek version ofStrictly, but what did interest me was that one of the most prolific responders was a guy named Andreas who struck me as being rather charming. Whatever people were asking about, he seemed happy to provide a helpful answer, and even better, his avatar was a picture of him with a cute dog in his arms. Admittedly the dog was blocking part of his face, but its presence definitely boded well, suggesting a sensitive, caring sort of man. Dogs were generally good judges of character.

I sent this Andreas a private message to say hi, stating that I was new to the island and asking if there was a particular place I should visit and whether he'd be up for showing it to me. After I’d hit Send, I had a brief panic that he’d think I was trying to hire him as a tour guide, but thankfully he replied with a cheery message saying that he knew just the place and if I was up for it, he’d love to buy me a drink when we were there. He added a heart emoji and a winky face, so I was pretty sure he was treating this as a date not a business transaction.

Which was how I found myself two days later jumping on the bus and travelling up to a place called Fiskardo on the northern coast of the island to meet him – and hopefully his dog too – at the harbour there. My nerves had lessened a little compared to my date with Athletic Andreas, and today I was feeling a pleasant mix of hope and excitement. This was how dating should be: joyful anticipation and the thrill of meeting someone who could become very important to me. And if he didn't, well, the sun was shining, and it was a glorious day to explore the island further.

Fiskardo was picture-perfect beautiful. Whereas Sami was very much a working port, with ferries and fishing vessels popping in and out all hours of the day and night, slightly scruffy and loveable because of it, Fiskardo seemed like its posh-and-they-know-it cousin. The buildings were a bright mix of terracotta, peach and peppermint, with sky-blue shutters expanding the colour palette. The higgledy-piggledy streets had a smarter collection of cars parked up than I’d seen in Sami, and the extra wealth was also reflected in the harbour. The boats moored here were probably worth the GDP of a small European country, and their sleek metal gangways were roped off from members of the public with stern notices stating ‘Private yacht, no boarding’. Impossibly good-looking crew members maintained watch over the vessels, flexing muscles at strangers and flashing long legs at passengers as required. As I wandered between the rows of artisan bakeries and trendy bars, I overheard snatches of conversation about tennis tournaments and polo matches, while small children with names bigger than their height darted in and out of the grasp of trendy nannies.If it wasn't for the clear blue sky and glorious sunshine, I might have thought I’d taken a wrong turn and ended up on a high street in Kensington or Chelsea.

I was wearing the tried and tested sundress and sandals combination again, and although I'd set off feeling good, among the dazzling white shorts and glittering floral dresses of the yachting set here, I felt decidedly dowdy. I ran my fingers through my hair, surreptitiously trying to tame the waves which were increasingly showing a mind of their own. I half-expected a burly yachtie to block my way along the street, staring down at me, shaking their head at the pleb who’d dared to approach this playground of the rich.

Fortunately, the shop owners still seemed friendly, returning my smiles warmly, and kindly answering my request for directions to the taverna where I’d agreed to meet my next Andreas.I gave myself a stern lecture about not doing myself down. I had as much right to be here as everyone else. Designer outfits did not mean they were any better than me.

I arrived at the taverna two minutes early, but Andreas was already there waiting for me. I instantly knew who he was because he was wearing a T-shirt with his social media profile picture on it.This did not bode well. I told myself not to be judgemental, but I couldn’t help questioning what kind of person would wear a T-shirt featuring their own face to a date, or in fact any other social occasion apart from a fancy dress party. Perhaps it was a sign of a well-developed sense of humour.

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