Page 35 of Take a Chance on Greece

‘Wow,’ was all I could say, the ancient majesty of our surroundings making me lower my voice as if I was in a grand old university library. The atmosphere was clammy, and I could hear a persistent drip, drip, drip of water falling from the ceiling. Stalagmites and stalactites stood sentinel on either side of the path, and the ground-level orange lighting lent a strange glow to our surroundings, making the whole place appear other-worldly. It was like we were descending into the earth’s core.

‘Can you imagine how the person who first discovered this place must have felt seeing all this?’ I whispered, pointing out the icicle-shaped formations which hung from the ceiling and grew up from the floor.

‘I can never remember which ones are which,’ said Andreas. ‘Should have paid more attention in school, but I was too busy trying to impress my mates.’

‘Ah, now there I can help. I was the designated homework champion in my friendship group. The stalactites hang from the ceiling – like tights hanging on a washing line.’

Auto Andreas chuckled. ‘I’m not much of a tights wearer myself, but I get the analogy. Good way of remembering it. Personally, I think these things look like massive cones of sugar. I wonder what they taste like.’

He made as if to lick the nearest stalagmite, a move which resulted in one of the staff members blowing a whistle and sending a very disapproving look in our direction. She pointed at the signs which said ‘No touching’ in half a dozen languages.

Andreas waggled his eyebrows. ‘Are they just referring to the cave or…?’ He laughed and pulled an exaggeratedly leery face at me, winking so I was in no doubt that he was joking around.

I playfully pushed him onwards. ‘If they get upset about people touching the cave, they’re definitely not going to be happy about anything more. Right, which way?’

The walkway through the stalagmites divided ahead of us, snaking off into the darkness.

‘I think we should go in this direction.’

Andreas chose the quieter path. We wound our way further into the cave, ducking and diving as the ceiling seemed to grow ever closer. And then we rounded another corner and I gasped. The cave had opened out into a huge chamber, the light bouncing off the spiky ceiling, sending shadows dancing around the cavernous space.

‘Look,’ I whispered.

A cellist was sitting in the centre of the chamber, bow poised above the strings. She was dressed in a ball gown, an umbrella propped up above her to protect her instrument from the dripping water. Dotted around the walkways and ledges, an audience was steadily gathering. The low hubbub of tourist chatter quietened to nothingness, and then the cellist drew her bow across the strings, sending a note quivering into the darkness. It echoed around the chamber, achingly beautiful. I found myself being hypnotically drawn closer by the magic of the music. Listening to her play was like experiencing a moment out of time. Even Andreas grew still as we stood side by side, completely absorbed in the music.

When she finished playing, everyone was quiet, savouring the last notes until they finished reverberating around the ancient cavern. Then all at once we were applauding, the cheers and thumps of palms a sudden intrusion after the beauty of the performance. I found myself wiping away a stray tear, moved by the ethereal experience I’d just had.

‘That was something else,’ I said, when I finally found the strength to speak.

‘We were pretty damn lucky,’ agreed Andreas. ‘Put it this way, I don’t think they have a concert in the cave every afternoon.’

Whatever the outcome of the date, I knew I would savour this experience for ever. It was like a spell had been cast on me by the music, and I felt dazed and moved by it.

We descended into the main chamber where the cellist had played, and slowly circled around. Although the car park had been busy and the queue long, down here in the vast cave it somehow didn’t feel crowded at all, everyone giving each other space to enjoy the surroundings in their own way.

‘I can’t get over the way the light is reflecting off the formations.’ I wasn’t sure I had the vocabulary to express how magnificent it looked, so I focused instead on the practical. ‘I wonder how long it took them to grow to this size.’ I racked my brains, trying to remember bits from my Geography GCSE. ‘It’s something like a centimetre a year, so some of these must be centuries old. I mean, that one is taller than you.’

‘I wonder if stalactites ever fall from the ceiling?’ mused Andreas. ‘It could be the start of a murder mystery plot, someone is found dead in a cave with a stalactite sticking out of them. Did it fall, or did someone arrange for it to break off?’

‘Should I be worried?’ I laughed. ‘Here we are enjoying a romantic stroll around one of the most awe-inspiring sights of the island, and you’re going on about people being impaled by geological formations.’

‘If you want romance, you only have to ask.’

But before I could respond, Andreas took my hand and led me into the shadow of one of the larger stalagmites.

‘I can certainly do romance,’ he breathed, his mood changing from playful to serious in a heartbeat. He cupped my chin in his hand and waited for my response. Swept up in the moment, I found myself leaning towards him and then our lips met in the briefest butterfly touch, a tantalising promise of what could come. But what should have been special was ruined by the guard with the whistle once again making her presence felt. She said a firm, ‘No’ to us, in the same tone as I imagined she’d use on a naughty dog who’d made a mess on the carpet.

‘Yes, definitely a no touching rule,’ said Andreas, laughing and waving an apology.

I was glad the shadows were hiding my dazed expression. There had been no extra spark of recognition in close proximity, but there had been a fizz of something, a sense of anticipation about what could happen. Auto Andreas was definitely one step nearer to being renamed Awesome Andreas.

After exploring the pathways, we clambered back up the steep steps to the surface. It felt surreal stepping out into the dazzling sunshine again, as if we’d emerged from another land. I wouldn’t have been surprised if we’d walked out to find all the tourist trappings had disappeared and we’d travelled back in time. I felt strangely reluctant to return to Sami and what passed for normality now. Fortunately, Andreas seemed similarly keen to linger.

‘Drink?’ he suggested. ‘Something to eat?’

‘That would be lovely.’ My stomach grumbled as if on cue. ‘As you can probably tell, all that exploring has left me with quite an appetite.’

We made our way over to the cafe. Andreas took two copies of the menu, one in Greek and one in English.

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