Abroad
Marley Quinn
Abroad
by Marley Quinn
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Pykanos
The Path
Wunderbar
Two for One
Are you saying what I think you’re saying?
Rodeo
Unforgettable
Pykanos
Mirabelle sighed with happiness as she made her way on deck to feast her eyes on yet another impossibly beautiful Greek island sunrise. The water was so intensely blue that it nearly made her wince, and she felt there were few things prettier than the waves which lapped against the stark white cliffs as Pykanos came into view.
She had started in Athens and then hopped on the ferries to visit all of the popular islands. But after one too many late nights at the disco and one too many crowded streets stuffed full of tourists and souvenir vendors, she felt the urge to visit somewhere quieter, someplace more authentic, to see the real Greek island life, not just the Instagram version of it.
That's when the proprietor of her little hotel had told her about Pykanos. "Oh, you'll get your peace and quiet there, miss. Nothing but a handful of fishing families live there. If you want to see a real Greek island, visit Pykanos."
Because it was so far off the beaten path, it took Mirabelle quite a while to find a boat captain who was heading in that direction, a deeply tanned man in his 50s who informed her that there was only one ferry a week that went to Pykanos. After some obligatory haggling, Mirabelle arranged for the captain to transport her there, and then her plan was to take the ferry back in three days' time.
Steadily, the island of Pykanos hove into view, and Mirabelle watched as the captain expertly piloted his boat right up a small dock on the eastern side of the island. A few moments later, after the boat was secured, Mirabelle hopped ashore, smiling as she took in the sight of a small path that led to a cluster of blue-painted buildings.
"Good luck, miss!" called the captain.
"Thank you," said Mirabelle, and then she hoisted her bag and began walking up the path. The man at the hotel had informed her that the building in front of her was a restaurant that sometimes would rent out rooms.
But it was only as she knocked on the door and stepped inside that she realized that the proprietor might not speak English, so she fished around in her bag for her Greek travel phrases book. In front of her, she saw a small dining room with several tables, but the place was empty.
"Hello?" Mirabelle called out. "Uh, herrytizmos?"
From somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, Mirabelle heard a female voice, and a moment later, a middle-aged woman wearing a simple house dress emerged, speaking rapid-fire Greek.
"English? Do you speak English?" said Mirabelle.
"English? Yes, a little," said the woman, and Mirabelle breathed in a large sigh of relief.
"You have a room that I can rent? Hotel, yes?" said Mirabelle.
"Ten euro," said the woman, and it was all that Mirabelle could do not to snort in disbelief. On some of the bigger islands, ten euros wouldn't even buy you a cup of coffee.
"Yes, it's okay," said Mirabelle, withdrawing a ten-euro note and handing it over to the woman who disappeared it into the pocket of her house dress. But then the woman stood there for a long moment without saying anything, her eyes searching Mirabelle's face intently, leaving Mirabelle feeling quite confused and bewildered.
"Come," said the woman at long last, and then Mirabelle followed her to a simple but tasteful guest room down the hallway from the dining area.
"Wow, very lovely. Thank you," said Mirabelle, setting her bag down on the bed.
"Food will be served at six," said the woman.
"Six pm? There's no lunch? I am a bit hungry," said Mirabelle.
"Food at six o'clock," said the woman.
"Is there perhaps a shop I could go to? Or maybe you could recommend some of the local attractions? I'd really like to get a taste of authentic island life," said Mirabelle, hoping that the woman actually understood what she was saying.
"Go to town, go everywhere you want. But do not go to mountain path," said the woman, admonishing her with a finger like some kind of schoolteacher.
"Stay off the mountain path? Fine," said Mirabelle.
"Food at six o'clock," pronounced the woman one more time before turning and leaving.
Mirabelle shook her head as she unpacked a few of her things. The Greek woman's English was quite rudimentary, but Mirabelle felt like maybe she understood more than she was letting on. Or maybe she was just unused to foreign visitors. Either way, Mirabelle was excited to experience something different.
A few minutes later, she was ready to go. Stepping out of the hotel slash restaurant, it was easy to see where the "town" was because the only structures in sight were a small group of buildings on either side of the island's one and only path.
However, as Mirabelle got closer, she was dismayed to see that three of the buildings were ordinary houses. The only building that looked like it might be a business turned out to be some kind of hardware store. The handful of older men clustered around the motley assortment of tools and other items only spoke Greek, and so Mirabelle quickly turned around and left.
Continuing down the path, Mirabelle saw a few more houses, but they were now spread further apart with large stretches of grassy valley between them. And after a few minutes, she came to the end of the path. Before her was a lovely view of the sea from the western end of the island, and Mirabelle took several minutes to enjoy it before turning and heading back.
Pykanos was clearly a small island, and the town was scarcely more than a handful of buildings. The only other signs of life were a few fishing boats bobbing up and down in the waves a ways off from shore. Scanning the hills, she saw little but green swathes of grass with no sign even of any animal life. To put it bluntly, there wasn't much anywhere to go on Pykanos, except to explore the trail she saw winding her way up the island's only promontory.
Her stomach rumbling, Mirabelle began making her way back to her room at the back of the restaurant. She knew that, stashed in her bag somewhere were a couple of bags of snacks, and she hoped they would tide her over until six o'clock when the proprietor served what Mirabelle prayed would be a bountiful meal of delicious, homemade Greek food.
But, as it turned out, Mirabelle never did get back to her room that day.
The Path
By the time Mirabelle made it back to the village, the sun was high in the sky, and the air was so still that she could hear her own footsteps as she plodded along the cobblestone lane.
With the sun hammering on her neck, Mirabelle made it to the restaurant at long last, only to find that the front door was closed and locked. She knocked a few times but received no answer. It seemed as though the proprietor was out, probably taking a siesta at home, which was the only sensible thing to do in this burning, dry heat.
Confused, hungry, and starting to perspire, Mirabelle cast her eyes around for somewhere to go. But all the doors of the nearby buildings were quiet, any residents inside were likely to be upset if a foreigner who didn't speak Greek woke them up from their naps.
The only spot that looked appealing was the path that wound its way up to the top of the cliff. A handful of trees were providing shade, and there was bound to be a breeze once she climbed out of the bowl where the village was situated.
Of course, the proprietor had told her specifically not to go up that mountain path, but what danger could there be up there, really? Perhaps the woman was just afraid that Mirabelle, a silly tourist, would twist her ankle or something like that. Obviously, Mirabelle would be careful, if only to avoid embarrassing herself by needing rescuing.
As she headed up the path, Mirabelle smiled to herself as she took in the magnificent sight of the sea all around the island. As her altitude increased, the waters of the sea gained a lovely, deep azure hue that Mirabelle found extremely charming. And once she got underneath the shade of trees that dotted the path, she immediately felt refreshed.
It wasn't too long before Mirabelle had climbed quite a ways up the twisting, winding path that ran along the edge of the cliff. Up at these heights, there was a steady breeze that felt quite invigorating, and Mirabelle noticed that the wild, tough grass had a unique, green color that was quite appealing. Indeed, up here, Mirabelle no longer felt hungry either.
It was as if there were some kind of natural magic on this path, which made Mirabelle wonder why the proprietor lady had admonished her not to take it. Perhaps it was just a case of not letting the tourists discover it so that they wouldn't flock to Pykanos in droves and ruin the experience. Yes, that must be the explanation!
However, as Mirabelle gazed ahead, she saw that the path veered off from the cliff and headed between a deep crevice. Slowing her pace, Mirabelle gingerly climbed and hopped her way forward amongst the stones, noticing that the path seemed to be leading towards the interior of the mountain. Indeed, as Mirabelle looked up, she saw that she was now deep inside a canyon with steep walls, and the path seemed to be meandering without purpose.
But as she got a bit further down into the canyon, she saw the path branch off to the right with a steep upward angle. Sometimes slipping to all fours, Mirabelle scrambled up this new segment of the path as a small shower of stones and dirt cascaded down into the valley.
When she finally got back up to the surface, Mirabelle cast her eyes around in amazement as she saw that she had emerged into a hidden valley located near the top of the mountain. On one side, she had a magnificent view of the sea, the surface of the water now hundreds of feet below her, and on the other side was a verdant valley lush with vegetation.
"Oh, tourists would definitely ruin this in a heartbeat," Mirabelle thought to herself as she began to explore the valley.
A tiny trickle of water turned out to be a robust spring, its banks thick with a lovely assortment of flowers and aromatic plants. As she proceeded forward, Mirable could hear the hum of bees, and she saw several brightly colored butterflies nipping and darting in amongst the vegetation. The air was clean and fresh, and Mirabelle sighed with happiness.
Just then, though, she heard voices speaking from not too far away, although she could not see anyone. It was unclear exactly what they were saying, but it sounded like two men talking. Even more mysteriously, it did not sound like they were speaking Greek. Over the past few weeks, Mirabelle had grown accustomed to the musical lilt of Greek, and the way the two men were talking sounded much harsher and more guttural.
Intensely curious, Mirabelle was on high alert as she steadily made her way down the path and towards the sound of the voices. As she got closer, she could start to make out more words, but the men were speaking in a language she did not recognize, although it sometimes sounded a bit like English.
Just then, Mirabelle caught a glimpse of one of the men through the vegetation. As stealthily as she could, Mirabelle crept forward until she could see that there were two young men ahead of her, sitting in what looked like a natural Jacuzzi, the water frothing and bubbling at their waists.
"Wow, there's a natural hot spring up here! Definitely don't want the tourists to know about this. My gosh, it's gorgeous," Mirabelle thought to herself.
For a long moment, Mirabelle debated whether or not to reveal herself. On one hand, the two men seemed to be greatly enjoying their time in the hot spring Jacuzzi, laughing and smiling as they conversed, and Mirabelle didn't want to give them a scare. But on the other hand, she had hiked quite a long way to get up here, and it looked like there was room in the Jacuzzi for three people.
After making her decision, Mirabelle coughed loudly and then stepped forward down the path so that she would be in clear view of the two men in the Jacuzzi, one of whom caught sight of her immediately.
"Hullo!" he called out, giving her a big smile and a friendly wave.
"Hullo!" cried out his companion, turning to look at Mirabelle.
"Sorry, but we do not speak Greek!" called out the first man.
"Oh, that's okay, I speak English," said Mirabelle, blushing as she took a few steps closer to the two men in the Jacuzzi.
"Excellent!" said the first man. "Then we invite you to join us."
"Yes! Please join us," said the second man.
What could Mirabelle do, other than to accept their friendly invitation? But what happened next was something she never could have expected.