I can now return to the story of how, 21 years ago, it took us 11 days to reach Symi. This has been made possible by Wonder Woman sending me a couple of screenshots, and me working out that it was the ‘translate this page’ command on my browsers that was kicking me out of the tax system. I got there in the end, and all is right with that part of the world. Meanwhile…
This time 21 years ago, we were in Athens enjoying the sights through the eye-watering smog of late August. It’s much better now, I am told. We were on the lookout for somewhere to stay and had decided to try some other places rather than just jog down here where we’d been before. So, after a couple of days in the city, we took the underground to Piraeus and boarded a boat that stopped at Paros. We were travelling with a rucksack each and a laptop, and that was it, and it was no trouble to find accommodation as soon as we stepped off the boat. We stayed in Paros for a couple of days before looking at Antiparos just over the water, and we found accommodation there before we’d even boarded the ferry. Not via a travel agency (and we had no travelling internet in those days), but by walking towards the boat with rucksacks.
The cousin of a brother’s cousin’s friend’s second koumbaros’ fourth cousin just happened to have a nice one-bed apartment for €20 a night, and we struck the deal before we boarded. Sure enough, at the other end of the short journey was a chap waiting to whisk us to this very nice flat on the edge of the main village, only a few minutes walk into town one way and out to the beach the other, and it was so nice we stayed there for about five days.
Although we made enquiries about possible work the next season and rental prices, Antiparos was too small for our needs, so we decided to keep on heading south and go back to Symi. Which is probably where we both knew we’d end up anyway. We booked tickets for the Marina which was due to depart from Paros the following night at 11.59. Yes, I thought that was rather precise too, but that’s what it said. However, as we sat opposite the port gates at 21.45 and having just ordered an ouzo, I read the name on the side of a ferry just pulling in, MAPINA. One minute to midnight my aspidistra! A quick dash, no time for the ouzo, and on board as the tailgate was going up.
We arrived in Symi via Rhodes and a hydrofoil the next day (September 8th, Neil’s birthday), and here we still are. Not a very exciting tale, but that’s why it took 11 days, 21 years ago. I have no photos of the trip that I can easily find, they are in a box somewhere in the storeroom, and wouldn’t be very good anyway. I’m sure I have told this story in more detail and with more enthusiasm in ‘Symi, Stuff & Nonsense’ if you want to find out more.
