Greece under my converse
I did it with complete confidence that it could be done - a climb to the highest point with high top chucks, at one point they were the highest pair of black canvas high star shoes in all of Greece.
No reservations while others took minutes to strap up their waterproof, ice gouging, ultra hiker 6000 boots,
No hesitations when even our guide slipped and was injured, nope, not one when I stayed behind to assist him, carry his bags, and get snow to ice his injury.
Up and down in two days and all Chuck could say was “let me know when you need a break Mike cause we can run circles around those overweight Tims – come on let me at em” They did it too, boy they did. What? the water that did seep in provided some extra cool and cleansing to my sweaty toes, and the rubber that rubbed off a bit was just to carry the experience further, a trophy, a scar to be proud of - like a knife fight or wrestling crocodiles. And that’s Mt. Olympus – Zeus’ biceps, triceps, and pecks flexed with the snow capped curves and rocky ridges, his seat was taken over by a bunch of foreigners who gulped thinner air and carried digital cameras. Temporarily. For all who make it to the top respectfully hand over to its caretaker and only take back the pebbles that get stuck in between their toes. On the way down the pines patted us on the back because they also know only One can throw lightning bolts with the accuracy of justice.

How about being at the highest point one day and the lowest point the very next – sea level, 2918 meters to 0. Sarti, the second peninsula in the north provided slim recuperation time – my legs needed it and my converse needed to air out. Yet hiking along the sidewinder roads along Greece’s ancient fingers provided a different kind of air – the kind men of the sea have multiple words for, they swear and sail by them. Our goal was in mind too – our very own private beach to lie out and camp for the night, and so my legs didn’t buckle but to carry the rest of my body to the sand we staked out. The radioactive quartz contrasted the ice sea – its one of those things you just have to jump into head first.
The night was ended with bread, beans and rice under the night’s sky – with billions of worlds watching us and us watching them and hopefully no one watching our illegal campfire.
See the barnacles and snails? The water was so clear that it turned blue, it’s like the sky doubling over on itself – for all infinite things carry a similar color. Wait, did you see that thing? – I think one touched me... it did. I didn’t know brine shrimp were so brave.
Nearing the afternoon we pack up and aim towards town along the path where our shadows give the dirt a chance to cool off. Bus leaves at 5:30 – its 5:10 now, yeah? You want a crepe? Is there chocolate on my face? That was the best banana chocolate crepe one could ask for sitting under the awning of a café. Across the street is his competition, and probably his uncle, selling exactly the same thing at the same price but with a different name tag – different colors. Sorry, the red and white had me sold. Wait a second, what time is it? We quickly pay, Ciao and a wink returned and we’re off. To the bus stop around the corner where we sit down on the bench and wait for the bus to come.
And wait for the bus to come.
I think we missed the bus. No we didn’t. we were only 4 minutes past 5:30. We didn’t. Those crepes were good. Is there chocolate on my face – why didn’t you tell me! I think we missed the bus. Go ask them...
I don’t want to, they’ve been staring at us since we got here. These guys with tight jeans and mustaches – drinking frappes and beer all day on the corner. You do it, no you do it….I DON’T SPEAK GREEK!
We go to some other lady and she informs that the bus came and went and evidently we were eating crepes. Oh well, next bus is tomorrow at 7am. YOU mean tomorrow as in after the sun goes down and back up again – that tomorrow where Omar has an exam at noon? Oh ok, thanks dear. This is expected when you decided to go backpacking without a watch, but we’re adaptable, right? The ATM is out of cash and all we have is enough money to pay for the bus ticket back to Thessaloniki – a 4 hour ride that cost us 13 euro each to get here.
Our food money is down to maybe a euro and a half – couldn’t even buy another crepe and its only 6 pm…..what to do, what to do…
I got it! lets go up to the main road see if we can hitch a ride
But they don’t do that here in Greece, I mean, its rare, especially with a bunch of sunburned foreigners – come on.
No, we’re going to try at least for an hour, then we can figure out what else we can do. I’m pretty sure someone will stop – in the back of a truck or whatever, we’ll get some place where we’ll have more options.
We throw down our gear at the top of the road – look both ways along the lined asphalt where we can see for miles on either side. Nobody. I grab a stalk of dried grass and start to chew on it while Omar is lying out in the middle of the road. Minutes later a car is coming and we’re waving – they wave back and keep going, no, they actually accelerate. We got a routine down, thumbs up, money in hand – Thessaloniki?
An old Greek native comes strolling up the road behind us. Silence. He has the aged skin and the sun worn shirt and pants, a mouth grown never tired of feta cheese and olives. The long eyes stared miles ahead, Thessaloniki?, I must be using the wrong accent, or maybe it’s the chocolate on my nose. What was funny was that we were pretending that we meant to be standing there at the top of the single lane road with all our bags, like this was our destination. Yet, it was that we were a bit ashamed of the whole thing, for his presence caught us up in deep reverence for the simplicity of old, as the experiences and wisdom floated before us - we were too ignorant to see past our situation as apparently left behind in a quite town which we perceived as having nothing we could use or want. We were nothing to him because we had already turned our back and our desires rushed to be anywhere but here, we weren’t there and he didn’t see us.
Fewer cars went by than minutes and even fewer gave any sign that they understood what we were doing.
Up pulls a four door fiat with a burly Greek from the same road behind us coming out of the town. Thessaloniki? – hop in
and we didn’t step twice about it
Introductions and pleasantries were due - all in Greek of course and then not much else to be said – he was going where we wanted to go and had 3 extra seats. Theres something satisfying in traveling 100mph in a car with a man you don’t know sitting next to you smoking cigarettes like they were after dinner mints. Minutes of uninterrupted silence – slowing to let the curves do what they do and slowing to let the goats do what they shouldn’t do.
A stop at a café: Frappe, Coke, Beera?
No, no, but thanks, ok?
Ok, coke then
The drivers buying – quite men are the most generous if not but to give the silence a turn to talk.
We continue on with smiles hurting our faces, the sunburn didn’t give it away? I’m American. More silence and wind banging on my window because its wants a ride – wouldn’t you get tired of chunks of metal flying through you at ridiculous speeds?
Thessaloniki in an hour and a half and I believe we beat the bus that never needed us anyway. The old man was Poseidon reminding us that what’s behind us is just as important as what’s in front.

To be continued…..