The theatre of Greece - 4

(Mykonos  |  October 1, 2015 | Day-3

M. Gautham Machaiah

Today was yet another early day. I had to get out of the bed at 5 am to be ready for the pick-up at 6.15 am and I began wondering if I was on a holiday or on a business trip. My destination was the island of #Mykonos, where I would be spending two nights.

At the lobby, I once again bumped into the Indian couple and we were transferred to Port Piraeus in the same vehicle. During the 30 minute drive we caught up on what we did the previous day. I told them about my trip to Cape Sounion, while the couple said they spent their entire afternoon shopping at Plaka. 

"Most international brands are much cheaper here than in India. I shopped like mad and my husband did not complain," said the lady. "As if he had a choice," I thought to myself. 

As we entered the Blue Star ferry, a huge ship with several floors, we were told to leave our baggage in the holding area. I expected a receipt like the ones they give you when you travel by air, but such a system did not exist here. I was a bit apprehensive because the ferry was to make a stopover at a couple of islands before we reached our destination and anybody could walk away with our baggage.

My Indian friend however comforted me saying, "Do not worry about your baggage. It will be safe. This is not India."

He had a point. Look at the image we Indians have built for ourselves. Would our baggage remain safe in India if we left it unattended even for a few minutes? One of my friends travelling from Mumbai to Bengaluru had her bag stolen at the airport despite all the security.  Another friend who was returning from abroad had to take a connecting flight from New Delhi to Bengaluru. At the New Delhi airport, he placed his passport and the remaining dollars in the check-in baggage. When he returned home, he found all the currency missing. When you travel in trains you still find people carrying a chain and a lock to secure their baggage to the berth. When will we ever change? When will we ever be worthy of the faith of our fellow human beings?

In the ferry, we were directed to an area with a setting that resembled a restaurant. The Indian couple occupied a table, while I took a two-seater a little distance away. For some reason, the couple was feeling out of place and invited me to join their table. Or perhaps, they were being polite because I was travelling alone.

Solitude is not something that everybody enjoys, but I love the time that I spend with myself because it gives me an opportunity to unwind and de-clutter my mind. I joined the couple at their table and that was the first time we introduced ourselves formally. Manoj and Asha were Gujaratis who had now settled in Mumbai. The next hour or so, we were engrossed in deep conversation as if we were long lost friends.

 As all of us were sleep deprived, we decided to shift to the formal seating area. While Manoj and Asha decided to take a short nap, I caught up on my meditation and reading. 

I had made a mention of meditation in one of my previous blogs too and some of my friends had asked me to teach them how to meditate. For long, I have tried to meditate and control my thoughts in vain, until I was introduced to the simple techniques of Patriji, the founder of the International Pyramid Valley, on the outskirts of Bengaluru.

All you need to do is sit comfortably in any position, close your eyes, listen to soothing music, control your thoughts and breathe normally. When you concentrate on your breathing, your mind becomes free. You can meditate anywhere, in your living room or bed room, in the office, in the car, in the flight or even in bed. Though even five minutes of meditation calms your mind, from my experience the ideal time would be about 30 minutes.

In course of time, you will develop your own techniques. For instance, my alarm tune is a flute recital which ensures that I meditate for ten minutes as I wake up. Similarly, I meditate for ten minutes in bed before falling asleep. Thus, even if for some reason I am not able to sleep well, I wake up fresh and remain that way the whole day. Meditation has nothing to do with any religion or God. It is all about calming your mind.

Now that I had done some reading and meditation, my battery was charged for the rest of the day. The remaining part of the journey was spent on the deck and the restaurant area.  It was a treat watching the majesty of the sea and the blue skies.  We docked for a short while at a few islands and each of them presented a picture post card image. 

As we were closing into Mykonos, the winds became so strong that they started blowing away chairs and dustbins, forcing all passengers to return to the safety of the cabin. By the time we reached our destination, the deck resembled a war ravaged zone.

I enjoyed every minute of the six hour cruise and we reached Mykonos at 1.30 pm. The beauty of the island left me speechless. I was booked at Hotel Olia, which offered an awe-inspiring view of the port, while the Indian couple was put up at a place closer to town.

Like every other building, Olia was painted fully in white. Each block had about four rooms, offering a home-like atmosphere. Though it appeared to be a new construction, every effort had been made to retain the old world charm.

In every hotel that you check into in Greece, the front desk always gives you a local map and a small speech on the places of tourist interest.  The service orientation is however not very high. The concept of bell boy is virtually unknown and you are expected to lug your own baggage to your room, even in star hotels.

The weather outside was fabulous—the sun was peeping out of the clouds while a soft breeze was blowing—and it would be a sin to remain closeted in the room. The receptionist informed me that Mykonos town was just ten minutes by walk or five minutes by bus. 

I decided to walk it up, admiring the beauty of the Mediterranean Sea to my right.  However, when I saw no sign of the town, I got a feeling that I was lost. But we guys never ask for directions even when we are in doubt and I continued to walk. 

I had walked over 2.5 km and was by now famished. But there is always a silver lining. I stopped to catch my breath and right there in front of me stood a 'taverna', like an oasis in a desert. 

Located by the sea-side, Niko's Taverna was just like a shack in Goa. It was run by a family, with the lady obviously calling the shots. I asked her to recommend something Greek and she suggested a sea food platter with calamari, shrimp and mackerel. I went by her decision and did not regret it. For dessert, I had the traditional baklava, which was as delicious as it was sinful. 

It turned out that Niko's was one of the best known tavernas in Mykonos. Even while I was having lunch, over a dozen people dropped in to reserve tables for the night. I wondered why they could not just make a reservation on the phone. It later turned out that the place did not have a phone because the lady running the show was so busy that she did not have the time to answer calls. Soon the entire place was booked for the night and the guests were being told they would have to share tables.

For a shack like ambiance, the price was extremely high. But then, when you do not compromise on quality, people are ready to pay the price.

After clearing my bill, I asked the lady if there was a bus stop close-by. "There is one just round the corner at the junction," she said. That was when I realised the Greeks can be way off the mark when it comes to distance. I had to walk a full 1.5 km before I reached the bus stop. By now, I had covered half the distance to my hotel and decided to continue walking. In all I had walked more than five km.

I still had not explored Mykonos town, popularly called Little Venice. After a short nap, I decided to take the bus to town, as I did not want to take any chances this time. I had made the mistake of not getting an international driving licence to enable me hire a self-driven car and had to depend on the bus which was the sole mode of transport available from the hotel. There was a bus every half hour.

The town was straight out of a fairy tale. Set against the back drop of the sea and the old port, every wall was painted white. The roads were so narrow that at most places they did not stretch beyond 5 feet. The entire town was like a 'gully' in India, except that it was spotlessly clean. Even the footpaths were neatly painted.

I had dinner at a formal restaurant and regretted it because there was nothing distinctly Greek about it. 

After 9 pm, the bus plies only by the hour, which meant I had to wait for at least 45 minutes for the next schedule. I remembered the receptionist telling me earlier in the day that the hotel was just a ten minute walk away from the town. It was not a very safe walk though. The wind was so gusty that a weakling could have easily been swept into the sea down below. No doubt, Mykonos is called the Island of Winds. The roads were narrow and you could be run over by speeding vehicles. Besides, it was pitch dark in the absence of street lights. To top it, the ten minute stroll turned out to be a walk of over 1.5 km.

Today, I learnt a lesson. When it comes to distances, never trust the Greeks.