I published my book "Kalo Taxidi - Notes from Greece and the Greek islands in July 2011. I am now working on my next book about Greece, and adding some extracts to my blog.
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A Final Encounter With An Andros Bus (late 1990s)
8 a.m. Went to bus station to check the day’s timetable. Blow! Today's drivers’ schedule has a 7.10 to Gavrion, the composite an 8.45. I checked last night but yesterday's drivers’ schedule was still up and the office was shut so I could not ask. I will go down for the 8.45 and hope it runs. I wondered what a taxi to Gavrion would cost. I would be happy to stay here in Andros until the end of the holiday, but having taken the decision to leave, packed up, etc., I want to go. A taxi cannot be more than 5000dr, can it? If I had known there was no 8.45 bus today, but say, one tomorrow I would have been happy leaving tomorrow. Much as I have enjoyed Andros as I am all packed up, I want somewhere to go to! In a way, it is like going home. I enjoy my travels, but find the journey home tedious. If a magic carpet (Greek, not Turkish) could whisk me from my hotel in Greece to home, I would be more than happy to miss out the intermediate slow journey. I feel more impatient on a plane home than I do say on the oh so slow Skopelitis.
I bought a cheese pie for breakfast on the way back from the bus station. My view of Greek youth has changed. Two Greek youths came in the cheese pie shop after me and shouted out their order as soon as the prop. came through from the back room. I looked pointedly at my watch when the prop's back was turned as he was getting the lads' cheese pies out of the oven. I hope they felt suitably chastened. I wanted the youths to see me looking at my watch, not the prop. – the prop. was not at fault, as he did not see who came in first.I thought of the pleasure of buying hot bread (or cheese pies) from the bakery. English supermarkets now sell hot bread. A cynic like me suspects the supermarket bread is imported from elsewhere and ‘finished off’ at the supermarket. I also wonder if supermarkets have an aerosol of ‘fresh bread’ fragrance that they squirt around the shop. The bread on the shelves is cold or cooling, but the shoppers ignore it, waiting to pounce on hot bread as soon as it lands on the shelves. By the time they have queued to get through the checkout the bread will be cold, never mind when they get home. What is the fascination of hot bread? A primordial instinct. Does the fact that a woman has touched the bread when hot make her feel maternal and / or possessory towards it?I went to the bus stop for the 8.45. A number of other people were waiting including the Swedes I had met earlier. The bus was running (heave a sigh of relief). A group of French walkers (the fish-lovers) arrived with metal sticks, the full works. They were equipped to climb Mont Blanc, not go for a walk in Andros. Two of the group had got lost, and the rest insisted that the bus wait until they turned up. They had a huge wad of maps and notes each, yet could not find Chora bus station! We waited and left late - I almost missed the ferry! In Messaria a taxi reversed to let bus through. I wondered if the meter went backwards when the taxi reversed? There were plenty of seats in the bus, yet someone (Greek) chose to sit in the courier’s seat, and had to stand up each time someone wanted to get on or off the bus which delayed the bus even more. Would we reach Gavrion in time for the ferry? I should have guessed that I would not leave Andros without a last session of fun and games on the buses. The bus pulled up at Stavropeda. Another bus was parked nearby. The other bus was pointing towards Gavrion. Our bus was pointing towards Korthi. Alarm bells started to ring in my head. There was no 8.45 bus to Gavrion on the driver’s schedule. I am on the Korthi bus. I asked, yes, this is the Korthi bus. I quickly explained this to the Swedes (the French had already got off) and we went across to the Gavrion bus. We set off to Gavrion. That was not quite the end of the saga…………….. I soon became aware of a bus charging along behind us. A race? No, the Korthi bus was racing to overtake the Gavrion bus. Both buses stopped. A sheepish looking passenger (Greek!) got off the Korthi bus and came onto the Gavrion bus. Even Greeks find Andros buses confusing! I had my eye on my watch. The boat was due. We approached Gavrion; she had not yet arrived. I dashed into a ticket office. As I emerged, with wet ink on my ticket, the ferry was coming into the harbour.
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