Greece is a maritime country and its freeway of choice is the sea. By
sailing the immensity of its endless “wine dark” waters as Odysseus once did, you
fully experience the journey with every one of your senses alert and reach your
destination after a magical journey. Such was our ferry ride from Mykonos to
Naxos.
The ship we boarded was in a totally different category from the
rusty, creaky ferries we’d experienced while backpacking in the ‘70s. The
Sea Jet 2 was brand spanking new with the leather seats and lounge areas of a modern
cruise ship and a smooth, fast ride that had us to Naxos in just over two
hours, including a stop on Paros. We first saw the Portara, the 20-foot tall great marble doorway to the ancient
temple of Dionysus
(or Apollo, depending on which guidebook you reference) and the island’s signature
symbol that sits on a hill on an islet beside Naxos Town. It’s like a vigilant
magic picture frame whose one side watches over the arc of the busy harbor and the other gazes out to sea. With
minimal trappings of a typical tourist destination, save the dozens of inviting
tavernas along the waterfront, Naxos is an island on which to experience
simple, daily Greek life.
We met all who worked at and lived in our sweet little blue-shuttered, family-run hotel just a block from
the beach and a 10-minute walk to the port. The exact relationships were never
quite clear, but they all revolved around three year-old, curly-haired Georgios who was oblivious to the hotel guests
as he played with his boats and trucks in the lobby and by the pool. The
various players checked us in, served us breakfast and cleaned our room and we
felt more like houseguests than hotel patrons. We became part of the clan over
the course of our stay, as we smelled what they cooked for lunch, overheard
their conversations and shared the comfy couch in the registration area in
front of the big-screen TV. The hotel interiors were swathed in bright white
Naxian marble from the famous nearby quarries, which we later drove through on
a road trip to the rocky north shore where we had lunch by the bay in the
sleepy fishing village of Apollon on
the island’s tip. After a full week in Greece, we’d gotten into the swing of
saying kalimera to those we greeted during the day, kalispera in the evening
and kalinihta at night and offering a quick yassou
to those we passed on the street. Greece was feeling like home.
What we enjoyed most during
our four days on Naxos was the simple nature of the unscheduled, relaxing time
with our children. We had plenty of time to discuss our favorite subjects (books,
movies, politics and history) and spent many hours reclined on the beach and by
the pool reading, resting and soaking up the sun. We enjoyed eating outdoors,
watching lovely sunsets, beholding starry nights and then sleeping in late. I enjoyed some alone time with each of the children
-- a several mile hike along the beach with Chris and a couple of runs and a
shopping trip with Caroline. We wandered the old town along the narrow whitewashed
streets and shaded passageways crossed by thick archways that led up to and around
the Venetian castle and then back down the stairs past bright red potted
geraniums to the lower town. At one point, I was arm-in-arm with my son, my daughter held my other hand
and Joe snapped a picture, freezing the image and making time stand still as I
so wished I could. I was just happy and content to be with my family – the four
of us together, on a Greek isle, no less. Chris has long towered over me and
Caroline can look down on me as well. As we strolled along the harbor trying to
decide in which of the string of tavernas to stop and have dinner, they rubbed
my back, patted my head and called me their “Little Maman,” one of their most apt pet nicknames for me.
While we met neither the
Cyclops nor the Hydra on Naxos (although Joe and Chris lamented the fact that
we encountered no nymphs), we did face the trial of having to once again say
goodbye to our progeny. Having and loving children opens up your heart to joys
a-plenty but it also exposes you to the possibility of very real pain. There’s
the deep ache you feel when they are hurting, especially when they are hurts of
the emotional kind, the difficulty of letting them make their own decisions and
inevitable mistakes along the way and the realization one day that your babies
are gone and that now standing before you are a young man and young woman with
lives of their own. And while letting them go is the ultimate goal of
successful childrearing, it is never easy to do so or to fill the chasm that
remains when they finally leave home for good. You just hope and pray that
you’ve given them the gifts of sound judgment, common sense and an open heart
that will lead to good decision-making – at least most of the time.
I don’t know exactly what
we did as parents to encourage and cement the bond between our children, but
they have always been the best of friends, often communicate in a language we
fail to understand and simply enjoy each other’s company. Knowing they would be
making the trip home side-by-side helped lessen the feeling of loss just a bit.
You never stop worrying about your children, no matter what their age, and we
felt the familiar anxiety as we hugged and kissed them multiple times before finally
letting go at the single Naxos gate. They boarded the prop plane, together,
which then whisked them off to Athens for their international flight home.
There we stood, choking back tears, peering through the chain-link fence at the
tiny airport, waving at the plane as it took off as if they could actually see
us.
The first few minutes after
a goodbye are the most difficult but bit-by-bit the sting of separation finally
subsides. We made a hasty escape from “family Naxos” to “couples Santorini” -- a
worthy distraction if ever there were one -- to assuage the sharp, short-term
sadness of missing the kids so acutely. We needed a view of the world’s most stunning
island to help us move on to the final third of our trip.
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