After gracefully leaving Kusadasi without managing to offend Ahmet, Mehmet, Octi or their guests, we arrived early at the port to catch the ferry.
Leaving Turkey for Greece, we had to move through customs and the usual security checks which meant waiting behind a row of buses parked with their engines running spewing forth carbon monoxide, and carrying our heavy bags in the humid heat of the port and so presenting at customs as a huddled sweaty mass. We had to fill out the most cryptic survey with questions of whether we got sick in Turkey or how much we actually spent on taxis, food accommodation etc before boarding the boat to Samos. Once onboard, and our bags safely stowed on the stern deck to maximize the chance they will become wet as waves wash over the back of the boat, we feel much happier, sitting in the breeze on the top deck watching Turkey disappear over the horizon.
An hour and half later, Samos came into view and immediately we remembered why we had come all this way; the feelings of wonder, tranquility and beauty that our last visit to Greece impressed on us came flooding back. Before arriving at the port, the boat passes along the impressive, empty and rugged mountains for which Samos is famous and I fancied that this was the sort of location that Cubbi Broccoli would have looked for in the 70s (you only live twice …).
At Samos town we had to wait in the hot sun for 30 minutes to clear customs. We were told by Ahmet to hire a car from Pegasus rental which was near to the port, and within another 30 minutes we had a secured a Suzuki Jimny for 3 days and headed off to Karlovassi. Now, the Jimny is not high performance car, let me tell you, and besides the thrills of driving on the wrong side of a narrow, windy coast road, copng with the Suzuki’s idiocracies made driving that much more exciting.
Of course, the next challenge was to find the “Captain’s House” we had rented for the next 5 weeks in Karlovassi. The interesting thing about driving in Greece (and most towns that have stood for centuries) is that finding your way about typically means going round and round in circles, being caught in one way streets and passing the same landmarks, but without actually finding that detour needed to get where you want to go. Coupled with the added complexity of not actually knowing where we need to go adds to the fun. And of course, other drivers really don’t care. Either they are barking up your rear end or they have inexplicably just stopped in front of you and discovered a parking spot that really isn’t there. However, a combination of phone calls, asking taxi drivers and following our nose (the most recommended method), we finally discovered “Agios Matronas”, the church that was the landmark near to which we would find our house.
We knew it was being cleaned and that we were early, and so we called the girl who was at the house and there she was! Down at the next corner waving to us. But by then it was too late to turn because, well its not so obvious, because, well you have to experience it to know what I mean. Think of it as being blindfolded, turned around three times and then being asked to perform feats of hand-eye coordination and you’ll know how I feel when put behind the wheel of a left hand drive for the first time. So having missed our turn, if was off on the round trip back to the square, and back up to the church for another try. Second time round brought success and we were able to drop our bags off and head down to the port for a beer.
The weather was still hot, but now we were at Karlovassi, sitting in the shade enjoying a mythos beer and gazing out at the peaceful harbor and it's fishing boats and reflecting upon the 7 days of travel it had taken to get here from Australia. It really did feel as if we had come a long way, in more ways than one.
