It started so innocently. But in retrospect, I was an idiot. To be fair, two decades of formal education had trained me that way.
My buddy's father had been transferred to Italy. We went to visit, saw some sights on the cheap, and found we had time left over. My buddy inexplicably wanted to meet his girlfriend in Paris. I didn't want to tag along; they were just too annoying together. So traveling solo, I went to Greece.
I hadn't expected the extra travel, and I arrived in Athens low on funds. I had to settle for a cheap hotel. It was cramped and noisy, but I didn't care; I spent my time admiring the illusory straight lines of the Acropolis, marveling at the awesome Temple of Zeus, and visiting the strikingly sited Temple of Athena at Delphi. The ancient Greeks were amazing architects. What I really wanted to see, though, were the islands of the Aegean -- on a budget, of course. I booked the cheapest cruise I could find. It had famous stops: Santorini, Mykonos, Delos. How bad could it be?
Well. The boat turned out to be an old, rusting hulk of a freighter converted for motor-sailing. My economy cabin had two bunks nearly on top of each other. Both looked infested and were about six inches shorter than me. Oh, also, I had a cabin mate. He was XXL and he snored like a chain saw. Next time, I'll get the fine print translated.
We left from the ancient port of Piraeus with a roar from the aging engines and a worrying groan from the antique hull. That roar permeated everything. The spaces below deck vibrated like a fancy recliner. When the sails went up, we heeled, but the engines droned on.
Fortunately the sky and water were a peerless blue, the breeze was soft and warm, and the sea was flat. We skimmed along. Gulls followed us in case we were a fishing boat. I stood by a section of the rusty railing that looked more or less trustworthy and let the sounds and smells of the ageless Aegean wash over me. It felt weirdly timeless. I expected Homer's sirens to call me at any moment.
Eventually the sun got low, the air got cool, the gulls gave up, and so did I. I went to my cabin but my roommate was there, snoring away, so I detoured to the ship's bar. It featured retsina, an ancient, salty-sweet Greek wine, and ouzo, a Greek liquor that tastes exactly like varnish. I got buzzed, but since no one else seemed to speak English I went back on deck after a while, already thinking 'Are we there yet?'
The sun was touching the horizon. A warm Aegean breeze was whipping up small whitecaps as far as the eye could see. And standing there waiting for me were two girls, both about my age.
Affecting a cool detachment, I casually sidled up to the railing near them and looked out to sea. I started to work up an opening line, on the remote chance they spoke English.
Behind me, one of them said, "Another tourist! Thank God!"
I turned. "In this case Zeus, I guess?" Pretty clever, I thought.
"More like Poseidon, out here. Hi!"
I sized them up. Both were wearing tee shirts and short-shorts in white, the common fashion color here. The speaker was one of those people who seem perfectly proportioned. The quiet, taller one was a twelve below the neck, which was as far as I got. She had a slender frame with astounding, almost volleyball boobs. Both wore their golden brown hair in loose curls. They were less cute than classically beautiful, with elegant straight noses. Maybe they were related.
"Nice to find someone aboard I can understand," I ventured.
"I know! Depressing, right? Are you alone?" She seemed pretty forthright.
"Yup. The solitude is intense. I was thinking of becoming a depressed existentialist."
"Sorry," she said. "We're gonna break that up."
Her friend was still silent. I looked at her and she looked at her feet... if she could even see them, I thought. She really had quite the rack.
"Would you like to have dinner together?" the talker asked. "We could start an English-language table."
We strolled toward the dining salon. I described my travels and my cabin.
"This isn't really a tour boat, you know," she said en route. "It's a ferry. It's been around practically forever. The locals use it for cheap rides to the islands. The cruise marketing is just a side hustle, but it gives you an authentic experience."
"I can tell," I said. "My cabin is as authentic as it gets. I expect authentic bed bugs. My roommate flashes a lot of authentic butt crack and he snores."
"Weren't you warned to go first class? Tourist is gross." She looked at me closely, paused, and glanced briefly at her friend, who immediately and emphatically shook her head 'no'.
We arrived at the dining room, a dim yellow space with a buffet, cracked vinyl flooring and tiny chrome-edged Formica tables. Down here the engine roar was more like a constant shaking. You had to lean in to talk. We scooped up some food and I caught the girls having a little debate. Then we all sat down at once and smashed knees. "Sorry!" we chorused. The silent one went off to refill her drink, which had landed mostly in her lap.
"Hey," I said, "let's introduce. I'm..."
"Wait!" the talker interrupted suddenly. "Stop. Let's talk first. Up on deck after dinner, OK?"
Weird to find celebrities traveling incognito on a tramp steamer. Or maybe they were just spies. But of course I went along.
***
Dinner was nice. We talked. The girls were half-sisters on holiday together. They had been in Greece for quite a while and seemed to know a lot about the culture. They filled me in on the ancient history and religions of the Cyclades. Both were friendly and interesting, and we definitely hit it off. The quiet one even said a few words. She remained slightly withdrawn, but what a figure! It took a lot of eye discipline to stay polite. Unfortunately, she wanted to do something in her cabin after dinner, so I accompanied the anonymous talker up onto the rusty deck.
It was late twilight. The stars were coming out in a deep cobalt sky. Up here the engine was less intrusive, and you could hear the sails creaking and the warm wind sighing in the rigging. We were scything smoothly along over the darkening seas at a slight heel. There was phosphorescence in the bow wave and moonlight marked our rippling wake.
I looked around and said, "This is ridiculous."
"I know, right? Like every clichéd romance novel ever."
We were silent, drinking it in.
