Reluctant; so much past - some good, some bad - a fresh start, a new island, my own house always the ultimate destination. But convenience and lockdown meant less opportunity to manoeuvre so Skopelos it was. You can't fault the island. Thick green like a Greek pot of basil, the ones adorning the entrances of humble village houses, wrinkled women dressed in black sitting on the steps outside pealing vegetables, chatting to their friends; Gias sas, I greet them year after year as I walk passed them and they smile back buffled that I'm Greek.






You hadn't brought the right shoes, preferred not to be exposed in direct sunlight which meant little hiking because all paths worth treading were strictly goat-proof and unless you were prepared to embrace your inner goat, some of the most intimate experiences on the island were sadly denied from you. It would have been nice to have walked all the way down to the chapel of St. Anna even if it was closed, watch the small white-washed structure perched on the rock get larger and steeper with direct views of the island of Alonissos. Last time I went down it was eight years ago; an older lady offered me Greek coffee; the chapel belonged to her family. I recall her handsome son, twenty five years or so younger than me making a guest appearance with a Colgate smile. Sunny, welcoming and kind, blue eyes, healthy-looking lad. You could see the mother's pride. They lived in town. She unlocked the tiny chapel for holy days and festivities and of course during the tourist season to welcome any hikers, offer them coffee and presumably accept donations. Never saw them again.





I really wanted to share with you the secret path beyond Kastani beach and the magnificent small beaches you climb down to through the pine forest and untamed bush overlooking the island of Skitathos and Pilio mountain. But, you were on your shorts, not happy getting scratched, certainly not your idea of going for a swim. What about the gazelle I had witnessed on the Velebit mountains of Croatia walking eight hours on end climbing vertically with no sweat, me dragging behind quietly wishing for the end? At certain times, under certain conditions, perhaps. I forgive you, reluctantly. Walking half an hour to swim I know won't ever compete with jumping off your front door in Lisarica no matter how icy cold the water might be so I won't push although it does limit our options. It was very much appreciated to get the nod that it was a worthwhile hike after all but I got the sub-text loud and clear: good to do once.






The following day, aware that I couldn't possibly inflict such discomfort again, I remembered the bay of Amarandros so we took the dirt road just before Agnondas to the left and that was it: sold. For the rest of our stay, between 5:30 and 6:00pm, we left the house and headed for our sunset spot. You didn't want to explore anywhere else and frankly, there was nothing wrong with sticking to one good location. I love repetition too but I know for a fact that what won you over was not entirely the beauty of the cove - there was a lot to love - it's because it was a mere 3-minute walk from the car, intimate, shady and quiet except that one time…





I had laid down my yellow towel and started daydreaming through the pine branches which framed the warm, welcoming sea. The large island of Evoia a hazy blue in the distance changing colours and definition with the setting of the sun.





A dolphin!, the naked tosser in the water shouted to his wife who was sitting on a rock with her huge, loose boobs all out on show. They hadn't stopped yapping since we got here. They may have been slightly more tolerable had they been young, thin and beautiful.





I spotted the magnificent creature. Is the Monachus Seal you total muppet! Put your clothes on and go home.





Long lazy days were spent embodying The Dako way of Life in the comfort of our Greek/Danish home; now mum has died it has passed down to Ismini; me, eating watermelon, you, a juicy peach, baking spinach pie, reading novels set in Ireland and Norway, maybe another dako, checking our phones, dozing off, doing our practice. Alonissos' backside always a pleasure to behold. The activity on the town below, a restful lullaby, boats coming and going and the distinct dove song - theka-októ, theka-októ - soloing over millions of cicadas' constant background chorus. We noticed that one of our pine trees took a battering in winter, half of it was missing, but it still stood pretty offering precious shade.




We wandered around town a few times in the mornings and in the afternoons, showed you the church I got married in nineteen years ago, climbed up the steps to café bar Thalassa, introduced you to Fani and her sweet natured, actress daughter who now has a boyfriend in the UK and spends part of her time in London. Stroked their cute, so ugly, white poodle - it's got a condition I'm told which causes its teeth to protrude looking like a freak - greeted her limping white-haired husband, always awkward, always sitting pointing his finger at the two women slaving away in the kitchen. He was more smiley than usual. Has he really missed me?





One day we drove to the other side of the island beyond the castle, up and around through gentlly twisting roads surrounded by dense pine forest, small stone houses dotted on the foothills and shrine after shrine on every corner. We parked the car up high and walked to the ancient graves, a site known as Sendoukia. Not much historical data could be found but they did look old and they must have been important people to be buried this high. Magnificent views of the East side of the island. We dropped back down to the main road connecting the two large towns of Glossa on one side of the island and Skopelos town or Chora on the other.




We fantasised about houses, again, and visited a villa for sale in Rahes, behind our house furhter up the hill and more to the left.  We were given the tour by the owner who was a gentle man living not far from my childhood home in Politia, in Athens. There were many elements of the house we loved: the feel, elevation, the swimming pool with the big pine tree but the layout could have been better especially downstairs. Had it not been so impossible to access who knows, we may have been more tempted although the neighbouring house above the pool could have proved a nuisance. The older I get the more anti-social I become. I just want peace, no other human intrusion except people I like who I invite when I want. I know you quietly seek the same peace even though you're less outspoken than me.





We had dinner a few times at the seaside village of Agnondas. So many times I asked Thanasis for fresh fish and he always said 'just sold last one, call me tomorrow'. He's nice but admittedly a bit shifty, dad tends to agree. We had fresh sardines grilled, butter beans in red sauce, fava, Greek salad, fried courgettes with tzatziki, vlita, all was good, didn't miss the other fish. In the evenings, we loved our ice-cream outings down the port, people-watching immersing ourselves in the cold, thick and chewy happiness-in-a-bowl with a biscuit for an extra dose of decandence. After trying a few different brands we settled on Kayak at Karavia which had been my favourite café for years. I always ordered chocolate, raspberry sorbet and pistachio. You were more adventurous with your flavours and experimented a few times. Must learn from you to diversify.



On our last day, just before catching the ferry back to the mainland, we took a right turn to the rock of Ai-Giannis, where Meryl Strip in the film adaptation of Mama Mia, ran up a steep candle-lit path to the chapel where Pierce Brosnan waited with a priest and all the guests. We took some selfies and walked back down to the car to have an average last cuppa and brekkie at the underwhelming Glossa port.




Skopelos for me is a mixed bag. Beautiful, green, unassuming but ultimately riddled in memories. Just as well the house up the hill was not tempting. I want a new life, a fresh island to build memories together. A place with no past but a present we create together made exclusively out of our own materials, our pasts only embedded in as much as it is necessary to create the character we fell in love with.

 





If only we could always experience life with a 'beginner's mind', life would be free from association. Would it feel less meaningful? I have no idea but I have a suspicion that it would set me free.