My last day with Connie. I don't know how I can bear it. In the afternnon I booked a taxi to Iraklio where I where I will pick up the boat to Athens and then the Magic Bus. And then what? Maybe I’ll take it all the way to London and stay there awhile. Find work in a bookshop or something. I won’t go back home until I can return on my terms and that might not be for years. Having some sort of a goal feels good. I will miss Connie enormously. For her part, Connie has declared she couldn’t possibly stay in Greece any longer without me. While we ate a little dinner and drank a lot of wine at a place along the shore, a boat owner came to our table to chat, accompanied with two rather unhealthy looking lads. He captains a 54 foot charter vessel and after much talk and flirting banter asked if one of us would join him and his crew to make up their full complement. It sounded suspect to me but Connie shot up her arms and said, “I can sail. I will go with you! When do you go, tomorrow? Because I will only go with you if you go tomorrow. I must leave tomorrow! Oh this is meant to be. Our goddess is watching and planning for both of us – you in the air and me in the sea. I am speechless with joy!”
We stayed up all night, packing and talking. No amount of concern on my part over the veracity of the boatman's offer would dissuade her. Connie’s boat left at first light and I walked down to the jetty with her to see her off. One old man, arms like rope, was silently whittling on deck with a surly look on his face and a cigarette dangling from his downturned lips. He barely looked up as we arrived, and pointedly turned his back when it was obvious we were about to intrude on his morning quiet. I wondered at how his life is about to change with Connie on board! We stood close together not really knowing what to say, and then the bleary-eyed captain appeared with an impatient hangover wave to Connie. As she started to go down the gangway, Connie suddenly turned and ran back into my arms, tears brimming, saying “Thank you for being born!” then just as quickly leapt away. The boat threw off its lines and moved off, the sun shining on her bright blue hull. I saw my long dark shadow in the water until the boat was no more than a tiny speck, then turned and woke my sleeping taxi driver.
After one of our daily shopping expeditions into town Connie and I took a long walk along Hania’s seafront and I told her I thought I must part from her soon and go on to the next phase in my life. I had been worrying about telling her and had saved it inside until I couldn't wait any longer. Travelling with someone is not always fair. It has helped, magnificently, but I’m hardly an enjoyable companion now that I am trying to plan my future and make decisions about what to do next and how to earn the money to pay for it. Connie has been bankrolling me for the last two weeks and I hate it. She says I more than pay for it with cooking and companionship but I can't do this forever. Nor do I want to. I need to be productive, to produce something. The haggard, bearded, limp and straggly travelers who drift for years on end, living on Greece's beaches and towns, is repellant to me, the worst kind of parasite. To my relief Connie flung her arms around me, saying it was the most wonderful thing I could ever say to her and it was about time and that I will become some famous person and she will read about me and be so proud. She said “You’re always fussing with words and maps. You should be a hydrographer, or a cosmographer. (She constantly amazes me. How on earth does she know these words?) And I see you always scribbling down recipes. You must be a good cook. You should include chef in your list of careers. Call me when you do.”
