My apartment is perfect. It is quite spacious with a pine effect. There are two twin beds, a wardrobe, a small dining table, dressing table and a kitchenette, and compact bathroom. And a balcony which overlooks the sea, joy of joys. It instantly feels like home. When I awoke at 10.30 I went for walk around the apartments and then a search for the beach which turned out to be in vain - it is too far to walk and as I later find out, it is behind the airport. Everywhere seems empty and quiet, endless olive trees and yellow sun-dried scrubby grass. As I walk down a hill towards the sea a large Greek man stops by me on his moped, asking if I want a life somewhere. I love motorcycles and am thrown back in time to Thailand when one of the local villagers gave me a lift to shops on the back of his moped, a terrifying and thrilling helmet-less journey. However I have no idea who this man is and decline his invitation. He idles along beside me for a while, inviting me for a drink on the way back from my walk. He tells me he owns a large studio and would love to show it to me. I humour him but wish him to be gone and have no intention of joining him for a drink. Perhaps he means no harm but it isn't a risk I'm about to take.
On my return I retired to the pool and met Stephanos, the other brother-owner, and two guests called Sheila and Wayne. They are a Welsh couple, "from the Valleys" as they tell any bemused Greek who crosses their path. They assign themselves as my surrogate parents, horrified when I tell them I am travelling alone (although this later turns to admiration as they brag about my bravery to other guests). They are beyond kind and very funny. They are both as feisty as they come, bossing each other continually and always telling a story over a drink. Stephanos made me tzaziki and (English, i.e. hot) tea and chatted about his life. He is a gentle, quiet man, funny and kind with a melancholic streak I recognise. He has a lovely nature, bantering with Sheila and Wayne (who stay at the studios regularly) and being flirtatiously solicitous to me. He keeps making mention of his divorce and his desire for a woman to look after him! Yet it isn't unwelcome this kind of attention because it is sweet and unforced, and there is always a twinkle in his eye and a real layer of kindness. He seems underscored with exhaustion, telling me about his recent trials; the recession hitting his apartment business, his very ill mother and the difficulty of bringing up his two daughters alone.
A small Greek boy plays by the pool with his Papakis, screeching at the chill of the water and running up to me every so often to chatter in Greek to me. His parents eat at the poolside restaurant and speak rapid Greek to Stephanos. The boy's mother is young and small, with long straightened and lightened hair and pretty but pinched features. She looks harassed and fed up yet beams at me when she sees me talking to her son. The boy's father is huge and tanned with jet black hair and a ready smile. He gets in and out of the pool with his son and elicits small screams of joy as he throws his son up into the air and splashes him down into the water. As I eat his father whispers something to him and the boy shyly comes up to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek! Only 3 years old and already a charmer.
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