Here’s one theme of our trip: When we have a task to accomplish (ordering dinner, catching the bus, making it to a new island…) we just can’t be completely certain that things will work out the way we expect them to. We’ve been fortunate to come across people who speak some English at times when we need help, but honestly, we’ve met very few people who speak English as a first language. So the language difference has been one obstacle. Another has been existing in a new culture. A couple examples – We’ve finally realized that when you ask for water in a café, you will typically be brought a bottle of water you’re expected to pay for…it is not a bottomless supply as I’m used to. This ended up costing us more than we’d bargained for, especially on Santorini where everything costs a million dollars. And you’re only expected to tip 10%, which always feels very piddly to me. I’ve finally come to understand, though, that dining out is so different here. In the states it’s all about being taken care of if you’re the one dining, and it’s all about turnover if you’re the one making tips. Not so at all here. You better make sure that when your food is dropped off you have everything you need, because you’re likely to not see the server again. Even when you’re ready to pay the bill…we still haven’t figured out how this is supposed to work. Another difference we LOVE – many times, when you’ve finally tracked down someone to bring your bill, they’ll also deliver a plate of something sweet and a small jug of raki (a strong alcoholic spirit, says the dictionary), and say, “On the house.” USA – think about it.

Also, there’s something we’re learning about called Greek time. Timetables and schedules function more as general guidelines than binding contracts. From an American point of view, I think this could create lots of problems. But if a whole country is on board, maybe it’s ok. The morning Sarah and I left Santorini, we did not budget enough time to make it to the port. After some confusion with checking out of our place and getting behind a very slow moving truck and 2 failed attempts at the ATM, we realized that it was very likely we’d miss our ferry and need to spend another day on Santorini (which was a tough reality to swallow...see “Santorini…Hmmmm…”). When we got to the port, however, there was no ship in sight. We joined a mass of waiting travelers and found out that the ferry must be running on Greek time. So we waited around for nearly an hour and talked about how we’ll never learn our lesson if we don’t suffer consequences. So we vowed to budget more time in the future. Incidentally, when we left Folegandros, we arrived at the port with loads of time to spare, which was fortunate because our ferry arrived and departed a half hour ahead of schedule. We just can’t figure out how this works out for people.

So our arrival on Naxos is what got me thinking about this theme. We knew that there was a bus that could take us to a town near where we were staying, but we weren’t sure if the bus would be running since it was a Sunday. We also weren’t exactly sure where we needed to end up – our new friend Astrid (her family owns and runs the farm where we’ve been staying) said that she could pick us up in one of two towns and that we should let her know where we’d be. Because of all of our adventuring on Folegandros, we hadn’t finalized plans with Astrid. So there were lots of unknowns on the journey from Folegandros to Naxos. The first, as mentioned earlier, was that our ferry departed a half hour earlier than scheduled. No idea why…but we sure were glad we’d left time to spare for once. It turned out that this got us to Naxos in time to catch an early bus and to meet the first of a long string of some of the most wonderful people we’ve ever encountered. With all of our bags strapped to us, we headed away from our ferry and toward the buses. We stopped at the first one we came to, asking if it was headed to Apeiranthos, hoping we were pronouncing it correctly. A man who was not the driver but seemed to be in charge told us that it was, but that we needed to purchase our tickets in a nearby building.

So the plan, not at all airtight, was to find a café in Apeiranthos with wifi. We’d come across these on all other islands, so we were hoping to check Sarah’s email one last time to see if Astrid had confirmed plans with us. Apeiranthos is an incredibly charming area, and by charming, I mean very old school. Some of the people we came across probably don’t know what wifi is. We stopped in one of a cluster of cafes and met two more wonderfully helpful women. They told us that there are no internet cafes, but the guy around the corner has internet on his own computer. Because I was carrying 50 pounds through 90+ degree heat, I was certain I could smooth talk my way into some computer time. On the short walk around the corner, we decided to ask for a phone instead, hoping for a quick conversation to figure out our plans. Enter the next woman, personality similar to a bulldozer, but completely kind and helpful. We asked about using a phone, she asked if we had a phone card, we told her that we didn’t, she ordered the man behind the counter to hand her his phone. To paint the full picture, Naxos is where we’ve come across the least amount of English and the most confused and apologetic looks when we try to speak with people. So this lady, as well as the two who sent us to her, was a relief. We told her our ultimate need – to find a way to our cottage. She told us that she’d call us a cab and that we should call Astrid to find out where to meet up. She did the dialing and I did the talking. Astrid speaks a fair amount of English, but is soft-spoken and has a thick German accent, so the conversation, which took place in a narrow entryway of a café with 50 pounds still strapped to me, was a bit exhausting. We got cut off once, so the bulldozer called her back. I had a memory of being a kid at school, making plans with a friend to get together and saying something like, “Have your mom call my mom.” And that’s what I desperately wanted. This strong Greek personality was taking such good care of us, two complete strangers, but I just wanted her to take the phone from me and then tell me what to do. But I powered through and made our plans. The Greek woman did call the cab for us and told him where to pick us up and where to drop us off. She pointed us in the direction of the cab, and we tried our best to humbly express our deep gratitude. We were realizing that we really would have been up a creek without her. As we passed the first café we had stopped at, the two women asked us if everything had worked out. The genuine kindness we have encountered has been a real inspiration.

The cab picked us up and we relaxed. As usual, we weren’t exactly sure if we’d get to where we needed to be, but it seemed as though we were at least headed in the right direction. Sarah showed the driver the address and he seemed to know the farm. We drove for quite awhile through the winding switchbacks. At one point my timing was just so lucky that I looked over the edge of the mountain to see a small white car, very smashed up, tucked down in the valley. I think I’ve figured out how it got there. The driver told us that he couldn’t take us all the way to the farm because the road was too rustic, so he asked for the number of the farm. And my childlike wish was realized. He called Astrid and rattled off lots of Greek. They were making our plans for us, leaving me to sink further into me seat, thinking that things might just work out. Not long after their conversation, he pulled over to the side of the road and dumped us off. He was kind, but that’s what it felt like. Back in the suffocating heat, strapping our bags to us once again. Here’s hoping the plans were set because our last connection with a phone and a set of wheels was about to drive off, leaving us in totally unfamiliar territory, mostly mountains and very few buildings in sight. Before I had much time to fret, Astrid pulled up and took our bags from us. I really feel like we came to this island with a very shaky plan and lots of hope that we’d find our way. It humbled and encouraged me to be at the mercy of so many people – genuinely kind and helpful – who didn’t think twice about stopping what they were doing to help out a couple of sweat drenched backpackers. We’re so grateful to have come across all of them…it’s been quite a week here on the farm.