Sandy Barker - One Summer in Santorini

‘Uh, yeah, I bought some basics for brekkie before we left Santorini,’ said Duncan, ‘but we’ll need to stock the pantry when we get to Ios.’ Duncan had told us during our orientation talk that we would all put money into a kitty to share food for breakfast and lunches, and we could buy stuff for ourselves if we wanted anything different.

Below deck – that’s boat lingo by the way – I hunted through the kitchen, or rather the galley – also boat lingo – and soon realised Duncan had understated ‘some basics’. All I found was two loaves of bread, butter, milk, sugar and teabags – not even instant coffee.

I had been hankering for Greek yoghurt – would it just be called ‘yoghurt’ in Greece? I made a mental note to add it to the list. I also hoped the shop on our next island stop of Ios sold muesli. I know I was travelling, and I probably should have been thinking about adopting some of the local customs, but I also knew what the Greeks had for breakfast. I wasn’t too keen about starting each day with Nescafé and a cigarette.

Toast and tea would have to do. I put the kettle on and put two slices of bread into the toaster. While I waited, I looked through all the cubbies for plates, mugs, spoons – the usual kitchen stuff. It wasn’t a large galley, so it didn’t take long to learn my way around.

‘Need some help?’ said a sexy American voice from behind me. Josh. I smiled over my shoulder and nodded. Not sexist and not lazy.

He took over toasting duties while I set about making mugs of tea. I hadn’t bothered asking if everyone wanted toast and tea for breakfast, because that’s all there was. Fifteen minutes later, we carefully climbed the ladder to the deck, him carrying a mountainous plate of buttered toast and me balancing a tray with mugs of tea, milk, and sugar. I was going to get nimble moving around this boat.

Marie had joined our breakfast club, emerging from her cabin a few minutes after Josh had come down. Everyone gratefully took a mug of tea and a piece of toast. It was quiet in the marina, and I could hear the gentle lapping of the water against boat hulls as we ate and drank in companionable silence. After we decimated the mountain of toast, the conversation turned to the day’s journey to Ios.

Duncan said it would take about four hours and then we’d have the rest of the day to chillax – his word, not mine – but I was all about some ‘chillaxing’ after that crappy night’s sleep. I was also looking forward to a nap, which I guessed fell under the whole chillaxing umbrella.

We wouldn’t see Gerry or Hannah until much later that morning, and Patricia wouldn’t emerge from her alcohol-induced coma until the afternoon.

*

‘Wanna steer?’ I looked up from my Kindle, which is sealed in a Ziploc bag for waterproofing, to see that Duncan was talking to me.

‘Really?’ I hadn’t known I’d get to steer the boat.

‘For sure.’ I looked over at Gary who nodded at me encouragingly.

‘Okay, yeah!’

‘Stand here.’ I put my Kindle down and stood in front of Duncan. ‘Hold the wheel here and here.’ I held my hands at ten and two like he showed me. ‘It’s not like a car; it takes subtle adjustments. We want to head to the right of that island in the middle of the caldera . You got it?’ I nodded. ‘If we start to go too far in one direction, correct our course, but gently. Okay? And I’ll be here if you need help, or if you get sick of it.’

‘Me too,’ added Gary.

‘I got it.’ A grin spread across my face. I was sailing! In truth, I was only steering, but it was one of those cool things I could check off my endless bucket list. Some people have a finite bucket list, but I keep adding to mine. I figure it’s the best way to make sure I keep going out and doing things. Imagine saying, ‘I’m done,’ and then staying home for the rest of your life. That would do my head in. So, sailing (okay, steering) a boat through Santorini’s caldera – check!

It was incredible to feel the responsiveness of the yacht as it sliced through the water. We were sailing under power, as the winds were not cooperating that morning, but it wasn’t like I knew the difference between steering with wind power and engine power. Did I mention I was sailing?

As we passed to the right of the small island, I could see the town of Fira far above us. It was just as spectacular from the water as it was from within. The contrast between the stark white of the buildings and the craggy, reddish cliffs was incredible. I was definitely regretting not spending more time on Santorini. I promised myself I would return someday, adding to the bucket list again.

The sun was already hot, even at ten in the morning, and I tipped my heavily sun-screened face towards it. I inhaled deeply and felt the warm, salty air in my lungs. I’d abandoned my hat as soon as we left the marina, because it kept blowing off, and my unfettered hair whipped around my face. I must have looked quite alluring, because it wasn’t long before Josh came and sat close by, anchoring his feet against the boat and gripping the railing with one hand. ‘Having fun?’

‘Yes!’ I grinned at him. ‘Did you want to have a go?’ I asked, hopeful he’d say no and I could keep my sailing gig a little longer. He may have picked up on that because he waved off my offer.

‘Plenty of time for that. You’re doing a good job.’

‘So, how did you sleep?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, not that well. That’s some pretty loud snoring. I ended up putting in earplugs. They helped a bit.’

‘I thought about you last night.’ Oh crap, not like that . ‘I mean, because of the snoring. Hannah and I were up for most of the night – we took Ambien at around three. I was out after that. She’s probably got more – you should ask her for some.’ Quit rambling, Sarah .

He shrugged. ‘I guess I can always go sleep in the dining nook if it gets too much.’

‘And how is Patricia otherwise? Did you talk to her much?’

‘A little when we got back from dinner. She seems pretty interesting. She’s travelled a lot.’ I felt like I’d been rebuked.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that.’

‘It’s cool. I didn’t think you did.’

I hoped not. I didn’t want him thinking I was bitchy. I wasn’t – well, not really. I decided I would talk to Patricia when she eventually woke up – she couldn’t be that bad.

Several hours later, Patricia emerged wearing a voluminous kaftan and a sour expression. She squinted at us, then sashayed over and plonked down next to Josh. I got a waft of sweat and stale alcohol and tried unsuccessfully to stop my nose from scrunching.

She can’t be that bad , I reminded myself, but it didn’t take long to regret my decision to engage her in conversation.

‘Well, there’s your problem right there,’ she said. I hate when people say that, as though it’s soooo obvious why you’re soooo stupid.

‘Sorry? What do you mean?’

‘You went all the way to Lake Titicaca, but you didn’t cross the border into Bolivia? Rookie mistake. You missed the best part!’

We were talking about my trip to Peru. Her being a citizen of the world, I’d decided that travel would be a safe topic on which we’d find some common ground. I was wrong. Apparently having world citizen status gives you carte blanche to be a superior twat about everywhere you’ve been that other people haven’t.

‘Well, I couldn’t really cross the border considering we were on an organised trip.’ She scoffed at this with what sounded like a ‘huff’. I thought it was somewhat hypocritical considering she was currently on an organised trip . ‘Well, anyway, I really enjoyed Peru.’