Σάμος

MARCH 11, 2022 – Though Samos accommodated plenty of German tourists 41 years ago, the island remained largely unspoiled and undeveloped. On our mopeds, Uli and I explored lots of territory, mostly along the 100-mile shoreline of the island. Among the jagged, rocky, drop-offs along the edge of the road overlooking the waters below, we found beaches occupied, but not over-crowded, by his fellow Germans—Samos offered ample sand to be shared by sun worshippers. As an alpinist and a fellow skier, however, Uli was no more inclined to laze around than was I. Each of us had traveled to Samos mainly for its scenery, and except for brief rests and swimming in the refreshing sea, we deviated little from our moped expeditions.

One afternoon we stopped at a small, seaside village café. While sipping fresh lemonade and devouring baklava, I scribbled notes for a letter home: “I can hardly begin to sketch what I’ve seen, but perhaps your imaginations can ‘draw’ from the following palette: red poppies, yellow snap dragons, and pink rhododendron; soft green pines, deep green cedars, and silver olive trees; white pebble beaches, turquoise water, and deep blue seas; winding, car-free roads, well-scrubbed seaside villages with cheerfully colored fishing boats, and happy Greeks playing backgammon and sipping ouzo under the shade of a cherry tree; towering, inaccessible mountain peaks; glorious sunrises and spectacular sunsets. The pace and style of Samian life matches the warm soft, sunny climate.  Here one can feast on the simple pleasures of life.”

My only “close call” on Samos was on a rare straight-away along the south shore of the island. We were zipping along at top speed when—ZAP!—my right nostril “caught” a bee. My first reaction: “Don’t crash.” My second: “Don’t get stung inside the nose.” I came to a quick stop, gently pressed my hand against my left nostril and blew through my right nostril. The bee—no less surprised than I, I’m sure—made a beeline for safety without leaving a stinger behind. I was ever so grateful.

In the evenings, we’d stroll from Kokkari to Samos City—little more than a larger town—for dinner at one of the outdoor eateries. We’d always meet people along the way and wind up inviting or being invited to the big meal of the day. Each of those protracted encounters with good people and delectable nourishment seemed to honor an ideal of ancient Greece: civilized humanity.

In 2012, my wife and I with two other couples/friends took an east-Mediterranean cruise. One of our day-long ports of call was Kusadasi, Turkey. From there our ship steamed toward Samos, and though we made no landfall, we charted a course close along the north shore of the island. As familiar landmarks appeared, a rush of fond memories carried me back to my exploration of that paradise.

Aboard the cruise ship, however, Zeus imposed his Tantalean punishment: Just as Samos was within sight but beyond reach, my youth was recallable but not relivable.

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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson