Across the Adriatic

This week’s Mustard Seed begins as we slip into Greece. A Europe on a Budget travel guide we picked up along our way suggested combining hotel and travel expenses by taking the night ferry from Italy to Greece, so our hasty trip south through Italy ended at the Brindisi ferry pier. It also highly recommended a stopover in Corfu. Once aboard we found our overnight accommodation consisted of wooden benches for a fortunate few but a few square feet of steel deck for most.
     We wound our way through a patchwork of rolled-out sleeping bags to a perch atop a life-vest locker where we met a group of more experienced travelers. They also planned to stay a few days in Corfu and had booked rooms in Hotel Europa. They indicated we would be welcomed, as their guests, to use the hotel’s amenities. My sister was thrilled. One of the many things Italy’s toll highway bypassed was public swimming pools — with showers. Upon hearing my sister’s concern, one of the girls in the group jumped up. “Come on, there are showers on the ferry."
      We docked in Corfu. I was still waiting for my sister to return from the showers. I waited. An announcement came over the loud speakers. “Would the owner of the Volkswagen van with license AS5252 please proceed to the car deck?”
      My sister must be waiting for me there. I thought. There were two ferry workers peering through the windows and trying the doors of our van — but no sister. I tried explaining my situation to no avail. We were the first car on the ferry and needed to be the first car off. I didn’t need to speak Italian to understand any challenge to their demands would be futile, their tone was enough. I drove off and parked as much out of the way as possible. I went back on board to seek help finding my sister. I was hustled up to the captain. I don’t know how much he understood but he handed me a microphone. “Hilda! Would you please get off this boat?”
     I was hustled back down and escorted off the ferry. I waited anxiously. The last car drove off. Still I waited. Cars began driving on — still no sister. All cars were boarded and mooring lines were being let loose — still no sister. I began to panic. Not only were we separated in a country where neither of us spoke the language, I was ashore with both passports and my sister was aboard with all the travelers’ cheques. The ship's horn blasted, water began to roil, and the ferry began to move. I waved my arms, jumped about, and shouted. No one seemed to care. My sister finally arrived barely in time to leap to shore.
      Disaster narrowly averted, we went to find Hotel Europa. We parked our van outside the hotel and spent the next few days touring Corfu with our new friends. We showered daily in their room. I always greeted the hotel owner, “Good morning.” He always replied with a scowl.
      Time came for some of our friends to continue on. Those who remained saw them off at the ferry dock. The hotel owner was there seeking new customers. Since he only spoke Greek, he was having little success. He saw us, grabbed my arm, and lead us to his prospective tenants. My recommendations in English and passable French enticed enough tourists to fill all of his vacancies.
     As I headed to our friends’ room for my shower the next morning I was greeted by a beaming smile that I struck me dumb. The owner shook my hand and asked, “No Kaliméra?” ​Translation: "No good morning?"
      Next week: More Greece.
                                                               God bless.

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