#069 – Athens & Crete

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After finishing off a lovely week in Athens, we arrived in Chania, Crete, on Monday afternoon.

I am currently writing on the balcony of our 25 square metre apartment a few streets back from the Old Town.

The Cretan sunset acts as a lazy backdrop in front of which a light breeze gently muffles the sound of an old couple in an intense argument over the state of Greece’s political affairs on my left, and a young boy learning to the play the bouzouki on my right.

Man, I love this country.

***

There’s this interesting dichotomy when it comes to the concept of time on holidays.

On the one hand, time moves really slowly.

Not in a dull or boring way – quite the opposite, actually. Much like when we were kids and the days, weeks, months, and years feel extremely long with our brains constantly being exposed to novel surroundings.

We’re taking in all sorts of new information to be processed for the very first time.

New experiences, new people, new words, new sounds, new smells, new…everything.

The experience is vastly similar whilst travelling as an adult.

Being exposed to so many things that we are not accustomed to catalyses our senses into overdrive and with each unit of time being a lot less predictable or repetitive, they appear to be that much longer.

However, the contrast to this sensation is, of course, the old adage that ‘time flies when you’re having fun’. I didn’t even realise that Wednesday night had crept up on me – almost completely forgot to write the newsletter.

Not sure where I’m going with this rant.

Let me tell you about some of the things that I’ve been up to.

Meet Fred

Despite all of the incredible beaches, food, and sightseeing over the past week, I feel compelled to share with you a chance encounter I had with one of the locals here in Chania just last night.

I was sitting on a bench along the port in the Old Town when a man in his late 70s pulled up alongside me with three fishing rods, two buckets, and a makeshift tackle box.

I moved over and asked him if he would like to sit down; an offer which he was both surprised to receive and grateful to accept.

After realising I was able to speak Greek, he became more attuned to the idea of a genuine conversation rather than just another tourist trying to Google Translate their way through a painful bout of small talk.

“Where are you from, Australia or America?”, he asks tongue-in-cheek as he begins to open one of the buckets which are virtually overflowing with homemade fish bait. A concoction of bread crumbs, flour, and cheese, as he later explains.

Having received this question more times than I can count since I got here, I chuckle and reply, “Australia, but all of my family is from Greece.”

“Where abouts?” he swiftly responds with genuine intrigue as he tilts his head towards my direction.

"Up north on the mainland, near Thessaloniki”.

He smiles endearingly as he now begins to arrange his hooks without looking, sheer muscle memory at play.

“That’s near where I’m from.”

“Oh really?” I reply as I begin to rattle off as many towns and cities that my mediocre memory of Northern Greek geography can muster up.

To each, he simply grins and offers the vague reply of, “Nah, a little further north than that.”

After seeing me inevitably reach an intellectual dead-end, he glances again in my direction, chuckles to himself, and deems me worthy enough to divulge a few chapters of his life story to.

“I was originally born in Albania, that’s where my family’s from. It’s where I grew up.”

“But with the difficulties in the country and with the war, I needed to find a place to raise a family – somewhere that offered a more stable and secure lifestyle for me and my wife.”

“One of our friends from my village told us that there were lots of opportunities on this Greek island called Crete. That was 33 years ago – and here I am.”

Having now extended and wound his first rod, he casts it out 40 metres after patiently waiting for a gap in the foot traffic that offers sufficient room so as to avoid disturbing anyone in his vicinity.

We continue talking and continue talking.

An hour goes by.

I patiently sit and observe, asking the odd question here and there.

He tells me that he is an electrician by trade but enjoys coming down to the port and fishing as often as he can.

I notice that In everything he does, he is extremely purposeful yet simultaneously casual.

From the way he sits to how he unties fish from the hook.

He knows what he is doing and why he is doing it but never moves with an ounce of desperation.

If a fish is on the hook, he slowly gets up and begins to reel it in. No hastiness. No panic.

He thinks, “If I’m meant to catch that fish, it will be there no matter how quickly I pick up the rod.”

A second hour passes by.

He has three rods set up on a holding apparatus yet always finds something small to do. Adjust the hooks for the next cast, remix the bait, untangle wires, basically anything to pass the time.

Every now and then someone walking along the port would walk up to where we were sitting and begin to observe. To each one, Fred would offer the same cheerful smile and greeting in return.

Just happy to be chatting with people who are willing to chat to him.

***

One of the things that really struck me about this encounter was his “purposeful yet casual” approach not only to fishing, but to life.

He was purposeful in moving to Crete in search of a better life but happy to be easy-going with the ‘how, what, and who’ of moving to a completely foreign place.

He was purposeful in applying his skills in an electrical trade knowing that there were lots of developments to be built on the island in the coming decades, yet casual in his approach to work and enjoying his lifestyle.

It’s given me lots to reflect on…

Thanks for reading! Grateful for your support.

Stay hungry, stay humble, stay curious. ⚡

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