June 14, 2010
A wasp is fighting a losing battle with the light by the kitchen. He angrily buzzes at the light as if he is enraged by the light’s very existence. The wasp wants something from the light. It is upset by the light’s inaction. The wasp is getting tired. I wonder whether it will leave or just die of rage.
I hear the donkey in the yard behind the house walking around in the hilly enclosure, its hoofs clacking against the rocks. A crowd cheers as a team scores a goal in the World Cup. A boat hums as it passes into the harbor. Everything echoes in Hydra at night. People’s voices mix with the call of a bird. Being at Mr Henry’s house is like camping with beds inside. There’s an explosion of barking dogs. I wonder what sent them off.
Hydra is an island reachable by hydrafoil from the port of Pyreas near Athens. Although it is just a short one hour trip, traveling to Hydra is like traveling backward in time one hundred years. Hydra has no cars. In Hydra, there are three forms of transportation; με τα πόδια , με το πλοίο και με γαϊδουράκι (by foot, by boat and by donkey).
Today we went to Kamini beach. The water here is very clear and cool. The beach is rocky. It is hard to get used to at first. However when I dive into the water I forgive everything; sheer bliss. After the swim, we return home to Mr. Henry’s house. The bumble bees in the orange flowers hypnotize everyone to sleep. After our nap we walk to Hydra Town. Max, my two year old son, loves the ice cream. I love the frappes, a frozen coffee drink made of instant coffee and condensed milk. I like them πολύ γλυκό (very sweet). We wander over a path that links Hydra Town to Kamini Port. The path leads to the windmill and along the ocean. We eat at the Taverna above the small port of Kamini and watch the sunset.
Mr. Henry’s house is located on the hill between Hydra Town and Kamini Beach. A bright blue door leads to the inner courtyard. To the left is a building that contains the kitchen. To the right is another two story building with a living room above and the bedrooms below. Across the courtyard from the bedrooms is the bathroom. The dinner room, al fresco style, is simply a large table on the top level of the courtyard. As I lie on the swinging chair in the court yard of Mr. Henry’s house, I notice the wasp is gone. I wonder if it chose to live another day in this beautiful peaceful island.