love

Monday morning I set out for Lakki to meet Franco with a sense of anticipation, not knowing where any of this might lead.

He had suggested I meet him at his office, Akmar Marina. I could not find any reference to this on Google Maps but felt confident that Lakki being a pretty small place I would find it eventually.

I passed through the main part of town and out to what clearly was some kind of marina, and parked next to the Customs House. After wandering around I could not spot anything that looked like an office and no signs that said Akmar or anything close. I got back into my car and drove further up the quays into the port area. I parked up again and looked around. There was a ferry ticket office, a wholesaler’s warehouse and a sort of café cum canteen with a few guys hanging out, out the front. Still nothing that looked like an office.

I decided to walk back towards the Customs House to see what I might come across, and lo and behold, right where I had originally parked there was a small building without any signs, that looked like it might be an office. I tentatively opened the door and a man looked up, smiled and said “Ah, David?”.

He sat me down. I do not speak Greek, and he does not speak English, so he indicated I should sit and wait  for someone to come and interpret. I was in no hurry.

After 10 minutes or so Maria, who runs the nearby War Museum, arrived. She had an Australian accent; her parents were from Leros and she had returned to live here a few years ago. The three of us talked for  good while, and it was very moving in a way that is hard for me to put my finger on. The main thing that came across was how deeply significant the Battle of Leros is for the Lerians, and how genuinely grateful they were to people like my father who had put their lives at risk to try and defend them against the invading German forces. Maria particularly expressed a genuine deep respect and admiration for my father that moved me close to tears.

Franco showed me a couple of grainy film reels and some passages in a book that was in Greek and one in Italian which unfortunately I could not understand. He suggested I go to the library in Platanos, essentially the capital of Leros, where they have a copy of the Italian book in English that he would arrange to have them lend me, which I vowed to do.

Franco then phoned Thanasis, a young man who runs a private museum his father had established, and passed on my mobile number to him. A few moments later Thanasis messaged me with his number. A new contact, excellent. I replied and asked if he had heard of my father which he said he had, which felt quite remarkable. Maria urged me to ask to visit his museum which was by invitation only. I said I would later. I felt more comfortable with an invitation coming unbidden. Ten minutes later he messaged and invited me to come to the museum at 6.00 pm that evening, or the following day, Tuesday. I was delighted. I wasn’t sure how my day was going to unfold, and said I would get back to him later in the day.

Although the meeting with Franco had not really given me any new information, it had affected me deeply and I set off to the War Museum with the beginning of a far deeper sense of where I was, and how I was connected to this place through my father. Maria wished me well, and told me that as a sign of respect to my father, the entry to the museum would be free of charge.

I went up to the museum and was greeted at the entrance by the woman overseeing it that day “… ah, you must be the man we are waiting for!”, she smiled, and then showed me in. I tried to pay, or at least make a donation but it was politely and firmly refused.

The museum was interesting and certainly gave me a sense of the intensity of the Battle of Leros, however it left me wanting in some way. I took my time going round and watched the short film about the 52 day German bombing campaign and the invasion itself. I left feeling thoughtful but mildly dissatisfied; it felt to me that the museum lacked soul.

As suggested I drove to Platanos to seek out the library which I duly found, but it was closed, and after asking around I got the impression that it was unlikely to open. I was not too concerned as  it did not feel vital to see an English version of the book shown to me by Franco, so I headed back to my hotel.

I arrived back at my room feeling very positive and light. The morning had proved a good start to my Leros adventure, and I had a new contact. I made a bite to eat and was about to wash up when I was surprised by the phone in my room ringing. It was the hotel manager. The guy whose car I had hit the day before was here because he has since found a problem. My heart sank and I went down to talk with him. Apparently he now had an issue with his steering caused by the accident. I apologised profusely and gave him the contact details of the car rental company. The manager was very sympathetic and the car owner was very decent and relaxed too. They both tried their best to reassure me but I went back up to my room with my bubble thoroughly burst.

Kostas, from the rental company, then rang me, saying the car owner had called him and I would have to meet him at a garage to assess the damage to my car. A little later he messaged me a time and place. I was now certainly in no state of mind to visit the other war museum that evening, so I messaged Thanasis to arrange to meet him at 6.00 pm the next day.

In the late afternoon I drove off to Alinda and met Kostas and followed him to the garage. Everybody was very kind and relaxed, very much trying to put me at my ease. After a while they came up with a figure of €250 plus VAT to fix my car, and reassured me that the damage done to the other car would be covered by their insurance. I would simply have to pay the €250 and then claim it back from the booking agent, who I had insured it with.

I left feeling unsure of myself and stressed, hoping that all he said was true. The feeling that I was somehow being watched over and guided by heavenly forces was waning.

I got back to my room, freshened up and walked to Panteli for dinner, feeling preoccupied and a bit on edge.  A decent meal, a glass of wine and a pleasant return walk helped lift my spirits, and when I got back to my room I settled myself on my balcony with a beer feeling a little more content. All would be well.

I then heard a ‘clack’. My phone had slipped out of my pocket onto the balcony floor. I picked it up and saw the screen had gone black the phone was completely dead. My heart sank once again. The last time this had happened with my phone it was dead for several days until I managed to get it fixed. What was I going to do?! How will I find Thanasis the next day without Google maps? How would I keep in touch with Dorothy? What about my Ryanair boarding pass? What about the PIN numbers for my cards I keep secretly on there now I can’t use Apple pay? I suddenly felt very vulnerable and span out completely.

I messaged Dorothy from my laptop, she was kind and lovely and did her best to comfort me. I then climbed into bed to read and then hopefully sleep, praying my phone would come back to life. But I was wired, and stayed awake to well gone 2.00 am.

It is curious, as an anxious energy had been sitting within me since I had arrived. It felt very old and very deep, and somehow connected to my dad. My god, what fear and anxiety was he feeling while he was here and during all his other exploits during the war? This is not to diminish what I was feeling, for what I was feeling was, for me, in that moment, very intense and real. But I did become aware that this journey here was a big deal for me, and that I had been carrying an inherent anxiety all my life that comes rushing forth screaming when triggered. I now ask myself “what have I inherited from those who have gone before me, and in particular from my father, passed along in my DNA?”

I do not know, but I do know that I came here for a reason, and that this journey would be a roller coaster. Strap yourself in.

I eventually fell into a fitful sleep.