We left. We were on our way. White car. Small. Thessaloniki recedes in the side mirror. The Spaniard Gustavo Santo’s fingers strum on the guitar strings in perfect synchrony with the changing Mediterranean scenery. My partner takes it all in serenely from the right side window. She is in her own space. Flying with it. My eyes steal calming glances from the left hand window as I drive. I’m in my own space. Not locked into any particular script. It will be written on the way. Minutes pass by. The sights change. The three important figures in our lives are in the back sleeping. The American from the navigation app silences the Spanish guitar. “Turn right.” So I turn. The Spaniard with the guitar returns. The American leaves.

Quiet. Highway.

Granite cliffs. Talk about a climbing wall.

A speeding Mercedes overtakes a rattling tractor.

Talk about the traditional Greece that does not give in to the modern world.

Hours go by. The road begins to twist and turn.

A pine forest.

A bend in the road.

Oak groves.

A turn.

A bay dotted with sails.


A dead motorcycle gets a ride on a barely living pick-up truck.

I glance at the map that looks like an endless digestive system.

From time to time the road straightens out and allows taking the scenery in.


Vineyards. Give me an appetite for munching on some grapes. So delicious. Like when we were kids.


A pyramid of watermelons.


Olive groves. Never ending.

Rows and rows of orchards. Irregular. Every tree gloriously beautiful. Each trunk chiseled differently. Each one has a specially designed personality. They speak to and look at each other.

Looking into the headlights of passing cars as if to ask, where are you rushing to? Come, sit among us. We’ve seen it all. Do you want some clues?!

The American from the app comes back and announces “You have arrived.”

Fatigue yields to excitement.

A simple tavern. A beautiful porch.

Yamas! To life! Cold beer.

My partner cries from excitement. The children are happy.

What can I say? Sometimes dreams come true.