LENEA AND CRETE -8-

 VIII

Although, with every mile I cover enters more of a distance between Lenea and I, she is almost still looking at me through the windshield. So soft, so human, so real. I may have to carry you around with me throughout my trip Lenea. That is fine with me if it is with you, too. To my left the terrain is getting more and more sheer and rugged. I haven’t heard, yet, the stories I will in couple of days from the locals about the fierce fights that took place in these mountains during WWII. The brave men who helped the Jews of the island the Nazis and their local collaborators were after, flee the island to meet their final fate in the middle of the Libyan Sea. The same breed must have helped their Turko friends to leave the island the night before an imminent massacre at the turn of the 20^th century after WWI. I will learn how tens of thousands of Jewish population on the island was decimated to almost nonexistence, thanks to Hitler and the frenzy he and his like-minded fellows created all over the world. I will see first-hand in Chania, how the one remaining Jewish temple is almost a shack now in the back streets of town with almost only tourists like me visiting from time to time, not often. When my gaze wonders to the left, all I see is the grandeur and wild and inviting beauty of the purple blue mountains. At the end of my trip when I travel to Chania on my own to catch my plane early in the morning, I will almost have a de ja vu moment with images of the Cretan guerillas scattered into the mountainous landscape.

Not my own photo since I was in a rush to get to Sofia on time, but better than nothing. This is how Rethymnon and any other town on Crete embraces the Aegean or the Meditarrenean, almost leaning into The Water.

In the distance is a city, must be Rethymnon. Had I not known I am on Crete, I could’ve easily mistaken it for Phokai, one of my favorite destinations on The Aegean, on the Turkish side of The Water. In Phokai, the two little bays adjacent to one another look like generous, fertile breasts of The Mother Aegean thrusting herself onto the land. What I am looking at from the top of a hill is almost not a city but an elegant necklace along the delicate curves of The Aegean. Red rooftops shimmer under the sun reminiscent of precious stones. The white wash of the exterior of the buildings is accentuated by the bright, blinding Cretan sun. Here I come, namesake. You are Rethymnon in Greek, Resmo in Turkish. I am Resmiye in formal circles, Resmo in familiar. I like you already. It is almost like meeting an old, good friend, even if I have never met you before. In the depth of my heart, I know you. I have waited all this long to meet you. I am nervous about how you will greet me, whether you will also like me, if you will embrace me as ready as I am to embrace you.

I am now idly driving down a road that is meandering into the heart of town, it looks like. I want to take my time to take in all I can. Streets are narrow, so be it. I know this kind of driving. I notice the Cretan testosterone is not as bad on the streets of the city as it was on the highway. That is good, I like the prospect of more peaceful, less stressful driving. There it is, my hotel, on the left. Cute, warm, a welcoming place. I greet the female receptionist in Greek. She is very friendly, I like her. A Cretan beauty. Wide shoulders, sturdy, strong hands, pleasant but confident demeanor. Yes, I like her. I manage our business in Greek, valla! I am one happy camper as I head up toward my room. I survived the testosterone on the highway, I met a very interesting local, whose story may be entangled with mine for some time, and here I am in safe quarters in a land I am dying to discover.

The moment I walk in the phone rings. Hmm, either the receptionist thought of something to tell me or Sofia is extremely punctual to make a plan for the evening. Neither! It is Lenea. It looks like Lenea will travel with me on this island. I am surprised to catch myself feeling happier that it was Lenea not Sofia. It is interesting how our inner territory of feelings has a will of its own. It does what it desires or needs to without paying attention to what needs to be desired or needed. As in falling in love, as in grieving after a major loss, as in encountering a scene that may call for our help, as in meeting somebody, who will become a life-long friend.  I recognize gently, this is one of those moments. Who knows what role I will play in her life, what role she will play in mine.  Dear Lenea, she must have left the shop as soon as I left to go home to get the phone number she promised to give me. She must be burning with a desire to reconnect with her daughter. I understand Lenea’cim.

We start talking. I must say, she does most of the talking and I do my best to get the most out of what she says. I am a good listener. She gives me a phone number. I assume it is her daughter’s. However, things are getting complicated; what I am hearing is confusing. Perhaps I misunderstood her the first time we discussed this issue. She is telling me now, she doesn’t have a phone number for her daughter. The number she gave me is her own phone number, why do I need that I don’t quite understand at this point. Wait a minute, she has more plans, Lenea the manager, she does have plans. She tells me, she will take a bus and come to my hotel tomorrow morning and we will go to Chania together! Oh, my, I chuckle affectionately. I want to be able to say “Yes.” to her right now, those three letters are at the tip of my tongue. Ah, Lenea, I wish I could, but I can’t. I can’t utter that word, not just, yet, my dear. This cortex of mine is keeping an upper hand over what my inner child, the helper in me would like to do and say. That yes has to wait until I meet my hostess and introduce this crazy story to her when the right time comes. I know how miserable one may feel when patience is all one can rely on at a moment patience is most uncalled for. This is life Lenea, we all go through paths that feel most difficult to cover, at times.

She is disappointed but understands. She will wait to hear from me. My heart is singing, she is not a lost cause, yet. She is trying to understand my position as well as she is pursuing her lovely agenda. I like you Lenea. We will live through this and will see what will come out of this story my dear. I will do my best to help you in any way I can. These are the thoughts I think, very little of which I can convey. I hope she feels what I feel deep down. We hang up after “Adios”es. As soon as the phone hits its socket, comes another ring.  This time it is Sofia, speaking in English. Oh my, what a relief, to be able to speak in a language in which everything flows out of one’s mind and mouth and lips all too easily with no conscious decision-making. She sounds as friendly and warm as everybody I met on this island so far. What a delight. She is coming down to my hotel, she lives in walking distance. We will take a walk along the harbor and will choose a place to eat. Just her and I. Lovely.