Dimos Lesbos

The first glimpse of Superfast 1 at Bari Harbour did not fill me with excitement. A long orange container ship that had seen better days. I remember travelling on the brand new Superfast lX and Superfast X when Scotland had its own international ferry sailings from Rosyth and thought they were better than a lot of cruise ships I had been on. Not so this earlier model. However, in fairness the passenger accommodation was pretty good and promised a comfortable crossing. Three young women from Uraguay were excited about their ‘cruise’ to Greece and immediately started on the ouzo. The Superfast brochure encouraged passengers to to take advantage of the facilities on board, including discos, restaurants, cocktail bars and swimming pools. The girls had clearly omitted to note the small asterisk which indicated that these facilities were not available on all vessels - and certainly not at all on Superfast 1. Undeterred, they proceeded to flirt with the friendly waiter, Alex, posturing and posing for selfies.

Again our 4 berth cabin only had 2 occupants, and this time a tall, grey-haired, slim Greek man joined me. He resembled a latter day Captain Von Trapp or perhaps Captain Corelli himself. Well mannered and considerate, he scarcely made a noise as he disembarked at Igoumenista, Greece at the ungodly hour of 5am.

We passed Corfu and then Kefalonnia, the setting for probably my all-time favourite novel, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, if you can get through the first 100 pages that is. As I sat on deck in the already hot morning sunshine, my mind drifted and, wait a minute, could that be Pelagia laughing and running along the shore, and surely that was Mandras swimming with dolphins. Or was it just a cruel trick of the light and the sea?

The three Uraguyans looked a bit worse for wear in the morning. Perhaps they had discovered hidden night spots on Superfast 1, and I noticed that their Alpha-Female was sporting a sizeable hickey on the left side of her neck. Perhaps Alex was even more friendly than we thought.

Sadly the train no longer runs all the way from the Port of Patras to Athens. However, I managed to catch an express coach on the 2.5 hour journey, which surprisingly was a brand new toll motorway all the way. Greece seems to have benefitted from being in the EU. And what magnificent views of the Gulf of Corinth, including the new Rio-Antirrio bridge connecting the Peloponnese to mainland Greece, and passing close to the wonder that is the Corinth Canal.

A hair-raising sprint across Athens by local bus and Metro brought me to the Port of Piraeus. I didn’t feel too bad about not lingering in Athens as I had been there a few times with Campbell and had enjoyed the some of the many treasures it had to offer. On arrival at the Blue Star Ferry terminal I was told that my overnight ferry to the island of Lesbos had been cancelled - no explanation offered - but that I had been re-booked on the same route with Swan Hellenic Ferries. As I boarded the Nissos Rodos I thought I had gotten the better deal. The ferry was well equipped with comfortable lounges and cafe/bars and a good self-service restaurant. After a tasty dinner of roast beef and potatoes (how do they get potatoes to taste that good?), I retired to my 4 berth cabin to meet my travelling companions. After a while the steward showed in a disheveled elderly man who resembled Zorba the Greek. I don’t know if it was the sight of me sprawled out on the lower bunk, but he began shouting about having booked a more luxurious cabin with Blue Star Ferries and stormed off, never to be seen again. A 4 berth en suite cabin to myself, I thought.

However, just after midnight as I was dropping off, the cabin door was opened and closed suddenly. Was I being burgled on the high seas? I opened the door but there was no sign of anyone. Determined to get to the bottom of it, I marched up to Reception where I was told someone wanted to check in. ‘Three hours after the ship has sailed’, I queried. ‘Well he’s a soldier, and he’s been drinking with his mates in the bar up until now’ I was told. The thought of sharing my accommodation with a drunk, Greek soldier did not appeal, and after a fruitless search for him, the steward advised that he was probably staying the bar. I was told this was a far from unusual occurrence, and as the Army paid for his bunk anyway I could have it all to myself. Result.Leer más