The Volcano That Changed The World (14 page)

             
He smiled. It worked; he did feel better. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on back in Tallahassee.

              As they pulled into the harbor at Mykonos—the city had the same name as the island—the first thing Mark saw was a large cruise ship. “The Greek islands certainly are popular with the cruise ships,” he observed. “That explains the hordes of people in the harbor.”

“Don’t knock it,”
Alexia replied, “tourists are the life blood of these islands.”

“Same for Panama City.”

Next he noticed the windmills. Alexia explained, “Those windmills are a landmark of Mykonos. Just like anywhere else, they were once used for grinding grain, but now are part of the tourist attraction. They operate most days because of the steady breeze the island receives.”

The windmills
were squat, white-stucco, cylinder-shaped buildings with a conical thatched roof. On each was a wheel. Radiating out from the wheel’s center were spokes, each of which had a small white triangular cloth sail. All of the wheels turned slowly in the same rhythm.

             
Alexia had made reservations at a small hotel in an area of the city known as “Little Venice” on the east side of Mykonos harbor. “Our hotel is over there,” she said pointing.

Mark could see tightly
packed, colorful buildings directly on the water. The buildings were connected to a beach at one end. The way they jutted out over the water reminded him of pictures he had seen of Venice with structures adjacent to canals. “Do our rooms overlook the water?”

“That’s what I asked for.
” Then she added, “The rooms are small but the ambience can’t be beat.”

They disembarked from
the ferry and walked up the dock through throngs of people into the small city, where compact buildings rose up before them.

             
Along the narrow stone-and-cement pedestrian streets, most of the houses were painted white to reflect the sun, though they had doors painted a variety of bright colors. The contrast of blue and red doors against the white buildings was striking and beautiful.

             
They passed shops and restaurants, hearing conversations in a cacophony of languages.

Alexia
told him, “Because this is a major tourist destination, Mykonos is one of the most cosmopolitan islands in Europe.”

At
one point along the way, Mark stopped and asked incredulously, “What’s that?”

Alexia
smiled, teasing, “That’s a pelican. Why? Don’t you have those in Florida?”

Mark sighed and said, “Of
course we have them in Florida. We have brown pelicans. But they don’t walk around the street with people. What in the world is it doing here?”

She
responded, “It’s known as the Mykonos pelican, the mascot of the island—very popular with the tourists.”

“I see that.”
Observing the slow moving bird surrounded by tourists taking photographs, Mark said, “Because of our Florida pelicans, I memorized a limerick about them by a guy named Dixon Lanier Merritt when I was in high school.”

Shaking her head,
Alexia said reluctantly, “A limerick? That figures. Okay, let’s hear it.”

Setting down his luggage
and thereby freeing his hands, Mark moved them for effect as he began.

A wondrous bird is the pelican.

His bill
holds more than his bellican.

He takes in his b
eak

Enough food for a week

But I’m damned if I see how the hellican!

As Mark finished, an Asian tourist snapped his picture.

             
“I had to ask,” Alexia continued shaking her head. “If you’re finished with your performance, can we please proceed?” She emphasized “please” while her smile broadened.

             
Mark gathered his belongings, acted dejected, and marched on. Along the way, he mumbled, “My teacher didn’t like it either, especially the last line.”

After a
circuitous course through the narrow streets, they reached their hotel and checked in. The quaint, charming hotel was constructed right on the sea’s edge. Although his room was small, he walked out on his balcony to discover that it did indeed overhang the water. The view of the harbor was breathtaking. He stood on the balcony for several minutes soaking in the sight.

Alexia
walked out on her balcony next to his. “Hi, neighbor.”

“Hi back,” he responded,
and then said, “Alexia…”

“Yes, Mark.”

“Good job on the hotel selection.”

She simply smiled and looked
back out at the harbor.

***

             
The next morning, they took the short ferry ride over to Delos, which was only a little over a mile away. Delos was a small island, six kilometers long and fifteen hundred meters at its widest. Mark immediately identified the primary rock as granite and saw no obvious pumice deposits. His attention turned to archaeology.

A
gain Alexia served as tour guide. “Delos, one of the most important archaeological sites in all of Greece, was conquered by King Minos of Crete and became part of the Minoan empire. It was a holy sanctuary long before the Greeks incorporated it into their mythology, making it the birthplace of Apollo and Artemis.”

Mark looked a
round, stunned to silence by the proliferation of ancient ruins.

She
stepped in front of him, “You may recall, Apollo and Artemis, brother and sister, were children of Zeus and thus were gods in Greek mythology, often associated with hunting.”

Mark
sheepishly said, “I guess I should have reviewed my Greek mythology before coming here. I recall Apollo, but not his sister. Sorry.”

Alexia
shook her head. “You remember the male sibling but not the female? Artemis was Apollo’s twin. Her copycat Roman equivalent was Diana. Surely you’ve heard of her?”

When Mark didn’t respond,
Alexia quickly added, “She is a popular subject of many sculptors, often displayed as an athletic nude woman with a bow, another symbol for hunting.”

“
I know a Diana who lives near Denver. Does that count?” Mark asked grinning.

Alexia
ignored him. “Artemis, daughter of the goddess Leto, was often associated with fertility and childbirth, even though she was a virgin goddess. I hope you’re absorbing this; there will be a test later.”

Mark held his hands up in m
ocked submission. “I am. I am.”

Pausing, he added, “Would you like to hear about my friend Diana from Denver?”

This time Alexia, laughing, gently poked him in the ribs.

              They spent the entire day on Delos. There were archaeological sites everywhere and Alexia wanted to visit and discuss with Mark as many as possible. She emphasized Minoan influence on the island’s culture, as seen in the Minoan Fountain, which dated from the sixth century BCE. Mark soon became numb to Doric columns, their uniqueness having faded after the first several dozen. But he did find the Greek sphinx interesting; clearly there was an Egyptian connection. There was even a Delos Synagogue, which he found fascinating.

             
His favorite site, however, was the Stoivadeion, a platform dedicated to Dionysus, the god of wine and the life force. Mark, a fan of wine, had an immediate connection with Dionysus. Reinforcing this as his favorite site on the island, on the platform was a column and perched on top of the column was a colossal phallus.

             
After admiring the phallus for a moment, Mark turned to Alexia. “Now that’s impressive!”

             
Smiling, she shot back, “I told you Greek men were macho.”

             
They both chuckled. Mark was enjoying the day. He liked the way she laughed.

             
In between archaeological sites, Mark observed a dusting of Thera ash on Delos but was not allowed to collect a sample. The minor amount of ash found there was consistent with the dispersal pattern of ash established by others. Delos was not in the path of significant ash deposition.

Time on t
he island sped by. They just caught the last ferry back to Mykonos as the sun began to set.

              That evening, they went to a local restaurant adjacent to the sea. While they waited to order, Alexia, excitement in her voice, asked, “So, what do you think of Delos and Mykonos?”

Mark thought before answering.
“Both islands are interesting in different ways. And both are beautiful. The ancient ruins on Delos are most impressive but I saw no pumice to support the floating island theory. Geologically, Mykonos and Delos are almost all bedrock, which is granite.” He sounded disappointed.

“What do you have against bedrock?”
Alexia asked teasingly.

“Not a thing. Bed
rock makes a sound foundation. But sometimes what is on top of the bedrock is more interesting to me.” As he said this, the waiter approached their table.

Mark ordered
squid while Alexia had the catch of the day. Both dishes came with asparagus.

After the waiter left
, and with a flirtatious smile, Alexia pointed out, “Did you know that asparagus, with its suggestive shape, is thought to be a natural aphrodisiac?”

Immediately, he said with a h
uge grin, “That explains why I’m often fed asparagus when invited over for dine-in dates.”

Shaking her head,
Alexia laughed saying, “You wish!”

             
“Actually, I didn’t know that. I like asparagus, but am happy to share mine with you if you would like more.” He had a twinkle in his eye as he filled their glasses with a white wine.

             
“Thanks, I’m sure I’ll be fine with the portion they serve me.” She thought a moment, and added, “The word aphrodisiac is Greek; its origin is from mythology and the goddess of love, passion, and beauty, Aphrodite.”

             
“Ah, another one of my favorite gods…right up there with Dionysus. The Greeks certainly knew how to select their gods.” He picked up his wine glass to make a toast. “To Mykonos and Delos.”

They clinked
glasses and drank.

L
ater, they watched each other as each ate a spear of asparagus. Alexia picked hers up in her fingers and placed it daintily in her mouth. Mark began laughing and almost choked over her antics. This caused her to have a laughing fit. Another carafe of white wine was required to help them swallow their food.

W
ine flowed liberally as a band began to play Greek folk music on a fiddle and a pear-shaped string instrument called an
oud
. Alexia explained that many of the songs they played originated in the Aegean Islands.

             
As the evening progressed and more wine was consumed, everyone in the restaurant began dancing in a circle—even Mark, who had no idea what he was doing, but was a firm believer that with more wine, one became a better dancer. The songs began slowly and Mark managed to stay in step. As the song continued, the tempo intensified. Trying to keep up, dancing became more challenging, and at some point, Alexia tripped over his foot and fell into him. Catching her, he held her next to him for an awkward moment.

             
She slowly pulled away, saying, “I’m sorry.”

             
“It was my fault,” he apologized. “I’m not used to all the motion in Greek dancing. For Irish dancing, we tend to stand in one place. It’s much easier that way, especially once you’ve had too much to drink.”

             
Still holding his arm, she asked a bit unsteadily, “Shall we return to our table?”

             
“That’s probably a good idea,” he agreed.

             
Mark escorted her back. Sitting but with arms raised, Alexia continued to gyrate to the rhythm.

She said to no one in particular, “If music be the food of love, play on.”

Enjoying her performance, Mark asked, “More Shakespeare?”

Nodding
her head, she responded, “Yes.
The Twelfth Night
.”

             
Later, while finishing the last of their latest carafe of wine, Alexia said, “I have an idea. I have a bottle of ouzo back in my room. We could sit on the balcony, look and listen to the water, and have an after-dinner drink.”

             
“Great idea,” Mark said. He liked the anise-flavored liquor made in Greece, and sharing a glass with Alexia overlooking the bay was appealing. They ducked out of the restaurant and headed back to the hotel.