Friday, February 08, 2008

Paros, or my summer with the President of the RA

What? Me??? Pass up an impromptu trip? Never have, never will. So when Honest Abe called on-the-fly and asked if I'd like to meet him in Greece, I was on the phone negotiating hotels and airfare before the receiver got cold. In the span of two days, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, a one week idyllic holiday to Greece was arranged--with a free airline ticket using frequent flier miles to boot. Even if I had to endure the pain of returning Business class ("that's all we have available, ma'am"--"I'll take it" being my greedy reply)...
My flights were uneventful, and I went carry-on since I'd have an hour stop in Amsterdam and didn't want to risk the chance of any bags not reaching Athens. If my luggage didn't get to Athens, we'd be in a spot of trouble, since our ferry was set to leave Piraeus just three hours after landing. So no luggage.
As I made my way out of customs with my carry-on bag, I saw Apo patiently waiting for me.
All clear, I thought. We both had made it--although his flight from Yerevan was a mere 2.5 hours and I didn't think there would be a problem on his end.
"I'm so glad you made it!" I said to him, as he pointed to the driver waiting to take us to Piraeus.
"You don't know what I've been through!" sighed Apo looking somewhat haggard in contrast to the amazing freshness of my been-flying-for-15 hours face.
Settling in the cab, I turned to him quizically without saying a word and he began recounting the whole sordid story: arriving at Zvartnots in the morning, being told the flight was delayed until midnight, then scrambling like a madman to find a flight anywhere, somewhere, just to try to make it to Athens as soon as possible.
The staff at Zvartnots made no apologies for failing to call and notify him that the flight was delayed. So he went to every airline counter he could, and finally finagled a seat on the Yerevan-Munich bound flight, and from Munich caught a connection to Athens--absolutely miraculously arriving at the same scheduled hour, 11 am.
Incredible. I was speechless. What could top that?
We were both really looking forward to this break--a time to leave worldly worries behind for just a few days and go into deep relaxation-hibernation mode..
We boarded the perry at Piraeus after having an overpriced beer and Greek salad at the port cafe, filling in the gaps of time and stories, relaxing on the way to Paros.
This was the first trip I had ever planned with a travel agent--we have traveled the world with ourselves as guides, from renting houseboats in Amsterdam, to train trips to Zermatt, to any off-the-beaten-track place I could find. So with this trip, it was all a no-brainer, and all transfers were taken care of. I didn't have to think about anything, only where to roam and forage for food. It was almost too perfect.
The ferry arrived and we disembarked and found our transfer. After 20 minutes, we made it to the hotel.
The hotel itself, Astir of Paros, is billed as a "five star", but I'd say that's somewhat of a stretch. It comfortably exists somewhere between 3.5 and 4. The best part about it is a lovely private stretch of beach. And although the pool area and pool bar were lovely enough, I could not understand the throngs of people sunbathing by the pool, when just steps away white sand and warm water beckoned. For some reason, we-- and an elderly German couple that Diana (the German-transplant-cool-pool bar hostess) said come every year--were the only ones who preferred the beach.
Check it out yourself: http://www.astirofparos.gr/paradise.php.
Although our week-long trip at the end of August proved to be the stuff of legend, as you'll soon see--it was remarkable for being unremarkable at the same time. Eat, swim, eat, swim, eat, swim. It was difficult to coax me out of the lovely blue, warm sea. I'd hop in right after breakfast and not venture out until about the fortieth time Abe said "Let's get out in a half hour and get ready for dinner, shall we?" While other guests inexplicably enjoyed their lounge chairs near the pool, Abe and I had the beach--lovely Kolymbithres on Paros--all to ourselves for the better part of three days. Why leave?
Aaahh, Kolymbithres beach. Unspoiled and lovely.
It was in fact our first trip to Paros, having been to Greece nearly 20 years earlier and never venturing past Hydra at that time. Paros is not a party island--go to Mykonos or Thira (Santorini) for dancing on tables. Paros is a place to unwind, get some RnR, and clear the head.
The rooms at Astir of Paros are not overly ostentatious, and our studio was even a bit on the spartan side, but the grounds are lovely, with magenta bouganvillea and palm trees, and the bed quite comfy and nice. With the French doors propped open at night, you can fall asleep to the crashing of the waves from the beach, just meters away, lulling you into a deep, relaxing sleep.
The morning of our first full day, we sauntered off to the buffet to get some victuals before beaching ourselves like whales on the lovely sand of their private beach.
Looking for the buffet table, my Armo radar immediately zeroed in on an Armo head.
"Armo alert, 3 o'clock" I said to Abe as we walked past. Apo didn't hesitate and turned to said-Armo head and cheerfully said "Pari louys."
"Bari louys" came the somewhat startled reply.
I rolled my eyes. "Geez, how the hell did we get so lucky? Is it impossible to have an Armo-free vacation these days?!!" I muttered wildly while we helped ourselves to breakfast (fresh fruit, yogurt, honey & nuts, mini croissants and breads, and the more traditional eggs and sausage).
A lithe blonde passed in front of me with a child in her arms looking at the breakfast offerings. More of the Armenian contingency. I was not a happy camper. When I need my privacy, I'm not much of a social animal. But what to do? Perhaps they felt the exact same way--I suppose they want privacy, too. Why else visit such an out-of-the-way island hotel?
We parked ourselves at a table (all near the pool, meters away from the sea) and a waiter came by to bring us French press coffee, orange juice, or espresso.
We sat eating, when a man in shorts and a baseball cap made his way down the footpath to our table. "Aman, Kocharianin ge nmani" said A.
A second later, A. shot up like a lightning rod and said "Pari louys, Baron Nakhakah!"
I was dumbfounded. My mouth hung open and finally I pursed my lips to say the same.
The President... of the RA... sat down.
While we both sat mouths agape, the President, posing as an average Joe in full casual attire, nestled his granddaughter on his knee and told us he was "visiting with the family." A., trying to fill the uncomfortable void, turned on the Scorpio charm and began recounting the improbable manner in which he arrived in Athens (delayed flights, other flights, yada yada yada). The President listened intently and as I looked at A., for a moment I could no longer hear him speak, although he was animated enough. It was because at that moment, my eye caught a slight facial reaction in the Chief. It was almost a grimace. A few moments later, he politely rose from the table, wished us a happy holiday, and went to the buffet room with his toddler granddaughter.
Abe and I looked at each other and burst into laughter. Not only was this hilarious, but so infinitesmally improbable as to be surreal. Three days on an island, and you're sharing the hotel with the President of the RA, his family, and security detail (identity of formerly mentioned Armo head thusly revealed). "You realize what that means, don't you?" we almost said to each other in unison--"...he jacked your plane!!!!" hahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Even if it weren't true, the story could not be funnier. But it does explain the facial reaction upon hearing Abe's sad flight story.
Who really knows for sure?
After breakfast, the contingency was out in its full glory: the lithe blonde (the 'hars'), the sons, security, and the First Lady herself. A van came to pick them up, no doubt taking them on a private excursion.
We were somewhat relieved. At least now we had the beach to ourselves.
At some point during the day, the Chief's local 'host' came to scope the situation (to find out why we happened to be there, I suppose), and discovering nothing untoward, left us alone until we left the island.
On the morning of our third and last day, we had breakfast as usual. Before leaving the island to discover Thira (Santorini), I decided to take one last afternoon swim. As I waded into the water, I saw a woman with a baseball cap walking in with me. It was the First Lady. We both took a nice swim, Kolymbithres all to ourselves, far far out into the sea. And as I enjoyed the last moments on Paros, I marvelled at how strange life is and how you can never know who or what's coming around the bend.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home