Unexpected Encounters in Alonissos

On the alluring Sporadic island of Alonissos, a series of chance encounters produce a coincidental friendship of two Greek enthusiasts

ο ελληνολάτρης (noun)

ell-in-o-lat-ris

Meaning: One who adores Greece and anything Greek

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July, 2022.

Whilst the Sporadic islands of Skiathos and Skopelos hum with throngs of tourists spilling out of unsteady ships, the distant sister of the Sporades represents something altogether more serene – and, in my case, serendipitous.

Alonissos finds itself at the end of this scattered island chain, furthest from the mainland and furthest from an international airport. This blessing (or curse) seems to suit the alluring island of Alonissos. Visitors and residents arriving by car must approach the island either from Evia or Volos, with its remoteness stubbornly suppressing the problems with mass tourism seen elsewhere.

Approaching the port of Patitiri on the southwestern flank of the island, the deep verdant inlets and turquoise coves reflect the vivid and lush nature of this island. Nearby, the island’s seas are home to the Northern Sporades Marine Protected Area – the largest such zone in the Mediterranean – which offers a safe haven to the endangered Monk Seal.

In the island’s Chora, beautifully ornamented historic streets lined with boutiques, bars and traditional houses snake up towards the square of National Resistance – situated on a breathtaking outcrop with sweeping views of the rugged landscape and the sun sinking below the surface of the Aegean. This is where I’m staying for my short sojourn on this enchanted island.

Walking out into the comparative cool of the fresh evening breeze, the island feels soothing. A place of relaxation, combined with exhilarating beauty. The Astrofeggia restaurant draws me in. The words “ιμάμ μπαϊλντί” or “imam bayildi” are scrawled delightfully on the wooden A-board in English and in Greek. A favourite dish of mine and many others – spanning Turkey, Greece, Albania, Bulgaria, Bosnia and more – yet omitted from the menu of most tourist tavernas. Also, I later discover, a favourite of the chef. Yes, I’ll eat here.

I walk up to the restaurant’s white-washed courtyard, plant-covered canopy and red gingham tablecloths. “Καλησπέρα”, I begin, as I talk to the hostess to request a table reservation for later that evening.

As I pick my table, give my name and exchange salutations in Greek, we look at each other. “Are you British?”, I stutter.

“Yes!”, the reply comes. There we were, two Brits stood in Greece talking to each other in Greek. An unlikely scene.

I head out to walk one of the village’s cobbled streets. The island feels more magical than ever, now, fresh from this unlikely interaction and I am distracted easily by the beautiful Gorgona antique shop perched on the hillside. From front to back, the shopfront frames the vivifying vistas beyond the olive-green shutters of its wooden windows.

Amidst a cornucopia of island treasures inside the shop, I spot an Oxford Dictionary of Modern Greek. “Δύο ευρώ”, says the shopkeeper as I thumb the pages, “two euros”. Striking up a conversation about the dictionary, the shopkeeper leans in to impart a secret. “It was given to the shop by a former learner of Greek on the island, the kyria at Astrofeggia taverna”.

Instantly, I realise that my new dictionary once belonged to another learner of Greek. ‘Brothers-in-arms’ in tackling the Greek language, the idea that this dictionary had passed from one English linguist to another was warming, comforting and inspiring. Someone else had trodden this path. I couldn’t wait to return to the taverna to tell my friend that her old and well-worn dictionary had found a useful home.

“Do you recognise this?”, I ask, with a smile on my face as I assume my seat at the taverna. My friend’s eyes sparkle with emotion as we share our journey of learning the Greek language; an experience shared by few Brits. She is a linguist, having moved to Greece years ago to relocate to be with her husband after studying Modern Greek.

“Where did you study?”, I ask, as an intrigued student about to take up my place at Oxford.

“Cambridge”, she responds, in another unexpected turn. Sharing a rare moment of Oxbridge solidarity, it is clear that this is a meeting of Greek enthusiasts. One ελληνολάτρης meeting another ελληνολάτρισσα in a completely chance encounter. Today, we meet whenever I pass through Athens – usually swapping notes on the latest museum exhibition, or asking about the next trip to the islands.

Our encounter had the sense of a meeting meant to be, on an island where it was meant to happen. Alonissos is simply that kind of place. A mystically beautiful place of possibility, serenity and fate. This is a story that is unforgettable, in the best possible way. In bringing together two people of different backgrounds, a bond was found by chance in the shared personal connection to Greece, its culture and its language.