When One Door Closes...

Yesterday, being Monday and our day off, we decided to make plans to go to Issos beach in the southern part of the island. We had been told that this was a beautiful place with white sand dunes, very few tourists, and surrounded by gorgeous water, so we were very excited. We packed the car full of food, drinks, towels, sunscreen, and frisbees so that we would have plenty to do once we got down there. After weaving through the narrow streets of Corfu Town, we met one of our Greek friends and stopped to ask for directions. After piling back in the car, Katherine reached under the steering wheel to hotwire it into starting (since that’s what you have to do), and it didn’t start. We were stranded and our plans immediately fell through since we didn’t want to drive the car 25 kilometers away under the probability that it wouldn’t start again.

We found a friendly man who jumpstarted the battery, and we carefully drove back to the house—all of us secretly mourning the fact that we would now have to hang out on our own beach, which was nothing new or exciting. We make make-shift plans to eat at Captain George’s for lunch, grab some Retsina, and hit the beach closer to home. When we arrived at Captain’s, George felt sorry that our plans had fallen through. Before we could even order our wine and hummus, he scurried away from the table and pulled his wife behind the bar, obviously discussing something important with her. When he returned, he said, “OK, girls, I am going to take the rest of the day off and we will go North to rent a boat and go to the beaches there. ΕΝΤΑΞΕΙ?” We all looked at each other with surprise and said, “Of course!”

An hour later we were piling into Georges pickup truck (I love the man even more because he has one!) and were off to the northern portion of the island. We passed restaurants on the way, and George would honk at the restaurant owners who were sitting on the patios and tell us stories of how he knows them. We sat comfortably in his car, enjoying sitting on leather seats and in a vehicle that actually had some form of suspension, and marveled at the passing views of olive groves, blue-green water, and coral villages tucked into the trees on the hills high above us. We arrived at Agni beach near Kassiopi and immediately ran off the dock into the aqua water. We spread our towels and nestled ourselves into the sun-drenched rocks on the beach, taking in the view of lovely houses, passing boats, and the silhouette of the mountains of Albania, which was only a mile across the water.

We later rented a boat, just like George had promised, and drove around the inlets and private beaches, taking a chance to jump off the bow of the boat when the water looked particularly inviting. We passed the warped rocks of cliffs and unbelievably beautiful homes on the hilltops before arriving in Kassiopi to get a coffee and begin our journey back to Agni beach.

We got off the boat and stood on Agni beach to look at the view once more before we left. I felt small under the sky and humbled by the mountains that loomed on either side of me. I dug my toes into the smooth, hot rocks under my feet and recalled feeling weightless and breathless in the cool, salty water of the Ionian Sea. I thought to myself, “Thank God the car broke down. Maybe our plans should fall through more often.”