Where the Bougainvillea Grows by Gary Cleaver

Author:Gary Cleaver [Cleaver, Gary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Greece
Published: 2015-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Thirty Friends

In the middle of the string of islands that make up the Saronic gulf group lies Poros. It is virtually not an island at all, separated as it is from the mainland by a stretch of water in places no more than three hundred metres wide. Across these narrows little blue and white water taxis ply their trade taking workers and tourists to and from the mainland Peloponnese. In the summer months they are seldom short of passengers. The island is rightly famous for it’s many gift shops and boutiques, as well as its sandy beaches and quaint main town. Like almost every Greek island Poros is at the same time achingly beautiful and hideously commercial. On the mainland side of the narrows is the small town of Galatas, which fittingly looks no more than a poor relation. By the concrete wall on the front a taxi named ‘Anastasia’ lay set to go, her engine running and seven passengers already aboard.

“Yota do hurry up or we shall have to wait for the next one, we do not have all day”. Panayiota Lambakis, thirteen, pretty and splendid in yellow shorts and a white T shirt which featured a green alligator in shades and a sombrero, had no time for her mothers trivial problems, she had after all, just fallen in love. The tiny black and white kitten was trying, without success, to hide under a chair in the waterfront snack bar. It had no idea it was dealing with Katsimila’s number one cat fancier.

“Oh but Mama she is so beautiful” Yota looked closer, “Also she is very thin, we should take her home and care for her.”

Gabriella Lambakis turned back to her daughter, folded her arms. “Yes, why not? What a splendid idea, because as everyone knows, our little town has a terrible shortage of cats. I believe at the last count we were down below seven hundred!” Yota poked out her tongue, she made a last desperate lunge for the kitten, which shrank back further beneath the chair.

“Bye bye little one, Mama wishes me to leave you here to die, but I want you to know that I love you.”

“Come ON Yota!”

‘Anastasia’ chugged across the narrows while her skipper Iannis entertained his passengers with his favourite song, delivered as always in his strangled tenor voice. His brother George, whose taxi was approaching from the opposite direction, would sometimes tell Iannis he sounded exactly like Jose Carreras, before adding quietly “If Carreras were being beaten on the soles of his feet with an iron bar”. As they crossed the brothers waved to each other, Iannis never pausing from his song. At the stern Yota was also singing and for anyone who cared to listen it was a very different experience. In her sweet soprano she was singing the aria, “Ebben? Ne andro Lontana” from Catalani’s opera “La Wally”, it was her father’s favourite, he had an old vinyl of it performed by Maria Callas. It was of course in Italian,

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