Scoping Out

I really didn’t know what to do with the rose in my hand besides tuck the stem into a side pocket on my bag. It was a kind gesture and all but it felt like a bit of a waste to me, not to mention I can only imagine how many they gave away on the weekly considering how many tourists were walking around us.

We followed along the natural curved path in front of us, the wheels of our luggage rattling noisily against the cobblestone underneath our feet. We passed several nice looking seaside cafes and restaurants that exuded many delicious aromas, the chatter of the people mixing with the waves that crashed against the shore just five feet away. I could even feel some of the spray hit me in the heavy winds.

It felt quite refreshing with the summer sun beating down on us, and I was already worried about my pasty skin getting sunburn like some of the poor souls walking by me…

It quickly became apparent that walking was the primary way of traveling around, with the odd bicycle seen here and there. Most of the streets were pretty narrow, allowing up to three people to comfortably walk side by side at any given time, sometimes even less.

This was actually a pretty refreshing change of pace compared to trying to see everything through a car window as we drive by at varying speeds. There were cars we could pay to travel outside the village but they were quite an expensive option, so we were trying to limit that to when we had everything properly planned out.

Block after block of white stucco everywhere with splashes of blue, red and yellow painted on everything from rooftops to window shutters linings or even staircase railings. The buildings themselves were so precisely designed to make the most of the limited space provided; it was almost like an architectural game of Tetris with the cohesive way they were placed.

It felt like being inside a maze while exploring… and I had a sinking suspicion that this was going to come back to bite me later.

And that theory was based on the simple fact that I have a terrible sense of direction.

I tried to keep a mental note of certain street markers and interesting looking things that I could store away just in case that does end up happening. While I don't plan to go wandering off on my own in this strange place it never hurts to be prepared for the worst.

Thankfully the street corners had noticeable decals displaying the block name, making it easier (for Aaron) to navigate us to the hotel we had booked. It was tucked away in a quieter nook on the outskirts of the village, the entrance shaded by a large wooden trellis with various shades of pink bougainvillea.

There was a pleasant waft of cool air as we made our way inside, the lobby modestly small while still bright and inviting. A lone woman sat behind the counter of the front desk, a thick novel lifted up to her nose as she read intently to herself.

Aaron gently cleared his throat to get her attention, and she lowered the book to reveal a middle-aged face with thick glasses over her eyes.

“Hello there.” The woman spoke kindly as she smiled at us, emphasizing the laugh-line wrinkles around her face. “Do you boys have a reservation?”

“Yes, ma’am, we do.” Aaron replied, automatically pulling out his ID and credit card from habit.

“Wonderful, just let me look you up in here…” She took the cards, and then adjusted her glasses on her nose before slowly typing on the old looking keyboard.

“Forgive me, I’m still trying to get used to working this darn thing.” She sighed after several quiet moments of tapping intermittently on the keys.

“It’s no problem, Miss…?” I started, inquiring to her name.

“Benson. Doris Benson.” She responded, grinning at me. It hit a bit of a soft spot in me and I couldn’t help but smile back, as she reminded me a bit of my mother. All she lacked was her quirky personality and a cackling giggle.

I nodded at her. “Ryan. It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you as well, Ryan. What brings you here to our humble island? Seeking an adventure?”

“You can say that – we’re actually here to try and film a documentary piece. We were hoping to capture the midsummer festival you folks annually have here.”

She paused in her typing and looked up at us, her eyes drifting back and forth between Aaron and me for a moment before she lowered her gaze to the screen again.

“Is that so? Are you boys some kind of journalists?” She asked steadily, almost cautiously I would say. I shook my head in the negative.

“No, ma’am, we’re just some amateur filmmakers trying to get experience from the world.”

“Oh please, just Doris.” She waved her hand absently with a crinkled scowl. “I’m not that old yet. The girls certainly like to shove me behind this damned stuffy desk all day because they think I’m incapable of much else but I can still pull ten times my weight in fish if they’d let me!”

I gave a small chuckle at that. I couldn’t see much of her with the big marble counter in the way but from the strength flexing in her arms I could tell this was more than the grumblings of an aging woman.

“Ugh, finally… I’m sorry for the wait, here is your room. Now I’ll get your keys.” Doris sighed as she dropped off the stool she had been sitting on, quickly revealing just how short she actually was.

Aaron and I exchanged a glance as we watched her reach up for actual metal keys hanging on one of a series of many small numbered hooks on the wall behind her.

“Since we’re the only people here for the moment…” Aaron started, and I could tell by his tone that he was fishing for some information.

It wasn’t the first time it occurred to me, but if our careers in film don’t ever take off I had the utmost confidence he would thrive a lot better as a journalist for some big time media.

“Would it be possible for you to suggest some really important places for us to feature in our documentary? We’ve heard a lot about its ties to Aphrodite but surely there’s more to the island’s history than just that.”

“Of course there is, but as much as I’d love to I can’t sit here jabbering all day about it. However, my dear friend Jodi volunteers as a guide for first time visitors such as you. She’ll be able to tell you just as much since she’s lived here most of her life, after all.”

That made me pause.

From what I understood, this island was not available to the public until some years ago. Then again, just because the property was in contention that doesn’t mean people couldn’t live here, did it? Perhaps it was a dispute between the locals themselves.

“That a fact? So have you also lived here a long time as well?” Aaron asked, and I had to wonder if he picked up on the same thing I did.

“Indeed I have. One fun thing I can tell you about our home is that long ago this place was used by pirates to store their treasure hoard in caves they carved deep into the mountains. In fact I highly recommend you visit our special exhibit where you can tour one for yourself, and see many of the priceless pieces we have recovered from those olden days.”

My eyebrows nearly rose to my hairline at that, and I made a personal promise that I was definitely going to see that exhibit before we left. I just hoped it wasn’t too expensive or too booked up to try.

“That sounds incredible. But back in those days they relied on compasses and charters to navigate the seas, right? So how did they know where to find their secret stash when they came back from another voyage?”

“It is because of Cyrenádos’ namesake; The Singing Island. It is a most amazing phenomenon that occurs when the tides are at their lowest, exposing the chasms that lie just beneath the surface of the grand basin at the heart of the island. When the heavy winds blow through the chambers, they create a magnificent sound that can be heard for miles out. They timed their returns to always be during the quarter moon, when the waves are the calmest.”

“So they used those echoing channels to find their way back to the island...” I concluded, thoroughly intrigued.

“Correct. They would come in the night to ensure that any other wayward ships that found this island would meet a tragic end. And while the days of piracy have long passed those chambers still remain today. But even after the pirates stopped sailing there were still plenty of others who came and tried to take this land and its secrets for themselves.”

“So the stories about this place being in contention are true?” Aaron inquired gently, to which Doris nodded solemnly.

“Yes, this land had been long fought for by many man and woman alike… and while our history remains our culture is clearly dying. The times have changed and we, too, must adapt as the rest of the world has. Either we lay waste to the rest of the world or we take fate into our own hands and embrace it.”

Doris’ smile faltered slightly then, appearing suddenly melancholic for a moment.

“Do you like the way things have changed?” I found myself asking before I could stop it.

She didn’t answer, really, just gently pushed our room keys across the counter towards us.

“Enjoy your stay, and please be safe.” She told us sincerely.

Even though she said it so nicely, I could tell she didn’t want to be asked anything more at the moment. I had to wonder what it was about my question that might have dimmed her bulb.

It seems there was far more to this internal land struggle than we thought.

“Thank you very much, Doris.” I smiled to her, grabbing my key. She returned the gesture, though hers no longer met her eyes.

“I still stand by my suggestion; if you want to properly take in our little paradise then seek out Jodi Madison. Her last tour of the day is within the hour so you have just enough time to set your stuff down and freshen up.” Doris said as she pointed at the large ornate wall clock off to the side.

Aaron playfully nudged me with his shoulder to get moving, which nearly sent me face-planting onto the polished flooring. I sent him a harsh glare as he ushered me towards the hall but he just gave me a cheeky grin in response.

“Then we best not waste anymore time, huh Ryan? Let’s get out there and soak up some local color, shall we?”