Today I visited paradise: the Greek island town of Hydra (pronounced eedra). We took a hydrofoil (flat passenger boat that skis across the top of the water) from Athens south for 1 1/2 hours to the small island, hidden among the 2,500 Greek islands. The water of the Mediterranean was clear and icy deep blue. I stood on the back platform of the hydrofoil and felt the salt-sea spray, watching the wake of the boat trail out of sight. We passed one natural island after another, only to finally coast into the beautiful half-moon bay of Hydra. The curved harbor held dozens of sailboats and the entire shoreline was filled with shaded sidewalk cafes and shops of incredible variety. I could have stopped right there and not moved for several days.
The shops were kind of pricy; Hydra is in fact a hangout for the Greek sailing crowd—the rationale being that if you own your own sailboat, you have some extra money to spend on special items—jewelry, artwork, etc. The merchandise was very nice; I was able to purchase a few of the more reasonably priced items. I began to appreciate my decision in Jerusalem to purchase another cheap suitcase, to bring back my purchases. Linda told me before the trip that, if push-came-to-shove, I could always leave my clothes in Israel. Even with the additional suitcase, some of my clothes might have to bite-the-dust. Oh well!
The shoreline was exquisite: rock lined walls falling under the blue surf. We climbed the worn rock paths down to some flat areas near the water and jumped into the chilly water. It was purely refreshing. There was a 15-foot high rock platform invited jumpers; mostly everyone jumped. Some of the braver (younger) members of the group dove from the platform. We were praying for them; not for their safety, but for their wisdom.
We had two Greek meals on Hydra, lunch and dinner: four-hours of eating course after course, of some of the best food of my lifetime. We had to hike and swim for two hours in between just to make a dent in the caloric intake. After each meal we felt as if we would never need to eat again, but you know what, that food was so darn good I pretty-much talked myself into being hungry again.
Hydra was the solitary day of pure relaxation on the trip. Mr. Petillo insisting on adding this excursion to the first METS trip, over twenty-five years ago, as a reward for completing the laborious trek through the Middle East. He was very wise; we needed it. Praise God.
