The loneliness of the long distance traveler

When I met and married my wife, I was 38 years-old. For 20 years I had been on the road on what my wife calls, “my 20 year-long, lost weekend.” I would work the seasons, harvesting grapes; apples; tobacco; work the ski and beach resorts, then move on. I traveled, for the most part, alone. One time I did fix up an old VW Beetle with another guy, and we traveled through North Africa for two months until it fell apart (the car and the friendship). I was a solo traveler.

I was working at a beach bar on the Greek island of Ios when I met Kay. She was visiting from Missouri. In the heat of day she would come and share my massive umbrella and we would chat. She said she came to the islands to recharge her psyche, visit Homer’s grave on Ios and hope that some of his smarts would rub off. Her recent divorce had left scars. Messy things.

After a couple of conversations I knew I was in trouble. I couldn’t remember what I had planned to do next. Was I moving north or east? All I could think of was her. She would visit me every day from 1 p.m. till 3 p.m., my quiet time, and then would turn up when I was closing, about 2 a.m. I was getting about 2 hours sleep a day, yet never tired, never more awake.

It wasn’t in my bosses plans that I should have a day off, but when it came time for Kay to leave, I begged and pleaded for one day, citing personal reasons. Hell it wasn’t as if he was paying me. I was working for tips, which admittedly, were considerable. I was determined to spend one full day with Kay and when he saw my eyes welling with tears, he gave me two days off.

We spent two days tramping the island, talking, not talking, laughing, but mostly smiling. We visited Homer’s grave and asked him for wisdom. When the ferry left, taking her back to the Greek mainland, I discovered the meaning of heartache.

I have visited some of the world’s great cities and seen their sites and attractions–none of them disappointing, but that life was over for me. The thought of an existence without Kay in my sight, filled me full of dread.

Within a week I packed up my belongings and decided to visit my family in Detroit. The fact that Kay would be a Greyhound bus ride away filled me with joy.

Three months later we were married. We have lived in Missouri for the past 25 years. I still take trips to places I have never been, but not alone. Never again would I walk into to a bar, restaurant, pub or taverna and ask for a table for one.

EDITOR’S NOTE: – Ios is a Greek island in the Cyclades group in the Aegean Sea. It is a hilly island with cliffs down to the sea on most sides, situated halfway between Naxos and Santorini. It is about 11 miles long and six miles wide, with an area of about 42 square miles. Population was 1,838 in 2001 (down from 3,500 in the 19th century). Ios is part of the Santorini peripheral unit.

Excavations on Skarkos hill unearthed a prehistoric settlement, proving that Ios has been inhabited since the early Cycladic period. The architecture at Skarkos is preserved in places up to a height of almost three meters, with most of the buildings evidently having two storeys, stone-paved floors and a sewage system. Numerous well-preserved pottery, tools and utensils made of metal, stone and bone were also discovered. Ios was among six European locations (out of 109 candidates) awarded the European Union Cultural Heritage prize for its exceptional conservation efforts at the archaeological site of Skarkos.

According to ancient tradition, Homer’s mother was from Ios, and he himself was buried there – and indeed the locals will show visitors the site of the ancient town of Plakotos at the northernmost end of the island, where the rocky entrance to a tomb may be seen. There is no physical evidence connecting this with Homer however. There are signs of Mycenaean settlement. The north end of Ios has a ruined Venetian castle from the 15th century. The island is said to have 365 churches and chapels, like the days of the year.

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