Once more the efficient ferry system of Greece whisks us away to a new island. We depart Antiparos around 9:30 am, and just miss the small car ferry that runs between Antiparos and Paros. (the Anti part of the name means little, and often seems to end up on smaller islands next to big ones). No matter, the car ferry makes the trip across about 2 km of water to Paros, crossing depths of no more than 5 meters the whole way, and then returns. You can actually see the bottom of the sea bed the entire way across.
Once across, we discover we have missed the bus from this small ferry to the big ferry port in town proper, about 7 km away. This bus runs very infrequently in the low season. Perusing the schedule, the next bus arrives a bit too close to the ferry departure we mean to be on at 11:40. Hail a cab? Ok, get the number first from a kiosk nearby. Might as well buy a beer, too. Try to make yourself understood to the person who speaks a little english, fortunately. No, send the cab to this Pounta, not the other Pounta on the other end of the island. Ok, cab is on its way. Probably.
The bus would’ve cost 2 euro each. The cab ends up costing 15 euro, but we make it in good time. Enough time to buy another beer, and a chocolate croissant. When I was hiking the West Coast Trail last year, I would’ve wrestled a black bear for a chocolate croissant. This one is delectably flakey, warm, and best of all: stuffed with dark chocolate. The ferry is late. The queue is in the shade at least, a little covered holding pen. One person lights up a cigarette, which is pretty good odds in Greece, and Croatia. If you don’t smoke in these countries, you might as well, as everyone smokes here, in all sorts of buildings. Why, just that morning I had gritted my nostrils and mailed a package in the thick air of the post office in Antiparos. My hair still smelled slightly of smoke.
Once on the ferry, I can happily report it is smoke free. So that was a great relief. The large ferry powers ahead at a pretty good pace, and is quite comfortable inside with plush chairs, cafés, and best of all, flat padded benches. Perfect place for a sleep!
The ferry made good time to Santorini, the island we have heard so much about. We arrive at about 15:00. Judging by the sheer amount of people on the ferry, it is not yet in low season. Sure enough, the ferry arrives at the “new port” of Santorini, and disgorges its passengers. A river of travellers disembarks, and we head for the bus. With much pointing and shouting, we ind a bus for Thira, where we can change busses for our hotel in Perssia. Drop the bags in the underbelly luggage compartment, and we climb in.
The ride to Thira is breathtakingly scenic. The road switchbacks up a sheer cliff, revealing the countryside in panoramic. This island was formed by a volcano that eventually blew the top of the island right off, leaving a circle of islands separated by the ocean, and a jagged rocky tumbled field of cooled lava rock in the middle. It is still classified as an active volcano, and I hear there are hot springs on the centre island.
The bus climbs along the spine of the biggest island for a while, before switchbacking down the other side. We arrive in Thira after a bit, and spill out of the bus right away. We open the baggage hatches, and Justin hands me out my bag right away. Looks like someone has piled their bags on Justin’s bag, not unusual on these buses! So he shifts a few bags. Then a few more. I go around and look from the other side.
No bag.
We dig frantically, and other people find their luggage until the belly hold is empty.
Justin’s bag is gone.
We look at each other sickly. For the first time, he didn’t take a small bag with his tech off his main bag. The only thing he grabbed was his wallet and expensive camera. Everything else was in that bag, Including his passport. One other passenger is kicking up a fuss. His bag is gone too.
I search again. And again. It is hopeless. The bag is gone. We start taking stock of the disaster, what is now missing. At least he has his wallet. But the SD card with all our pictures of the trip before Antiparos was in the bag. So they are gone, too. The blow is crushing.
Police reports, different languages, port authorities… passes in a swirl. The bag is gone. The pictures, Justin’s phone, tablet, small camera, all his snorkelling gear, all his clothing save for a pair of shorts and an icebreaker tshirt, his shoes…. all gone. And they probably aren’t just in the wrong place. Someone stole the bag off the bus.
Justin maks his police reports. I go back and canvas the port area. I talk to all the restaurant people there, asking them to keep an eye out. I talk to the car rental place, the bag drop place, the port police. Everyone is shocked that it happened. It is usually such a safe port. One older owner of the restaurant makes a few calls, all the busses are checked again. Everyone knows we lost a bag. No one finds it. The sun is setting. I am offered rides back to town, but I don’t know where we are staying. Justin’s cell phone was stolen in that bag, so we can’t communicate. I wait, everyone in port service industry knows my plights.
Justin arrives in a taxi. The bus company told him they would put me on the last bus back to town, free of charge. Sadly, they didn’t tell me that, and I waited at the port. We take the taxi to Perssia. The hotel is sympathetic, they offer whatever help they can in dealing with the police. We finally end up in the hotel room. It is about 19:00. Hours after we planned to arrive.
It is dark. I turn to Justin, trying to offer solace, trying to be strong. But I am shattered from this mishap, stunned by the brazen theft off a bus, humbled by the help offered by everyone who heard of our plight. I cling to Justin for one brief moment, and then he is off, to change all the passwords on the accounts linked to his phone, to his tablet.
Tomorrow we must go back and see if the surveillance cameras can shed any light on this. Tomorrow we must phone the Canadian Embassy in Athens, report the passport stolen. Too bad we didn’t write either of our passport numbers down. The day ends, sadly, but we are physically not injured by this crime.
Write your passport numbers down. Keep your passport on you at all times, or locked up, while travelling. Take your tech on board with you. We all mean to do it, but the bag would be a small loss if we had followed these steps.
Wherever you are, Be There 