Chapter 5.

  I was returning home, completely immersed in my thoughts about the events of this day. I thought about Leonidas, who managed in a few hours to change my impression of himself from one thing to the completely opposite, and, of course, about this incredible story of Maria, which did not want to get out of my head. The road back seemed noticeably shorter to me. I think this always happens to each of us when we go somewhere for the first time and then return home. The path to a new place always seems long and unpredictable to us. The unknown leaves us with limitless space for imagination in our minds - nothing is certain yet and everything seems limitless. But as soon as we assume that we knew something, we will forever stumble over the barriers that we ourselves have placed in our consciousness. And the world immediately becomes insignificantly small. The sun slowly moved towards the horizon. Blue shadows from trees and bushes quietly crawled across my road like snakes.

  I was approaching the house. Looking at the house from afar, I felt that it was pleasant for me to return here, that I had already become attached to him and got used to the idea that now this was my home, my quiet corner.  And it seemed to me that it was waiting for me and was also glad of my return. This was not some faceless concrete box, hastily built to be rented out before the season. It certainly had a soul. It was built for life.

  Some time ago, while staying on the island and wandering around the Internet, I quite accidentally came across an advertisement for rent. This was the only house that met all my requirements: a one-story detached house with a garden in Sithonia next to the sea. The ad was not new, and from the date of updates I realized that it had already been posted several times. It was written that the house was available. I thought it might be a mistake and the house was already rented. But after calling the owner, I found out that the house was still open for rent. I was surprised because I couldn’t find a better offer in the entire area. This seemed strange to me. But who knows, maybe the house was waiting for me?

  I spoke with the owner only by phone. Judging by his voice, he was about 50 years old. He spoke quietly and measuredly, and was polite and courteous. He said that he now lives in Athens, and he inherited the house from his father. Actually, I didn’t know anything else about him, except his name and the bank account number to which I should transfer the rent monthly and that my duties would include watering the olive trees weekly in the summer. He also warned that the floors in the house are laid with natural marble, and strongly recommended washing it with regular running water, without using any cleaning products, since natural marble can deteriorate and even change color under the influence of chemicals. These conditions suited me quite well. And without wasting time discussing unnecessary details, we agreed.

  Returning to the mainland, by prior call, in one of the cafes in the city of Thessaloniki (70 km from Halkidiki), I met the cousin of the owner of the house, who kept the keys to the house. We quickly drank a cup of coffee and she handed me the keys, told me a little about the house and explained some of the nuances for my comfortable stay in it. A bunch of keys was collected on a ring with an old keychain in the shape of a boat with sails. These were the key to the house itself, the storage area under the porch, and the key to the gate. The meeting was very quick and completely formal. I took the keys from her and we quickly said goodbye. I found a house quickly. It was impossible to get lost. The road descended from the highway to the sea and led to the only house for several kilometers. When I saw the house, at first glance I realized that this could be the ideal place for my solitude. What I needed so much at that moment. A quiet, deserted place among the hills, where I can hear my inner voice and just create.

  However, as it turned out later, not everyone found this place as attractive as I did. And it was unexpected to learn that the locals think completely differently. The fact is that upon arrival here, I discovered one grocery store near the highway, 10 minutes drive from home, it was the nearest store, completely ordinary and unremarkable, where you can buy only essential products. Several times I bought milk, bread, Greek coffee and, of course, eggs there (in the morning for breakfast I often eat either fried eggs or an omelet). After some time, having once again come to the store to replenish my food supplies, the owner of the shop, a little bald old man named Stefanos (as it turned out later), seeing me again, decided to talk to me. We exchanged a few general phrases, as is customary. And in the conversation, he asked me three basic questions that, perhaps, any Greek asks when meeting for the first time: he asked where I'm from, what I do and where I live. Without going into details, I said that I am an artist, that I was away for a year and lived on one of the Greek islands, now I have returned to Halkidiki again and had rented a small stone house here not far from the sea. I didn't have to explain for long. He instantly understood which house I was talking about. Upon learning this, he sighed and shook his head in disappointment. I didn't pay much attention to it; old people sometimes behave a little strangely. I asked if he knew why and how long my house had been empty.

He answered without hesitation:

  - “Will any of the locals live there in our times? There is no one and nothing around. If something happens that no one in the area will even hear you or help you. The locals are afraid to live to live in a remote location. Especially now. It used to be, 30 - 40 years ago, everything was simpler, the doors in the houses were left open, everyone trusted each other. But now... now times have changed, and not for the better. Near the sea it is damp and cold in winter. Bones hurt terribly from the humidity. In general, we in Greece prefer to live in villages, and closer to each other, so that we have someone to go to for coffee and have dinner in good company while talking. Alone, even a piece of food won’t put into your mouth” - The old man said. His fears did not evoke any emotion in me. I am always used to forming an opinion about everything solely based on my personal experience. Besides, I didn’t feel any danger or fear of being alone here; I felt calm and good here. But, nevertheless, at night I still locked the doors and windows, just in case.

  I reached home. Opening the forged gate, I rolled the bike into the yard and leaned it against the wall of the house. In the yard behind the gate stood my red Fiat Panda, which had already traveled half of Greece with me, and upon closer inspection looked a little tired from my endless travels. Some olive trees in the garden grew so close to the house that the tips of their sharp leaves tickled its stone walls and cast clear shadow projections onto the masonry of the house. Without going up to the veranda, I walked around the house, looking at the area and thinking about how I could decorate this place before the summer.

  The owner of the house casually mentioned that behind the house there is an outdoor summer shower, which can be used if desired, after first cleaning it of unnecessary rubbish that is stored inside. It was a kind of roofless cabin, one and a half square meters in area, solidly constructed from strong bamboo branches and with one of its sides adjacent to the back wall of the house. The bamboo was old and faded in the sun, but was still quite strong. I walked over to the shower and forced it open. The rusty metal hinges that held the bamboo door in place emitted a long, plaintive creak. The first thing I saw was a dozen small pale pink geckos with translucent skin, which, out of surprise, suddenly rushed away from me in different directions, and in panic, fleeing, crawled through the narrow cracks between the bamboo trunks. Inside the shower stall I saw a pile of old junk. These were plastic barrels, old twisted hoses and some plumbing parts. Everything was covered with many years of dust and overgrown with thick cobwebs. Over the years, geckos, spiders and some nasty black caterpillars managed to create their own microworld there, which I so suddenly burst into and was soon determined to disrupt.

  I opened the tap to check if it was working. The water did not flow immediately. The first thin stream of rusty water barely flowed, but after a minute it began to flow with strong pressure and was finally cleared. This fact pleased me, because I don’t understand anything about plumbing and in case of a malfunction I would have to call a specialist, which I didn’t want at all. The outdoor shower was so intimately hidden behind the back of the house that it could not be seen from the road. I imagined that if I threw out all this trash and put the space in order, then how great it would be to take an invigorating shower in the morning in the cool morning air, look at the open sky and the swaying olive branches hanging against its blue background. This thought brought a joyful smile to my face with anticipation.

  - “Faded bamboo can be lightly sanded and painted with white paint (I found several barrels of paint in a warehouse under the stairs). Inside I will screw two shelves to the wall adjacent to the house, where I will put shampoo, aromatic shower gel and various fruit scrubs. Outside I can put up a bathroom cupboard where fresh towels and underwear will be stored. Well, I will decorate the entrance to the summer shower with clay pots with blooming bright pink petunia. Yes exactly! Pink and blazing white... beautiful! It would be a real pleasure to start the day this way! " - I thought and inspired how comfortably this abandoned corner could be transformed among the olive oasis.

  I went into the house to get some rest. The day was slowly approaching evening. After the delicious lunch that Leonidas so carefully fed me, I still felt full. I just really wanted to drink a cup of hot black tea. This habit, rooted since childhood, of drinking tea, still remains with me from what seemed like a distant past life. It was funny to remember how before at breakfast, instead of coffee, I always drank hot tea, whether it was a cold winter or a hot summer, always only tea, a lot of tea. Now it was hard for me to believe it. After all, when I first moved to Greece, it was unexpected to learn that the Greeks themselves drink tea as a medicine if they catch a cold or get the flu. So, over time, my habit gradually lost its former strength and I began to drink it less and less and, to a greater extent, only in the evenings. I brewed myself a strong loose leaf tea and added a few fresh mint leaves to calm me down before bed and poured the strong drink into my favorite mug, the color of a dark night sky with stars. On the outside of the mug, in gold letters, was written the phrase “The stars shine for you!”, which involuntarily made me happy every time. I settled comfortably at a table on the veranda to enjoy my evening ritual.

  It was very quiet and warm. Tired swallows sat silently on the wires. I raised my head and, looking under the canopy of the veranda, noticed that today they had made significant progress in construction and, with protruding clay growths, had already determined the main outlines of the future nest. I drank hot tea and watched how the colors of the sky changed with the onset of evening, becoming more and more filled with golden and soft pink radiance. After meeting Leonidas, a certain unusual feeling of slight warmth settled in the region of my heart and this feeling did not want to leave me. It was strange, but very pleasant (however, I was afraid to admit this to myself). It was like a kind man entering a cold and long-lonely house and lighting a bright fire in the fireplace. And the frozen walls of the house were immediately filled with warmth, and its space was illuminated with a velvety amber glow. Thoughts about Leonidas instantly caused an ambiguous reaction in my body: I ​​felt the blood rushing to my face more strongly, and my breathing became deep and excited.

While replaying today's events on the shore in my head, I suddenly realized that I had completely forgotten about the parcel that I had picked up at the post office. I got up from the table, went into the house, took the box out of my backpack and returned to the veranda.
I shook it slightly in my hands and, tilting my head towards the parcel, tried to listen with one ear. From my hesitation, something rustled inside.
The box was securely sealed with tape in several directions. I took a utility knife and made cuts along the duct tape.
With some effort, I opened the parcel. And the first thing I saw inside was a white envelope. It was not sealed and, without thinking, I opened it and took out a letter from there.
The lines written in very beautiful, almost calligraphic handwriting on a white sheet of paper read:

  “Dear Nicole! A few months ago we were very lucky to meet you at your summer exhibition in an old fortress on the island. We have been traveling around Greece for many years, but this time was very special in our memory. We want you to know what you bring with your paintings so much bright energy, joy and goodness, reminding us of how beautiful our world is. It was a real discovery for us to get acquainted with your work. And, of course, purchasing one of your best paintings (in our opinion), “The Power of Pure Potentiality,” was an unspeakable joy for us. We are pleased to inform you that the painting now takes pride of place in the living room and is the pride of our home.

We sincerely wish you prosperity, success in your creativity and the fulfillment of your most cherished dreams! And believe us, everything will come true! Let this little gift be a sign of our gratitude and strong friendship. With best regards from Belgium, Louis and Emma Hendricks."

  These sincere words touched me. Reading the last words of the letter with tears in my eyes, the lines and letters blurred into some kind of illegible patterns similar to ancient writing. I remembered these wonderful people, our touching acquaintance, which left me with very kind and bright memories. It seemed to remind me that what I do is not in vain if it can evoke such deep feelings in other people. And now this was especially important for me, as a kind of powerful incentive, at a new stage of my life, and therefore at the next stage of my creativity.

I carefully folded the letter into an envelope, placed it on the table and began to take out the main contents of the parcel. With both hands I pulled it by the edges. From there appeared a beautiful light golden cardboard box weighing about a kilogram, tied with the same golden silk ribbon. But what was my surprise when I saw on it in large letters the inscription “Leonidas. Original Belgian chocolate”.

  - "What a coincidence!" I thought, almost laughing.

  As soon as I opened a box of chocolate from a famous Belgian brand, a sweet, fascinating aroma of cocoa mixed with notes of cognac and spicy fruit spilled out of it. Each candy of chocolate assorted  was packed in multi-colored foil that glittered and reflected the rays of the setting sun on their surface. It all looked like a small chest of shining treasures. From all this variety, I randomly chose one of the candies and removed the shiny foil from it. I put it in my mouth and closed my eyes to fully concentrate on the taste sensations. The chocolate quickly melted on the tongue, causing strong salivation and gradually revealing the bright taste of the filling. The tart dark chocolate ganache mixed with the sweet and sour citrus notes of orange and gave me a kind of gustatory excitement.

  I opened my eyes, and reaching for the next piece of candy, I looked again at the inscription on the cardboard box. "Leonidas. Original Belgian chocolate". It seemed that everything around me wanted to remind me of Leonidas once again, and it was simply impossible not to think about him.

  I sat on the veranda, drank tea, enjoyed soft Belgian chocolate and watched as the huge shining sphere gradually sink behind the mountain.
The dense warm air created a scattering of light. This made the sun seem even bigger. The warmth of the light swallowed up all the cold colors, turning the landscape into a glow of orange-lilac tints.  (look how it was)

Read Chapter 6 ➔