We decided to go to Greece in August, in the middle of a pandemic.
We were the only ones venturing abroad in my group of friends. Everyone else had gone for the safe, rational option: to travel within France’s borders. As the date of departure approached, I started questioning the sanity of our « holiday getaway » plans more and more. My doubts escalated anytime I watched the news. The number of Covid cases was increasing once more in Europe, including in Greece. Relatively speaking, Greece had been spared up to this point.
72 hours before our departure, I had to let someone insert a giant Q-tip into each of my nostrils. 24 hours later, I had to complete a detailed form for the Greek government asking for my home address, my parents’ phone number, and a list of all the places and addresses I would be staying at. I felt as though I was visiting a war-torn country, rather than a popular holiday destination. My doubts had turned into actual fear, but it was too late to back out.
It turned out to be our best decision ever.
I’ll be having the “only customer in the entire place” special, please
First of all, it was like going off on a honeymoon without saying « I do ». Everywhere we went, upgrades were a-plenty.
As soon as we arrived at our first (empty) hotel in Thessaloniki, they asked us if we preferred to keep our small room with a balcony or go for a bigger room without a balcony. After a long anxiety-filled deliberation between myself and I, while the boyfriend patiently waited, I…we went for option 1. They ended up offering us a bigger room WITH a bigger balcony (which was an absolute relief to my tortured psyche, since the internal deliberation had continued long after my decision was made).
The next morning, we taxied to the car rental to pick up the cheapest option we had found on their website, a 4-seat Fiat Panda. We left with a five-seat Volvo with extra-luggage space.
On the way back, I flew business class for the first time. It was the company’s way of apologizing (with a little nudge from the boyfriend) for cancelling our initial direct flight. Honestly it was no big deal. it was just extra leg space and getting your lunch before the other 99% … I loved every single second of it. I would sell my soul to experience that baseless sense of superiority once more.
Like Gods upon Mount Olympus
This vacation was the closest I will ever get to living the Kardashian lifestyle.
No reservations were ever required at restaurants. We were usually seated at a table near the deep, dark blue AegeanSea…and provided with a complimentary kitten to pet (and feed when the waiter wasn’t looking). Most nights, we had our own personal waiter, always near, ready to bring us yet another shot of Tsipouro.
We sunbathed on what felt like private beaches…save for the 3 or 4 other tourists. Their children’s high-pitched screams and the whiny vocals of their Spotify playlists reduced to a whisper by the 10 or so meters of social distancing between us.
We drove on empty roads, round and round Mount Olympus, feeling like one of the 12 Gods (ideally Dionysus please), crossing paths only with a couple of wild horses (mares of Diomedes??) galloping in the middle of the street, sans owners. At that moment, we did wonder if humanity had become extinct, and that no one had bothered to text us about it.
Our guide for the day drove us to the Vergina and Pella archeological sites in his own car, with one other tourist, rather than the usual tour bus. We got to explore the sites alone; no loud, obnoxious tourists taking selfies in front of mosaics or children climbing centuries old columns. It felt like travelling back to 5th century Macedonia (though it did require a certain level of architectural imagination), to a simpler time where the boyfriend could have gone to supposed « debates » at the House of Dionysus while I shopped at the Agora and did not vote.
In our second hotel, we had the whole second floor to ourselves. The hotel owner had to turn on the electricity on that floor when we arrived. Unfortunately, the hotel owner, flies circling atop his mop of greasy hair, kind of turned the whole ‘Keeping up with the Kardashians’ vibe into more of a Netflix true crime special mood. He first greeted us with shouts as we hauled our luggage up the outside stairs, thinking we were trespassers (in broad daylight). He then went off on an angry rant about how the government had implanted chips into our masks to slowly but surely kill us. In that moment, I felt like we had a 50/50 chance of making it out of that hotel alive. He made us cheese sandwiches without wearing mask or cleaning his hands. First murder attempt. We politely thanked him and threw those out in the first trash we could find (not the hotel trash because we truly feared reprisal). He then told us it was nicer to walk then drive to the boat rental station. We soon found out this meant either walking through high grasses on the side of a cliff, or on an actual main road where cars were driving 80 km/hour. Second murder attempt. The last murder attempt was on the last night: I suddenly awoke to the sound of a key slowly turningin the lock..nope nope, just kidding (I kind of scared myself just writing these words down).
Should auld Covid be forgot?
However luxurious a vacation it was, Covid-19 was always at the back of our minds. There were reminders of the pandemic everywhere: the masked waiters, the forms you had to fill out on every tour with your contact details (in case someone got sick), the obligatory mask on the Sithonian peninsula (it was 35 degrees out and I got dehydrated from excessive upper lip sweating), the 10 pm restaurant curfew…And then there was that one time the boyfriend split his leg open due to a motorcycle accident (and by that I mean his leg touched a parked motorcycle). We had to go to the emergency room at 11pm, and then I had to wait for him outside watching contagious patients right across the road from me enter the « Covid-RV » to get tested.
I had this constant fear that I was going to catch this disease in a country other than my own. I felt nervous when the tour guide talked for two hours in his small car without a mask. I freaked out when the boat company in Athos made people fill out forms asking if they had symptoms after everyone had already been on board for over an hour. I wasn’t sure if I should eat my lunch at the airport because the vendor grabbed the pizza slice with his ungloved hand. I was angry when we got into the rental car for the first time and realized it hadn’t been cleaned between uses…I thought about catching Covid every minute of every hour of every day on this holiday. But, to be fair, I still do, and the risks are probably much higher now.
All in all, as much as we benefitted from the complete and utter emptiness of hotels, museums, beaches and restaurants, I do realize that our two-week dream was a nightmare for most people living in the country. Greece, with its beauty, history and vine leaves (damn I love those vine leaves), is a traveler’s dream. Its people are so decent and kind to tourists (please learn from them French people!). But it wasn’t enough this year. I really hate crowds, other tourists, and hearing my own language in a foreign country, but it broke my heart that no one came. I hope that, if this pandemic continues until next year, people will realize that there is no more danger in the streets of Thessaloniki and the beaches of Sithonia, than there is in the streets of Nice or on the beaches of Normandie.
The Forever Tourist 