Collecting Stories in Aegina

Aegina port by night

An unexpected encounter of a transcendental nature

The sun was diving fast behind the horizon, and the shadows, elongated at first, began to etch and then sunder from their attached landscape as the nocturnal cloaks hastened to envelop the expanse in front of us in hush and secrecy. We were sitting, my friend and I, at the veranda of her house in Aegina, overlooking the Kavouropetra bay, the evening carrying all the aromas and vernal freshness of March.

“I have spent the summers of the last twenty years in this cove,” my friend said softly. “Even though the Mediterranean is not as exotically colourful as the tropical oceans and the overfishing practices of the past decades have considerably diminished the wealth of our seas, you cannot imagine the magic hidden in these waters.”

She paused for a while before whispering: “Did I ever tell you about my outlandish encounter with an octopus?”

Photo credits: unknown

“I had been snorkelling for more than an hour here, in this bay,” she went on. “I had started off early in the morning and, although it was summer, the waters were chilly, and I had grown cold and weary. I began to head towards the shore, my face still inside the water looking towards the seabed, my hands and feet engaged in soft motion ensuring that my presence would not scare off any of the creatures surrounding me. I was close to the beach when I noticed, half-concealed under the protection of a rock, a young octopus, its position betrayed by a line of empty clams that had been its meal. It had already acquired an orange shade – which indicated it was watchful – however, it did not dash off. I remained as still as I could, maintaining my buoyancy with subtle movements, staring at it through my mask. Then, the most unbelievable thing happened. Instead of hiding deeper into the sand or darting away, the octopus extended one of its tentacles towards me and gradually abandoned the safety of its hideout and approached me, the tip of its extended leg finally coiling softly around my finger. I held my breath, and we stood for a few minutes looking at each other’s eyes, its suction cups feeling my heartbeat through the pulsing echo of my veins. I felt it was eternity condensed in a moment. Maybe it lasted minutes, maybe it was just seconds – I cannot be sure. What I do know is that an unexpected exchange took place – like connecting with intelligent life from another planet. A couple of more tentacles reached out striking the rest of my hand softly as if saying goodbye before my unexpected friend finally swam away with the familiar elegance of the molluscs. To this day, I quiver at the memory of the incident, and I stand in awe in front of the magnificence of the octopus – the creature that even scientists have recognised as an intelligent alien presence on our planet.”

When the locals know where to eat

We were leaving our favourite fish tavern after a hearty dinner heading towards the port of Aegina where we had parked our car when the local friend who was accompanying us drew our attention to a corner on the jetty.

“Do you see this spot?” he pointed. “It is now empty, but once, a few months ago, I saw several cats, lined up on edge, standing in serene anticipation as if romantically contemplating towards the horizon that had been long ago plunged into darkness. For the life of me, I could not figure out what they were doing there, sitting still in such a large number. I was soon to find out. A few minutes later, aplenty fish started jumping off the water, landing at the cats’ feet, offering them an easy and bountiful meal. I moved closer to examine the phenomenon and this is what I discovered: a throng of sardines had been attracted here by the streetlamp above – the light of which, amidst the obscurity of the night, appeared to be quite strong – and, attacked by a school of loutsoi (European barracudas), they were badly cornered. In the confusion and turmoil caused by the sardines’ effort to escape, many of them ended up above the water, splashing down in front of the cats that were dexterously standing by.”

Photo credits: unknown

In curiosity, we approached the corner and, sure enough, the streetlight had attracted numerous small fish that were cramming against the cement niche of the pier, a lonely squid floating amongst them. They could be easily trapped. Tonight, though, the fish were much tinier than sardines, maybe of no interest to the barracudas. It is a mystery how the cats knew on which night to expect the free meal, but, once more, nature astounded us with its boundless wisdom and sophisticated designs.

The small fish on the surface of the sea, attracted by the street light

The ghost hotel of Aegina

“Do you see this hotel?” my friend pointed out as we were driving towards Perdika village following the road along the coastline. The resort – a large complex that included the main building and numerous bungalows perched on the slope until the fringes of a welcoming sandy beach – was difficult to miss. With its imposing size, it dominated the small hill, monopolising the area above one of the most alluring bays of Aegina. Despite its premium location, it stood dilapidated, apparently abandoned, consumed by the saltiness of the sea gales, and ravaged by neglect. Although I had registered its deplorable state, I had subconsciously assumed that the hotel was yet another victim of the recent economic recession that had caused the decline and ultimate closing down of many enterprises in Greece.

Photo credits: unknown

“This is the famous Aegina Maris hotel,” explained my friend, interrupting my thoughts. “It used to be a prominent resort in the 1960s and early 1970s – as you can see by its architectural style that appears to be coming out of an old Greek movie. It used to be very successful and popular, yet it was abandoned literally overnight. Nobody knows where the owners went, why they left, or how they managed to disappear so surreptitiously. Since then, countless stories have sprouted in the fertile imagination of the locals and all sorts of drama – sickness, death, bankruptcy, depression – have been included in various variations in the ongoing saga. None of the available versions, though, is supported by any concrete evidence. All is fiction, and the mystery lives to this day, while Aegina Maris continues rotting to the ground, remaining a private property that prevents any better exploitation of the bay.”

Photo credits: © Konstantina Sakellariou (unless otherwise indicated)

If you enjoy stories as much as I do, complement this article with more stories around the campfire on the Sinai trail, portraits carved in sand, ghost stories under the sun, the stories of three houses in Beirut, and story-hunting in Lebanon.

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