These are the last hours on the Ionian Sea. We've been crossing this sea for 500 kilometres. Within four hours we reach the isthmus between Crete and the Greek peninsula Peloponnese. Then it goes straight up to Piraeus and Athens. These are the last moments that the horizon will be free of land, because the next days and nights we slalom between countless Greek islands until Istanbul.
"This morning we woke up with the most beautiful sunrise of this journey."
Meanwhile, the horizon is sharp as a knife, the sky is all blue again and so is the sea. That blue, that indescribable blue that ranges from lighttaic acid to almost black, is of an intensity that continues to move. On the left behind us, a Chinese container ship of Cosco Shipping follows us like a shadow. The blue ship is 360 metres long and has been at the same distance for hours. When I inquire it turns out that it also sails on Piraeus, its arrival is planned a little later than ours. The wind is tight and I install myself for an hour in the saloon for officers and read on in the "Moviegoer". I have the whole saloon to myself and through a porthole the sun shines on my table. The book is a wonderful description of the empty days of a thirty-something in New Orleans. It looks a bit like Proust. Nothing happens at all, at least not on the surface. In that sense, this novel looks a bit like a voyage on a cargo ship. Rezking passes by and empties a trash can. He likes his first trip as a steward very much. He is already 26 years old and when I ask him why he is exactly at sea, he follows the predictable answer with a smile: "For the money Sir!". In order to save "for the futur Sir!". The little Philippine has no idea where we are now, he even wonders why I ask that question, he won't disembark anyway.
"The reason is simple. I'm on vacation. He's not."
The appearance of the first fishing boats announces the approach to the mainland. Moments later Cape Tendro, the southernmost tip of Greece, is in sight. Soon we have to go between two islands and then northwards towards Piraeus, the port city of Athens.At the moment we have exactly 5,000 kilometres to go, with only a short stop in Portugal. The crew says the landscape is going to look completely different now.And it is like this: after a while large and small Greek islands are passing by on the left and right. It's a fascinating spectacle and I'm in the front row.The islands are in fact rough, inaccessible rock formations with mountain ranges in between that end up in the sea. There is real magic in the air here. Antiquity rises and from my lecture time the Greek myths come back to life.These are the seas that Homer sang, this is the Odyssey revisited, my fantasy runs wild: "He sailed along the rocks that rose from the sea as faithful guardians of the gates to Hellas". Or : "The rocky islands looked like dice, scattered by Zeus, ignited in anger." Something like that. Homeric equations.
"I'm starting to take pictures again, it's too good to shoot."
It takes hours. At sunset the Alessia sails along port side towards an enormous rock that appears out of nowhere. I recognize that rock, but from where? It takes a long time. But then I remember: this is Devil's Island, all the way, straight out of the movie.
*
11:00 on the bridge. Bad news. The berth for the Alessia has been taken. That means waiting in the bay for Piraeus. The city is in the dark, warm evening, right in front of us. It's built on the hills around the harbour and countless lights of flats reflect in the water.Gleb is furious. We can't moor until the morning, so his arrival in Istanbul is compromised, so his flight home is a day late. He's the victim of a fatal chain reaction. I bale too, but I haven't spent seven months at sea in one piece.And when I think for a moment: this delay is actually miraculously convenient. I can still go to Piraeus tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. - until about three in the afternoon. All I have to do is pick up a taxi at the exit of the terminal. And another windfall: I have a telephone connection! Starling tells me the news from the home front, where daughter and grandchildren have now definitely taken her home. For the time being Starling "lives" on the second floor, between the cardboard boxes. For obvious reasons she likes it very much that I am far away on a boat.
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