CHAPTER THREE: THE WITCH’S CURSE
“What do you mean there are no cars available on the island?” I spit in my broken Greek.
Two hungry and tired travelers stand in a tiny car rental office on the side of the road with our luggage by our feet. “We are fully booked for three weeks. We only have scooters available.” We exchange looks.
Now, you must visualize this situation. Because it is beyond absurd. I am carrying a fully packed carry-on suitcase, a large weekender bag, and a large backpack. Kostas was carrying a mini suitcase and a large sized Navy Seal backpack. We had intended to rent a car so we could have space and be comfortable. You tell me how we gonna fit all that on a scooter?
“Do you at least have something above 600cc?” – Kostas prays.
“Let me show you what we have”. The shop owner leads the way to a line up of small, pathetic, measly scooters that might as well be bicycles. At this point, all we could do was laugh.
“I’ll take it.”
There we were, playing a game of Tetris trying to fit 5 pieces of luggage plus two beefy human beings on a scooter that belonged to Cirque Du Soliel. Do you want to hear something crazy? We made it work: One bag on the floor, two bags stacked and duct taped to the butt of the scooter, one backpack worn by me, and the heavier backpack worn in reverse by Kostas.
We zoom off towards freedom as Kostas does his best to put the pedal to the metal. Despite the fact that I am uncomfortable, desperate for a meal, and exhausted, I get excited. It’s time to see this island and hit the beaches. I plan bikinis in my mind. The scooter starts to slow down. I can hear Kostas swearing under his helmet.
MAAAAALLLLLLLAAAAAKKKAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!
No gas.
Stranded.
Completely screwed.
I don’t cry. I just laugh.
After two hours of missioning on foot for a tanker of gas, we reposition our life’s belongings and continue with our circus act. When we finally arrived on the other side of the island, we were met with yet another horror. This house…quite possibly….was worse than the last.
An elderly husband and wife couple stand outside their home to greet us. Kostas notices their strange Greek accents, toothless grins, and extremely off-putting presence. He whispers to me “I think they are related”. I choke my laughter in. We follow them up a flight of outdoor stairs that take us to the upper attic of their home. The door creaks open, my mouth goes cotton dry:
WHAT I SAW ONLINE: WHAT IT ACTUALLY WAS:
A brand new pool table A garage sale dust off, stolen from someone’s lawn
A large wooden dining table The desk and chair from the movie The Ring
A proper bathroom with a tub A stained up shower with possible blood stains?
Spacious living room Ants crawling up the walls
Clean bedding A flat mattress placed on the floor
Positive daylight Scary dark energy, otherworldly spirits
The walls had fingerprints, the furniture was beat up, I kept sneezing from the dust, and the married couple were definitely cousins. Tears formed and it was time to cry. I panic. Maybe even start hyperventilating.
“This-house-is-so-scary-and-we-can’t-stay-here-I-don’t-feel-safe-and-there-are-ants-everywhere-and-the-bathroom-shower-curtain-has-stains-on-it-and-we-need-to-get-out-of-here-and…”
Kostas places firm hands on my shoulder and tries to relax me with his stern, Navy Seal grip. “You need to eat. Let’s go get some food.” He could not be more right.
My anxiety was through the roof. Was my dream of Kefalonia forever ruined? Was our trip doomed? Do people really fuck their cousins here? We were deflated, eyes puffy and hearts pounding, we could barely eat our meals. Sat at an empty, lifeless Taverna in the middle of nowhere, I observed our surroundings.
Thick, dense forest, intense humidity, sounds of cicadas, a blue sky, this was indeed Greece, but not the Greece I had fallen for. I could feel some sort of evil energy. Something was definitely off about this place and I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Kostas exhales, pushing his food around.
“Should we just…go home”? he asks.
“I want to see this island. I know there’s magic here. We have to try…” I say through shaky tears.
That night, we slept with one eye open at house of horror part 2. When the morning finally broke, I once again, busted out my laptop and frantically searched for another accommodation so we could finally experience the true magic that is the Ionian sea. The Greek Gods blessed us with an opening at a seemingly newly built hotel. I snag it.
But was the hassle worth it? Did we make magic in Kefalonia? Or did the Witch curse us for good?
Part 4 coming soon.
