1987 was a big year. Not just for the great things that happened but also for the not-so-great ones that took place but their significance was great.
The school year was over and year 10 was over, hinting the amount of work that was expected of us next year. Girls from school came and went, but nothing really memorable, just the experience of kissing in the dark, on park benches after school or at the street corner where we would go our separate ways. Greece had won the European Championship in basketball, and my basketball season had successfully finished, finding us at the fourth place of the league. A really great achievement that was not celebrated as such and led me to my decision to take a real from playing basketball.
In the spring of 1987, Bryan Adams released his album Into The Fire, and since I loved Reckless, I went straight away and bought it. One of my favourite albums of all time!
The summer was moving on and it was vacation time. Mike was my mate back then. We were going running, talking about girls, going to watch Aris play football or basketball - yes, he was an Aris fan back then - and goes without saying that we would go on vacation together. We tried it the year before and it went great - story for another day - so we were meeting daily to drink coffee and discuss our options for the summer.
The truth was that we were both broke. I was collecting a really poor allowance from my dad and Mike did the same from his. He had finished high-school a year ago and was going to a technical school while deciding his future. He had no car, no driving license, and our only hope was his family’s summer house at Zografou, which was relatively close to the beach.
Mike is three years older than me and we grew up together since our parents were friends from before we were born. We were like family and my parents trusted me hanging out with Mike or his twin brother Jim. At the age of 16-going-on-20, Mike was something like a mentor. He taught me everything I knew about the possible social life of teenagers in the 80s, and he mentored me about girls, to the best of his ability. In return, I was the quite, wise, and calm force that always had an ear and a good advice for his problems, that were just a bit different than mine.
Given the lack of funds, the decision was easy to make and without many alternatives. We informed our parents that we would camp in an empty wheat field at Potidea, next to the beach and where some of our friends were. During the day, and conveniently around lunch time, we would take a 13-kilometre bus ride to Zografou, to freshen up, eat, and prepare for the night. The idea was that since we didn’t have a car to move around, we would be where the night life would be, in walking distance from our tent.
The plan was good, but really far from perfect. Out of all the places in the world, we chose to camp in that field because we knew that the owner didn’t care and he wouldn’t call the police or send the dogs on us. We pitched the tent right next to the beach, a couple of meters higher than the water, so there would be no flooding. The field had no trees and it was about 50 meters from the closest dirt road. We lined the floor with our sleeping bags, rolled our beach towels and bags for pillows, and added a small padlock on the zipper for extra security!
Unfortunately, our little palace was exposed from the east, and the moment the summer sun was appearing behind the hills, it would feel like an oven. Every morning, around 7am, after having slept for about 3 or 4 hours, whoever woke up first, would slide on the outside of the tent and try to continue resting under the shade from the tent itself. Of course, that shade was gone an hour later when the sun was already high. Another alternative would be to take a towel and sleep on the beach, protected by the shade of some weeds that were growing on the side. Well, theoretically a good idea, but the cool places in a hot day are filled with flies, mosquitoes, other unidentifiable bugs, plus the occasional dog that was having its morning walk.
Having lived the same experience for a couple of days the summer before, we gave up trying to rest in the morning. We would follow the dirt road into the village, cross the main road to the beach-side of the village and find shelter at our favourite cafeteria, called Toroneos. Morning coffee, water, shade and we were recharging for the sunny part of the day. Breakfast was optional because we had to keep the money for the night entertainment.
The plan was we would stay on the beach with the guys until late afternoon, then we would take the bus to Zografou, where we would shower, eat, and sleep, strictly in that order. My thing was to sleep on the floor, on the cold tiles, probably in a subconscious attempt to get rid of the heat I had been absorbing all day. After the refreshing nap, we would get coffee, get dressed for the night and grab the bus back to Potidea. Our parents were a bit worried but they must have decided not to make our lives any easier than that. They provided food and shower but that was it. We wanted to stretch our vacation as much as possible, so it worked for us too. After that, the plan dictated fun in the village and when everyone was gone or the disco was closed, we would walk back to our tent for the night.
Back on the beach, the youngsters of the village were starting to show up before noon, and arranging their beach towels at the usual location, on the sand. We all knew where to gather, and soon enough we would be fifteen to twenty kids of various ages, boys and girls that knew each other from the city of from spending their summers at the same place. The beach was starting to fill up with noise, with beach toys, with music, laughter and the occasional scream from someone that got splashed or tricked or both.
We would mingle in the crowd and Mike who knew most of the gang, would navigate the crowd. He knew who was going out with whom, who was worth flirting and who wasn’t, who was friends or enemies with whom, and of course who had a crush with whom. Valuable information all of it but at that age, it was changing so fast, that we were finding a new situation every morning. The beach was the opportunity to check-out the pretty girls. At sixteen, after months of intensive workouts, I was not that bad myself. Dark, lean, nice eyes, even had hair back then. I had heard so many stories from Mike about the boys and girls of summer, that I was really excited to be there. Felt like a movie, felt like a video-clip, and the expectation were rising. As always, the stories are much more exciting than the truth.
In our beach-group there were some interesting girls, but of course they were taken but the hot older boy of the group, and they were sweethearts for years.. There was always gossip about the drama they lived over the winter but they somehow managed to salvage their love… Right. Also in the group, there were those that we didn’t care about, either because they were not pretty enough or because we knew them somehow, or because they were local, and the locals always were clingy and wanted to get married! Wow!
To cut a long adolescent story short, I had a crush on Mary. She was blond, tall, blue-eyed, very outgoing and very loud. She had been spending most of her summers there, and she knew everybody, which gave her license to talk to everyone and curse loudly whenever she wanted. Like I said, I was a hottie myself, so my awkward attempts to flirt with her, where not unanswered. She would talk to me, hang out with me, show interest, and would raise my hopes for romance. She would also try to hook me up with another girl - good looking but completely nuts - something that confused me quite a bit. Mike was adamant that I should stay away from Mary because she was flirting with a lot of guys and she had a crush with one of the guys for years. There were so many details to these mini-dramas that most of them escaped me, especially since my experience in these problems was minimal.
One hot day at the beach, I was determined to ask Mary out. I prepared a sentence asking her to meet at night, but I had no idea how I was going to squeeze it into the conversation. Talking to people, especially girls, was not a strong feature of mine. I was hoping she would read it in my face and ask me instead. Well, that is exactly what must have happened, at least partly. When she showed up on the beach, she casually came near and spread her towel on the beach:
“Hi”, she said with a frown
“Hey,” I said eagerly. “What is the matter, you seem upset”
She looked at me in the eyes, took a deep breath and lowered her gaze.
“Vasilis is not coming this weekend either. He is probably not coming at all”
I didn’t know who Vasilis was, but I heard about him and it was easy to guess what he meant to Mary. I reached out and grabbed her hand.
“His loss”, I said with confidence. I lifted her face with my other hand, looked her in the eyes, held her gaze and mustered all the courage I had in me. There was no surprise in her face. She knew that I liked her and that made me attractive to her.
“Thanks for saying that,” she said, still looking at me. “I have been waiting for him the whole summer. He is my boyfriend, you know.”
“Screw him, I am here for you,” I thought I said, but in reality I just nodded slowly. My mouth was dry, my heart was pounding, my mind was going in a thousand directions trying to figure out what to say next.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she said suddenly, quickly jumped up, gave me a quick peck on the cheek, pulled her towel and disappeared towards the street.
I was stunned. Didn’t know what to think. She kissed me, she knows, she likes Vasilis, but she will be with me tonight. All of the sudden the summer was becoming thrilling! I couldn’t wait for the night. I didn’t remember what Mike said, when we went to Zografou and came back. All I cared was the upcoming night, when I would meet Mary.
We were walking from our tent towards the village, all dressed up, cleaned up, and ready to party, when Mike asked me:
“Are you ok, mate? You haven’t said much since this morning.”
“I know, sorry.” I mumbled. “I am thinking about Mary. I think I have crush on her and she knows, but…”
“Vasilis, I know,” he finished my sentence. “Don’t get your hopes up buddy, she is not a very reliable girl, and she will only break your heart.” Mike was quite strict with his assessments, but usually not far from the truth.not far from the
I nodded. Didn’t know what to say.
“Let’s see what happens tonight,” I said, faking my excitement.
The night was like the others we had that summer. Only Mary never showed up. That was the answer I got from her. Surprisingly, i didn’t spend the night moping around, instead we had a really good time with some of the guys we found in the village. As per usual, we stopped by the disco after midnight, to avoid paying at the door. We danced, we flirted with various tourists, and we chatted with people we knew or we met there.
The walk back was always the time to recap the day that is past. Kicking rocks down the dirt road, or carrying a long stick for protection from the occasional stray dog, we would talk, in the dark, under that huge Milky Way that faded above us. For some strange reason that day felt like a victory. A victory of being true. I guess I knew inside me that the story gets better in the future, with people I haven’t met yet, at places I haven’t visited yet. For me, the summer of 1987 was coming to an end. I was getting ready for the next year. That is when I started to sing My Native Son. That dark dirt road, with the Milky Way over my head, and the waves rolling in and out of the shore, is where I go every time I listen to this song, in the heat of the night.
1987 was a big year. In 1987 we lost my uncle Sofoklis from cancer, which cost a lot to our family, especially to my mother.
1987 was the last year that I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life.