My Night With Greek Santa

The boat dropped me off on a picturesque Greek bay on the island of Hydra. I immediately fell in love with the island because the only mode of transportation is by donkey, mule or your own two feet. On my way back to shore a man who resembled Santa Clause in Bermuda shorts smiled brightly and waved me into the “Pirate Bar.” Obviously, I had to obey such a cheerful and strange situation. I am also a huge fan of pirates, as long as they are anti-violence.

Greek Santa proclaimed that I must be taken to the most special and delicious restaurant on the island. Once there, Greek Santa’s compatriots began joining our dinner table until our entourage was more than a dozen of the most eccentric and interesting people I have had the pleasure of dining with. It was what I imagine dining with the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland was like, as a famous Greek painter sloppily filled the glasses.

Eventually wine, energy and time ran out and my peculiar, international dining party had to go back to their lives, as mysteriously as they came. Greek Santa insisted I end the night the way he does, by eating oranges out of his backyard.

As he pushed a heavy wooden door into his house, it was an overwhelming sight. Mismatching furniture lay around the house in no particular arrangement; a bird lived in the bathtub because in Greek Santa’s explanation, “Why not? Plus, I have a free shower radio.” In the backyard was a beautiful courtyard with an orange tree in the middle. I peeled oranges as Greek Santa told me about being a famous Vietnam War Veteran that survived after his plane was shot down. Rather than reliving the war with other Vets, he chose to make a home for himself on the island of Hydra. A home where his friends are as mismatched as his abode, the food as nourishing to the soul as a view of the bay, and life as stress-free as it should be. A home where donkey rides, orange trees, and Greek Santas in Bermuda shorts make you appreciate a simpler life.