Greek Postcards: The Lifeguard From Andros
He didn't exactly save my life, but it's good to know that he could have
ANDROS ISLAND, GREECE — Sorry T.S. Eliot, but April is not really the cruelest month: November is — and not only if you’re a turkey.
This is especially true in Mediterranean countries like Greece, where swimming season is over unless you’re a Finnish tourist that doesn’t mind taking a dip in seawater hovering at 65°F. But, cruelly, there are still more sunny than crappy days, in a sort of obvious inversion to how things go meteorologically in, say, New York. The cruelty part is that you can’t really do too much with it, as it’s already dark by shortly after five in the afternoon. The air has a cool edge to it, an anti-caress that teases the coming chill.
So it’s that time of year when you hit the islands closer to Athens, not just Hydra and Poros and so forth but also a little further afield like Tinos, Kea (we’ll get to that) and Andros.
Andros, for the moment, is way off the Instagram grid but given its pristine nature and proximity to Athens it’s only going to be a matter of time.
In November the main town or Chora, which is not the port, becomes like so many island places more a place of memory than actual experience.
And I remember a few summers ago, when I found myself on a beach somewhere along the rugged (well, very rugged actually) Andrian coast and, late in the day, I misjudged the power and velocity of the tide.
Coming in from the water too fast, as I switched from a swim-up to a sort of sad aquatic waddle back to the shoreline, I pulled a leg muscle with such force that I howled out in pain, and had to doggy-paddle back to the beach. For a few moments, I couldn’t move. It would be just a matter of hours before the lower half of my right leg turned black and blue.
A lifeguard spotted me and all heads turned as he sprinted toward the water’s edge and asked if everything was alright. I told him I would be okay, as long as I did not go back in the water. We sat on the beach for a few minutes and chatted about rip currents and Bay Watch before I hobbled back to my car, utterly defeated by nature, which always wins in the end.
I forgot the lifeguard’s name but he let me take his picture, it’s the one above. A reminder that no matter how seasoned a swimmer you are, the Greek seas are still wild at heart, and yes — the lifeguard always knows more than you.⚓
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