Not My Circus

My final destination in Greece was Santorini. I anticipated the opportunity to experience its captivating cinematic charm and quintessential Greek allure. The white edifices perched upon the cliffs, the spellbinding sunsets, and the immaculate beaches composed a mesmerizing scene that appeared almost surreal in its perfection. My plan was to spend a full two weeks in Santorini.

Starting fresh in the morning, I was eager to explore the main town. I walked along the road that hugged the steep cliff side. A moped zipped past me, which interrupted the tranquil ambiance. Suddenly, the moped decelerated and executed a U-turn, coming to a diagonal halt just ahead of me.

The rider revealed a disconcerted smirk that sent a shiver down my spine. In a moment, my worst fears materialized. I realized I was in a dangerous position, and my instincts screamed at me to escape.

Disheartened, I thought, here we go again. Just as I regained a miniscule amount of faith in men, the universe seemed to conspire against me. This interaction provided me with a counterbalance that perpetuated my doubts and reinforced my reasons for mistrust.

I ignored him and walked around his moped. He moved his bike to block me again.

“What?” I asked, wondering what he wanted with me.

He acted like he couldn’t speak English and gestured for me to hop on the bike.

I politely declined, “No, thank you,” and walked on.

“Ney,” he crooned, as he nodded his head and pointed to the back of his seat.

“No, thank you,” I said again, a bit more pronounced.

“Ney,” he continued with a depraved smile.

I remembered a conversation I’d had with Marc. He warned me that “ney” meant yes in Greek and that it confused him when he visited.

“No, as in the American no,” I shouted, getting more aggressive with my tone.

“Ney,” he said as he reached out and grabbed my shirt, pulling me toward him.

“No,” I roared, with fear and anger in my voice.

With a tight grip on my shoulders, he attempted to place me on his moped. In a split second, I yanked my arm back and delivered a powerful punch to his stomach. The impact doubled him over in pain, which granted me the opportunity to break free.

I ran across the street to the houses on the hillside. I’d hoped I would escape whatever he planned to do with me. The sound of his enraged pursuit echoed behind me, and his furious voice bellowed, “I catch you, I kill you.”

The fear in me grew. I spotted an empty garbage can and slid inside, in an attempt to hide. His voice sounded closer and closer. I held my breath while I prayed he wouldn’t find me. My only defense was to hunker down and embrace the stillness. I hoped for a divine intervention to keep me safe from harm.

Gradually, his cries dissipated into the distance. Slowly, I raised my head and scanned my surroundings. Time was of the essence, so I acted quickly.

With all the speed my trembling legs could muster, I leapt out of the trash can and sprinted toward the road. With desperation, I waved down the first passing car while I stood in the center of the cliff-top highway.

The occupants of the vehicle struggled with my English, but witnessed my distress. They appeared to understand the urgency and opened their doors, which allowed me to seek refuge. With a swift getaway, we sped off and left the moped man oblivious to my whereabouts.

Among the captivating destinations that I wanted to explore, Greece held a special attraction. This was the place I’d longed to visit the most. It was where I envisioned myself able to experience the wonders of its ancient history and movielike landscapes. I refused to let this single experience soil my memories of Greece.

* * * * *

From the moment I’d left Switzerland, I knew that I had to return to the land of the Swiss. And so, on a spontaneous impulse, I decided to cut my time short and alter my flight’s course, steering away from London and I charted a flight directly to Zurich.

Despite my intense longing for my cat, there wasn’t a desire to go back home pulling at my heartstrings. Instead, my urge to revisit Bern was constant. Therefore, I returned to the location that had such a profound impact on me.

* * * * *

After flying from Santorini to Athens, then to Zurich, and a train back to Bern, I surprised my friends with a visit to the Grosse Schanze. The atmosphere was filled with joy as people hurried toward me, treating me as if I had just returned home from a long journey. Danu demonstrated his unwavering hospitality and offered me a place at his house for as long as I wanted.

My stay in Bern extended my trip for an additional two months until my financial resources ran dry. Determined to find a way back to London, I used my last remaining francs to purchase materials from a local art store. This enabled me to create necklaces. No one taught me this craft, I learned on the fly.

With a handful of self-made necklaces, I ventured toward the university and proclaimed, “I’m selling necklaces” in Swiss German. To my astonishment, within minutes, all the necklaces found buyers. The demand grew, which prompted people to ask for more. Day after day, I crafted and sold necklaces until I amassed enough funds to secure my ticket back to London.