As the large blue and white island ferry began to careen into the port of Gavrio, on the western coast of Andros, Theo instructed Nicasio and Daniela to disembark with the passengers on foot down the crowded gangplank. There on shore he would pick them up in his Suzuki jeep as he drove it out of the vehicle storage decks amid a hundred other cars. This maneuver would be done in unison with the frenetic passengers dodging between the exiting cars. Somehow, after several desperate moments, the implausible plan worked, and they found themselves out on the dock where Theo drove by and picked them up, soon to be commandeering his jeep out of the little port town jockeying for positions in the temporary traffic. It was as if a grand race took place to get out of the port and disperse onto roads in various directions covering the island.

Soon Theo's vehicle was skirting a picturesque coastline of turquoise water, black rocks, and cream-colored, sandy coves. As they cruised along this eastern shore they followed an asphalt road which paralleled a long, umbrella dotted stretch of a beach. Theo referred to this as the 'GoldenBeach,' popular for swimming, and he taught them in Greek that it was pronounced, 'Chryso Amo.' The azure shoreline looked inviting to both Californians who were not accustomed to such clear, light blue beach waters.

The little white SUV climbed steadily upward along the edge of the steep mountain range, while its passengers peered precariously down toward the Aegean. Theo brought to their attention the amazing number of fieldstone walls, crisscrossing over the entire landscape. The little barriers, head tall to a man, were everywhere and once used as fencing, Theo explained, for flocks of sheep. The walls ran helter-skelter over the dryer, more barren landscape as far as the eye could see. He also pointed out far below them, and looking like a toy, their former ship now making its way out of the Gavrio port and onward toward its next island stop at Tinos to the southeast.

The existence of spring water was just as Theo had explained it. Many of the curves up the mountainside featured outcroppings of thick trees and bright green underbrush. Sometimes a carved marble fountain could be seen in these locations with water continuously spewing out of it and then snaking its way down a ravine or disappearing into a jungle-like tangle of vines, fig trees and dense bamboo. The view out across the sea from the higher elevation was breathtaking, with the shadows of clouds moving briskly across the water. A road sign they soon passed read Palaiopoli, which Nicasio easily translated from his GRE Greek-root-studies to mean 'ancient town." Theo explained the entire mountainside was littered with the stone ruins of that settlement, arranged randomly on terraces all the way down precariously to the sea. It was one of the earliest settlements on the island, he told them, and had seen two thousand years of permanent habitation before falling into abandonment only some two hundred years before.

"The winds are the main problem here," he said, "making this a pretty dangerous road. And the steepness of those cliffs? Well, those two unpleasant conditions were exactly why the early inhabitants stayed here."

"Why was that?" Daniela asked.

"They were living, you remember, in the age of pirates. The settlement could be more easily defended from this high vantage point. Ships had trouble landing below. The people could throw down stones or shoot arrows at anyone trying to scale the cliffs."

"Interesting," Nicasio added. "So it was all just a continuous game of survival here. And they used the natural features as a system of defense."

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Theo continued in his remarkably clear Californian accent. "But those physical conditions make the coastline here pretty unlivable today. The whole area is zoned as an archaeological site of historical interest anyway. It's illegal to build anywhere there are remains of ancient settlements on these islands."

"So how do you explain those beautiful new homes half way down the mountain?" Daniela asked, leaning out of an open window?

"I said it's illegal. I didn't say people followed the laws here." Theo smiled. "This is Greece. You'll get used to that. But those are nothing. There's some amazing summerhouses down there, out of sight. Right below us on the sea . . . in spite of coastal regulations. Most of those hideaways can only be accessed by small power boats for total privacy."

"So can people get away with that?" Daniela asked, looking below them for the invisible homes.

"I think you'll both go home with the real picture of modern Greece, guys. It's a land living under the golden rule."

"What's that?" Daniela asked, naively, bringing her head back inside the car.

"It's . . . who ever has the gold, makes the rules."

Nicasio laughed. "That's funny . . . but also pretty sad."

"Tell us about it," Theo said, shaking his head. "We say Greece is a poor little country with a lot of very rich people. They do just about anything they wish here. How do you Californians say it back at Berkeley? Money talks and bullshit walks?"

Theo's guests both laughed at his ability to use such idioms.

"OK. I see you learned more than a few things while you were in California, Theo."

He nodded in agreement.

Soon they were following another road along a mountain crest. It led them inland, away from the sea and crossed over the island's elongated shape at midpoint. Their drive was soon following a gradual decline into valley through a rich patchwork of agricultural plots and tree-lined creeks. Up on the sides of the hills, villages began to appear as white-dotted clusters of stone and plaster houses amid an occasional stand of tall cypress trees and a surrounding forest of pines, oaks and olives. Featuring tall within these patches of white houses would be seen occasionally a blue or white domed Orthodox church with courtyards flanked by stone walls and trees.

"This is really an amazing place," Daniela said. "I can totally see why someone would want to come back here and never leave."

Theo was strangely quiet now. He was mysteriously becoming more pensive as he drove down the rich valley towards the island's eastern coast. It seemed obvious he was perhaps closer to his own village and felt something melancholic about the journey.

"How long has it been since you've been back here, Theo?" Nicasio finally asked him.

"It's been . . . a good while. I don't come every year anymore. Not even during the summers like I used to."

Both Nicasio and Daniela were quiet, waiting for him to say more. But he did not.

As they neared the coastal edge, they passed through a small business district of grocery stores, a bus station and various pedestrian shops, looking to cater to a small town.

"Beyond this is the "Hora," he said suddenly, pointing over toward the sea. "It's the old medieval town of Andros. You can not drive through it. Only walk. Out near the little bay it was once gated and completely walled. There's a ruin of one of those early castles out on the point. Perfect to stroll around at sunset," he said, seeming to come back to life. "Very romantic, as I was telling you."

"We'll take your word for that," Nicasio said, somewhat coolly.

As they reached the shoreline beach the road skirted it closely and they could see people swimming off a beach covered by round stones and gray sand. On the other side was a majestic rock wall which the car now followed, snaking along the road for some distance. Behind it, through an open wooden gate, could be seen a lush garden of fruit trees, their branches waving in the sea breeze. Daniela pushed her head out the window of the jeep and remarked about the smell of citrus blossoms together with the sea. She was no doubt enchanted by the particular place. Its pristine loveliness. Nicasio seemed only to be growing more impatient with the long drive.

Within another quarter hour they were heading up a steep mountainside. A pair of villages could be seen peeking out of the forests of pine and cypress in the distance. It became obvious as they neared them that the homes here were stately and cast in the Neo-Classical style of the 18th and 19th centuries. They collectively had red clay tiled roofs, colonnades and baluster railings on balconies. Contrary to the "island style" architecture often seen in the travel books and postcards of the Greek islands, so characteristic of the Aegean, these houses were not the whitewashed boxy type with blue doors and window shudders. There was a variety of sizes and colors here, most looking to be quite old but restored or newly painted in hues of ochre and sand. Many were trimmed in the distinctive motif of aristocracy-decorative iron railings and columned balconies. As they neared the first row of houses, the road abruptly ended amid a number of parked cars in clearing.

"This is where we get out and walk," Theo said. "Stenies is a mountain village. Access to the houses is by foot only."

"You're kidding," Nicasio said in disbelief.

"Or donkey, if you happen to be the man who sells the fresh produce here everyday."

The two laughed at this comment as they passed out of the car and entered the pathway that led from the parking area, across a footbridge and onto the little cobblestone streets. These paths were no wider than to allow two people to walk abreast as they neared the village proper. The sound of running water could be heard like a small river ahead of them. It turned out to be careening out of the mountainside along the streets at fountain points into deep gutters. The sound was constant and seemed to be one of the peaceful features of all the main streets. Flowers were abundant everywhere-red geraniums and purple and pink bougainvilleas. These bursts of color were seen along the pathways and in clay or marble planters. Pots of blossoms were carefully placed on balconies or in entry ways.

The little streets seemed endless and labyrinthine but always bringing the traveler to a new more charming home situated in the trees or vines on an elevated terrace. At some points from the upper village the sea could be seen far in the distance. Daniela was animated like a child in a theme park, practically skipping up the paths. She pointed out the details on each home-often little clues the family had been in shipping for generations. An anchor here or a dolphin there, embellishing a doorway. A seashell or wave motif was common along the walls. Nicasio, on the other hand, was beginning to show signs of fatigue as yet more turns and passageways presented themselves at each cobbled pathway corner.

Suddenly, Theo motioned for them to stop in front of a two story, reddish block house with ornate wrought-iron railings. The motif featured a filigree of open-mouthed griffins and pineapple end caps atop the posts. The elaborate front door boasted a small stained glass window in the design of a sunburst. But it was dusty and the entire entryway looked unused for some time. The shutters, on the tall, narrow windows, were painted the same color as the red blocks and were tightly closed. The balcony had no furniture or potted plants. It was, in brief, a beautiful, Neo-Classical house, but looking lifeless and presently unlived in when compared with the others. Theo looked very somber as he stood before it. He had not spoken since they had left the car.

"This is my family's house," he finally said in a muted voice.

Daniela and Nicasio were silent, catching their breath and sensing something very heavy was occurring.

"I haven't been back here . . . for over six years," he finally said, barely audibly. "It's a little difficult for me now. That's all."

Nicasio put his hand lightly on Theo's shoulder. "Hey. You gonna be OK?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I will. Just give me a second." They heard him make one loud sniff and watched as he meticulously took a handkerchief out of a back pocket, unfolded it, and blew his nose thoroughly.

"OK, guys," he finally said. "I'll be alright."

Theo turned and looked at both of them. He courageously put a smile on his face and exhaled loudly. "So now let's go find Dr. Vasiliou," he said surprisingly, wiping his nose once more.

Daniela spoke up quickly. "Theo, wait. It's Ok. If you want, we could go back to the Hora and take that walk by the castle."

"Yeah, Theo." Nicasio chimed in. "Maybe grab some lunch . . ?"

"No. I'm fine. I'd just been putting that off for too many years . . . that's all. I feel better now. Really."

"Theo. . . What's this all about?" Daniela felt he might now be able to field the obvious question.

"Oh . . . long story. You just have to appreciate how close we Greeks are when it comes to family, that's all guys."

"OK." They both spoke in unison.

"See, I'm an only child. For my generation that's pretty uncommon for Greeks. And when my parents died here. . .within a year of each other . . . I just couldn't bring myself back to see the old place. I know that sounds . . ."

"No. That's understandable, Theo. Really." Daniela's voice was soft and nurturing.

"It's taken me a long time to get here, believe me." He folded and stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket with some difficulty. "I guess it just took a different reason to get me back to this village. But thanks to you two, I finally did it."

Nicasio reached over and gave him a mock punch on the arm. "Hey man, things like this can take a lot of time . . . you know?"

"Just too many memories here, I guess. My cousins have kept it locked up for me these past years. They come by every couple months to see if it's still standing."

The two were at a loss as to what more to say.

"So come on!" Theo suddenly said. He seemed to have miraculously bounced back into his energetic self. "You've actually got me curious now to see if Dr. Vasiliou still lives here or not."

"You mean . . . you're really not sure?" Daniela's eyes met Nicasio's briefly.

"Well . . . not . . . completely. As I told you, it's been at least six years since I've even been on the island. It was the last time I saw and spoke to her, in fact. It was at my mother's funeral."

Nicasio glanced back at Daniela.

"Look," Theo quickly added with added encouragement, "if Dr. Vasiliou is not visiting some other country right now, the professor will be here. I'm very certain of that."

"So do you remember which house is hers, Theo?"

"Of course! Come on!" He charged forth with enthusiasm, as if he add just been given a new life, bereft of an old destructive melancholy.

* * *