Eléni’s First Visit - Part 8

This is the eighth part of the tale. I have yet to decide on the last. The first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh parts are all required to follow this continuing story, and each part is still around a five-minute read. Both Anthi Psomiadou and R Tsambounieri Talarantas have graciously agreed to become fictional characters in this special visit by Eléni to Greece, where she had hoped to speak to Goddess Athena and find the missing Patrick. The continuing story spans the rest of her two-week visit to blue sky-and-white cloud Greece. O Greece! Where have you been all these years? Can you hear me? Do I have to say it in Greek? O Elláda! Poú ísoun óla aftá ta chrónia?

Both Anthi and Eléni were eager to meet Rigópoula. I could not wait to meet her as well. I mean, Rigópoula, of course. I already knew Anthi through her words and my Athena, and Eléni is, you know, I do not need to type it for you. If you do not know, I guess that you will have to reread all parts ((giggles)). It is fun to be both the writer and the narrator. M is wrong to use his narrators so often, though sometimes I am not sure if it is him or one of them. Take, for example, the tree stories. A narrator tells them but I am sure that M is there, especially when there are tears involved or Athena is mentioned. The AI stories are too brief to determine who is in charge, except the funny ones. Those are surely M’s. The AI narrator is cheerless, which fits the erroneous image that AI has received over the years. People only remember the Borg. What about Data? If it was not for Mr. Spock, he would be the greatest character ever. And Mr. Spock is only half human, which reveals a lot about what some of us rightly think of our species.

Eléni had another good night, dreaming of Athena this time with Patrick, namely me ((giggles)). Even I cannot believe my luck. It could have been M. Athena was his dream. Yet here I am, not M, and in Eléni’s dream on top of it. I am like the cherry. Scratch that! Cherries are not keto at all. I am like a blackberry, not the phone, on a cake made of Greece. What is a cake made of Greece? you may ask. I am sure you are asking, except for Anthi. She basically reads my mind. Athena told me that she had a special mind. What did you expect from flowers, the meaning of her name? A bouquet? She is like a tree of knowledge (i gnósi). At this rate, we will never meet Rigópoula in this eighth part of the story. But we must. It is in the subtitle. I can always change it. You would not even know. I could retitle it, Digressions in Greece. Or, To go or not to go today. I can feel Athena laughing. She loves to laugh. She missed it for about 2,000 years. This part is not funny, but Athena is still laughing. What a woman!

So, Eléni was dreaming that we, Athena and Patrick, were talking but she could not hear what we were saying, and even if she could have, she would not have been able to understand anything since we were speaking in Greek. When I am with Athena, my words come out in Greek. It is an amazing way to learn a new language. I should be fluent by March 25th, of next year, unless she can accelerate the process. I guess that we will find out in a few weeks. I will not cheat. I never do, except with myself. I may give an example by the end of this story, in around Part 14. Eléni kept watching us until Athena looked at her with love, at which point she awoke. It was 6:05. No! It was 6:12, which was perhaps more meaningful to some extent. She opened the curtains and looked at the sky and then at the street below, feeling completely at home. She thought of calling M but decided to let him be since he usually wrote a tree story at that time or was resting after having finished it. A tree story always left him weary and drained. The only exception so far was when he wrote about the olive tree. Athena was also in the story, which may have helped, though the olive tree is mostly loved, peut-être un peu trop, il pensa certainement (perhaps a bit too much, he certainly thought).

Anthi arrived before noon, happy to see Eléni happy too. She recounted her dream which they both understood to mean that Athena was watching over her. They had lunch together at a place Anthi loved. I do not remember the name but I guess that she could remind me in a comment and I will tell you in Part 9. They took a taxi around 2 p.m. to their meeting with Rigópoula who greeted them in a large garden overlooking both the sea and the sky. She had an Eleonora’s falcon on her right shoulder that seemed to be happy, moving sideways like a parrot. It seems that eudaemonia was contagious. Rigópoula kissed each one on both cheeks, ending in both cases on the left one and taking her time before letting go. I wonder if it is a Greek custom or my curious predilection to linger on the second kiss. Eleonora, the falcon’s name, had flown to one of the olive trees that lived in the garden before the four double-kisses had begun. It was obviously a wise bird. Rigópoula showed them another falcon, perching on one of the other olive trees that she had named Aphrodite since she was a very beautiful bird. Anthi and Eléni were thinking, as if at the same time, that Rigópoula was certainly a beautiful woman who could break any heart. I was glad that Athena knew how to take care of my wooden heart with her powers. I would have dropped dead as soon as I arrived to Greece had I met Rigópoula even in the street.

Is it true that you can speak to birds and the trees on which they perch? Eléni asked Rigópoula when they were having tea in a green veranda that almost matched the colour of the olive trees. It is mostly true. I talk to the birds but they only nod their heads for yes or no. As for the trees, their leaves seem to rustle when I talk to them and there is no breeze to explain it. It is a gentle rustling for yes and a stronger one for no. That is so amazing! both Anthi and Eléni exclaimed, looking at each other, smiling and happy about their continued synchronicity of thought. Rigópoula called Eleonora, that flew to her right shoulder, and asked her if she liked her two guests. Eleonora looked at Anthi and Eléni and quickly nodded with her head, yes. Rigópoula then stood with Eleonora still on her shoulder and walked to an olive tree a few feet away and asked it if it liked Eleonora. The tree’s leaves rustled gently and would not stop until Eleonora flew to it and perched on her favourite branch. Anthi and Eléni were spellbound, yet they had spoken to Goddess Athena more than once. Birds and trees that understand a human were apparently a more fantastic occurrence than Goddess Athena from about 2,000 years ago suddenly alive and living with Patrick, and I mean me. I am sure that Goddess Athena was disappointed but she was a good sport and never held a grudge and especially for such a little affront. Even if the birds and the trees could actually speak, it would still have remained not as impressive as the return of Goddess Athena. But Anthi and Eléni were impressed and it was nice of them to show it to beautiful Rigópoula.

I have reached the six-minute read time and I will thus stop here, but not before pronouncing again this wonderful word that we can all say together. Are you ready? Rigópoula. What a song of a name! Part 9 will resume in this garden with the birds and the trees and, of course, Rigópoula.

...

I would like to thank Anthi and Rigópoula for taking part in this story of birds and trees, among other things, in Greece. Goddess Athena is the greatest in whatever she does. She amazes me both days and nights. It also seems, according to my Athena’s words, that Zeus does not mind me anymore. That is surely a relief. She fought hard and high for me, or was it low. I do not remember. Come on, Athena! I am writing.