First Time

I still remember when the semester was over and my parents told me they had exciting plans for the summer. For a 15-year-old, just the words "summer plans" ignite the suppressed will for adventure that exams had long buried inside the darkest part of the mind.

Shopping, packing, and everything necessary for the trip was completed in a world record time. You plainly could see I was not the only one excited for this “adventure.” My parents probably needed an escape more than me, more than I ever knew then.

I got my boarding pass and it said Paros, Cyclades. I had never heard of this place before, which only made me more excited. Everything that I learned about Ancient Greek history prepared me for a mythical time and as I found out, I was not wrong.

The boat trip was not long, only four hours from the port of Piraeus. The port was full of people from all over the world, all released from their everyday demons. Big cruise boats, small boats for shorter trips, and old wooden fishing boats which belonged to the beginning of the century completed the image.

We reached Parikia, the biggest village in Paros. People in the thousands poured out of the ship, cars honking so they don't miss even a single moment from their vacation. I almost lost my parents that day, which didn't scare me as the island provided the feeling that you were home no matter your ethnicity or origin.

We took a 20 minute ride to Náousa where our hotel was. The most beautiful village ruled by the old timers — the hard people of the seas. A vast picture full of the white houses that the Greek islands were about to become famous for.

Our hotel was on top of a hill untouched by the actions of humanity. My window looked over the sea. It was more like a frame of a picture that always changed but it would never disappoint.

We settled down and put everything somewhere because nobody wastes time organizing when they have the Greek crystal clear beaches on their feet. The first day felt like the fast forward button was pressed. The sunset acted like an alarm for us, meaning time to go back and shower. We dressed nicely as a family for the first time in a while. I am not known for my attention to fashion. We took a walk to the hidden alleys of Náousa, the smallest shops selling handcrafted things I never knew that existed or that I desired.

We reached the port of Náousa, which was packed full of people waiting to find an empty table to sit and enjoy the freshest seafood you could imagine. Some restaurants didn't even have a menu. They cooked whatever the fishermen caught that day, literally fresh food. As you can imagine, we could not find a table to save our lives. We were about to give up when we came across a gentleman who was smoking a cigarette that appeared to save him from a mental breakdown or a really bad decision.

My dad could relate to that man as he has come to that point where a single draw could offer salvation. After a ten minute chat, he told us he was the manager in one of the restaurants that was full and he would find us a table so we can end our first day on the island with a sumptuous meal.

It was the MOST AMAZING meal I have ever had in a restaurant, the kind of food you would want as your last meal before execution and still, you would die a happy man as you had tasted heaven on Earth.

The name of the gentleman which I cannot remember for the life of me showed me the side of life that I dreamt before I even knew I wanted. He was the person that everybody will meet in their lifetime and somehow he will change their life. My person was him, the unnamed cigarette smoking gentleman.

Our walk back to the hotel seemed longer than the walk going in the port.

Our first day promised what would be the most amazing adventure a teenager could ever ask for.