Why? Why? Why? Iraklia.

Or how it can go when you are wish reading.

First, I have to explain what I mean by "wish reading". It's about reading in a guidebook or elsewhere about a beach, village or attraction, and reading the information as you want it to be. Of course, it's not strange that things change, especially if the information you read is outdated. But that's not what I call "wishful reading".

Wishful reading is when you see something completely different in front of you than what is actually in the information. Something that has never existed, no matter how much you wish it did. Does that sound complicated? I think you'll understand when you've finished reading.

Camilla and I were on Donoussa 1997 where we met a couple named Carin and Krister. We had such a good time together that we decided to join them on the boat to Iraklia, an island that neither of us had been to before. On the boat trip over we read about Iraklia in a guidebook and we really liked what we read. Iraklia sounded even more paradisaical than Donoussa.

Since we had lived near the sea on Donoussa, we wanted to live in a mountain village on Iraklia. Since there was only one village on Iraklia by the sea and one in the mountains, the choice of village was easy. We saw a small, cozy village in the mountains, with a small, cozy square in the middle. Around the square were several family tavernas, and some homely pensions. That's where we would live. We read about all this in the guidebook. We thought so. But we had wish reading.

From the port it is 4 500 meters to Chora, or Panagia, if you go by car.

When we arrived at the port of Iraklia, there were several room renters waiting for our arrival. We asked everyone where their pensions was, and everyone pointed in unison towards the port village. No one had rooms to offer up in Chora (Panagia), where we had planned to stay. One of the ladies at the port saw us and told us about her fantastic pension and the beautiful view from there. Thanks, but no thanks, we said. The lady's name was Anna and I will come back to her later.

We didn't choose the road. We chose the path. Stupidly enough!

We went to the small travel agency in the small port village and asked if there was a bus to Chora. There wasn't, and that was for the simple reason that there was no bus to Iraklia. But we didn't give up, so we asked if there was a path to Chora, because we didn't want to walk the road. Sure, it starts there, the man said, pointing to a donkey path.

Having come this far, one of us should have asked at the travel agency if there were any pensions in Chora. But our wishful thinking minds put a stop to that. So we put on our heavy backpacks and the not-so-heavy daypacks - and started walking upwards.

When we were about halfway there, we met a cuddly donkey standing next to the path. It was so cute, and it wanted to be petted, so we petted it. Someone said it looked hungry, and the rest agreed. So the donkey got all the bread and fruit we had in our pack. Because what good would it do, soon we would be sitting in a small tavern in the square in Chora and munching on a Greek salad each and quenching our thirst with a cold beer. That's how simple our wish-reader brains saw it all.

The sweet donkey that got our last bread and our last fruit. Yum! Yum!

We left a full and happy donkey and continued walking. Uphill. Now we were starting to get really tired and the steps were getting shorter and shorter. We sweated profusely and stopped often to drink water - and rest. When we saw the first houses in Chora, we drank the last of the water.

This is where Chora (Panagia) begins and Christer and I went there, but we found nothing…

When we saw what looked like a main road into the village, we took off all our packing and took a breather in the shade. Finally there! It was decided that Krister and I would look for a room. Carin and Camilla were allowed to rest. After a minute or so we were back again. It didn't take us longer than that to walk through the entire village, and it didn't take us longer than that to discover that there were no pensions, squares or tavernas in Chora.

…except for two old men shearing sheep on the main street.

When we came back so quickly, Carin and Camilla thought we had found a room. We joked and said: "Sure, we found a room, but the pension had a swimming pool, and we don't want that, so we said no". In the situation we found ourselves in, that joke didn't fall on particularly good ground. So we had to tell the truth: there are no rooms to rent in Chora. Sob!

So we had no choice but to go down to the port again. Packed everything - and here we go again! We were hot, sweaty, tired, floppy-eared, irritated, hungry and thirsty. We consoled ourselves with the fact that the cuddly donkey was happy.

This time we walked the road down to the port, and it was much faster. Thank goodness! When we got down to the port we sat down on some benches. A pickup truck stops and the female driver asks if we are looking for a room. It was Anna, the one who had told us about her excellent pension a few hours earlier.

Anna with her car became the savior in need.

We answered YES to her question. Camilla, Carin and Krister jumped onto the flatbed with all the luggage, and I sat in the front seat next to Anna. She looked at me and asked: You look completely exhausted! What have you been doing since you came by boat? Then she put the gas in full and started driving up the hill to her guesthouse (Annas Place).

I looked at Anna, and answered: we have gone back and forth to Chora. Then Anna stopped the car, shook her head and looked at me in confusion, and asked: Why? Why? Why?

Well, I didn't have a good answer to that question, so I sat silent.

View from Annas Place. Finally we had a room!

Less than a minute later we arrived at Annas Place, which turned out to be a fantastic pension with a very beautiful view. It was just a shame that it would be so tiring to get there. During the long-awaited lunch immediately afterwards we read in the guidebook and there was not a word about squares with cozy taverns and pensions in Chora. We had wish reading everything.

We were tired, we were thirsty and we were hungry. Guess what that lunch tasted like!

We have adopted Anna's question - Why? - ever since. We ask ourselves that question whenever someone has done something incomprehensible, and every time we think of IrakliaAnna.

When we returned to Iraklia ten years later, it turned out that Anna remembered both us and the crazy hike. She was standing at the port as usual, waiting for customers. When she saw us, she ran up to us. Anna smiled with her whole face and said: Welcome back! Are you searching for a room? When we said YES in unison, she smiled even more, and said: Very good!

It took us more than 3 ½ hours to go from 2nd to 1st. Well done. Not!

In the picture above you can see the port of Iraklia. At number 2 the path to Chora/Panagia begins. At number 1 is Annas Place. It took us more than 3 ½ hours to walk that distance. With all our luggage!

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