Fifth of August, the previous night I simply collapsed in the car. The excursion to the Pelekita cave had destroyed me, could hear music swirling from the near tavernas, but could only lean back the passenger's seat and use my hat as a pillow. I had to eat, but in the morning first thing was to plunge into the sea. The parking lot was on the shore, but I took a few steps further to the south on the trail to Xerokampos to find my rocky spot. The water was not deep enough to dive but detached enough to get rid of the top and be surrounded by hundreds of colourful fishes. On the opposite sandy shore that I left behind there was a woman likely in her forties, a wonderful shape to admire alone in her world. It was still early, the shore of Kato Zakros was still silent. I let the sea carry me away and a swimmer with a mask and snorkel on approached the rocks near me, taking a breath in the sun just to greet me. Ageless, with no face, just mighty arms crossing the sea towards the horizon. My heart rejoiced. I smiled back, sure this was bound to be a great day. I sat on the rock and washed grapes into the sea, lost in my thoughts for the lady on the shore and the swimmer behind the rocks, for their thousands of faces.
I sat in the first taverna just to get local fish. The waitress who showed me the fridge was of my age, the typical Greek girl with glasses and dark long hair that would shine was she not serving tables. The typical girl who does not ask questions about you but has the capability of being amused when you guess right details about her life, who does not question why you know what you know. The typical waitress to flirt with, whom to ask for directions you could rather easily find on the maps. I asked her about the gorge of Kato Zakros, the Valley of the Dead. Her only question was what it is like to be travelling alone. I did not tell her that travelling is ghay, that what I do is different. I do not remember what I responded. I am an archaeologist and my professor dislocated his bones just like his students misplace pottery shreds on the shelves. This is why I find myself in Kato Zakros, a possible answer. Or again, the novel way to visit a minoan site is to swim in its proximity, not to see it, not to enter it, obviously not to dig it, but to inhale the dust of its surroundings. And again, I am a yoghurt tester. And much more than this. The goats saved me once, taught me everything they know. Now I am in the mountains and they are hypnotised by me, while I am absorbed in gauging the soil and jump as light-winged as they are. I am not travelling, I am in Crete. That's different. Crete is sanctuary.
I went to the bathroom of the taverna just to brush my teeth and wash my face, and a lesbian short-haired couple came to urinate one after the other. I left the sink to them.
I began walking towards the Valley of the Dead, where the Minoans buried their kin as if in space, as if on Mercury. The view literally takes your breath away, especially if waterless in the heat. All is arid and austere.
Before beginning the path I was fiddling with my memories on a stone by a bench, when a french man sat to rest coming back from the gorge. I talked to him, asking if he found any springs on the way. He said there is a river. He replied that no, he did not trust it to drink. He said, the place is beautiful and animals are hiding. "Not the sheep... I do not know their name". Yes, usual story. It was me who taught this French man what a goat is.
New hiking equipment, just a floreal dress and the hat to fold the hair and protect them from the sun. Water spray in hand. The path was easy, but the climbing insane. I took my time by the river under a castor tree. I masturbated furiously, careless if someone would pass by. That would be their issue, not mine.
Then I climbed up to reach the shrine. Following the path was harder than just to grab the bare arid rocks. Every time I ascend to the peak rock by rock my mind is back to katalimata. Every rock I climb now is for katalimata, to come back one day to katalimata. One day in katalimata you will look back and see no more the void that froze you. You will always be wherever you want. On the way I saw a little goat bleating to the mother and my heart rejoiced.