Health Journey: Fiona Goes to Corfu, Part 2

The Road to London...

Corfu, London...what a contrast. I’m going to be taking the bus to work and working in one of the most vibrant, richly cultural, diverse, sophisticated cities in the world, 15 years after I left it backing the late 80s.

The morning of my flight, I’m up at 6am, before the alarm goes off. I feel quite calm about leaving Pelekas as I wait by the side of the road for Spiros from the mini-market who’s taking me to the airport. I drag my two bags out on to the road, and look up at the delicate pink clouds above, heralding another beautifully sunny day. As we wind down the hill in Spiros’s truck, he tells me he does this trip from Pelekas to Corfu Town every morning at 6.30am to buy supplies for his mini-market. After the run, he sleeps for a few hours before he works in the store, then at 11pm he starts his second job, as night receptionist at a local hotel, to earn enough money to put his son through university. The dial on the truck’s speedometer is broken, and it whizzes around and around, in mad circles. Yellow foam is sticking out of the ripped plastic seats, and the engine is struggling. I half hope – very selfishly – that we don’t make it to the airport, so that I miss my flight, but not only does Spiros carry my bags for me, he refuses point blank to accept my offer of gas money, and shakes my hand, telling me we’ll see each other in September.

In the airport lounge I’m surrounded by British tourists heading home, some sunburned, but most of them looking healthy and tanned by the Greek sun. In a few hours’ time, I’m in a window seat on the Gatwick Express, the fast train into London. It’s humid and hot and outside the window the sky is grey, while dark brick buildings, covered in graffiti, flash by.

There are no purple and yellow flowers in sight, just the backs of office buildings. I’m in this cutting-edge, stylish city, now. I’ll get used to it, I tell myself. I’m going to make the most of these 2-3 months before I go back to Corfu. Anyway, London used to be my home for seven years, and as the saying goes, “home is where the heart is.” Mine is in Corfu.

Copyright 2003, Fiona Klonarides. Reprinted with permission. First published online.