I took a seat at the café and ordered an iced tea, wondering what I should do next. There wasn’t much I could do. Night was fast approaching, and I knew nothing about the island and the layout of the land. If nobody came after a while, I’d get a room somewhere and the next morning come back to the harbour, hopefully to meet with Miu. According to Sumiré, Miu was a methodical woman, so I couldn’t believe she’d stand me up. If she couldn’t make it to the harbour, there must be some very good explanation. Maybe she didn’t think I’d get here so quickly.
I was starving. A feeling of such extreme hunger I felt sure you could see through me. All the fresh sea air must have made my body realize it hadn’t had any nourishment since morning. I didn’t want to miss Miu, though, so I decided to wait some more in the cafe. Every so often a local would pass by and give me a curious glance.
At the kiosk next to the cafe I bought a small English pamphlet about the history and geography of the island. I leafed through it as I sipped the incredibly tasteless iced tea.
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The island’s population ranged from 3,000 to 6,000, depending on the season. The population went up in the summer with the number of tourists, down in winter when people went elsewhere in search of work. The island had no industry to speak of, and agriculture was pretty limited—olives and a couple of varieties of fruit. And there was fishing and spongediving. Which is why, since the beginning of the twentieth century, most of the islanders had emigrated to America. The majority moved to Florida, where they could put their fishing and sponging skills to good use. There was even a town in Florida with the same name as the island.
On top of the hills was a military radar installation. Near the civilian harbour was a second, smaller harbour where military patrol ships docked. With the Turkish border nearby, the Greeks wanted to prevent illegal border crossings and smuggling, which is why there were soldiers in the town. Whenever there was a dispute with Turkey—in fact small-scale skirmishes often broke out—traffic in and out of the harbour picked up.
More than 2,000 years ago, when Greek civilization was at its peak, this island, situated along the main route to Asia, flourished as a trading centre. Back then the hills were still covered with green trees, put to good use by the thriving shipbuilding industry. When Greek civilization declined, though, and all the trees had been cut down (an abundant greenery never to return again), the island quickly slid downhill economically. Finally, the Turks came in. Their rule was draconian, according to the pamphlet. If something wasn’t to their liking, they’d lop off people’s ears and noses as easily as pruning trees. At the end of the nineteenth century, after countless bloody battles, the island finally won its
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independence from Turkey, and the blue-and-white Greek flag fluttered over the harbour. Next came Hitler. The Germans built a radar and weather station on top of the hills to monitor the nearby sea, since the hills provided the best possible view. An English bombing force from Malta bombed the station. It bombed the harbour as well as the hilltop, sinking a number of innocent fishing boats and killing some hapless fishermen. More Greeks died in the attack than did Germans, and some old-timers still bore a grudge over the incident.
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