First days – the journey to Greece – Kobi Shmuel, chapter 1
Ten minutes, maybe even less, in order to release the motorbike.
A small café place, like in the old days, the village elders with their time-born wrinkles that add to their grace and mile of total idleness. Some of them didn’t even bother to raise their heads when I entered the parking spot attached to the café. There is definitely a potential there… Greek coffee. I wear the riding suit, briefly check the map, cross it with the GPS and this is it, on the road…
First stop Sounion – not one shed that indicates on its past: illegal immigrants, training, gathering point for the journey towards Israel, all this right next to me… and no sign to any of it. In my heart I want to close my eyes and see even for just a minute the beginning, the first forming of Zionism as well as total destruction of generations of families, the uncertainty of a new place with mandatory governance without anything, and the will to arrive to Israel, the home of the Jews, after 2000 years was probably stronger than anything. Few “must have” photos and moving on to Chalkida.
I ride in spiraling roads, the weather is wonderful, and on the left the blue sea is shiny and deep, in the horizon there are mountains and bays almost reaching the sky, and me… I ride through several more miles straight. The first sign pit a big smile on my face – Chalkida.
In the entrance to the city there is a white bridge. I am always impressed with bridges, and it all started with my world-wide travels. My favorite bridges are the simplest, I saw many of them in Russia, when I was traveling towards Siberia, and everything was iron-made with no special designs, just simple bridges. The Russian propaganda and simplistic design in the 30’s managed to preserve the awareness and appreciation for this period today as well.
I am rather tired by now, but I must to walk around the city and get to know the general lines of its construct. The city is beautiful, revolves around the sea which provide beauty and strength to it. Who would believe that in the allyes I walk through, families were eliminated in a blink of an eye, our people were loaded on trains as lambs to the slaughter. I walk and raise my head and there is the statue of colonel Mordehai Frizis in all its glory, looking down to me, as he was waiting for me to arrive from the Holy land. My enthusiasm went on and on, almost as I knew him. I took photo after photo, made a portfolio that wouldn’t shame any modeling agency in the country. This distinguished man deserves all the honor, and not for the first time I wonder – how is it possible the in the Holy Land there not a thing that marks this high-ranked officer.
Good night everyone…
A small Greek coffee welcomed my taste buds this morning. After tying the equipment, starting the engine and hearing the pleasant, familiar and sweet sound, the motorbike comes alive. I go through the narrow allyes of the old city of Chalkida, I search for the Jewish cemetery in town; this site was probably situated outside the city in the past, however today it is situated inside the city, just like the “Trumpeldor” cemetery in Tel Aviv. The first sight of the cemetery is unveiling, the excitement is overwhelming and I look at the monument and can’t seem to stop moving my eyes to the words “Shema Yisrael”. I stand there for several long minutes and pictures are flashing in my mind depicting the suffering of the Jewish people. I slightly smile to myself. On my left my distinguished friend Colonel Mordehai Frizis and in me there is a long lasting feeling of familiarity. I take a photo and document in my camera a reminder for an old history that joins the pages of the Jewish history.
Small grey gate welcomes me in the Jewish cemetery in Chalkida, Greece. The cemetery is surrounded by stone walls. I didn’t enter until I started the motorbike and rode around the Jewish cemetery to show my respect (a personal issue of mine). In the cemetery I’m welcomed by a man who works in the cemetery and attends it. I enter this piece of history, up and to the right there are two hundred years old graves and even older ones. The shape of the graves is interesting, similar to those I saw in the cemetery in Morocco “House of the Living”. When I turn my head to the right I see more recent graves, names and names and names, everything is familiar, nothing I didn’t encounter in Israel. This thought made me realize that our nation as a home of the Jewish people is simply a miracle. Miracle of foundation with all its meanings. I take a photo of the writings on the graves and the cause of death in some of them. Grey clouds and rain drops have begun and a sense of unease surrounds me. I light up candles for those who died before their time. May their memories be blessed.
Despite the pouring rain, I decide to ride towards the second largest island “Euboea” that connects to where I am via a white short bridge, instead of returning to the industrial roads of central Greece, and from there to take the ferry towards “Volos”. I’m riding amidst the forest, the air is fresh, endless spirals take me from one postcard to another. Turning the head right and left discovers scenery of mountains with thousands shades of green, which make me think that it’s only the rain that can bring this magnificent view. The color of leaves in the sides of the road is orange-brown, a harmony which is similar to this journey. Café-Restaurant on the side of the road, coffee, sipping clear water and I continue into a wood so thick I think that any moment I will see Red Riding Hood or the wolf.
A crossroad and a split, I turn left and join the breathtaking view of a sea rising up and down along with mountains dotted by tiny villages. One of the most amazing places is “Limni” village, which is just like a perfect picture the artist knew when to finish without adding unnecessarily to it…perfect.
I am tired from this loaded day, I continue to the next town, small motel with amazing view to finish this day.
Tomorrow I go up on the ferry to Volos.