After an uneventful and cheaper taxi ride back to Athens airport, bag drop off, security check, and the perfume gauntlet to our gate, we boarded a bus to an ATR42 as gusts of wind tried to knock us over on the tarmac.

‘How is this gonna fly?’ I wondered.

Taking our seats, I gave Larry the window, that’s foreplay in my book.

We taxied short and the engines revved.

“Sounds like we’re inside a mosquito,” I said, which solicited a hearty laugh from the Saint.

The flight was advertised as 45 minutes, but really only took 25. We landed and almost jumped into a taxi cab without our luggage! I don’t know where our brains were, we’d already forgotten a package at the terminal gate. When I say ‘we’ I mean Larry, in the nicest way, of course.

I’ve started to give Larry grief, ok, let me be more clear, Sainthood has gone to his head and I’m trying to bring him back to mortal status…he’s a dear man and my life partner, but damn, he’s getting funny in old age. He’s always been a good driver, a little cautious, but good. However, his map reading skills suck fifty percent of the time. A navigator he is not. The irony on this one is his phone will hold a charge where my phone will not. At some point each day, I have to take away his phone for navigational use. (That’s ok, because he has control of everything else, the languages, the credit cards and cash-o-la). He’s too eager to help and I’ve had to slap his hand away when he wrestled my backpack from me to hoist it into the airline luggage carrier. This Sainthood title needed to stay in Spain.

Larry returned from the grocery store.

“I got turned around a few times(as in lost). I had to put the (Airbnb) address into my phone.” He announced coming in the door.

I laughed, what synchronicity. It was the fifty percent non-navigational skill moment.

Back to my story. We retrieved our luggage, aka backpacks, from the conveyor belt, hopped a cab and were ferried to our Airbnb. A tiny bit early, our host put the backpacks into storage while the Saint and I went a-sploring.

First agenda, find me a restroom. Next on my list was food. As my stomach grumbled, Larry stood in the shade filling out an online airline-form for the lost item (he) left behind. Never patient, I grabbed his arm and led him across the alleyway and up a short flight of steps into Boulamatsis, a 4.6 star rated family restaurant, that actually Momma runs. Everything was delicious and we scarfed our new regional favorite - baked feta in olive oil with peppers, tomatoes and fresh herbs.

Momma brought out free dessert, because… ready for this…because Larry said “ευχαριστώ.” (That’s thank you in Greek.)

Okay. Okay. Larry can keep the title ‘Sainthood’ for a few more days, seeing as he got us free dessert again.