It took Odysseus twenty years to get back to Ithaca.  Ten years fighting the Trojan  War and an epic ten trying to get back to his Penelope.  In that time he experienced the wrath of the gods, fatal storms and had to tie himself to his ship’s mast to resist the temptation of the Sirens.  

In contrast, although it’s taken me probably as many years to get there, my actual passage took an hour and a half.  And instead of being destroyed by Poseidon, I was slain by my own nemesis of gluten. 

Travelling is my passion.  I have had an intense drive to see as much of the world as possible before I lose the ability to see.  Travelling can be tricky with sight loss.  It can be daunting, overwhelming and at times confusing, when most foreign airports lack accessibility – although, not compassion.  However, the cherry on my cake is that that travelling with sight loss and a food allergy, it can be frustrating.  And this is because being me can be ‘a lot’ for some people, causing some to make snap judgements which lack understanding.  

Don’t get me wrong, most people are helpful.  Moreover, they think they are correct when they say you can eat something safely.  But, and this is not exclusive of being abroad, people don’t always understand what being a coeliac entails.  No wheat, no barley, no gluten.  This means that not only can us coeliacs not have flour products, we can’t have some pickles; beers and lagers, vodkas; grains; and even soy sauce!  This affliction and my sight issues can make me feel a right pain in everyone’s ass.  I think I appear high maintenance and miserable – like a snooty princess.  I can feel their judgement; I can sense the eye roll.  If only they knew, if only they knew…

I could kill a ham and tomato baguette and a cold beer…I’d love to find the toilet by myself, get a drink from the bar, and do bigger stuff like drive a car around the hairpin bends in the Kefalonian mountains…

But, I digress.  Back to Ithaca.  The morning we set sail, I was thirty six hours into a gluten issue.  My ‘poisoning’ – as Moth calls it – was intense and had particularly spoilt a jaunt up the coast to Sami and Fiskardo.  The homes of Captain Corelli and Tom Hanks, respectively.  Although I showed willing with my gung ho attitude of literally diving right into Mini Myrtos Bay, attempting a glorious fish lunch in a stunning Venetian harbour, and managing to sip a spritzer, I had been as sick as a dog.  So sick, that I couldn’t talk and cried myself to sleep as I wanted to go home to my own bed.  

Sometimes, I am such a baby.  

In fact, to unravel my gluten shite time further, the hotel breakfast I paid for ONLY contained gluten products.  Something, I’d previously raised with the owners via email before we arrived ‘I’m sorry, bring your own’ they said.  Instead, because I didn’t want to jam my GF bread into a toaster full of bread crumbs, I opted to pay MORE for omelettes instead.  

Do I appear cross?  I was more disappointed.  But I’m not here to moan, as kindness and compassion always finds a way and for this I am grateful…

Back to Ithaca.  After sailing the azure waters of the Ithaca Strait and winding our way around the mighty and rocky coastline, I felt like Amphitrite, waiting to be retrieved by a dolphin and loved by the powerful Poseidon.  Entranced by the translucent depths; expansive blue sky; vertiginous cliffs and the sense of Pegasus just being over the horizon, I felted more sated.  I was feeling less sick but as weak as a baby mountain goat – ready to explore but in need of sustenance.  We had just reached Gidaki Beach and the crew brought out some snacks.  I was expecting Lays in a dish.  Instead, mozzarella and tomato crostini’s were thrust our way.  They looked delicious and as I’d not touched anything since the fish lunch twenty hours previously, I was enticed by the plump tomatoes and creamy cheese. 

Dejected, I shook my head.  I had a bag of ready salted Lays to hand.  They’d have to do.  

The crew said ‘no gluten?’

I wanted to cry (again, big baby and I was feeling sorry for myself).

He disappeared into his tiny cabin and popped up again moments later with a box of GF toasts.

Elated (it’s surprising how wonderful it is when you are offered a GF solution unexpectedly) I could have kissed him.  So much for ‘you can’t get GF products on the island…

He made me GF crostini and my heart, and stomach, for the first time in hours, full.  

His kindness made my day.  He went into make me a GF lunch (in his tiny cabin) and made no fuss, eye roll, or made me feel ‘extra’ in any way.  And although I was not firing on all cylinders still, he made sailing around the stunningly mythical island more comfortable and enjoyable than I’d anticipated the night before.  

Kefalonia and Ithaca were all I dreamt of and more.  My gratefulness and gratitude for this trip are as abundant as the fish which fill the Ionian waters.  You might be reading this thinking ‘over privileged woman moaning about her awful food  experience in Greece’.  You might think there are bigger issues in the world.  You’d be right, and so evident when you look around the islands: the constant threat of fires – planes circling daily looking for signs; the intense heat even the Greeks are struggling with; the cost of living on the islands – it isn’t exclusive to the UK either; and as for living on an island where there’s a daily earthquake – with visual reminders of the earthquake which destroyed all but Fiskardo in 53.  So yes, I’m utterly fine.  More than fine! I’ve had the most amazing time exploring more of the Ionian and feel extremely lucky to have done so.  The food was the best I’ve ever had (even with poisoning) it was fresh, modern and exciting.  I’d put it on par with a trip to Venice many years ago.  We met some lovely, interesting and kind people, some of who regaled us with crazy stories about the islands intertwined with Greek mythology – it is there around every rock and in every cave.  I swam , laughed and gorged myself on cultural relics and stories.  My Greek odyssey was epic.  It was glorious and sublime.  My problems really are inconsequential really.  

That said, as much as I prefer to shove away my issues and focus on the beauty of the world, I’ve realised that this is not always healthy for any of us.  Like I previously mentioned, going away for somebody like me is tough.  Mapping somewhere new and finding your way around is a real challenge!  People don’t know you, so asking for help, advice and support is hard – it does not come naturally to most people.  After all, we like our independence – something which we find more precious post-covid.  But, it is worth pointing out that we all, at some time or another, require understanding and compassion, without you even realising it.  One person’s thoughtfulness can make another’s day.  I have many thanks to give…

Food for thought 

My sun scorched odyssey is over for this year.  A wild time of more magic than anything else.  When I travel anywhere I try and take away something from my experience.  This time I take away the joy, strength and kindness of the Kefalonians.