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IN AMSTERDAM we
all woke up around noon. Els
made a pot of coffee and we had
a relaxing visit as I believed
our plane to Athens was not due
to depart until 5 p.m. We ate
fried eggs and bread, then took
showers. Cor and Els were
planning to give us a tour of
some nearby villages before
driving us out to the airport.
As we were putting on our coats
I had an inexplicable urge to
check our tickets, and to my
shock I discovered that the
plane was leaving at 2:40, not
five o'clock! It was now 2
o’clock. Luckily they lived
close to Schiphol airport, so we
raced over there, checked in
hurriedly and were told to take
our bags directly to the gate,
where we were the last to board
the plane.
Arriving in Athens at around 7
p.m., we stood in the taxi line
and found a cab to take us to
Corinth for 15,000 drachmas
(around $50) for the two-hour
drive. It was dark, so we
couldn’t see much except
billboards.
The
taxi driver spoke a little
English, and my meager Greek
vocabulary began to come back so
we had some communication. He
serenaded Joy and told her he
loved her, and kept grabbing our
hands to kiss them. He also
stopped along the way to make a
phone call, leaving the meter
running, and I did my best to
scold him in Greek, which he
pretended not to understand.
As we
entered Corinth I recognized
nothing of the town I had lived
in almost twenty years earlier,
and my attempts to guide the
driver to the Markellos
apartment ended in failure. We
stopped to ask directions of the
locals, and finally a man on a
motorcycle escorted us to
Krokida 7.
The
Markellos’s daughter Christina
(I had first met her as an
infant and later as a young
girl) came down to meet us. She
was now a beautiful, well-spoken
young woman of twenty. She led
us up to the sixth floor in the
same rickety elevator I had
ridden in so many times years
earlier, and into the apartment
where Helen had been expecting
us for hours.
George
had already gone to bed, having
to get up at sunrise to work on
his farm. Helen stood ready with
quite a spread of food—meat,
spinach pie, potatoes, bread,
feta cheese, and local retsina.
During our initial greeting I
noticed that she didn’t look
well and learned that she had
lately been suffering from
anxiety brought on by worries
over her children and the fact
that George’s pension had not
yet come through. We sat up
talking and reminiscing until
midnight, and Joy and I vowed to
do whatever we could to cheer
Helen up.
She
told us over and over that she
had read the Urantia Book at
least fifteen times since 1980
and that the information it
contained had been a lifesaver
for her. To my surprise, I
learned that George had also
been reading it and both of
their books were quite worn out!
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Modern Corinth
EXCERPT FROM MY PAST: I
had lived in Greece for
two years between 1979
and 1980. I had gone
there on a vacation, met
a Greek, and during the
course of our
tempestuous relationship
I flew back and forth to
Los Angeles every time
we broke up and got back
together—a costly
practice. After our
final split, instead of
flying home I decided
instead to move in with
an English friend, Pat
Poag, who was living in
Corinth. During my six
months in Corinth I had
three “illegal”
jobs—English teacher,
glass washer in a
tourist bar, and
babysitter of a
two-year-old
German/Greek child. I
also met Pat’s other
English friends who were
living in Corinth,
including Helen
Markellos and her Greek
husband, George. They
had four children. I
introduced Helen and
George to the Urantia
Book while I was there
and it changed their
lives— [Click
to read Helen's story
here.]
Visiting the Markellos
family in 1986: From
left, Andy Raevouri,
Saskia, the three
Markellos sons and a
daughter-in-law, George
and Helen, after picking
olives on their farm in
Corinth Visiting the
Markellos family in
1986: From left, Andy
Raevouri, Saskia, the
three Markellos sons and
a daughter-in-law,
George and Helen, after
picking olives on their
farm in Corinth
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