Pour me another Ouzo parakalo. Memories flood back to the savage majesty of the Cretan mountains and the proud and generous people. High above the Mediterranean facing Africa we encountered a lonesome shepherd in traditional costume.
Despite no common language, squatting on rocks, sharing his food, we developed a mutual understanding, an almost biblical experience.
In an act of unimaginable generosity the shepherd gave me his trusty crook - an olive root with a rich patina from years of use.
I descended the mountain transformed. Could that have been Jesus?
This spiritual experience has stayed with me ever since, Ouzo notwithstanding.