Home Thoughts, From Abroad

If I could turn back time… I would do it all again, with one minor exception.

But let me start at the beginning. I live in The Red Bay - Il-Bajja l-Ħamra as they call it in colloquial Maltese. Actually, it’s Ramla Bay, situated between Xagħra and Nadur, in Gozo, Malta, the archipelago bang in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.

This my abode, a Cave, in the cliff-face facing the bay on its western side, remains mine and mine alone, because I keep out of sight of the madding crowd across the channel.

In the future, you will hear of Homer’s second epic poem, the Odyssey. In the fifth book, he will tell of how Ulysses, the Greek hero came to Ogygia and spent seven years with the nymph Calypso – that’s me.

Having fought for ten years in the siege of Troy, Ulysses wanted to return home to Ithaca, where his wife Penelope, his son Telamon and his father Laertes were waiting for him.

But in similar circumstances to those that were to befall the Apostle Paul many years later, Ulysses’s ship floundered in one of the notorious stormy gales of the Mediterranean.

His vessel was struck by a thunderbolt that killed all his crew. For nine weary days, as he told me, he steered his battered craft towards the speck on the horizon.

When he landed, he revelled in the surroundings – he wrote in his diary about how the balmy air was scented with cypress; delicious fruits grew upon trees the likes of which he had never seen before; and how four streams of cool water converged into a fountain that gurgled to fill the air with its melodies. How poetic. I could not have put it better myself.

At first, he assumed the island was uninhabited. Then, trudging inland, he heard the sound of singing, and he caught sight of several nubile dancers, as he succinctly put it, in diaphanous gowns, dancing around a fire, over which hung a big pot bubbling with an exotic brew of herbs and spices. Ulysses would give Homer a run for his money, on the literary front.

The main attraction of what he privately termed Arcadia had to be even more fascinating, he thought, than these dancers. And so, indeed, I was.

Out of a cave, the entrance of which I had partly curtained off with vines bearing luscious grapes each as big as a baby’s fist, sauntered the most beautiful vision – he said.

It must have been the combination of my aquamarine eyes and tresses that fell to the ground, as well as the surprise, that combined to make him gape.

“It’s rude to stare!” I said, in broken Greek, and he apologised immediately.

I clapped my hands perfunctorily, because of course I knew that my attendants were all agog, peeking from behind the bushes.

They scattered away to bring food, drink, and fresh clothes for the traveller.

Meanwhile, I hammed it up as best I could. I led him to a golden throne, and told him that I was Calypso, queen of Ogygia, and that he could be King, if he wanted to.

I told him he was welcome to live with me for evermore; this would give him the eternal youth and immortality that I had (Look! No wrinkles, even at my age!), and he would never want for anything.

But he insisted that once he was rested, he wanted to return home. How could he, when his ship was matchwood?

Ulysses remained with me in this love-hate relationship for seven years. I could see he was torn between wanting to enjoy the worldly delights I offered, and homesickness. Each day he prayed to his patron goddess Athena, to intercede with Zeus on his behalf.

The love of his life, Penelope, was meanwhile busy warding off those wooing her by knitting a garment during the day, and unravelling the stitches at night, claiming she would select a suitor when she was finished with it.

Hermes brought us up-to-date - because Zeus eventually decided to heed the prayers of Ulysses. He sent Hermes to me, with an Executive Order parchment to release Ulysses.

No one disobeys Zeus, or so I thought, at the time. I felt I had to help Ulysses gather wood to build a raft, and I loaded it with traditional provisions for the trip, as well as gifts for his family. I was very nice about it all, although my heart was breaking. For as they say, it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. I even summoned Aeolus, biding him to fill the sails to take Ulyssus home safely.

Homer will not tell you whether Odysseus and Calypso had any children. We did. Some tales, written after the Odyssey, will say that I bore Ulysses a son called Latinus – but actually, he was the son of Circe.

Other accounts will say that I had two sons by Ulysses; Nausithous and Nausinous… but I would never have given my sons names that sound like “nausea”.

My children have made new lives for themselves, away from Gozo… so I will not be divulging their original or current names, lest someone decides to pursue the matter, and stalk them.

Some versions of my story will say that when Ulysses set sail, I died of grief… had I died, I would not be writing this, now, would I?

I gave Ulysses the traditional “Message in a Bottle”, before he left – in it was my poem, as follows:

Au Revoir is Not Goodbye

Ulysses, I loved you; I love you forever.

I offered you immortality

At the risk of losing mine

My dream was to make Ogygia

The jewel in the crown

Of Malta

I tempted you with wild thyme honey,

Capers, olives, grilled lampuki, and

Fresh sea-urchins,

Culled from the clear blue

Mediterranean.

But your heart was elsewhere.

Goodbye, Ulysses.

My dolphins swam with you

My nymphs sang to you and

You heard them –

But you were listening to her voice,

Which drowned them out.

I made this Island a perfect haven

But you yearned for her still.

My Hyades and Limonads and Petrads

Catered to your every whim.

But you wanted more.

You still craved her.

Penelope – I hate the sound of the name.

Absent, and yet she held the strings to your

Soul, your mind, your heart, your body.

Telamon will know his father again.

Goodbye, Ulysses.

My cypress groves will echo your voice for ever.

My Arcadia will echo no more with your steps

Ithaca will welcome her Hero once more.

I knew it would be so

When I heard the swish

Of Hermes’s wings

Bearing Zeus’s message.

Seven years passed by in a flash before my mind.

And then, conceding defeat,

I asked Aeolus

To summon Boreas, Eurus, Notus and Zephyrus

To take turns

And speed you on your way.

The red sand of my bay will remain in your mind

Forever.

The touch of your hands is imprinted in my soul.

You will tell of Xagħra and Nadur for the rest of your days.

And I will pine for you until eternity ends.

As soon as the raft disappeared over the horizon, I realised it was a mistake to let Ulysses go. The wrath of Zeus is piffling, when compared to my love for him. I know that, deep down in his soul, he, too, knows that leaving was a faux pas, and that, when all is said and done, he would rather have stayed here with me.

I spend my days on the beach, looking out to sea, till my eyes glaze over, pining for what could have been.

Sometimes, the glare of the sun makes me hallucinate, and I imagine billowing mainsails with two crowned fish (lampuki!) haurient addorsed, billowing in the wind, on each and every vessel that plies the seas. 

Oh! But this time I am not dreaming. Ulysses is returning!