I will always remember Ikaria fondly as the island that gave me back some of my mojo.

My first week here, I received two marriage proposals: one from a man 12 years my senior, and one from a man 12 years my junior.

Senior cooled off pretty quickly after his unreciprocated declaration of love; but Junior had the flexibility of youth, knew that his sea was full of fresh fish, and took me up on my offer of friendship.

I assume it was a long, lonely winter on Ikaria, but I still considered their offers…even though they proposed after having known me for less than a day and our physical contact stopped at a handshake.

Who am I to question love?

Are the blue waters of the Icarian Sea reason enough to marry?

In the past, women married for land, property, family obligations, and title. Granted, those sorts of rational calculations have been seriously frowned upon since marrying for love became all the rage, but love unions have at best a 50-50 chance of success.

Think about it.

I decided to hang out in Ikaria for a few more days to see if a man my own age would propose.

© 2010 – 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved.

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When Daedalus, the creator of King Minos’ labyrinth on Crete, sought to escape from Minos and his cretan prison, he fashioned a pair of wings made of wax for himself and his son, Icarus.

Before setting off across the Aegean, Daedalus warned his son not to soar to close to the sun or his wings would be scorched, but there was no stopping Icarus once he began to fly.

Icarus was lost in the beautiful moment, and, in the eternal tradition of rebellious youth everywhere, he ignored his father’s warning, flew too close to the sun and crashed into the sea, creating the island of Ikaria. This was man’s first attempt at flight, and serves forever as a warning to those who think themselves invincible.

Daedalus’ loss is our good luck.

Ikaria is everything a Greek island dream should be: naturally beautiful with secret azure swimming coves and hidden waterfalls, yet still unmarred by rampant tourism. I’ve visited over 20 Greek islands over the years, and I’ve never encountered the friendliness of the Icarians anywhere else.

Maybe it has something to do with the diaspora? Most visitors to Ikaria are local islanders who immigrated to America, Australia, Canada and the UK, and who come home every summer…because they just can’t stay away.

Ikaria is also the birthplace of Dionysos, god of wine and revelry. I’ve come here seeking to kill two birds with one stone. First, I’m going to bathe in Ikaria’s mineral hot springs — known since antiquity and said to be the most radioactive waters in Europe — then, having been cured of the neurological disorder that has prevented me from drinking any wine for the past three years (migraines), I will take a big gulp of Ikaria’s local red, made from grapes crushed by the feet of the Icarians themselves, and so strong, it’s color is more black than red.

I was told to limit my time in the hot spring to 15 minutes, but, since the thermal waters ran into the Ikarian Sea, and it felt so good to be in a sea so warm, I soaked for more than two hours.

I was a prune when I emerged from the water, but all my little dermatological nuisances were cured with one soak. I dunked my head into the water for good measure, hoping the radioactive powers would work magic on my brain and all it’s troublesome capillaries.

I checked myself later to see if I glowed in the dark.

© 2010 – 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved.

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