The grumpy bus driver who became my Greek souvenir

Ask anyone returning from Greece what stood out, and you’ll hear the usual list: postcard sunsets, white-washed lanes that twist like a maze, gelato eaten between souvenir shops, and food so good it makes people emotional in airport queues. I, however, returned with the stubborn memory of a Santorini bus driver in his seventies — grey hair, blue jeans, half-tucked T-shirt, and an expression carved in permanent annoyance.

One day, our hotel driver hadn’t shown up at the Santorini port, so we squeezed into a public bus with 50 others, luggage shoved into the undercarriage. Just as we were about to leave, I spotted a man holding a placard with our names. Panicked, I rushed to the driver and asked if we could get off. He muttered something sharp in Greek and then, in clipped English, said, “It will waste five minutes.” In that instant, I decided that I disliked him.

Santorini runs only a handful of buses, and he seemed to drive all of them. Yet, throughout the ride, he was unexpectedly gentle — greeting passengers, accepting a sandwich from a local woman with a soft “thank you,” and wishing everyone goodbye at each stop. I avoided his eyes.

The next morning, on the way from Fira (the main bus stop in Santorini) to Oia, there he was again. He wished us a bright good morning; my husband replied, I didn’t.

On our last day, struggling with the luggage compartment, I reluctantly asked for his help. He opened it easily and smiled. “Madam, see? Easy.”

At the port, I finally thanked him properly. His warm smile matched every other he’d given.

Now whenever Greece comes up, I say, “Vo bus wale uncle yaad hain? The one driving around Fira all day?”

Richa Jaswal, Bhopal