You sit on an old wooden bench on the one and only platform. You look at the one and only railway track. There is grass growing through the ballast. A few chickens cluck as they saunter about on it, pecking periodically at something. They are clearly unbothered either by your presence or by the idea that a train may at some point pull in.
There is a man sitting next to you. He has an old coat on and wears a falling-to-pieces brown hat.
"Hello," you say. He nods but doesn't look at you.
Ten minutes later you ask if he can speak English. He nods. You ask him when the next train will arrive. He shrugs.
Twenty minutes later you ask the man if there are any staff on the station. He shrugs.
An hour later he decides to engage you in conversation.
"Why are you travelling?" he asks. You realise that in all the time you've been in Greece no-one has asked you that. You had been determined to keep it secret but you've been going nuts with all the people chasing you, the rental car fiascos, the cold night's sleep, the destroyed hotels, the train-free station and, worst of all, the silent treatment that you now feel almost compelled to say what the whole thing is actually about.
"I'm looking for Einstein's brain," you say. You feel a huge sense of relief in actually getting it off your chest. You then feel guilty for having said it. "Please don't tell anyone else," you say.
There is a purring sound, the man points and the old diesel train pulls in. If only you had held out on your secret another 30 seconds, you think.
You enter one of the carriages and take a seat. After a while you are heading off.
At one point a woman comes to sit near you. She stares at you. You try to break the silence with, "Hello" but it doesn't cut any ice with her. Her technique is perfect: she has got your secret out of you merely by her silent stare. "I'm looking for Einstein's brain," you say. "Please don't tell anyone."
Some time later a woman comes round offering you some refreshment. When she realises where you are from she is delighted - she is a Devonian from South West England.
"We got tea here and coffee and hot chocolate if you wish," she says. "We also got hummus and pecan pie. We got all the things. The other day someone come in and had hummus but didn't want no bread, see. Then the next day someone come in and wanted bread but no hummus. Now me, I likes a bit of hummus with my bread, see, but then this woman come in this morning and she wanted bread and pecan pie and a Coke - no, I tell a lie, it was a Diet Coke, but she didn't want no custard with her strawberries. I said to her, I said, 'You don't have to have custard - you could have cream or milk or whatever you want really.' Someone come in this afternoon and wanted spaghetti but with no cheese..."
"I'm looking for Einstein's brain," you say to shut off the incessant chatter.
The train goes past flat scenery, mountains, beaches and forests. You realise you have been sitting there for a very long time when you see Aphrodite in chains again under that helicopter. Her face almost comes right up to the train window at one point. The sound of the helicopter blades is deafening. You wonder that the pilot is allowed to fly so near to a train like that. The goddess looks so helpless, almost as though she wants you to release her from those chains. "She has no more idea where she's going than I have," you think.
A minute or so later the helicopter starts to gain altitude and Aphrodite is gone.
You wonder if this is a sign that you ought to get off at the next station. You do so.
The man from the station where you got on is getting out with you.
The staff member on the platform looks at you. He speaks very quickly in Greek. You can't understand him. You explain where you're from and he switches to English.
"Why are you here?" he asks.
"I'm looking for Einstein's brain," you answer. "I'm not really supposed to tell anyone that."
He nods and points. You start to walk in the direction where he was pointing. The man with the falling-to-pieces hat catches up with you and points upwards. You hear the sound of helicopter blades. You briefly see Aphrodite again under her helicopter but the sun gets in your eyes and you have to stop looking. The man with the old hat has gone. You realise that the sound has gone. Aphrodite has again deserted you but maybe you are on the right path?
You hear the 19th-century Christmas carol "Star of the East" being sung to a piano accompaniment and follow the sound. You arrive at a house with a big Canadian flag outside it. You enter.
Once inside the whole family stops singing, the piano stops being played and its lid is slammed down. Everyone stares at you.
"I've been expecting you," says the man who you assume is the father. "We all have."
He comes to sit near you. He and the family all stare at you and you stare back. After a while he points at his son who brings you some tea and then carries on staring at you.
"Thank you," you say.
The staring continues.
"You know, when I lived in Canada things were kind of rough," says the father.
"Oh, really? Tell me about it," you say, relieved that someone is speaking to you at last.
"Me and Spencer," says the man, "we used to have to go into this big old barn with my uncle and I could hear Spencer yelping and I would have to chop wood. Sometimes it'd get so cold that my fingers would darn near fall off. Other times it got so hot there that Spencer was yelping. We had a big old dog there but he didn't like that barn. I used to have to get up after just three hours' sleep and help my old uncle out. We used to have to shift that big old dog and sometimes we had wood to chop and I could hear Spencer yelping. The dog would come in and Spencer was kind of afraid of it. I only used to sleep for two hours a night in that big old barn and when I woke up my uncle would say, 'Son - you got chores' and I'd have to go yelping into that big old barn with the dog. And, do you know what my old uncle used to say to me?"
The whole family are looking at you very intensely. You have no idea what this man's old uncle used to say to him and you admit as much.
"He used to say, 'Son - I'm looking for Einstein's brain'".