MYKONOS, Greece Twenty-two years is a long time between meals atthe same restaurant. But here we were, in the whitewashed main townof this picture-postcard Greek island, savoring marinated octopus andgrilled wild mushrooms on the breeze-cooled terrace of El Greco.
My wife, Marcia, and I had been job-free vagabonds in our early30s when we sailed to Mykonos by ferry in April 1977 during a 10-month sabbatical ramble around the world. Now we were settledgeezers, both just turned 56 and squeezing a five-night Aegean cruiseaboard Orient Lines' Marco Polo into busy work schedules.
Although the sea stayed mostly smooth as a pond on the June 18-23voyage of 839 nautical miles …

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