My scrambled eggs on toast arrived at the same time as my rental car.
“Don’t worry,” said my server, with a smile. “We’ll keep it warm or bring you a new one.”
I sneaked a crispy milk pie from the breakfast buffet on my way to meet the Rental Car Guy in the hotel lobby. I had been told having a car on Paros, a Cycladic Greek island that’s a three-hour fast ferry from Piraeus port in Athens and about 64 square miles, was ideal for getting a feel for its spirit — not to mention seeing some of its dozens of beaches and sampling its many tasty tavernas. So, with the help of the concierge at Parilio Hotel in Naoussa where I was staying, I reserved one for two of my three days there. I had driven solo through other foreign countries before — Israel and France to name two. But, it turned out, there was one thing I had then that I did not have now: my license.