Freddy - Life and Times

Freddy - Life and Times

Our neighbour has visited again. He tells us that after we clean out the pool in November, we should fill it with sea water. This, apparently does not have a build up of algae and overall needs far less looking after than fresh water. He tells us he can arrange for someone to bring up sea water for us when we need it. I’m not convinced. For one thing it will get very diluted over the winter with the winter rains and for the other, what will it do for Freddy? And I am sure that the green lizards, the birds and all the wildlife that drinks from the pool will not want sea water.

We don’t know how Freddy came to us. Just one day he was there, a tiny little green frog, no bigger than my thumb. He was sitting on the top of the connector that leads down to the pump for the swimming pool. At first he would plop into the pool whenever he saw us. But gradually, after a long process of stealth and patience he would stay visible. We would creep up on him, or at least I would, speaking to him is soothing tones. Now it may well be that we need to get our more and mix with human beings, but I swear that Freddy got to know my voice. He would turn his big yellow rimmed eyes towards me whenever he heard my voice. Eventually he came to accept Waldo, although he was always more cautious unless I was there.

As the summer continued so the heat increased. Gradually the pool started to evaporate and the water level dropped to such a point that Freddy could no longer clamber up onto the top of the pipe, nor could he reach a niche in the wall where the pipes led to the pump house. We decided to make life easier for this little chap. Waldo found a small piece of wood and dropped it into the pool. Sure enough, about three mornings later I caught Freddy desperately scrambling up onto this piece of wood in a most ungainly fashion. I’m sure I saw guilt in his eyes for such lack of athleticism.

Kythera can get quite windy on times, even in the summer. Aeolus, the god and ruler of the winds does not always keep the individual gods of winds in order for some Anemoi are very playful and Kythera their playground. The Aurai, the nymph daughters of the Anemoi are welcome visitors to the island as their gentle breezes bring soft relief from the sun’s hot rays. Notus, the god of the south wind and Zephyrus, god of the west wind just kick up gentle warm breezes that are mostly welcoming in the summer heat. Eurus, the god of the unlucky east or southeast wind, plays around a lot with   Apheliotes, god of the east wind and Euronotus, god of the southeast wind; they are the whirling dervishes of the gods and whip up the dust in no time. Caicias, god of the northeast wind is with us today, a sure sign that Borus god of the north wind and of winter is on his way.

Because of Caicias and visits from Apheliotes and Euronotus Freddy’s raft drifted and floated around the pool. Freddy did not like this and would not venture far from his corner of the pool. Waldo soon came up with a solution. He took the wood out of the pool, drilled a hole in it and threaded it with string. When he returned the plank to the pool he tied it to the fencing on the top end of the pool. Freddy soon took up sitting on the plank again; sitting like the frog prince on a water ski with limited movement. He soon discovered that if he sat on the edge he could just stay still until some fly or water boatman came too close and his tongue would act like lightening, stunning his prey and then as the unfortunate insect stuck to Freddy’s sticky proboscis it would be carried back and into his mouth. It seemed just one gulp and the thing was swallowed.

We often pondered on Freddy’s origins. The nearest pond with frogs in it is some two miles away and we could think of no reason why such a tiny young thing would want to stray so far away from its home territory. Perhaps one of the birds of prey that circle our house had caught him and dropped him in disgust at his slippery body or taste. He did not seem to be injured at all.

As the summer droned on Freddy became a curiosity for all our friends and visitors to see. Most people gave him a cursory look but when he neither moved nor croaked, they soon lost interest. But they humoured us and we started to be given a number of froggy gifts; a lovely green china frog sitting on a china stone, a glass frog in a beautiful dark green colour, a brass frog studded with green sparkling rhinestones and a pair of painted terracotta frogs with smiley faces. Cute as they all are, they could not replace Freddy in our affections.

Freddy grew and grew. In fact he started to look quite fierce and a friend identified him as a leopard frog. It was hard to think of the little green thing that first arrived as having any leopard like qualities, but a he grew and his markings became more pronounced and he looked more like the aggressor than the victim. It is hardly surprising that he was putting on so much weight for he hardly moved and seemed to have a ready supply of food. Our pool is not the clear blue watered swimming variety, but is more like a brownish pond in a blue painted swimming pool surround. We have tried everything to keep it clean, all to no avail. We have cemented part of the driveway so that the rain water does not pour pine needles, and all the rubbish that collects on the drive, into the pool. We have covered it with old olive netting to stop fallen leaves and swirling dust on windy days, drop into it. We have cleaned out the filter that water collected for the pool runs into. But we have now decided that it is not meant to be a swimming pool. Anyway, now, as long as Freddy is in residence it will not be filtered, chlorinated and disinfected. We had a romantic notion of turning it into a lily pond, complete with frog sitting on a lily pad, but a yet have failed to find a supply of pond plants to be delivered to ‘our’ island. The increase in Freddy’s weight started to have an impact on his raft. One end of the piece of wood was thinner than the other and if he sat at that end it would start to sink. So, Waldo found an even sturdier piece of plank and added it to the corner of the pool. Freddy soon found this far more comfortable and sat there looking like a prince frog once again.

As much as I talked to Freddy he never made a sound. We came to the conclusion that as a lonely frog, he didn’t have any frog sounds to copy. We tried our best, to no avail. Waldo is particularly good, his ill fitting false teeth enable him to make small staccato sounds that enable him to talk to the geckos around the patio, but Freddy showed no interest.

We judge the movement of summer by the extent to which the water evaporates from the pool. By the time it had reduced to expose three steps we had lengthened the string holding Freddy’s raft number two many times. The heat was going out of the sun and the wind started to have a coolness to it that made us think about taking our woollens from their moth balled drawers. One evening I was out by the pool. Dark clouds were coming our way and it seemed as if the first rain since April would soon be upon us. We could usually set our calendars by the rain which came on the 25^th September most years. Freddy was clearly edgy. The air was heavy and I knew that we would have one of spectacular thunder storms which would come over from the west and then seem to circle from our valley, out over the sea and then be bounced back from the mountains of Cape Maleas opposite us. Sure enough the first drops of rain came the size of large marbles and splattered on the ground. The ground was so dry and hard that it would take quite a battering by these large water cannons until they softened it up enough for the water to soak in. I started getting a meal ready for the evening. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I was just putting some vegetable peelings outside in our box which, when full, is emptied in ‘The Muir Glen’: a clearing beyond the palm trees and surrounded by various pine trees. Our friendly Pine Martens live there and a cat. We make sure that they have enough food to survive on, but not enough to deter them from keeping vermin away from the house area. On the way back I noticed Freddy sitting on his raft, blinking nervously. He looked a very sad and fearful little frog. Suddenly a bolt of lightning flashed so close I could feel the electricity lift the tiny hairs on my arms. Freddy made one elegant dive and disappeared into the murky depths of the pool. We didn’t see him for days.

This was the pattern for the next month. Freddy would reappear after 5- 10 days. We read that frogs can do this sort of semi-hibernation under water and so we were not concerned. But after one particularly heavy thunder storm where the lightning and thunder had persisted for some 7 hours there was no sign of Freddy for weeks. Indeed the time came for us to pack up our summer residence and return home, Freddy was nowhere to be seen.

Like the swallows returning in the Spring, we returned to our sunshine villa. The winter rains had filled the pool and Freddy’s rafts were moving in the wind to the extent of their strings; but there was no sign of Freddy. Waldo shortened the rafts in case he was nervous of too much drift, but to no avail. We hoped that in the wet period he had hopped off somewhere to make the long journey to join other frogs and that nothing untoward had happened to him on the way.

We missed Freddy that summer and once more found amusement talking to the geckos; watching ants march across the patio to dissect a cake crumb and take it back to their nests; peeping through the curtains as the pine martens took their evening walk around the pool, up over the kitchen patio and on around to the back of the house; marvelling at the shades of green on the family of green lizards that lived in our oleander hedge; watching ‘thunder thighs’ our very large grey lizard who sunned himself of the path down to my office known as the Acropoliz; and laughing as the wild grey marbled cat always found the warmest spot to stretch out on but knew never to come nearer than 10 metres from the house, it was as though he had drawn a line around the house that he did not cross.

It was a particularly hot summer; we recorded 49’ as the outside temperature when travelling in the car. In a sheltered spot on our kitchen patio the heat broke our weather station with its last recording of 52’. We did little but find somewhere in the shade with any breeze we could find and just drink gallons of water. We realised that the green lizards had the same problem. Every now and again we would hear some mad splashing in the pool only to find a green lizard had climbed down the steps to the pool, drunk his fill and then could not climb back out again. It became a daily requirement to scoop out two or three green lizards floundering in the water. Waldo used the large net that he used for collecting leaves from the top of the pool. One morning we found the upturned body of a small green lizard which had clearly used up all his energy failing to get back up the step. We had to do something.

Waldo is a very practical man and soon rigged up a ‘lizard ladder’ on one side of the steps. He used both rafts that had been put out for Freddy. Using a series of stones on the steps, these planks made a slope down to the water. The lizard could make their way along the surrounding wall of the pool, from one edge or from the steps, step onto the wood and walk down the slope to the water, turn and retrace their steps without fear of drowning. The next day one lizard ignored the ladder and fell in the pool. Waldo gently chased him to the bottom of the ladder and he scrambled up the slope. The next day the lizards were using the ladder. They would take it in turns, sometimes hiding underneath the ladder to wait their turn. It was quite amazing how quickly these little creatures had found a way of surviving. Waldo was delighted that his efforts had not been in vain.

The dryness of summer increased and the ground became very hard. It certainly was much drier than usual. We noticed more and more birds coming to the pool. Amazingly they were using the lizard ladder to perch on and dip to sip the water. As more emigrating birds started to stop off on the island as a break in their journeys more and more gathered at our pool. Some mornings there was quite a lot of chatter and even aggression as the birds fought to use the ladder. The robins were particularly nasty. Waldo scratched his head and thought for a while. Soon he had carefully positioned various stones on the bottom steps where the water still lapped. Each stone was carefully chosen for its shape with one long sloping side; the birds could land on these and walk down the slope to dip and sip the water. There was less squabbling now as there were more drinking points. One adventurous citrine wagtail had even learned how to land on our small lily pad fountain and sip up water from that.

All too soon many of the birds moved on and the chill in the wind told us we would soon be packing up for another year. The winter in Kythera was very cold this time, colder than anyone could remember on the island. It had even snowed one day. Despite this, when we left at the beginning of December there were people swimming in the sea and on the day we returned in early April, there were people swimming in the sea. But this year the rain persisted well into the middle of April. It almost threatened to spoil the Easter celebrations when lambs are roasted on spits on the beach and everyone turns out for a mass picnic, traditional Greek music and dancing and generally a good time all round is had, celebrating Easter Sunday and the fact that “Christ has risen”.

 It was warm enough to sit outside when we arrived. A few times thought we heard a dog bark which is unusual as only once before has a dog wandered as far as our lonely abode. A few times we had heard a peacock. There had been a breeding pair and six chicks who took over the garden of our neighbour further up the mountain as their territory. Occasionally they used to visit us but we didn’t encourage them as they made such a mess on our roof and around the patios. As we use our roofs and patios to collect water which runs off to our reservoirs we keep them as clean as possible. Because they knew they were not welcome the birds stopped visiting. As usual over the winter, as we vacate our territory so a variety of animals take the opportunity to extend theirs. We assumed that the one, more adventurous peacock had done the same. One day, when sitting outside, the “dog” barked again and the sound of the peacock seemed to come from the driveway. It was a slightly strangled sound as though the bird was in trouble. Waldo took a broom handle, in case he had to poke around in the bushes, to scare the dog or the bird away and went up the steps beyond the pool towards the driveway. Everything went silent, except for the sound of Waldo beating around in the bushes surrounding our driveway. There was no sign of dog or peacock. This was strange because we had found no signs of peacock droppings and yet couldn’t think what else could be making the noise.

 Waldo came back and we continued our conversation whilst enjoying the sun on the kitchen patio. In the distance a dog barked, quite our usual sound backdrop. To our surprise the “dog” in our garden replied with two growling barks. Then silence. Waldo carried on talking and all of a sudden there came a sound that was clearly an animal, but it seemed to be mimicking Waldo’s voice. It certainly was not a dog, nor the peacock. I told Waldo to keep talking whilst I followed the sound. It was from the pool area somewhere. I went down the steps from the kitchen patio to the pool patio. Just as I looked across the pool towards where the food was waiting to be taken down the Muir Glen, I saw something move in the pool. A quick jump and plop, Freddy was back!

 I only caught a glimpse but it was quite thrilling to think that after a year’s absence ‘our’ dear little frog was back. It took quite a few days before he was calm enough to let me see him. I kept talking to him with a soothing voice and gradually, by creeping up on him very quietly and slowly he would stay put and let me look at him. The pool was full again and his planks had been used for the lizard ladders. The only spaces where Freddy could sit were either on one corner of the top of the filter pipe which was very small for him; on the ridged plastic just below it, which must have been very uncomfortable; or in the niche where the pipe went to the pump house, but this was slightly above the water level and meant quite a scramble to get up the inch or so of wall. The next day Waldo found another suitable piece of plank in the garage, drilled a hole in it and once more Freddy had a wooden raft to sit on.

 As the days passed and we were able to look at Freddy for longer and longer periods Waldo became convinced that it was not the Freddy of old. Certainly this frog seemed smaller than that in our memory, his mouth seemed more rounded and we didn’t remember the yellow rings around his eyes. But the main difference was the change in vocal behaviour. The first Freddy never uttered a sound, whereas this one rarely stops. His range of vocals was incredible and every sound unlike any frog we had heard. The bark was rarely uttered unless in response to the distant dog. When the wind took the raft for a ride or ruffled the water, ‘Freddy-too’ emitted an irritated series of chattering sounds, not unlike the geckoes, or Waldo clicking his false teeth together, but with deeper rumbling overtones. The deep rumblings were voiced with a gravelly timbre whenever Waldo started a chain saw, or scraped a shovel over gravel or wire wool over a metal cooking pan; it was as though ‘Freddy-too’ was trying to reply. He clearly did not know he was a frog for he never once croaked like one. But he did experiment with his vocal chords and maybe it was shear desperation for a mate that made him try to respond to the noises he heard. The funniest mimic, and sometimes the most frustrating, was when he tried to converse with Waldo. Whenever we sit out on the kitchen patio, as soon as Waldo starts talking, Freddy-too joins in. He does not react to my voice at all, except for the occasional roll of an eye, but that is more to check how close I am, he never responds vocally to me. Some days he is so desperate to join in that it is quite impossible to have a conversation and we have to move inside to be able to speak to each other. These responses to Waldo have convinced him that Freddy-too is actually Freda, but I reckon Freddy just perceives Waldo as competition and shows that his voice is louder; whatever we just don’t know where s/he came from.

 This morning we discovered that a passing farmer had left some fresh eggs for us and another had left a bag of lemons. Thus I decided to make my favourite spread, lemon curd. Now doing this needs full attention to mix the egg, butter, sugar and lemon mixture as it is warmed up. Leave it alone for a second and it will surely curdle. I decided that this was a good time to listen to my new Gypsy Kings compilation and put the disc to play. The result was quite astounding. Not only could I hear the music which I knew so well, but every time the gravelly voice of the lead singer was heard Freddy joined in, he even hit some high notes. During the soft tones Freddy was silent. He accompanied the guitar solos with a series of chattering sounds. But the castanets drove him wild and he sang as if his heart would burst. Waldo came down from the garage where he was working, just to see what all the noise and laughter was about. What a sight we must have been, the two of us laughing like fools being serenaded to by a frog to the sound of the Gipsy Kings. I’m going to try out that famous growl of Roy Orbison next!

How privileged we are to have such company and to have the time to enjoy them. People wonder how we survive in this isolated spot, but we are never alone. Our extended, multi-species family gives us so much pleasure.

Winter travel

Winter travel

We'd barely dressed, but not yet breakfasted this morning when Tassos our neighbour called in. He has a beautiful house about twice as far up the mountain than us and has a wonderful view, from lofty heights over the Straits of Maleas to the mainland peninsular opposite and also up the mainland to the mountains on each side of the plane of Sparta. As he was smoking he would not come in the house but agreed to take coffee on the kitchen patio.

'Brr it's cold. The first day of winter.' he declared.'We have not had wind like this since April.'

Yes, there is more of a wind today, but the temperature on the patio was 27'C! Some winter! It is still far to warm to sit inside without having all the doors open, despite the wind, which is really no more than a strong breeze. But of course it is all relative and we have already started to work out whether or not we needed more logs for the winter fires. The price of central heating oil has gone up 50% since last year and so that makes a big difference. The Greek government has strange legislation which means that heating oil cannot be sold between 1st June and 1st November, whatever the weather. As this is the same stuff that farmers use in their tractors and other equipment Waldo asked what they do in the summer months, if they cannot buy it. We were told that they have big tanks to store it during the summer. So they can buy it in the period concerned and use it at will. But, asked Waldo, what if the tank is not big enough? They must have a tank big enough, we were told, or they can fill it up. But they cannot do so, we puzzled. It turns out that, like most things in Greece, there is a way around this. It is illegal to actually sell the oil during the summer periods. This seems to be taken literally and there is no limit to the amount of oil which can, with the right contact, be delivered. Payment or specifically a receipt confirming payment cannot be issued during this time for that affirmation of a transaction would be illegal!

Tassos has come to tell us that he knows that the olive press, just on the road to Aghia Marina, where we went the other day, is excavating an area around it and as such there will be good earth available. Waldo has almost finished making an extra terrace and cleaning the area of thorn bushes and other bushes and a tree. This leaves quite a large area to the side of the cobbled path to the AcropoLiz and running behind the oleander hedge which only has a ear tree and to tall pine trees. We want to plant some low growing flowering bushes there and possibly some flowers in between and thus need good soil. Tassos agrees to do the negotiating on our behalf and arrange for it to be delivered to the top of our back drive. Waldo can then use Heracles with the bucket on the front to bring the earth down.

Now that we shall have the earth there is pressure to get things planted before we leave in just over  a week's time. We had planned to take the car to Athens, leave it at the hotel where we will stay in Glyfada and then stay there overnight on the way back. We were intending to take our usual trip to Kaiafus Lake thermal baths, but after a lot of Sherlock Holmes detective work we discover that this year they are closing at the end of October. So many hotels and public facilities are no longer staying open all year round; it is too expensive to pay for staff and electricity when the buildings are hardly used. So we decided to try the thermal hot springs at Methana, on the eastern side of the Peloponnese. I am not too keen to try these. Apparently the spring water is very hot and so the bathing pool reaches down to the sea where the waters mix and so do not par boil swimmers. But when you walk down to the covered bathing area you have to take a candle. If the candle goes out then you must run out of the pool and away as quickly as possible before being overcome with the sulphurous fumes. I am amazed that such a primitive device as a candle is still used. At least, I guess it is not canaries! But frighteningly only last year one elderly couple were resting in the water, and by the time they realised that their candles were out, were not nimble enough to get away quickly and so fell asleep for ever.

Despite my reservation, I allowed Waldo to awaken the adventurous side of my character and telephoned a hotel nearest to the Thermal Springs, in fact it is part of the whole complex. Now you would expect their staff to know all about the Thermal Baths, but it was not apparent. I was able to book a room no problem, but trying to find out whether the baths were open or not proved impossible. At one point I think the girl thought I wad asking if I could get a hot bath in the hotel in the winter! So we left the booking on hold.

Subsequent Internet searches, telephone calls to Methana civic offices and discussions with friends have still not enabled us to feel confident that the thermal springs will be open after we have driven there. So, now that we are on the hunt for plants and given the limited availability on the island, we have changed tack for our mini-break. We have devised a cunning and, we thought simple, plan of taking our trailer to Sparta and then using it to bring back plants. We convinced ourselves that these would be cheaper, we would have a greater choice of plants and we would have three or four different garden centres to visit to find good quality plants. So, our plan was simple. Instead of going on the little ferry to Neapoli on Tuesday 30th October, we would now go the day before. This means that we can stay at the Sparta Inn on Monday night and then spend Tuesday morning visiting different garden centres to get an idea of what we want and arrange to leave the trailer with Theo, the Skoda agent in Sparta who services our car.

Then, on our way back we would stay in Glyfada the night of the Tuesday 13th, drive to Sparti early in the morning and spend the time until the Githio ferry to Kythera on the afternoon of Thursday, sorting out and picking up our plants. This done we decided to go to the travel agent in Potamos to make our bookings. While there we could also cancel my flight ticket from Kythera to Athens which I booked ages ago when I thought I was making the trip on my own.

The first bit, the ferry to Neapoli was the simplest. yes, we have made the booking for the car, trailer and two passengers. The helpful and charming man in the travel agent made a telephone call, made the booking and confirmed it by giving us a reference number. I then asked him how much this would be. Oh, he didn't know that, but he could give us an approximate price which he calculated on the basis of a car and two passengers, which almost everyone on the island knows by heart and then added the equivalent of one passenger for the trailer. I was concerned about the approximation of the price and then he added that he was not actually an agent for the ferry in that he could not dispense tickets. We now had the choice of coming back to see him on Monday, by which time he would have the tickets ready for us, or we could go to the ticket office at the port and collect and pay for them there - something we could have done all by ourselves! Anyway it is done now and we will collect the tickets at the port as usual.

Then we came to work out our return ferry arrangements. We knew that the little ferry from Neapoli doesn't run on a Thursday in the winter. The big ferry to Githion has been out of action for a while, but is back in service this week, even running yesterday on it's usual run from Githio to Kythera in the afternoon when there was a national strike! But this week is October. The man apologised and told us that nobody knows what the timetable will be for November. Maybe it will run. Maybe it will finish. Anyway we cannot book it because he is not an agent, the agent is in Livadi. He gave us the telephone number and then added that of course even the agent in Livadi won't be able to sell us a ticket, he can only do bookings from Kythera. Bookings from Githio have be done from the office there. So we are now in the situation that we will go to Githio in time for the afternoon ferry to Kythera on the Thursday. If that is running, then we'll be home that night. If it is not running then we will drive down to Neapoli and stay in our favourite little hotel, The Arsenekos. This is run by a mother and son team where the mother makes the most wonderful breakfasts with home made preserves, locally churned butter and fresh bread, and the son, who has clearly lived in America for some time, is the spitting image of Sylvester Stallone before he had all the cosmetic surgery. He even speaks in the same distinctive way which is fascinating. Then we can catch our morning 'puddle-jumper' to Kythera.

Our third request to the travel agent, was whether or not he could cancel my Olympic air ticket or did we have to go to the airport? No trip to the airport, he could do it. I gave him the piece of paper with the reference number on it and then he told us that he would not cancel it, because that would mean we would have to pay a cancellation fee of 7 Euros. If we told him when we are next flying from Kythera to Athens, then he would transfer it and there would be no charge. So we had to leave it as we have not booked that far ahead yet. But this offer only stands until Tuesday for within a week of the travel date we will be charged 7 Euros anyway for administration charges. So, we have the weekend to think about it!

We hurriedly did the rest of our shopping and sat in the square in Potamos to have a leisurely drink of freshly squeezed orange juice and write down our revised schedules, list of things to do, people to 'phone, hotels to book or cancel and organise everything to do with our trip. As we discuss it we are distracted by so many people coming up and having a chat. In the end I manage to get the revised schedule written down before we both forgot it! I do a belt and braces job and actually write down everything we are doing, day by day before we leave. Neither of us can rely on our memories any more, whether short term or long term. I can look at a piece of paper for some minor detail of information and forget it by the time I have turned over the piece of paper!

So we now have our check list. Out to dinner tomorrow night. Out to our favourite taverna-by-the-sea for Sunday lunch and deliver a little cardigan I have knitted for the grand-daughter of the owner. Sunday evening go to a concert in Potamos put on by local school children and organised by our neighbour who is coming for a meal on Tuesday. It will be in Greek, but we will get the gist of it and it is really to show support for the local community more than anything else.  Monday, back to the travel agency, do the shopping in readiness for the meal I will prepare for neighbours coming to dinner on Tuesday, whilst shopping buy mothballs in readiness for closing up the house when we are away, check the bank and get money out if necessary. Cleaning the house and cooking on Tuesday in readiness for the visitors. Oh what a busy social life we have!

We have long since stopped worrying about future bookings and plans in Greece. In most cases things just happen eventually. And, what is the worst that can happen: we can sit in a friendly cafe in the sun and enjoy some freshly squeezed orange juice whilst people watching and talking to each other. Even worse is that we stay over in a little hotel somewhere and enjoy the company and conversation of the owners and while away a few hours. Being in Greece is about being with people, developing conversations and learning from strangers. It is about living in the here and now which is far more relaxing that always thinking about what we are doing in the future. In Greece the journey is as important as the destination and we have learnt to cherish that. We can relax into it, now that we are retired and do not have business deadlines of course!

 

Just one of those days!

Just one of those days!

We woke to another cloudless sky. It is a national strike in Greece today; the Troika are visiting and so the unions think that they are making a point. I don't understand what their point is, but I can see so much that is not working. I guess a lot of us can sit with friends and put the world to rights and wonder why those in power cannot see what we see. I think that the reality is that it is not what those in power see, but what they want for themselves which is rarely compatible with what we want for society. And, of course, there is a big gap between talking and determining what is wanted or needed and actually making it happen. Greece has the anachronistic positioning of being the centre of so much political thinking; it gave the world democracy yet no longer has such government, but a sad and corrupt copy of the original high principled discipline. Yet in other ways it is far from the centre. It sits on the edge of the European Union in the unique position that it is geographically part of mainland Europe but only in sea and air connection rather than land connection with the EU. The Turkish past gives it some unique insights and racist thoughts onto the Muslim world. It's Orthodox religion and political tendencies give it more than scant contacts with Russia. In many ways it has a long history traced back to the eons of civilisation. Yet as the nation we know it is barely one hundred years old.

The conundrum that is Greece is a fascination; like a child watching the flames of a fire, it fascinates and is full of danger. It is like the old veiled women of Greece that were at once exotic, perfumed, loved and oppressed and abused. On this warm day towards the end of October, when I look out the window I cannot but be filled with love and a great sense of privilege; what we have here, no millionaire could buy.

Reality is both kind and cruel. We were sitting on the kitchen patio, enjoying our customary leisurely breakfast when something made me look up. There was no sudden noise, no big gust of wind, nothing to attract my attention. I just sensed that I should look up. Then I heard the rush of wings and the peace and tranquillity was shattered as the Peregrine Falcon caught a tiny bird in mid air, just in front of me. This is something I have never seen and the speed of the attack was incredible. The little bird just made it's last cry and the falcon, with it's breakfast in its strong beak took it down behind the tall pine tree in our garden. Nature is cruel, but it is about survival. I feel sure that the attack was so swift, so professional that the little bird did not suffer for any length of time; death was immediate. I cannot but admire the speed and silence of the falcon. I watch him often, just hovering, remaining perfectly still whatever the wind. Then with amazing agility and quite unbelievable eyesight he just kicks back and dives down to some small creature in a bush or tree. But never have I seen him catch something in flight as I did today.

Perhaps I should have known better than to start baking today! A friend of ours has his sister and nephew to stay for a while. His wife is back in the UK where her elderly father is in hospital. I decided to make some cupcakes and a cake to take down to him so that he and his guests can enjoy them with morning coffee or afternoon tea. Recently I made some lemon and lime jelly marmalade which turned out to be a wonderful flavour and great for breakfast toast; I put aside a jar to give to them. I mixed up one of my own cupcake mixes. It was based on a recipe in the wonderful Hamlyn 200 Cupcakes book for orange flavoured sponge cupcakes.  Instead of orange juice and sugar I used some of my pear and geranium leaf jelly which I made some weeks ago and which for some reason did not set properly. To compensate for the additional liquid I put in some extra flour and for more taste added a teaspoon of cinnamon. These baked in just 20 minutes and turned out a treat.

Waldo was washing up the breakfast dishes and helpfully washed up after me as I used various baking equipment and utensils. As soon as the first batch of cakes was in the oven I set about making the second batch; malty sultana cakes. These are our favourite and are made by soaking All Bran in warm milk and leaving it to go mushy before adding large juicy raisins and agave juice instead of sugar. Again I used up my pear and geranium jelly as agave juice is impossible to get on the island and I have used up what I brought from Cardiff. I must make a note to put it on my list of 'things to bring to Kythera'! I was just about to put these in the oven when the electricity went off.

There is nothing we can do when this happens. Such is our dependence upon electricity that we have no computers to work on, no telephone to call friends with, no water to do anything with, no sewing machine to make something with, and of course no cooker, blender, mixer or bread machine! But we have plenty of alternatives. The first is to sit on the patio and enjoy a leisurely break with a cold drink and freshly baked cupcake. Then Waldo sets to fixing the rail for the curtain to go over the AcropoLiz door; he has a battery run power drill. I read my Kindle for a while and then pot up a large clump of cyclamen that Waldo brought home from Potamos yesterday. They are a beautiful pale pink with deep fuchsia centres. I've given them a good talking to, handled them with love, added some fresh compost, watered them and placed them on a ledge just outside my window. I hope these survive!

The power comes back after about 2 hours, which is good. No doubt it was just to remind people that there is a strike today! I pop the waiting tray of cakes into the oven and then spend a frustrating three-quarters of an hour when I cannot get either the house Internet signal nor the AcropoLiz one! Rather than waste time I return to my Kindle to find that the battery is flat!

My nerves are soon calmed when the little citrine wagtail comes down the path. I have put out some crumbs for him which he eagerly pecks at. I am pleased that he was not the Peregrine Falcon's breakfast. Thunderthighs lumbers over the edge of the path and sticks out his big tongue. The little bird thinks it is time to get out of here and flies to safer parts of the garden. Then, two chubby little Great Tits come to visit; they pick grubs from the gnarled branches of the tree behind the pergola vines. I watch them for a while as they go about their business, completely trusting of my presence. They finally drop down to the ground where they find some crumbs to peck at before taking off into the valley. With no more birds or wildlife to distract me, in a happier mood I return to the kitchen to realise that I had forgotten about my cakes! The burnt offerings are no good for anything. There is no way I can cut off the black bits, make a trifle or do anything to disguise the lumps of charcoal in the browned paper cases! I set about making some more, which fortunately turn out well. Just for good measure I make a lovely cake, one of Delia's recipes, which is a puddingy base because I substitute half the flour with oats then put down a layer of warmed dates mashed with a little water and spices and then I top it with the same mixture as the base, but in the heat it has become a much more crumbly consistency. I sprinkle the top with brown sugar and cinnamon and put it in the oven. I ring the changes with this cake, sometimes I use dried apricots, fresh plums, prunes or a mixture of dried fruit.

While the cake is baking I turn back to my Kindle; sitting on the kitchen patio this time to make sure that I hear the timer 'ping' and take the cake out before it gets burnt. I have just settled into the good book I am reading when the telephone rings. It is our friend's wife, whom I thought was in England. Her father is now out of hospital and plenty of help and support provided for him at home. She came on the same flights as their guests and arrived last night. Her guests are not used to travel and so having a quiet day today. She was fine and spent the morning baking and cooking for the next few days. Yes, the power cut was an inconvenience but she managed to get round it. She's tired now but quite satisfied that the has a full pantry! Would we go round to their house on Saturday for dinner? Yes, of course we would; she is a great cook, and expert on both Greek and British cooking.

I phone our Dutch neighbours who are quite fascinated with the British habit of 'tea' and invite them down for 'tea and cakes' tomorrow afternoon. I've plenty of cake, I tell them!

 

The Little Summer of Saint Demetrios

The Little Summer of Saint Demetrios

We tend to think in Britain that we have exclusivity over talking about the weather. Not so. Here on Kythera it is the topic of conversation everywhere. The fact that it is fine and warm is not unusual. The fact that it is actually hot and we have only had one day of rain, on 18th September, since the spring is unusual. The fact that we have had gentle breeze on a few days is not unusual, but that we have not had the dust driving, rain driving gale force winds for which this island is know, is unusual. A few nights ago we had an incredible sound and lighting show which lit up the skies so that we could clearly see across to the mainland; but we had no rain. But last night there was another storm and with it came some rain; only for about an hour, but for that hour is was more like the lashing rain that we are used to when the back drive runs like a river and the road is ankle deep in water. In the afternoon both Waldo and I had sensed that there was rain in the air, despite there not being a cloud in the sky. Neither of us mentioned it to the other, not yet confident of the extent to which we are both in tune with the natural environment here. Then, just before dusk Waldo called me away from the computer to look up. I won't say that the sky was black, but it was certainly peppered for, against the blue sky, we could see swifts darting about everywhere. They were quite high up and as we did our best to count them, we reckoned that there must have been over two hundred birds silently gathered and swirling about in the air currents. They made no noise, except the occasional sound of wings when one came swooping down. They did not appear to follow any pattern, simply swirling and twirling, perhaps catching insects on the wing. This lasted for just about 20 minutes then, as quickly as they gathered, they moved on. They were part of the many migrating birds that we are privileged to see this time of the year as they move south to warmer climes. I cannot help wondering where they go from here. Given the ravages of so many north African countries, the bombing and warfare, the dispersal of people I just hope they find homes to build their nests in when they arrive at their destination. I hope too that these little birds can give pleasure to people as a break from their war torn days.

I have now moved down to my office known as the AcropoLiz in homage to it's position perched on a ledge overlooking a valley down to the sea and across the Straits of Maleas to the mainland. The move has taken me deeper into the wilderness that is our land. It is actually at the dividing line between our garden and the olive terraces. Down the whole length of the building is a pergola over which the vines grow. Below that it an 'in training' oleander hedge; a bush that Waldo cut and hedged for the first time last year. It is doing well and provides a colourful wind break.  As I sit in the silence I see the little geckos out hunting during the day. They run up and down the vines trunks, stopping when they see potential prey. It is incredible how they remain so still, poised to pounce. If I had not caught the movement before they became statues it would be very difficult to see them, such is their camouflage. I notice that the geckos here are darker than the ones around the house whose hunting grounds are the pale colours of stone and painted walls. In the afternoon the little fellow sun themselves on the roof of this building and I hear them scampering across the inner ceiling panels to get to their favourite tile. Then, as the sun goes down they come in for the night. Two in particular are very curious about me. One looks over the ledge at the top of the wall just to my left; he barks until he gets my attention and then just looks. I try my gecko language, but rarely get an answer; Waldo by chattering his false teeth together is far more proficient at gecko-speak than I. The other seems to have taken up residence in the curtain to my right. He is much bolder and will come down the material, down the window edge and onto my desk. I think that it I remember to bring down Waldo's daily catch of flies he will become quite tame - the gecko I mean of course, not Waldo!

Other visitors are outside the AcropoLiz. Thunderthighs, the big lizard comes down the path and suns himself of the warm stones outside the door. He takes no notice of me and refuses to acknowledge my existence. If I get too close to him he just lumbers off disdainfully. The citrine wagtail is back for the winter. he spend a lot of time on the path, standing with his strange bobbing action, picking up grubs and insects he finds between the stones. I put bread crumbs down for him and he lets me get closer every day. I have high hopes of him coming to trust me to the extent that he will at least peck food out of my hand, it not step onto my outstretched hand. I once trained a robin to do that and it was such a rewarding experience, the little bird gave me hours of pleasure and to be so trusted by a wild creature is a great privilege.

Some people on Kythera cherish the extension of summer for with the winter comes a cool dampness that pervades every corner of old houses. It makes it impossible to dry clothes. People then live in a damp, woody atmosphere cheered only by log fires and hearty soups. For others there is the real fear that the olive harvest will be poor. The olives now are no more than mere pips; tiny, hard and with little flesh. The trees desperately need rain to take up the life-giving water through the sap and produce the rich fruit, plumped up with oil. Whilst few farmers totally rely on nature for their water, the cost of electricity to pump the water to their trees and crops is now prohibitive in Greece. Instead of collecting lots of much needed tax as the government intended, lots of farmers are simply giving up on their crops and we have the crazy situation where shops are resorting to buying lemons from Argentina, apples from the Netherlands and Apricots from Lebanon.

We are fortunate on Kythera in that we have plenty of water, but it is not always in the right place. Thus some farmers and individual house owners have to spend a large proportion of their time collecting water from natural springs or paying for the public authority to deliver water if not on mains connections. As the cost of petrol is now 2 Euros 10 cents on the island; the most expensive in Greece, the costs of collecting or delivering water are becoming far too expensive for commercial use.

The effects of the two showers that we have had are really quite amazing. Our hibiscus continues to delight us most mornings with a new flower just on the edge of our bedroom patio. The flame orange flowers on bushes nearby have come out in profusion. We thought that they had retired for the winter. The bougainvillea and oleander have star5ed to bring forth new flowers. It makes me wonder how much of flowering plants is related to the season and how much to the weather. Our toads are now edged with beautiful wild cyclamen in colours from deep fuchsia to pure white with deep pink centres. they seem to grow even in the roughest ground and even look as though they spring from collections of pine needles where the road runs through the woods. How come they won't grow in our garden? I just love the flowers and have tried replanting roadside ones, buying potted flowers and replanting them, growing from bulbs and at most I get scant blooms and then nothing. The roses in a house on a band in the road on the other side of the village are a wonderful show of colour. There are some beautiful roses which seem to combine yellow and a deep orangey red, pale pale pink, a lovely lilac colour, a deep deep red and an array of yellows, reds and yellows. Waldo waters our roses but nothing seems to be happening with them. We always seem to be away when they bloom, by the number of dead heads needed when we come back, I wistfully think 'they must have been a sight'. But for the most part it stays in my imagination.

For the local people it provides some respite between the tourists mostly leaving the island and the olive harvest. Now they start talking about going to Athens. This may be to sort out their money that they have earned during the summer and other business issues. For some it is to clean and prepare apartments that they have rented out during the summer and get them ready for their holiday over the Christmas period when they will go to Athens and spend the time with family and friends. For many it is simply to return to Athens for their winter jobs. This seasonable approach to work always fascinates me. Whereas there are many people who simply change the location but do the same work; as waiters, running shops, running restaurants, chefs and of the type of work that has transferable skills and the changing location of customers. There are a growing number of people for whom technology enables then to move easily between Athens and the islands or their homes area of Greece. In the heat of the summer the only people who are in Athens are those who cannot leave for various reasons and tourists. Those who can leave do. Those who work in advertising agencies, taxi drivers, those who work in electrical shops, give up all manner of skills for the summer as people become waiters on a summer island. Now is the time of transition.

Tomorrow, 18th October is St. Luke's Day. This is the day for the commemoration of the dead, a day when people will take to the church grain or a dish called Koliva which is a sort of thick, sliceable porridge made of grain which is also the traditional meal at funerals. People hold a vigil in the church where their relatives are buried and then have a feast, a sort of picnic really, around the tombs of their loved ones. This is particularly celebrated in a wonderful, old village in perched high on a mountain ledge in northern Greece, Metsovo because the tradition dates back to the time, just two generations ago when many of the families, who were not silversmiths, were semi-nomadic shepherds. Each year they would spend the summer in the high cooler pastures. Before leaving for their winter in the warmer lowlands, they would honour those who had died in the highlands and been buried in Metsovo. The next days would be spent preparing for the long journey down the mountains. This time of year, the weather is usually good and is often called 'The little summer of St. Demetrios', and thus the work and packing up can be done in the dry, without the inconvenience of rain. St. Demetrios' day is October 26th. and is often the last day on the high pastures, sometimes marked by a feast where the new wine is opened and tasted.

The shepherds, their families, many no doubt nursing hangovers, and their flocks would then take the familiar trails down to the lowland pastures. This used to be a wonderful sight as hundreds of sheep and goats, people, caravans of vehicles all came down the tracks, through small villages and crossed main roads. The women of the villages would all be out protecting their roses and vegetables from the goats. Many villages, even today have the roadsides, particularly in front of houses, planted with Lucern, a clover type plant which is a great favourite with both sheep and goats. This was done in the hope of distracting the greedy animals. Now the plants are left to give their bright pink flowers to adorn old walls and roadsides. All would be quiet in the villages until the nest spring, when St. George's Day 23rd April was the appointed time to return to the highlands. Now, the few shepherds that still live a transhumant life move their animals in large lorries and their families live in fixed homes, driving to visit their relatives when necessary. Not quite the same romantic pastoral scenes, but far more convenient than the old ways. It is perhaps indicative of the way society is changing to realise that the most that is retained of these old traditions is the tasting of the new wines, which is celebrated by parties and festivities in rural villages and town houses alike.










 

Customer Service - Greerk Style

Customer Service - Greek Style

Everyone is talking about the weather. Yesterday and today there were a few clouds about, but nothing threatening rain. Granted I have changed from wearing thin cotton trousers and sleeveless cotton tops to cotton jeans and short sleeved T-shirts, but I am still feeling hot. We still need to keep jugs of cod water in the 'fridge. We still need the put the air conditioning on, albeit for just half an hour, in the evening to cool the house down.

Waldo was out playing with Heracles, the Bobcat yesterday and will do so most of today. He is clearing thorn bushes and creating a new ledge just alongside the cobbled path to the AcropoLiz. Somehow or other, when I had the computer and was working in the lounge he found all manner of reasons to be in the lounge; working at his computer, talking to himself as he did so, shouting on the telephone or Skype, looking for his glasses / keys / the piece of paper he had in his hand a minute ago! He kept talking about all the work he had to do outside and how important it was to get it done before the rains come and the ground is too slippery to work. Somehow he never got round to it. It was too hot. He had to upload a new programme on the computer.

Now it has been just four days since I moved down to the AcropoLiz and Waldo has not had any distractions of heat, e-mails to reply to, telephone calls to make or programmes to download or upload! He has strimmed the grass to the back of the AcropoLiz and he has strimmed the grass to the front. He has brought out the Bobcat and cleared thorn bushes at the back of the AcropoLiz and now he is clearing to the front. What is this magic thread that keeps him wanting to be near me? It must be love!

Now that Waldo is busy, I take the opportunity to go out in the car myself. This morning we had a telephone call from the good courier service to say that he would be outside the Hotel Romantica in 10 minutes. Most unusually, it was me who took the drop-off. It was headphones which Waldo had ordered from the largest office supplies company in Athens. Now it is important to understand that Waldo is not deaf! People don't speak clearly. The telephone settings are not good. The computer headphones for Skype are just standard things and not good quality. I keep the TV sound far too low because I've got ears like a rat!

Waldo's mother was the same and when she lived with us we were forced to take action - thank goodness - when the neighbours two doors down complained about the volume of her TV! We bought her a set of headphones which solved the problem, although when she took them off I could hear them four rooms away through three closed doors! Now, when in Cardiff Waldo uses these headphones and I can have the TV at a normal volume. So during his distracted time on the computer in the lounge, he came across a set of headphones which he could use on the TV and Skype. He ordered them via the Internet and waited for them to be delivered.

About a week later we collected them from the courier at the Romantika Hotel. Eager to try them out immediately Waldo was disappointed to find that when he opened the packet he found that someone had been there before him. Perhaps it had been a display model, but the batteries were missing. The next morning we went up to Potamos and bought some batteries and rushed back to watch some news on the TV. The headphones still did not work. Waldo left them on their stand, thinking that perhaps they had to charge. Some hours later he still could not get them to work. He contacted the company concerned, via their website and directing the query to Customer Services. He heard nothing.

A few more e-mails of increasing anger were sent and still nothing. Eventually Waldo telephoned the Sales Manager who was very apologetic and said to return the headphones immediately and he would ensure a new set were sent out. So, we packed up the headphones, travelled down to Livadi and returned the goods via the courier. A few days later Waldo had a bizarre e-mail saying that as his headphones were still under warranty they could be repaired free of charge. Waldo simply forwarded this e-mail to the Sales Manager and repeated the agreement to have a new set. Another apology was forthcoming. Still nothing was heard from Customer Services.

The new headphones arrived about 10 days later, via the good courier, collected at the Romantika Hotel! Waldo started to open the box and then started to do a war dance around the lounge. He could not believe it. The batteries were in the box this time. The stand for the headphones was in the box. The connecting leads were in the box. But there were no headphones! Immediately he sent off an e-mail to Customer Services with a copy to the Sales Manager.

As expected, he heard nothing from Customer Services. Two days later, the Sales Manager telephoned with another round of apologies. Not only could he not believe the incompetence of his packing department but he also had to bring the news that the particular type of headphones were now out of stock and so there would be about a month's delay whilst new ones were delivered. In the intervening two days Waldo had been surfing the new again looking for alternative headphones. The ones that he now chose were only available through one company in Greece - yes, you've guessed it!

Arrangements were made for Waldo to cancel his original order and be refunded his money plus compensation for two sets of return courier deliveries, telephone calls and inconvenience. Waldo would also place a new order for the different headphones and the Sales Manager would personally oversee the packing and dispatch. That was yesterday and amazingly, true to his word, the package arrived this morning. Waldo has tried them out and they work! he has looked at his credit card account and seen that so far he has been credited for the price of the original headphones, less the price of the new ones. So, as for compensation we wait and see what happens. We can but wonder at the Troika's faith in Greece working its way out of the economic situation it finds itself in!

As Waldo's headphones had arrived so quickly I thought there must be post to collect. we are both waiting for things to arrive, most of which are about 4 - 9 days overdue. So, I decided to go to the post office this morning. I also had some more DVDs to post. I do love driving on the island. Waldo always says that I drive much faster than he does; but I don't think so. The roads are mostly quite and I do like to try to get to the limit on corners where it is safe to do so. the only distraction is that when a car comes it is invariably someone we know and I have to go through the ritual of flashing lights, parping the horn and waving; all of which slows one down enormously.

The supermarket in Potamos had pineapples for sale today and so I went in and bought one; a great treat. I love pineapple and the island is totally devoid of tins of pineapple. The only fruit that are sold not fresh are tins of peach halves and bottles of cherries, and these come in large sizes more suitable for a taverna than a domestic household. On the way back I remembered that Waldo has asked me to get some butter and a bottle of lemonade, so I decided to call in George's in our village. When there I asked George when he would revert to closing the shop in the afternoons. He told me that there were still a few visitors here and so he would stay open until they have gone. They only buy some water to drink on the beach, but, he added, it not a good reputation for the island if shops are closed when visitors are here. So George stays from 7am to 11pm in his 'prison without walls', all for the good of the reputation of the island.

George would be better placed training people in Customer Services positions in big companies in Athens.

The cats at Stella's taverna

The cats at Stella's taverna

The 'Thursday Cruise Ship' is just going past, looking majestic in the sunshine. Every Tuesday she goes down to Athens and returns on a Thursday; one more of my alternative time markers.

We didn't get up until nearly lunch time today. I woke around 8.45 and discovered that there was a power cut. It is winter now and so we can expect them if not daily, then at least 5 times a week. I decided to turn over and sleep. Apparently Waldo did the same around 10.30. The power eventually came on just as were were finally getting up around 12.00. As usual it was timed after breakfast and the children set off for school and before the housewives of the island needed to start getting lunch which is usually eaten around 14.00.

We ate a leisurely brunch on the patio. It is still so warm that we needed to use the table in the shade, but today there are a few clouds in the sky; nice white fluffy ones, not menacing grey or black ones. As we ate we reflected on our bizarre day yesterday.

I buy and sell books and DVDs on Amazon and so am a regular at the post office. At the last minute Waldo decided to come with me to Potamos to buy an outside light fitting. A few nights previously I had been working so intently in the AcropoLiz that it was only when I finished that I realised that it was pitch dark. I used Skype to telephone Waldo in the house to come with a torch to fetch me! There was no way I was going to risk breaking a leg on the cobbled path or had the courage to brush past the oleander hedge where the night spiders would be weaving their webs. One diligently makes a large web that spans the cobble path, anchored on one side at the end of oleander branches and at the other side on the wall and the metal patio railings. These anchoring threads are amazingly strong. Despite the fact that every morning I break these threads, by the next morning the spider has rebuilt them. This morning I set Waldo the task of destroying the web. We wait to see what the beast will do tonight!

Waldo dropped me off at the post office and drove on into the village. Now that the tourists have gone it is quite easy to find a parking space somewhere around the platea (square). I posted off my 4 items, collected 4 newly delivered ones. The intention of having a Kindle and selling on Amazon is to reduce the number of books and DVDs we have in the house. Somehow it is not working out! Mentally I have this notion that Kindle is for the books that I will really want to keep. All the transient stuff can be bought and sold, particularly when it is cheaper in the first place than the Kindle version. I guess I am too old fashioned and missing the point somewhere!

I caught up with Waldo in the electrical shop. Whilst the girl there speaks very good English, he was having problems with his 'insides' and 'outsides'. He wanted a light to be fitted outside the house and so have all the necessary waterproofing and safety measures. He wanted the switch to operate it to be fitted inside the house, thus no need for waterproofing. But he needed it to be fitted on the surface (outside) of the wall not indented (inside) the wall. He also had the idea that if he fitted the light on the apex of the AcropoLiz roof he could fit the switch immediately inside, if only he could buy a switch with a length of cord attached, like a bathroom switch. The shop, like all Greek shops is crammed full of goods with shelves holding precariously positioned piles of goods often sticking out way beyond the shelf edge and the two walkways lined on both sides with even more of a tangle of cables, boxes, large fittings and display stands. Nikos the owner was at one end of the shop reaching out to various shelves. Waldo and the girl were at the other end of the shop. As the girl shouted out what she thought Waldo wanted, Nikos would reach for it as pass it to a lady who stood part way down the aisle who passed it to Waldo. It turned out that this lady was Nikos' mother. All around her and totally blocking the aisle were bulging carrier bags full of apples, plums, potatoes, tomatoes and a host of other just-picked fruit and vegetables. As I took in the scene an elderly man asked me to make way as he brought in even more bags. It turned out that the elderly couple were Nikos' parents who firmly believed that living, as he did, in the village, he and his family would either starve or poison themselves with shop bought goods. Hence as they had reason to come into the village for themselves they had brought his 'rations'. Nikos, the obedient son simply worked around his parents.

I managed to make my way down the free aisle to Waldo who had a switch in his hand from which protruded a length of string. He was concerned that he couldn't hear it clicking and thus that it wasn't working. The girl stepped over three plastic bags of fruit which had now been placed between her and the counter. She took the switch out of Waldo's hand telling him that he had it wrong. She demonstrated.
'On.' She pulled the string and held it tightly keeping the switch down.
'Off.' She let go of the string and the switch went up.
Waldo and I looked at each other in puzzlement.
'This means that you hold it when you want the light on?' asked Waldo incredulously.
The girl sighed. At last the xeni (foreigner) had understood. 'Yes.' she said 'That is all we have in Greece.'
Waldo capitulated immediately. 'I'll just have an ordinary switch please' he declared and immediately set up another chain reaction of the girl shouting to Nikos, who moved carefully to the relevant shelf, passed the switch to his mother who was by now almost held prisoner by bags and had to call in the services of her husband in order to get the switch to Waldo.
I just gave Waldo some money and got out of the shop as quickly as I could. I had vision of Greeks all over the place having a bath whilst holding tight to the light switch string. Or maybe they just tied the string around their big toe so that both hands were free for washing! We are both still giggling over these amazing light switches.

However much we laugh at the Greeks, they laugh at us. We may all be European but the culture divide is still enormous. Shop keepers think we are quite mad to bring our own shopping bags with us. They shake their heads in wonder at the crazy xeni who pay to bring their own bags rather than taking their freely given ones. And what do we use to take out the rubbish, they ask? We tell them that we compost everything possible and the rest goes into the store of bags that we already have collected and the occasional ones that we have when we shop on the spur of the moment and get given a plastic bag. Waldo gives cause for more laughter than I. He caused great laughter the other week when I had pulled up outside a taverna where a group of men were enjoying a stag party lunch. because we had visitors and the car was full, Waldo got into the boot. They were surprised to see that he had cushions there and was well set up. And just to please them he did his 'nodding dog' imitation. In Potamos he had parked the car near the small supermarket. As he was crossing the road to go to the electrical shop he noticed a grasshopper in the road. Fearful that the little thing would get run over he decided to move it. With no fly swatters to hand he just stamped his foot close behind the grasshopper which immediately took off, leaped in the air and landed a few feet away, still in the road. So Waldo repeated his stamping. Grasshoppers, as we have already found out, have no sense of direction. Thus is took quite a bit of stamping and hopping to zigzag out of harms way. By this time Waldo had an audience of people from the supermarket, the bakers shop, in the kafenion on the square and a motorist patiently waiting for the stamping mad man to get out of the road!

We settled back to the various tasks we had set ourselves for the rest of the day and decided to go out for a meal. The taverna on the Potamos platea has already packed up the tables, chairs and umbrella's on the square and reverted to the indoor space underneath the Bank of Greece. We set off with the intention of going there for a change. On the way down the mountain in the car we remembered that once into winter mode, not having to cater for tourists, Panaretos does not open until eight in the evening - and that would be early for most Greeks going out. We toyed with the idea of going to have a drink beforehand, but decided to forgo that, have an earlier meal and get back in time to watch an episode of Rumpole. Oh what a high life we live in our old age!

Panaretos will stay open during the winter so we can go there later on, but most of the tavernas in our village will close soon. We decided to go locally. Kaleris' taverna was laid out with three long tables; obviously they were expecting a large party. We continued on to Stella's; she does the best cheese pies on the island and her grilled courgette in batter, sprinkled with the Greek equivalent of Parmesan cheese is to die for. It is the last week of Danish tourists, the Dutch all went home and their tourist operation closed last Monday. The Danes will go on Sunday. There were a few tables taken by these tourists and, as usual, a collection of cats moved from table to table as unwanted food was dropped for them.

We headed for the opposite corner. A few of our visitors always get talking to people on the beach, people in the bars or in tavernas. We never invite such conversation, being more than happy with our own company. We do not feel the need to communicate with strangers. Besides on the rare occasions when they open lines of communication with us, we end up saying the same old things; where to go in Kythera, the weather on the island and general comments of tourist information. We are reluctant to speak about the fact that we have a home here. Perhaps we fear visitors, perhaps we fear being used in some way, perhaps we are intolerant of the superficiality of tourists, or perhaps we are just rude and eccentric and crabby in that we just like our own company and want visitors on our own terms, those who are close friends and worth spending time with.

We were just tucking into our starters when I could see a familiar figure walking along the road. It was Louli, our builder. He and his family are now living and working in Athens where they do not seem to be short of work, despite the economic climate. I wave and he comes over to greet us. After the usual greetings we invite him to join us, which he does. His Greek is excellent and he is beginning to add a few English words to his vocabulary. Nevertheless the evening's conversation relies on me being able to understand and translate what Louli says and to translate Waldo's contributions to the conversation. It is rather staccato and very tiring by we manage to cover a range of topics from his family, new baby and parents; the cost of living in Athens compared with Kythera and Cardiff; our newly found road down to Aghia Marina and the stone house being built there; the work that Louli is doing now in Kythera and where he is staying; the disruption of the riots; the Greek government, Angela Merkel's visit and the troika; Albanian economic development; Albanian tsipouro versus Greek tsipouro (this is a very strong liqueur made commercially but prefered from local sources where it is stilled after the making of ouzo from the must, twigs and remains of grapes mixed with wild herbs and raw alcohol); and we reminisce over various times when Louli and members of his family have done various projects for us around the house and land. It is a pleasant evening but I am exhausted.

Louli invites us to have dinner with him again in two days time and we look forward to that. Just as we get up to go, I see one of the cats coming into the taverna with something in her mouth. At first I thought it was a rat, but then as she put it down at my feet I could see that it was an extremely young kitten. The little thing could not be more than 15 days old and it appeared to be the first day that it could see. I did not reach down to touch the kitten for I knew the mother would be very protective of it, but I felt pleased that she had brought the kitten for me to see. Very quickly I realised that I actually had nothing to do with. One of the other cats came running up to our corner. She miaowed and rubbed noses with the mother and then went over to sniff and lick the kitten. Within seconds about four other cats had joined us. All greeted the mother in the same way and then went to inspect the kitten. It really was such human behaviour to watch, it was clear that the mother had brought her kitten out for the other cats to see. The kitten was being introduced to Stella's taverna cat family. The poor little thing was rather frightened with all these big cats reaching out for it. It kept moving backwards. Just like any group of females some of the cats paid due attention to the kitten and then went on with their work of hunting for scraps, most stayed and purred and miaowed with the mother and two just kept playing with the kitten. Eventually they gave the little thing space, but by this time it had back up to such an extent that its back legs and bottom had fallen over the edge of the wall. Stella's taverna overlook the harbour and the floor of the taverna ends in a wall which drops straight down to the harbour walkway. the kitten clung on to the hard concrete, its eyes wide. Gradually it started to sink until just two little paws, a nose and big bright eyes could be seen until the inevitable happened and it disappeared.

Waldo-the-animal-lover immediately ran out of the taverna, around the corner, down the slope and onto the harbour walk-way. The mother cat was still with her friends and relatives, unaware of what had happened. One of the cats that had been playing with the kitten immediately turned to the mother cat, the other followed Waldo but instead of going to the harbour walk way, the small animal moved along a ledge at the side of the taverna. Waldo could not find the little animal. As the winter approaches and sea breeze at night brings a chill with it, all the tavernas unroll large plastic walls. These come from the ceiling, and in Stella's case well past the floor to ensure no draughts, but the clear plastic still allows a view over the harbour. The little kitten, being no weight was wedged by the heavy plastic and held against the wall.  The other cat, a large, strong looking ginger tabby could see this and was at the end, frantically reaching her paws in. It was calling to the kitten which managed to crawl towards the cat. The mother cat was now aware that something had happened and was by my feet spitting and growling at me as if it was my fault. The kitten eventually emerged at the end, but the cat was not able to catch hold of the little thing before it started to fall towards the concrete walkway below. But Waldo-the-hero was there and grabbed the frightened animal by the scruff of the neck.

Louli and I clapped as Waldo came back into the taverna, kitten in hand and large ginger cat by his side. The mother cat ran towards him and rubbed against his legs; she sensed that he was being kind and not a threat. Waldo put the frightened kitten down on the floor and the mother cat took over with licks and soft purring. The other cats, not wishing to frighten the little thing any more just stood and watched. We all walked out onto the road and bade our farewells.

Waldo and I were amazed at the human emotions displayed by the cats. If we had not witnessed it ourselves we perhaps would not have quite believed it possible. But it does make you wonder whether these communities of strays are enjoying a better quality of life with kinship and companionship of their own kind, rather than the life of a single cat being forced to live like a human being. These cats are always well fed and in Stella's case they have adequate shelter. They do not need to fight for scraps and look quite healthy. They certainly care for each other in ways that some humans could learn from.







 

The sound of silence

The sound of silence

Waldo and I decided yesterday that we were staying in far too much and that we were restricting ourselves to only going out when we needed to; shopping, visiting friends, going to the bank or post office; or going to the airport or port. When we have visitors we have honed our trips down to a few key ones. Over the years we have learnt that people will not spend more than about 45 minutes in the car; 'pit stops' for food, drink and toilet have to be every 2 hours or so; there should be no more than 2 old ruins per day; and by 4 o'clock everyone starts to get a bit scratchy unless we get home for a cup of tea by then!

We are intrepid travellers and for us the journey is as much an integral part of the experience as the destination. Wherever we travel, whether by car or motor-home we have our travel kit with us; binoculars, bird identification book, notepad and pen, maps and usually the Lonely Planet of wherever we are roaming. Here on Kythera we don't always remember the map, but can travel mostly by the aid of local landmarks. Maps are not necessarily essential once we have done a journey once; and we did once set off to visit friends in Belgium with a map of France in the car! In Kythera we also take a bucket and spade with us so that we can bring back various wild flowers, rocks or drift wood that might take our fancy and be deemed an attractive addition to our garden or patios.

It has been another glorious day today with the afternoon temperature reaching 34.5'C. We set off with the intention of going to explore some of the villages that sit along the spine of the island; they are not on the way to any beach, monastery or place of interest, nor have we heard of good tavernas in them and hence we have not visited them. We decided to go up our mountain road as we have not been that way for some time. In places the thorn bushes are really overgrowing the road and the car swerves drunkenly as Waldo avoids them and potholes. Our neighbours have been busy cutting down trees, no doubt to better their view and provide precious logs for the winter. I know most of the flowers on either side of the road and point out which heather bushes are in flower, the occasional beautiful pink asphodels, mountain sage, crab apples and many other old seasonal friends.

When we got to the top road, the asphalted road from Karavas to Potamos we turned left as we needed to go through Potamos to get to our villages. On the way we passed an olive press with it's door open as the owners no doubt are preparing for the harvest to come. Just to the side of the building is a road signposted to Aghia Marina, somewhere we have never been. I was just saying 'Let's go down here.' when Waldo turned down the road. At the back of the building there was a large pile of the dried remains of olive pressings, ground pips, skin and general rubbish. This must have been taken from cleaning down the system for the island presses only use oil from the first pressing. Once the thick, greenish oil is extracted the residue is packed into plastic drums and sold to bigger presses in the Peloponnese who will extract the last drops of oil from this with bigger crushers and a hot water wash; this is then sold as the cheap, thin, yellow oil of supermarkets or sold to manufacturers where olive oil is an ingredient of their goods. No self-respecting Kythera would touch this second class product.

We were surprised that the road, just a narrow single track, was cemented. This came to an end after about a mile, just before the first house along the road. This happens frequently in Greece. A road surface of cement or asphalt will end, in the middle of nowhere, with no logical explanation as to why the work was budgeted to to end so. The stoppage is usually some way short of what might be a logical place to stop. This shortage can never be accounted for until one realises that most of the driveways in the vicinity have brand new concrete or asphalt, or that a certain amount of money has been 'creamed' off as the budget is devolved through each stage of the order and building process. No government can manage a country where tax avoidance is the national game and corruption has seeped into every crevice of society - starting with the governments!

The road is pretty rough and we bounce along through a wonderful valley. On the south facing slopes there are substantial patches of cultivation with vines or olives neatly planted in rows. the occasional 'shepherds hut' is clearly visible - there are not always actually used by shepherds but in the days before the ubiquitous Toyota pick-up were the temporary residence of the olive or grape pickers who would not waste time every day walking to and from their own homes. They are still used today but more often as a one night camping treat for the children or for boozy, macho parties of Greek males who go out hunting and shooting'. There are only really hares and ptarmigan here to shoot and they are not often disturbed by these affairs which focus more on food, camp fire stories and retsina or ouzo.

The valley seems to close before us and the road winds through a huge rock crevasse and we enter a new valley; wild and unspoilt. We came to a fork in the road. A road sign of the very old Greek style was still standing; a metal square on a metal rod. A village name had once been visible but the Greek rural custom of using road signs as target practise for guns had made so many holes and pock marks, it was now unreadable. We decided to take the right hand fork. As we did so we could see, just to the left hand side of the other road a very large, unfinished property made of local stone. The building looked to be on stop, but it had the making of a large, fine property, totally isolated and with a view down the valley to the sea.

As we bounced along the potholes road we could see more and more large black birds playing in the air currents. Four, six, ten, more and more came into view. We stopped to take photographs of them and to watch then enjoying the thermals with such ease. As far as I could tell, I identified them as Alpine Choughs. There was a substantial colony for we counted 30 in the air at any one time.

The road started to run down hill for a time and in the distance we could see a new building, a large three storey house with a large patio area to the front and very large balconies on the top two floors. As we drew near we could see that work was continuing on the site, although there was nobody around today. They had already erected a small wind driven generator. What an isolated spot, so quiet and unlikely to be disturbed. The view took in some short distance of a flat area before the steep cliffs dropped down to the sea. A wonderful spot to walk along the cliff edge ad look at the navy, azure, turquoise and greens of the sea below. Suddenly a cow, or rather a young bullock came into sight. he clearly was interested to see who was around and no doubt, whether they had brought food with them. he was a fine looking beast, along the lines of a Jersey breed with large dark eyes and two tone ears. but he did not look kind and we kept our distance.

We drove on past the bullock, the house and a pile of stones dumped by the side of the road, up a small slope and then over the top and came to a narrow plateau. The road turned down to the right but we sensed that Aghia Marina might be to the left. Waldo stopped the car and we found a narrow path to the left. We walked some distance and then could see a small bay. Zigzagging over the slopes above the bay was the other road. This would have taken us down to the beach, except that we could see quite a substantial rock fall had blocked the road for some two hundred yards; we would have had to turn back anyway. The path took us past two relics of stone houses, reminders of the days when the island had a population of around 23,000 people. Those were the days when it produced wine, wheat, oats, olives, fruit and vegetables which were traded with Smyrnia on the Turkish coast. It never fails to surprise us what a vibrant island it must have been before the war. German occupation of the island provided a vital command post covering the seas towards the mainland Peloponnese and the sea between here and Crete. But the brutality of occupation followed by the devastation of the Greek civil war meant that the island population reduced to some 3000 people. Only in the past few decades has that increased with around 400 resettled Albanians and a similar number of assorted ex-patriates: German, British, Swedish, French and Italian in the main. The summer population swells to around 10,000 people which includes a transhumant working populatio0n of people who work in Athens in the winter and Kythera in the summer and those Kytheran Australians who summer 'down under' and then summer in Kythera. Long-term summer tourists who return to their family homes for months at a time account for a large proportion of the swollen population whilst the weekly or fortnightly tourists count for a few hundred.

Our path was littered with rocks of all shaped and colours; white, orange, silver, grey, brown and gold. They recreated the layers of the earth's crust shattered in turmoil many years ago. On the way back I collected a few attractive specimens to add to my patio collection. There were some large rocks near the car and Waldo selected three of the largest flat slabs that he could lift and put them in the car. these would be used for weighting down the clothes drying rack on the kitchen patio. No matter how large the rocks we used, at some point the wind would blow the drying rack over, lifting the rocks and the impact as they hit the ground again split them into pieces. So we were always on the lookout for new rocks.

We bounced our way back to the main road, took an easy decision to go the long way round, following asphalted roads. No matter how many times we make the trip, rounding the corner and seeing the north Eastern coastline of the island, the blue sea reaching over to the Maleas Peninsular and Aghia Pelagia nestled at the botto0m of the slope, makes us both catch our breath. Apart from our own house view, it is the best view in the world.



 

Can you hear the silence?

Can you hear the silence?

It took Waldo just a couple of hours to assemble the chair. It really is very comfortable. Over the past week we have been gradually moving my books down to the AcropoLiz. At least, Waldo has done the hard work of carrying them down the steps from the mezzanine floor, down the steps to the kitchen, down the steps from the kitchen patio, turn and then down the final steps along the end of the oleander hedge and over the rough cobbled path to what is now my office. I have had an enjoyable time acquainting myself with all my long lost friends, sorting them and organising them on shelves in some semblance of order.

When we moved a container load of our belongings out her, some 8 years ago, I know that 1826 books were brought out. I know that because they had to be counted for insurance purposes! Thanks to Amazon and weighty suitcases, I have added to that number considerably and our library must now contain some 2,300 books. I would estimate that I have read some 80% of them, skim read the remainder with the exception of about 60 books that are waiting to be read. On average I read about 3 books every two weeks; but when I am reading in preparation for writing an academic paper, journal article or checking students' work I may push this up to 6 books per week.

Waldo's part of the library accounts for some 200 books on all aspects of motor sport and care as well as a growing number of autobiographies and biographies of people associated with motor sport, political leadership and religious leadership. I too enjoy biographies and autobiographies but mainly of women whose lives have been a challenge, one of achievement, unusual, involve travel or just simply wild. Jehan Sadat used her husband's power and position to develop co-operative workshops for women in rural Egypt and to establish proper medical clinics so that every women in Egypt, even if she couldn't avoid the tradition of cliterectomies, at least they would be performed in humane, medical conditions. Naawal Al Sadawi a committed feminist, one of the founders of the Arab Women's League and whose wise writings taught me that those women who wear the veil may actually have more freedom and equality than western women who are not aware of the psychological and cultural veils that oppress them. Gertrude Bell, allie of Lawrence of Arabia, the only woman to attend the Cairo conference in 1921, friend and adviser to Winston Churchill and King Faisal of Iraq and major contributor to the British 'lines in the sand'. Waris Dirie, born a Somalian nomad, survived infection as a consequence of brutal genital mutilation with a rusty, blunt blade to become a Pirelli calendar girl and ultimately a United Nations Special Ambassador. The amazing Catalina de Erauso who, in the early 17th Century was given to a San Sebastian convent, as were all daughters of middle class Basque girls, to be educated until a suitable husband could be found for her. Wanting more from life Cataline dressed as a boy to escape her religious prison, fled Peru and Chile where she, still dressed as a boy, joined the Spanish army where she unknowingly killed her own brother in a dual, fled the army and lived the rest of her life by her wits, balancing heroic behaviour of the Robin Hood type and sheer villainy when pushed to survive the sordid life. Any woman, intent on negotiating peace in Northern Ireland, who can walk into a room to meet Martin McGuinness for the first time, take off her wig and throw it on the table and in her opening sentence call him 'Babes' had to be the prime example of a woman of confidence and Mo Mowlam must be an inspiration to women everywhere.

When not reading about women's lives I read about their travel adventures and particularly love the tales of the intrepid Victorian lady explorers. Jane Digby el Mesrab travelled from her home in Norfolk and travelled through Europe having affairs with King Ludwig or Bavaria and his son Otto before moving on to the dessert where she met, fell in love and married Sheik Medhuil el Masrab in Syria where she lived in a tent, adopted Bedouin clothes and customs, earning the respect of the people she came to know and love. Isabella Bird left Britain in 1872 to travel to Australia, Hawaii and Colorado, USA. She eventually explored her way to the Rocky Mountains where she spent years associating with a notorious character Jim Nugent, known as 'Rocky Mountain Jim'.  Lady Hester Stanhope en route to Cairo was shipwrecked near Rhodes where, unable to obtain western clothes and refusing to wear a veil she dressed in male Turkish attire to continue her journey and on to Gibraltar, Malta, the Ionian Islands, the Peloponnese, Athens, Constantinople, Rhodes, Egypt, Palestine, Lebanon and Syria. Somewhere between Damascus, Jerusalem and Palmyra she changed her clothes to wear that of a Bedouin and continued to travel the dessert with her caravan of 22 camels to carry her baggage. She ended her life living with her companion in a series of desolate monasteries until her death in 1839.

Otherwise my more academic reading tends to focus upon feminist sociology, female entrepreneurship and philosophy. I am particularly fascinated how power is acquired, used and abused. Whilst I am not particularly committed to any particular religious belief, I read quite a bit about different world religions because they are so powerful in people's lives for inner peace and calm as well as stimulating passions about difference that end up in violence and wars. No matter how much I read, I cannot equate the teachings of religious people such as Jesus Christ, Mohamed, Buddha and the various Hindu Gods and those of other religions with the acts of violence committed in the name of the religion they have founded.

More recently I have become interested in Quakerism, not least because ones religious beliefs and personal spiritual journey are private. Quaker have no creed but have a shared belief that there is something of 'God' (whoever, however that may be defined) in everyone, all people are equal, everyone has access to 'the light' and it does not require a minister or priest to act as intermediary, peace is the way forward and violence is not acceptable, and finally that ones spiritual and personal principles are empty unless converted into action and the way each person lives their life. It is this commitment to action, to lobbying, to charitable work, to influencing for the better that attracts me to Quakers. Quakers really have more influence than their numbers suggest and it is not surprising that organisations such as Greenpeace, Amnesty International, Oxfam and the Ecumenical Observers group have all been established with Quaker involvement. My library of Quaker history, Quaker testimonies, Quaker experience and Quaker spirituality already extends to some 100 books, most of which I have read.

Silence is a big part of Quaker worship and I have been wonder struck by its power. In the intimacy of silence, shared with anything between 5 to 200 people, I have been amazed how, when someone ventures forth to minister that it is on a topic I am wrestling with. How the energy, the thoughts, the power seeps through from individual to individual beats me, but I no longer question it, just accept it as something extraordinary to experience. Silence has always been an important part of my life. I cannot study to background music, I cannot think deeply when distracted by noise, I love the inspiration of that rare envelope of silence.

Now that I am in the AcropoLiz I have more than as much silence that can be expected in modern life. At the moment, as I type, I can hear absolutely nothing. Over the past three hours I have been aware of just a few things: a single distant motorcar, a scooter minus exhaust pipe, the cry of one of our birds of prey calling to his partner, the chirp of a small bird, the drone of a large insect that came inside the office buzzed around and buzzed off again, and the rest is pure silence. It envelopes me like a great comfort blanket. It transports me to another dimension. In the silence I can be me to think, reflect, think deeper, critically reflect, be creative and live the adventures in my head. It is the ultimate freedom.