This is not strictly speaking a ship’s log, but it will tell you when and where Al, Jenny and SNORK MAIDEN are currently sailing, and what’s happening aboard – within reason and occasionally unreason.
SNORK MAIDEN (B)LOG
This is not strictly speaking a ship's log, but it will tell you when and where Al, Jenny and SNORK MAIDEN are currently sailing, and what's happening aboard – within reason and occasionally unreason.
OC is very interested in the front door, so make sure outer door on ground floor is closed – in case of escape. He hears the lift so be prepared for him to be just inside the front door. He is quite easily ‘bamboozled’.
Play – string is still his favourite thing. He can jump for it, you can throw it, or wind it around bits of furniture – the back of the futon sofa is good.
Any of his small cat balls or mice are good if he’s in the mood – he might bat them back to you. He especially likes to do this through some sort of concealment – the bars of the backbend, the hole in the step stool, behind a hanging sheet.
He’s at his most playful at night, after his supper and before settling down for the night.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.
Wishing you Kalo Mina (Καλό μήνα) – have a good month.
Here in Crete the water is still warm and after a few days of storms, the sun is back. Nevertheless, as you know, Crete gets really quite hot in the summer, so we have decided to look for some sort of refuge in France – Brittany is the current front runner. We are leaving on Friday for four weeks (6 Oct-1st Nov) to recce a range of possible houses. Some are already divided or exist as 2 buildings.
So here’s the thing: we are wondering if any of you have a spark of interest in sharing a French project in some way. Of course sharing property can be a dangerous and difficult path, but it has worked for me before. What do you think? I suppose we were thinking that if anyone took us up – even buying in the same area, it wouldn’t feel so lonely!
We are thinking that the place needs to be in good condition – immediately liveable, attractive gardens, shade trees, not more than 40 mins to coast, lake/river/forest walking/cycling swimming. local town with cafes /restaurants/history.
So not a lot to ask!
We think Brittany is our place for summers, as they will be warm /perhaps with occasional heatwaves, but not as over-heated as the area further South in France, and on average less hot than Crete! Also deciduous trees in the immediate environment can help to keep a house cool, as well as providing hammock moorings.
Since the first bulletin, we have had some responses, but thought it was worth putting this idea out there again to see what, if anything comes back – enthusiasm, encouragement, dire warnings…
I will attach an updated list of houses that we are planning to see – quite a wide variety of accommodation and prices but it’s a fun browse if you like that sort of thing!
Sorry about the blog lapse…. Seem to have been busy or lazy, can’t decide which. Should I start with Substack?
Maybe it’s called ‘high’ summer because the temperatures are high, the sun is high, or spirits are high? Of course that doesn’t apply in the UK at the moment, as it seems to be out there on its own, forbidden to share in European heatwaves since Brexit (not all bad then!). So, since mid-June the temperatures have started to climb to a less comfortable place – today forecast 31C day, 25C night – so far, so good.
27 July 2023 1400 31C in the shade on our balcony.
I am going to keep this short because many of you have been asking about how we are coping with heat / fires and the Greek summer generally.
First, we have not had such high temperatures as either Athens, or the Peloponnese.
Second, we have not, as yet, had any wildfires in our area (Kissamos district).
Sure, the days are very warm, and we have to work with that. We have AC in 4 rooms (separate units are much more common here than ducted AC). We try to use them as economically as possible, mainly in the late evening & at night. I find I can sleep OK at 26/7 if the night is not too humid. On cooler nights, I can open all the doors and windows and let the night air do the rest. Otherwise, close everything, get the cat indoors and turn the AC to 25C, low fan speed. Perfect.
We eat outside if outside is cooler or otherwise more pleasant than inside. We have a dining sized table on the living room South facing balcony, so that’s the first choice, but we have also transformed the bedroom balcony (North facing) into an outdoor room with a couple of tables, chairs and an outdoor sofa. I am writing this on the S facing balcony. I hear you groan ‘that must be hot’. But the clever architects made the overhangs so deep that the sun hardly touches this side in the summer until the afternoon, and never gets to the doors. In winter the lower sun angle means that it does warm the room during the day. Unfortunately the architects were not so smart with insulation of the walls or the roof, so, like all of our concrete-built neighbours, the building retains heat at night, and conversely is not cheap to keep warm in the winter. Many Greeks sit out until late in the evening, and our own days run late too, with supper often not until 9 or so (early by Greek summer standards). Our Cat is a bit of an early riser so the day begins with a cuppa between 0530 and 0630. (N0, he doesn’t make the tea ?). The morning is really the time for getting things done, with lunch at 1330-1400 to allow for a good 2-3 hours catch up on sleep and or reading (or even Netflix) in the afternoon. At the moment we go snorkelling / swimming in the evening; yesterday a sunset snorkel where we saw clouds (shoals) of tiny fish looking just like starling (bird) clouds in the way they move and re-shape as one entity. We are also seeing a few very young barracudas – maybe these baby fish are easy pickings. We followed that by going to the Harbour (Limani) taverna for cod, chips & Greek salad.
Clearly in this weather, any kind of housework is quite unwelcome. We managed a sort-of Spring cleaning so now it’s a question of doing the minimum. I invested in a robot vacuum cleaner & mop, and that’s proved really good at dealing with cat hair and sand – the main floor challenges. Like all our neighbours, we take up and wash any rugs in the summer so the robot gets a good run at the floors. The mop part really just helps pick up all the loose stuff, and gives the floors a ‘once over’. It can’t deal with tea stains, or the kitchen floor after cooking.
There should be a video here – check out the on-line blog if you’ve never seen one of these at work.
I hope that’s given you a taste of summer life here!!
Oh – I almost forgot Our Cat. He sometimes has us worried by seeming to seek out warmer places when he could choose something cooler. Actually – any excuse for a cute cat pic.
I was going to write about summer food, but I have some other more boring things to do, so will reallykeep it short. I rely quite a lot on pulses, salads, pasta with variations on quickly made tomato sauces. Pizza with dough made in the bread machine – some portions frozen. Many of the Greek dishes I like need the oven, and we try hard to keep that to a minimum. I crave veg moussaka, stuffed peppers, imam bayaldi but don’t want to make them. Our friends use an air fryer that can be plugged in outdoors – another clever way around cooking in heat, especially if there is a breeze.
I also make quick light soups in the pressure cooker – such a useful piece of kit. Apologies if this is all too mundane and boring…. One thing, about food prices: there may be some exceptions, but food carries 13% VAT here. I think most European countries charge some rate of VAT. Although there are many references to high UK food prices, I think they are probably still lower in comparison. FYI food in France attracts 5.5% VAT. It always seemed expensive to me.
Black eyed beans / peas – cook and then mix with diced veg, roasted in olive oil (what else?). Lunch or supper salad. Add some hot peppers, smoked paprika, cumin while warm or while cooking. An exceptional use of the oven since 15 minutes at high heat is enough. Same for pizza.
TIME & THRESHOLDS
Triggered by this YouTube comparing Neil Young’s SUGAR MOUNTAIN with Joni Mitchell’s CIRCLE GAME. This YouTuber is a bit tedious, but try to bear with it.
Anyway, many of you have spoken or written about the time since Covid or in some cases, Brexit, and how it seems to have disappeared. I think something about the uncertainties that have suddenly popped out of the wardrobes of our lives, just when maybe we thought we had it sorted. Covid, Brexit, the Ukraine war, inflation and now reaping the whirlwind of Climate Change, or the Overheating / flooding of our ‘rich world’, as we might call it. And many of us are also crossing into a different phase of life, leaving behind aspects of our adult lives, becoming grandparents, and dealing with the inevitable ‘organ recital’ of health issues. It’s a threshold. I have started to think about life as a calendar with January, of course, as conception, gestation and birth, full of potential. February is infancy, March 2-5 years old, April is primary school, May adolescence, June falling in love for real, July, August, September are adulthood in full bloom of roses and thorns, October brings 60s and 70s, the transition into the 3rd age. November, December… well you can figure those out for yourself. You will notice that the time scale is not linear or even logical.
Here’s a sort-of-poem to help us out. I may have referenced it before, but like all poems it bears re-reading.
(If this link does not open for you, just persevere! Or Google ‘Thresholds John O’Donohue’).
More on Garagemen:
Here’s a little story on one of my favourite subjects. Our faithful, elderly, tough, Skoda YETI was losing power on hills. I happened to be passing our favourite garage run by the cheerful and robust Adonis Kalamaridis (thank you Tina and Elena). I dropped by his garage and after the usual wait (it’s popular) he took it out for a test drive, came back shaking his head in that garageman kind of way that usually means nothing good. It would have to be tested. Another wait – AC and cold water from the fridge. He came back a few minutes later with a peculiar expression on his face, and said, quite concisely ‘It’s OK now’. Me: ‘yes, but what was wrong’
AK: It’s OK now.
Me: ‘yes, but what was wrong’
AK: It’s OK now.
Me; ‘yes, but what was wrong’
He gives in and walks me to the car. Explains that the car mat was so worn on the driver’s side that it was catching on the bottom of the gas pedal so that the throttle couldn’t open fully! It seems that this most experienced and competent of garage men had missed this simple cause. No doubt one of his mechanics spotted it straight away.
So THAT’s what the peculiar expression meant!
We have nice new mats now.
Comings and goings: we are planning a trip to the UK in August. What will that feel like?
Well – the end of February and it feels as though hints of summer are breaking through. The Winter is short here. We woke up to indoor temperatures of around 16C in the living room, probably kept up to that level by the log fire, left burning at night behind its glass shield. Probably 2-3C cooler in the bedroom, so we added an Indian padded quilt to the light duvet we use in Spring and Autumn.
It came off again yesterday, a real sign that the weather is changing. Today the wind is strong and from the South. We had planned to go out to see the carnival, but the wind is so strong that we don’t even think that it will be happening. It’s part of the pre-Easter religious cycle in the Greek Orthodox calendar, so no idea if it can simply slip into tomorrow. Clean Monday is a bit like the English Ash Wednesday, marking the dietary run-up to Good Friday (Μεγαλη Παρασκευή)
Wednesday 12 April
Bloggery has been given a short shrifting during March. We have had a few medical and now dental appointments. Nothing serious, but thanks for asking…
Actually finding a dentist was quite tricky – there are several, but how to choose? We do want someone who is at least Covid conscious. The day before yesterday I found what felt like Fingal’s Cave in a precious left lower molar. So this afternoon off to Chania to a dentist who at least wore a mask and had a HEPA filter. He took an X-ray and judged the result unpromising. No, not just a filling that had dropped out, as I hoped. We discussed. Extraction was mentioned. I got a bit emotional (cf Freud, S. Interpretation of Dreams). He said he would drill down and have a better look at the damage. I asked him to treat me like a child and anaesthetise the gum before the numbing injection. And told him I was a screamer. Do you really want me to go on? I thought not. Next instalment next time. Maybe.
What’s Al been up to? (I think I need to start referring to my husband as AL, otherwise people will think I live with a super-intelligent robot!)
So, during his ‘recovery year’ in spite of Greek restrictions on noise making between 2-5pm, various semi-agricultural activities, me, the cat, and a room that’s not really suited to his needs for recording, he has managed to bring out 4 albums in the last year.
Here are some links to the work. Look out for The Hospital Tapes, and Guitar Ripples – the latest ones.
You might want to read what AL has to say about The Hospital Tapes:
“I wrote ‘The Hospital Tapes’ while in bed, on an iPad, in Heraklion University Hospital, Crete, while waiting for completely unexpected heart surgery.
I was on the cardiology ward for five weeks, as Covid patients reduced the availability of ICU beds, and I would need one after the op. I was an emergency; I could have had a catastrophic heart attack at any moment, so a strange time.
When I finally got a slot, the operation was difficult. The principal surgeon told me afterwards it was the most stressful operation he had ever performed. I went into cardiac arrest twice. My exposed heart was manually massaged while I flatlined for a total of twelve minutes. I was brought back, but the team did not know if my brain had been damaged until I had been held post-op in the ICU for 36 hours, and they were able to see my responses were normal.
My experience of the ICU was strange and hellish. I was intubated (on breathing apparatus), kind of awake, but could not communicate, paralysed by drugs. Time came to a near standstill. It felt like an eternity of being “locked-in”. I saw nurses checking monitors, but no-one looked at me, and I could not attract their attention.
Of course, I realise I’m lucky to have survived, and to be alive. A brilliant team of surgeons made some extremely fast decisions, and thanks to them I’m still alive. I owe them a big debt of gratitude.
Perhaps best described as tense, ambient electronica, the music is simply the raw ideas as they came out. When listening to it now, it still mirrors my feelings of the nightmare that was to come.”
The Garagemen of Europe
I have been wanting to write this for a while. I don’t have a lot to draw on, but here goes. Starting here in Greece. Since we bought a second hand high mileage (yes, kilometres don’t have the dame ring) SKODA YETI at an eye-watering price, we have seen a lot of Adonis (Antonis Aggelikh Kalamaridi). In Greek his name is ΑΝΤΟΝΙΣ and in the Greek language NT is pronounced ‘D’, hence Adonis but that maybe doesn’t play so well in English. Adonis (let’s be brave) told us, when we brought the car in for an evaluation before buying, that if we bought this car, we would see a lot of him! He was right. Clutch, air conditioning, a new back axle assembly and 4 new tyres later, we can see he was absolutely right. But when he could see we were fixated on buying it, he also said that it was a good car, and so it is. Part of the VW family, it is strongly built and has survived a few scuffs at our hands. It runs on petrol and LPG (oh yes, we had to re-build that system too). The LPG (liquified propane gas) is economical, but sometimes lacks power, at which point it’s a good idea to switch to petrol. At around 1 Euro per litre, it takes the sting out of our frequent (at the moment) trips to Chania.
Adonis is generous with the plastic bottles of raki that grateful clients give him. So for we have benefited from around 2 litres of the clear spirit. He’s the epitome of the open-hearted, generous, down to earth, family-oriented Cretan. He appears to know everything that is going on in the workshop and co-ordinates everything himself by conversations in person and with his bluetooth earpiece & phone.
The Garagemen of France,
I have found a completely different experience there. France seems to have been consumed by the concept of The Dealership. No longer the friendly ‘garagiste’ who fixes up the car and then asks you out for a date, the modern version can only fix your car with brand specific tools and a computer. You don’t even get near the ‘grease monkey’ end of things, as you are only allowed to interact with chic, slightly over-made-up, spike heeled receptionists.
Last year in France we attempted to fill the LPG tank. No success. Tried another pump, same result. Head scratching. We filled in Greece, Italy – no problem. Could the French pumps be different? Wouldn’t put it past the French! We tried to get to see the only LPG fitter we could find in La Rochelle. ‘Sorry, booked up until August. Yes, but we only want to ask a question! Sorry, booked up until August. Absolutely impossible. Really? C’est absolument impossible, Monsieur.’ At this point AL gives up. (Actually there was a problem – even the Greek pump gave up eventually so back to Adonis for a new valve and another bottle of tsikoudia.)
I am casting back for Spanish memories but draw a blank. I took the Citroen DS there and back at least twice, and I remember them as trouble free trips once in Spain….
Here’s my Mum and Dad on practically their only trip abroad. I drove them in the DS to Vilanova-i-la-Geltru, where I kept my boat, Kiwistar, via France, Costa Brava, Barcelona. We didn’t know how little time we had left together, but it was a great trip. They flew back to the UK – also a first.
And now, here we are, on the threshold of another European summer! Two nights ago we moved out of the duvet and into a thinner Indian quilt, the first of several adjustments to our bed linen as the temperature rises. Next the quilt goes in favour of a cotton sheet, and we also cast off any nightwear, and eventually the sheet goes too! We have installed an Air Conditioner this year and we hope to add a ceiling fan very soon. Last summer the temperature under the bed was a steady 28C through July and August. (Under the bed so OC couldn’t indulge his favourite occupation of knocking things off other things.) It seems to me that the warmer weather is delayed this year. Although the summer is lovely with balmy evenings and late swims, the day has to be worked around the heat, taking advantage of mornings and evenings, and avoiding the middle of the day. We miss the swimming pool at Pasiphae – our 2020 rental AKA Tina’s House.
Actually 2020 stands out as a bit of a halcyon time as the Pandemic meant that we learned our local area during lockdown, and the absence of summer visitors gave us empty beaches – some of the best ones in Crete.
So this blog is sort of random. Our lives also feel quite random at the moment, as we continue to wait for the definitive paperwork that shows ‘our’ plot to be buildable. Just in case you’ve forgotten why I love it so much, here’s one I took earlier. More soon on the ‘will we, won’t we build’ story.
You will have to hum this, since she has withdrawn from Spotify in protest against Covid mis-information podcasts. This is the bit that I was thinking of:
Well maybe it is just the time of year
Or maybe it’s the time of man
I don’t know who I am
But you know life is for learning
I have tried, really I have, to design a holiday / New Year card but inspiration has left me this year, and even my end-of-year blog fills me with a kind of existential dread. Of course, I want to make a connection with you – close friends, friends and friendly acquaintances, but for the life of me I can’t get going on this. It’s not depression, at least, I don’t think so, but I have a kind of block against making cheery wishes of peace in the face of the current reality. Maybe we should just wish ourselves the best we can do.
Later
His Dark Materials / Nine Lessons and Carols
Listening and watching, although not at the same time , of course. BBC & HBO have spared nothing on the production, the last in the first Phillip Pullman Trilogy . I am not going to forget in a hurry the scene where Lyra is parted from Pan as she chooses to cross the river to the land of the walking dead. The notion of being accompanied throughout your life and at the appointed time, being gently lead out of the world of the living is also becoming a familiar meme. (We are awaiting the next SANDMAN episodes). Maybe it is a seriously comforting thought that your death comes with a friendly hand and slips you over the threshold before your brain gets a chance to catch up with what your body already knows. This production is especially poignant for Pullman fans who have already experienced the first two books of the second trilogy, telling us where Lyra’s story started and picking her up as as a rather sad and confused young adult. Apparently, according to his August 2022 Twitter feed, Pullman was yet to finish writing the book, stating that he was “working at it day and night as steadily as his health, age and the story itself will allow”. I sincerely wish him enduring good health and stamina.
Now – I am just over 2/3 of the way through Nine Lessons – my own personal Christmas Eve tradition. It is absolutely not the case that the Devil has all the good tunes, although Pullman make a good case for the Devil being a fan of organised religion. The opening bars of ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ always brings a bit of a spinal shiver, and the moment when the Kings College organ comes thundering in really deserves Dolby Surround. But as for the readings. The early ones especially, from the Old Testament, remind me all over again of how much I dislike this paternalistic claptrap. (Sorry for the offence, but I really can’t take the Bible’s human origin story on any level. Rejecting knowledge. Inventing shame! Just NO. )
The general arc of the story is a bit more tolerable and the music is a divine mix of the modern and traditional. I especially like the image of the lion eating straw, and the swaddled infant playing on an ass, but the readings generally don’t move me. The music does.
You can find the recording on BBC Sounds, or catch up on Radio 3 on Christmas Day. Of course, it is an almost tooth jangling 1950s class ridden style with Latin names liberally scattered amongst the playlist.
And he pedestrian housekeeping bits?
We have been putting in some box moving time to clear a space in what was previously a storage room so that Al can try some acoustic recording. There are still many boxes, but actually they are pretty good for the sound. Thank you IKEA for leaving the perfectly designed IVAR shelving quite alone. They are assembled with no screws, weird connectors, brackets or anything except small stainless steel pegs. They disassemble equally easily and that makes me wonder why I have left several sets behind for others to enjoy. Never again. These are with me for life.
Christmas Eve lunch by the sea – salad (lettuce with figs, walnuts, pomegranate seeds and shaved parmesan, and chips. The Greeks seem to excel at chips – I think the combination of good potatoes and olive oil. Our version of the Mediterranean diet ?.
Stacking yet more boxes in the storage room downstairs, I found a pack of Christmas cards, some going back to the year 2000. So here’s a selection. You might recognise one…. I was about to chuck them out, but there was a real sensation of connection when I saw actual signatures and sometimes messages and even entire letters, thoughts passed from hand to hand, so rare now. 2023 resolution coming on…
We also parted with one old friend. This was my sound system, carefully chosen by Al for KiwiStar in Tottenham Court Road and went with me when I left London for what is now Croatia, with a loaded Citroen DS and Gillian Faulkner riding shotgun. It has survived storms, parties, moves, storage and had a good innings in Bristol. Still has a little life in it. There are no charity shops here, so we did the traditional thing and left it by a recycling bin. A tough one, this, but we hope it has a second life.
Oh – and I have listened to many iterations of 9 Lessons and Carols on it. So the serpent has eaten its tail.
I think I left you saying farewell to Brittany and Mia’s garden.
I suppose that we can never really know another country – or even our own for that matter. Between Bob Dylan’s lyrics and reading Graves’ Greek Myths on the beach this morning, I wonder if we ever really know anything or if we go through life taking Maverick’s advice – ‘don’t think, just act’. Yes, we watched the new Top Gun last night. In that spirit, having had all of 2 hours sleep, it was ‘just drive’. So we drove until we got to Marans. Mainly N roads, I think, with some tolls, but it’s all a bit of a blur now. It got hotter as we went south, and I have a vague memory of sitting at the back of a gas station, eating a cheese salad baguette, with a great view of the industrial bins. This trip was intended to be a recovery holiday for Al, and a kind of recce, in case we want to swap Crete for France, or try for a mix of the two. (More of that when we get home.)
By now, it’s 14 July, Bastille day. We expected to see at least some local fireworks, but these had been cancelled due to the fire risk. The drought and hot temperatures have, I think, shaken France to its core, and from the point of view of a recce, the prospect of more intense and frequent heatwaves is probably enough to keep us North of the Loire.
We had some Snork Maiden business with Benoit, the operator of the boatyard. Although we had triple confirmed a meeting on the 15th, he was nowhere to be seen. I hope he was lying under a hedge somewhere with an appalling absinthe hangover, but he was probably just celebrating with his family. I now know how the French have embraced the concept of ‘bourgeoisie’ in the way that the Scandinavians have ‘hygge’.
rWe made contact with the ‘new’ harbourmaster in Marans, oddly named Sébastien, the same as the ‘old’ harbourmaster (see much earlier blogs for more about him). I think he’s now driving a dredger out of the oyster port on the Baie d’Aguillon. Maybe he got fed up with the whims of visiting yachties, and cleaning the shower block on the staff’s day off. I am not good at faces, and at first thought he might have bleached his hair, worked out at the gym and had plastic surgery. He listened sympathetically to our story of nautical woe, and gave us a couple of useful contacts. Marans is 10K from Charron and they are connected by a river, a lock and a canal, so word gets about quite quickly. It’s my hope that someone will take pity on the Snork Maiden in her distress, and lovingly bring her back to a seagoing life.
It was SO hot on the boatyard that all we could do was shift a few items around, conclude that the reliably unreliable Benoit was not going to show and head into La Rochelle to collect my news bank card from HSBC. We had been here only 3 weeks before, but now the French holiday season was in full flood. Previously accessible car parks were overflowing with a slow trail of cars hunting for spaces, watching for signs of prey, carrying keys. Not helped by the drive in Covid test centre (yes, my friends, despite the French being apparently in total denial, there was still a significant level of infection, as in the rest of Europe and the UK. Managed to leave this car park and pop into a free one opposite the bank. Through the door in the nick of time. Relief, soon followed by disbelief and annoyance as the chap behind the counter repeatedly searched the branch (it’s small) to no avail. Some tapping on computer keyboard, some sighing. I was pleased that I could be quite assertive in French, although not pleased about the card. We had a coffee in one of the posher cafes in Place Verdun and headed back to Marans. Tomorrow we head South again, destination Montaubon, just North of Toulouse.
A long, hot day. Montaubon looks interesting and Al catches sight of an acrobat performing on a water spout as we drive across a bridge. Sort of rundown in parts but also a thriving city. It is still hot. We picnic in the IBIS car park and sleep in an air conditioned room. First time in a bed for at least a month. It’s strange.
In the morning I reverse into a car whilst leaving the carpark. No damage to the other car but we crack the rear bumper a bit. Another driver helpfully tells us that it is captured on his webcam. We go back and have a look at the other car. It is fine. We drive on, towards the Pyrenees.
Tonight’s stop is Ax-les-Thermes. A rather grim but cheap AirBnb. We have an OK pizza in the town, which. Is pretty, although I can’t imagine wanting to stay there if I wasn’t on the way to somewhere else.
Morning, and we are on the road, via a cafe in Ax for a quick coffee and checking in to see if they found my pink parasol, left there 5 weeks ago. I am amazed now at how fast the trip has gone. The first 3 days seemed to last forever, then time sped up.
Excitement! Fire has closed some of our route over the Pyrenees to Barcelona. It is a beautiful drive, and this time we take a seriously twisty ascending mountain route, up with the ski resorts and with an ‘on top of the world’ feeling. Fabulous. Not even possible to capture with photos, you just have to be there. Not a drive for the faint hearted.
And suddenly, we were in Spain! We emerge onto a bit of a Spanish plain and, needing lunch, turn off into the nearest town, Vic. We parked underground and ate lunch in a square, reminiscent of Barcelona or Madrid. Patatas bravas, black rice with squid for me, and fish for Al. More of that later. Maybe. Very Catalan and triggered a lot of memories of life in Barcelona. It is still HOT. We are thankful that we fixed the car’s AC.
Arriving at the port, after a lot of searching for a) something to eat and b) the ticket office, we realise we don’t have a cabin. Al gets on board as a foot passenger, to be first at the purser’s desk, to see if we can get a cabin, last minute. Not a chance. I go back to the hell hole that is car deck 2 (unbelievably terrible signage, lift not working, huge lorries to negotiate) but I eventually emerge with our sleeping bags. After an unmemorable supper, we fight for a place on deck. A pile of sunbeds are roped up. A young and fit looking bloke unties them and there follows a free for all. Al, being quite tall secures one, and I, being much smaller, fight a blond haired Spanish matron for possession of another. Readers, I triumphed. So there we were, on deck, in a warm Mediterranean night, comfortable ensconced on sunbeds, and cosily tucked into sleeping bags with a gentle wind crossing the deck. A perfect night’s sleep.
I will mainly draw a veil over the next day of discomfort. I had picked up a stomach bug somewhere in the last 24 hours. I occupied various territories in the boat (full of teens, mostly heading for Sardinia) mainly sleeping on the floor and sipping water, occasionally searching for unoccupied toilets (Grimaldi have a strange idea of what an adequate supply of female bathrooms might be). Enough. I was worried that I might not feel up to driving when we docked in Italy around an hour before sunset. Al was consoling, telling me that we could find a hotel. But by the time we disembarked all was well and we headed for our week’s AirBnb in Spoleto.
The AirBnb and Spoleto turned out to be a real treat. I had intended it to be a rest, and it was. Still in the grip of mid 30C heatwave, but the apartment and the town didn’t disappoint. Nothing to do except rest up, read, eat, a little exploration. And there were cats!
A visit to the MONSTER PARK. another to MONTEFALCO (for the church art), a bit of gentle exploration and cafe experiences in Spoleto, visits to the local small supermarket, and we were done. Perfect re-charge time.
After a week of Umbrian calm, we are off again, headed to Ancona to pick up yet another ferry bound for Patras. (We knew nothing of the stop at Corfu). Certain this time that we had a cabin – Duh! Close inspection of the tickets showed that this was not the case. But at least this time, we knew exactly what to do. Get the airbeds and warm sleeping bags and settle down for a night on deck. Find a secluded spot where we are not going to get trodden on. Perfect spot with a view! I tried for a cabin but the well-organised list closed just before the purser got to my name. There was a woman travelling with a cat. I was glad that she got a cabin, even if we didn’t. This was a Minoan Lines ferry, far better organised than Grimaldi (Italian). We had a great supper in the full service restaurant. Not at all inexpensive, but outdid the self-service by several stars. A very good bottle of wine and we retired to our outdoor accommodation.
After unloading the teens in Sardinia, things got a lot quieter for the next leg to Patras. We passed island after island, including Ithaca.
Landing at Patras in the afternoon, we took it easy along the coast road, stopping for a cold drink at a beachside taverna with a view down into crystal water of the Gulf of Patras. Feeling like home to me. Of course there was still one last ferry to go, to get us from Piraeus to Crete. Athenian traffic a bit intimidating and I mistakenly followed a friendly sign saying Piraeus, quite overlooking the fact that Piraeus is a district as well as a port! The port gate we needed seemed to be closed so we crawled along parallel to the sea until we could get in – at least somewhere. It happened to be next to the ferry office we needed, so Al was able to check us in, and get a blessed cabin key. The ferry was quiet, our cabin easily accessible from the bar. All we had to do was go to bed, and wake up in Crete. Phew! Over 5000 Km in 7 weeks and now we are almost home.
COMING SOON: August in Kissamos – will I ever catch up with myself?
As you all know, we have a small sailing boat called Snork Maiden. Of course you know, because I named the blog for her, and our travels together – that’s me and Al, not just sailing, but all our journeys, literal and figurative.
I will try to give you the short version of what happened:
We last sailed Snork Maiden in 2014. At the end of that season we lifted into a boat yard in Charron, a short distance North of La Rochelle in the Baie d’Aguillon. Here’s the exact place, for those of you who like detail. We intended to keep sailing, but decided on a year off to explore Sardinia. Then, stuff happened. Chiefly Al’s aged parents got into various kinds of trouble, my closest friend got sick, and Snork Maiden remained on dry land. Port du Corps de Garde
It’s an attractive, if sometimes desolate spot. Although we haven’t sailed, the boat has been safely kept on land all this time. We visited every year to check her out, do any work necessary, and generally keep in touch. We made a brief stop in 2019, whilst finalising the sale of our fermette in Deux Sevres. I made lists of work to be done and went shopping at the Southampton Boat Show in the Autumn of that year. (My sister Amanda has some of the purchases safely stowed in her barn in Cumbria.) Every time I have been out to the boat, I have found her dry, clothes ready to wear, sleeping bag ready to use, even tea bags ready for a cuppa. Not this time. As we climbed the ladder to the cockpit, there was something awfully wrong. The life raft well was open and full of water, the raft floating and the cover lifted. We unlocked the hatch, removed the washboards and saw what we all dread. Water. Lots of it. The bilges were full, the floor level a good 30cms under. Yes, worse if we had been at sea, but this boat was supposed to be safely ashore.
I don’t really want to go into issues of blame. Of course our plans for the 2020 sailing season were scotched by Coronavirus, and 2021 didn’t invite travel. Of course we also had to deal with the sale of the house in Bristol, and my cousin’s house in Hereford. So 3 years since our last visit. There’s no real way to know when the flooding happened. How? Most likely culprit? Blocked cockpit drains. They can sink a boat at sea, and cause flooding on land. They can block quite easily over a couple of winters, although this yard has no tree cover, and no obvious cause of the brown slimy gunk that may have caused the problem. Once the cockpit floods, the cockpit locker may let in water. As I say, no point in going in for blame, although like all owners we thought that the yard would probably do the minimum to see that boats on their land are safe and sound. Enough. The practical implications of all this were that we had to extend our stay in Marans.
There was a good campsite, very under-occupied, and only around 10km from the boatyard. I am going to skip quickly over the tears (actually more like howls of grief), the heartrending job of emptying the boat, sorting through all the carefully chosen bits of kit, finally winnowed down to little more than a couple of sleeping bags and a miscellany of objects that fit into a shopping bag to take home. And inexplicably, a hosepipe.
Marans, small town N of la Rochelle.
Things are in hand with the insurance company, and just as if you write off an old car that has years left, it’s the same for boats. The state of the engine alone practically puts Snork Maiden beyond economic repair. All in all, it was about 10 days before we felt we could move off to Brittany, more-or-less with our original plan, minus Normandy.
Packing up camp is always a 2-3 hour job. The tent comes down pretty fast – it’s all the other gubbins that take the time. My camp kitchen consists of 4 interlocking crates, collected from various skips and roadsides in Kissamos. Cooking is on an alcohol fuelled Trangia (see pic). I took the Camping Gas cooker, but haven’t used it. Too hot, too complicated. One-pot quite enough.
Camp kitchen! Breakfast time – note the marmalade
Here’s a taste of Brittany:
Brittany beach – sorry for the tilt.
Coming soon: A Night to Remember
Afterward; This has really been a difficult blog to write. Temperature in 30s, travel laptop overheating, photos taking ages to load…. and of course a tonne of emotional baggage around Snork Maiden. More than a boat to us, more a way of life. So many things changing, losses and gains, but the losses always seem to weigh more.
I may have said this last year – I always listen to the BBC’s 9 Lessons& Carols from Kings College Cambridge. I don’t have many rituals in my life, but that seems to be one of them. I like the music, and the readings remind me just how crazy religions can be. I can’t find any other meaning in the early readings than the rejection of nature, loss of respect for animals and a put down of the goddess. So it reminds me of what we are up against! This time the opening soprano lost it on a high note. You really had to feel for him.
So while we are thinking about the holly-days, here’s our greetings card to all of you.
I made it myself, with a little help from my furry friend.
I suppose the Mediterranean midwinter is always going to be a bit different from the British experience. I have liked Christmas in London when the dusk falls thickly, and there’s a rush to buy inappropriate presents, more alcohol (just in case) and with any luck a reduced price pudding. (No, I don’t make my own.)
Life:
The last couple of weeks have been a carousel of practicalities – fixing up electricity bills, internet and a saga of white goods. Our Cat gave up his testicles in exchange for a quieter and longer life. We spent a week mostly closeted with him in the bedroom as he recovered. Interesting to see how he coped with the collar. When he first staggered out of his cat carrier, he must have seen or felt the collar and turned into devil cat, scratching, biting and fighting off any attempt to calm him down. He managed to leap over the sofa and down the stairs as if pursued by demons. One in our bedroom, he calmed completely and settled in my arms. We made him a bed out of a nest of fleeces next to the radiator and for the next week he alternated between his bed and ours. It was pleasant to be able to lie around in bed, reading and listening to podcasts without having to be ill. He coped with the collar by becoming very passive – also walking backwards, as if he could back away from it. After a couple of days we risked taking it off so he could eat and drink more easily and also begin to wash himself. I felt like a victorian nurse, pouncing on him as he approached the danger area and stopped him licking. After a bit of practice it was quite easy to put the collar back on, and he was remarkably accepting of it. Also appreciative of the breaks.
The convalescence paid off, he healed beautifully and the shaved patches are starting to fur up nicely. If I sound a bit cat obsessed, just count yourself lucky that you don’t have to read about the saga of the white goods (mostly stainless steel in the modern kitchen idiom). Back to his old self, maybe a bit more kitten-ish and playful, and he has found his purr, mislaid a while ago. I am meditating on ‘the way of the cat’ so expect some furry philosophy.
Reading and watching
Reading – usual diet of mysteries, police procedurals, currently John Grisham’s A Time for Mercy. I read these for their page-turning qualities, but also I favour books that transport me to a different place or time. The Grisham is set in a small town in the American south c. 1990. Seriously – The Mother Tree, story of how forests are connected and probably how your privet hedge communicates with the one next door. I fact there’s probably an unbroken chain of privet from Hampstead to Harpenden.
Films – we have struggled a bit here. Trying to watch the 5, or is it 6, main Star Wars films. Number one, A New Hope went down OK, but The Empire Strikes Back sent me to sleep. Just the way it did on release. We’ll take a break. The Power of the Dog appealed to me. Slow and delicious to look at. We are currently watching The Brand New Testament – a very quirky Belgian film about the daughter of God. Recommended.
Ο οr Ω
Well, Omicron still with us with a vengeance. It is here in Chania district, not sure how much in Kissamos, but can’t imagine it will stay away! We now required to wear masks in the street, FFP2s in shops and supermarkets…. We also have refreshed Covid certificates. Greek website surprisingly efficient.
What about your building plot?
Well, good news there – the first permit application is in! At last! We will meet the architect in the New Year to begin thinking about an actual build. Remember, we don’t complete the land purchase until the first permission is through. Then the actual house design has to be submitted by this time next year. At the moment the plot is occupied by old vines and young olive trees. Also yellow flowers are just breaking out. More of all that next time.
My hair is now officially an art project. I am not going to cut it until the pandemic is over – at least by my own definition and I don’t know what that is yet. Sometimes I wear it in a ponytail although I think that really makes me look like someone living in a midwest trailer park. Make mine a double wide. I just had to say that. I try a sort of man-bun by tucking the end under and catching it in the elastic band (special, grippy) but this really tears at my hair when I take the band out after swimming. The best solution has been to plait it – although this prompts Al to call me Gudrun! It takes me back to being 6 years old.
A Room of One’s Own
I seem to have the best blog thoughts when I am out and about, shopping, driving, walking dogs. Then when I sit down to write, they quickly and quietly vanish away. The place where I write in this house (actually in every house we have occupied) is at the table in the kitchen-living-dining room, and I guess this state of affairs will continue. Actually, I like it. Al has a table in one corner and I have a corner of the ‘everything table’ diagonally opposite. Right now he’s playing his mandola, a weird double-necked weird Nordic instrument. I also have a view of the hills to the west and if I come around a bit, I can see Polyrinia, my favourite Minoan hilltop site. Living with a view like this is a new experience for me. Our previous house here (the village house) had no view to speak of until you went outside and walked to the edge of the concrete ‘patio’. In August and September we lived with the door open in the cooler parts of the day and closed up as the sun came around. This house (Gareth & Liz’s house) has big sliding patio doors facing North and windows facing West, so the view is near panoramic. In the summer I am sure that these doors would be open all day. At the moment, we don’t, since if we are mainly sitting or, in my case, doing yoga, the temperature is just a bit too cool, at around 15ºC. Also we have a young cat – probably more about him soon.
Our Cat
So he’s called Our Cat, not because we are too lazy to find him a name but because when he first approached us at the village house, we kept saying – no, you’re not our cat, go AWAY. But of course he didn’t, and of course, we started to feed him – he was a scrawny little thing.
He would hang out with us, take off for a while, come to the rattle of cat biscuits. We fed him at night and then firmly shut the door. In the morning he would be sleeping on the mat outside the door. Then we went to Kythira for 5 days, and a strange thing happened. Our neighbours made sure he was fed, and things were fine. Before we went away he seemed to hold his own with other cats, they would not try to take his food even when we fed him outside. When we got back, we had moved out of the village house, but were still going to go and feed him every day. We walked up to the house, fed him as usual in his own little dish. Again, no interference from another cat close by, a female, about the same age. But as soon as he finished eating she attacked him. He was absolutely terrorised, no fight back, a quick retreat then she cornered him again, even though he was bigger and stronger. Al’s theory – as soon as he was without his human protectors, he was an easy target. It really looked as though he had strong pet cat genes. Anyway – we walked away, to go to our new home, and the little cat followed us, and followed, and followed down the track. When we got to the ‘main’ road, the little cat was still with us. What could we do?
Now he has his paws comfortably under the table, 60 grammes a day of quality cat biscuits and 2 visits to the vet, for vaccinations. Now he’s filled out, looks like an adult cat, and is due another visit to the vet on December 9th for microchip & snip, so to speak. At the moment his hormones are kicking in, and there’s a bit of disconsolate yowling as he asks to go and check out the wider world. The vet says, for his own sake, keep him inside until he’s ‘done’. Male cats that are intact have a short and sometimes ugly life as the testosterone imperative renders them run over, injured and unpopular. He’s growing into a handsome cat, loves body contact, favourite toys are pieces of nautical string. He sleeps on my hoodie, loosely folded outside our bedroom door. He’s discovered that the computer keyboard is warm and recently took a bath whilst sitting there during a yoga Zoom class. Made Lois Steinberg laugh, she loves yoga pets.
ΤΟ Μεγάλο ΟΜΙΚΡΟΝ
It’s funny to hear people debating how to say ‘ομικρον’ but not at all funny to consider why it matters. Well, of course it doesn’t in the context of the virus. In the context of the Greek language, it is interesting that the sound of the name of the letter in the Greek alphabet always reflects that the sound the letter makes. I will try to watch the unwatchable Greek news and report back.
It seems that many countries have been shocked into the precautionary principle, and this might turn out to be the right thing. Greece has taken a big step, with cases already rising, the Government from mid-January has decided to fine over 60s 100 euros a month if they don’t choose to be vaccinated. We show ID and vaccination certificates at all public indoor spaces, except food shops.
A Fridge Freezer, a Washing Machine and a Dishwasher
I spent a fat hour yesterday in the basement of a Chania store looking at ‘white goods’ – actually brushed stainless steel in one case. Our last FF was still going strong after 20 years in our Bristol kitchen. We wish it another 20! So I found that the decision weighed quite heavily, bearing in mind that this one might outlive me! You might know that the energy rating system has recently changed, so your AAA fridge has now sunk down to a C or D. Maybe manufacturers are currently trying to up their games to claw their way up the eco ladder, but we have to ‘sail on the wind we have’ and buy one now. Ditto the washing machine, but that seems an easier call. Our rented house has a modest Bosch that used to have a great energy rating, so I’m happy to go for a similar model. Interestingly the glossy brochure from the store majors on machines that cost a thick end of 1K euros. Seems to me you only need to pay that if you actually want to devolve some of your decision making /brain space to the thing. It’s the FF decision that has been stressing me. Buy a cheap one that I’m not going to want to live with for the next 2 decades (Imshalla) and sell it or donate it when the new lower energy models arrive or go for one that is much more expensive, looks better, has more space for veg and might be out of date in 5 years. I suppose that because I spend a lot of time in or near the kitchen, the appearance of the thing seems to matter! OK , rich world problem, I know. I am grateful every day to have food to put in it!
ONE DAY LATER
Fortunately or otherwise, can’t fit the 4-door FF into the kitchen at the apartment, so have gone for a more standard 2 door Grundig on the grounds that it might play AM radio as well. Bosch for washing machine at around 450 Euros, not the 1K jobs. I guess they make lunch and feed the cat as well. Dishwasher, also Bosch. Has the word ‘Silence’ on its front, let’s see. More on domestic machines in future blogs, I’m sure.
You say oh-mikron, I say om-ikron
I’m not going to get too embroiled here, but for excellent up-to-date information, research and explanation, Indie Sage has it. This week a really clear exposition of how vaccines work, really helpful for those trying to understand immunity, natural and via vaccination. Indie Sage on You Tube Watch today’s episode (3 December). Some interesting news for immune compromised people and those who have vaccinations following natural infection.
Also I have had an email from a friend posing the following question:
I’ve always been taught Oh-MIKE-ron. Virtually the whole of the USA, including Gayle, says OH-mick-ron.
How do the Cretans say it?
My reply: So far haven’t heard it, but I checked Greek dictionary and found that the letter omicron seems to be pronounced as in ode. The first O is stressed, but not the second. There is always an indication which is the stressed vowel. So Gayle is right! Όμικρον. Greek is obligingly phonetic.
Like Knitting a Scarf
I really need to put this blog to bed. That’s the thing if I leave it too long, processes of free association take over and I keep thinking I’ll just put in one more colour.
I haven’t even told you about our visit to Antikithera and the Pangea project. Here’s a tease:
I liked The Power of the Dog directed by Jane Campion. Slow burn but delicious photography. Also Stray – a lovely documentary with no commentary on life as seen by a Turkish street dog. Reminded me of White God, another doggy film from Hungary.
Listening
The Reith Lectures
Stuart Russell – Living With Artificial Intelligence
Apparently the most popular recipe in the world (or the world of TikTok: One-Pan Feta Pasta With Cherry Tomatoes. I used the New York Times recipe. Hit’s lots of taste receptors. And I forgot to pick the herbs, so used dried oregano instead.
It’s the first time I have done any ironing in hmmm maybe a decade! This morning we still had damp linen from yesterday’s was hanging outdoors. Rain, yes rain, promised for this morning and the sheets and towels still damp. Remembering what our friend Shehina said, when I caught her ironing her sheets, I got out the ironing board and set to. Yes, it works! Slightly damp sheets and towels CAN be turned into a pile of lovely stuff, all neatly folded. Amazing!
In a process that we used to call ‘surfing the net’, now sadly transformed into ‘Googling’ I checked out whether Greece still has a textile industry. The answer does seem to be that it does, but I am struggling to find out whether the sheets and towels I bought yesterday were actually Greek cotton.
Remember those blue and white striped bedsheets we all loved? We used to use them as bedspreads and throws. I’m sure they are still around but haven’t seen them for a long time.
Kythira
You might wonder why people living on a Greek island might want to go on holiday to another Greek island. I think the answer has to do with the different characters of the islands. Kythira lies between the Peloponnese and Crete – around 3.5 hours by ferry (the Aqua Jewel, for those of you who like marine movements apps). It’s directly South of Elafonisos island, and to the East is Cape Maleas. This is the turning point for ships coming from the West and turning NE for Piraeus. Al and I made yacht delivery trips from the Canary Isles to Greece back in 1987. We were on different yachts, and arrived at the Cape days apart, but we both had the same experience – big winds on the nose, preventing the yachts from rounding the Cape. The engine on 33 foot Liokri just couldn’t get us any way forward at all so we turned tail to Nafplion. Where we were ‘arrested’ and held there for a couple of days by the Port Police, who sent us on to Gythion to pay a 30 pound fine – or its drachma equivalent. I digress.
Kythera is much more like your Greek island of the holiday brochures than Crete is, with ‘Cycladic’ architecture – based on the white cube with blue paintwork – classic postcard material. The snorkelling was good, with clear blue water and the usual sorts of fish to meet. Very quiet and out of season, with few tavernas open. Waterfall was dry, Potamos busy on a Sunday morning with locals drinking coffee and a tiny market. We stayed in Avlemonas – a small but nice apartment near the sea, next to the mini market and the restaurant. Fortunately we weren’t in search of a warm welcome or a gastro experience from the latter, and managed to feed ourselves breakfast and a map of the island rom the former. Our host told us that the island is mayhem in August with everyone searching for a meal in the evenings and a swim spot during the day.
On the ferry,
Looking down from Chora (Kythira town) to Kapsali.
Why Blog?
Do you believe in Synchronicity? After I wrote the title of this section, I flitted over to email and found a prompt from one of my blogpsreading friends, telling me that it might be time for another one! The reasons I do this are as follows:
it keeps me writing and thinking about writing
it keen me in touch with all of you – whatever orbit we occupy in each other’s friendship universe
I enjoy it; there’s a sense of quietness that comes with writing; right now I am writing in a very quiet state, following Stephanie Quirk’s ‘Lying down’ yoga session. Her teaching is deceptively simple and very effective. Stephanie studied in Pune with the Iyengar family for many years and has settled now in Australia. She teaches at, or in the case of Zoom, through, the Marrickville Yoga Centre in a district of Sydney, I think. My Australian geography is pretty vague. Marrickville has been a real anchor for me, despite being on the other side of the world. Their Zoom classes are excellent, and there is a positive atmosphere in the classes that really calms and focuses, without any of the noisy cajoling that can sometimes happen in classes. Yes, I have done this myself, and sometimes it is exactly what’s needed, but not always, and maybe not for these times when we seem to need to be gentle, rational and kind.
Before I leave yoga altogether, let me share this image with you. As Stephanie encouraged us to connect with space, and with gravity (to many of you this will sound like hippy dippy stuff, but trust me), I let my perception go down – to the floor I was sitting on, actually tile and concrete, then through the concrete structure of the house into the basement and down into the ground that the house stands on. But something compelled me to go further until I reached the centre of the earth, presumably the point towards which all free weights fall, and to which our own bodily ‘centre of gravity’ is attracted. We have got so used to our feet down, head up position that we might forget that gravity even exists, until maybe we stumble and get a painful reminder. But, here’s the thing: gravity is really ’spooky action at a distance’. The foot that is off the ground is as much subject to gravity as the one that’s on the ground. You don’t have to be an astrologer to believe that the positions of the objects in the solar system influence the earth – just look at the tides, the phases of the moon, the sun rising and setting, I’m sure you get what I mean. Now think about each of those humans, animals, trees, plants, each of them with that special connection with the earth’s centre of gravity, like an invisible thread leading to the core. It’s an image I wish I could implant into all the COP26 attendees.
For any of you curious about Marrickville – they are really in control of their Zoom technology and deliver many classes online, some of which are made available in a content library. There’s an online Beginner’s Course – great place to begin a yoga adventure.
As some of you know, we are hoping to buy land and build a house here. Here being Crete, and more specifically Western Crete, near the town of Kissamos. This has not been an easy ride in any respect, but finally the lawyer, the public notary and the engineer seem to have brought the seller to the table, all paperwork complete and signed. So now we have a Pre-contract to buy the land, which ensures that the seller can’t change his mind, and a building permit will be applied for. This permit is not for the final house, it merely ensures that if it is granted, the land is ‘buildable’, and we can move on to the actual purchase which will enable us to submit the actual plans for an actual house. Just as a reminder, here’s the plot:
Of course, there’s a lot of ugly detail to this story, but no point in dwelling on the might have’s or should have’s. The point is that we are where we are now!
Maybe we could have felt a little more celebratory if it hadn’t been such a long haul.
Oh, and I haven’t mentioned where we are now! We are living temporarily in our 3rd house in Marediana. This one just a couple of houses away from where we started out. Great views, but the house is quite hard to photograph, standing as it does overlooking an olive grove, and a lot of sea! We can even view the ferry again. Here’s a shot of our house from Max’s.
White cube with Papapaschali stone house next door.
White cube with Papapaschali stone house next door. And here’s the view from our house over to Max’s this morning.
Maxine’s house – Mouraki. Ferry port in the distance
Kythera again
Speaking of the ferry, and back to the beginning – the ferry leaves Kissamos, calls into AntiKythera a couple of hours later – or not – it’s a kind of request stop before stopping at Kythera and going on to the Peloponnese . I’m a bit disinclined to go into a travelogue. Enough to say that having watched the ferry go out for the best part of 2 years, we thought it was time to go with it. Also a complete break from the logistics of houses, cars and cats. Maybe more soon when I get hold of Al’s many photos.
I think I will make a French Onion soup for lunch. Some rough red wine from Kythera needs using up. Nigel Slater’s recipe, minus a couple of ingredients; no beef, of course, and only have red wine. And no way I am waiting around to put the soup in the oven. Will serve with toast and grated cheese.
As I said, this is a way of keeping in touch, so please don’t hold back on comments, emails etc. Sorry, no music this time, just the sound of the South wind.
Well so here we are still in the pretty little village house. There’s an occasional soundtrack of cock crow, villagers shouting conversations over a quite impressive difference, kids playing, the odd bark. The plan is to stay here until the end of September, or maybe a bit longer, but in our experience, the tail end of October gets a little chilly. The heating here is the reversible air conditioner – not very effective. Using the oven might actually heat the room too. So the hunt for our long-term rental is on. We have seen maybe half a dozen places. Of course nothing is perfect, but it’s a question of locating the best compromise.
I was going to give you some images of houses we have seen, but I took fewer photos than I meant to. I will see if Al can help out.
to see what we are up against. Of course you will see lots of places and think we have oodles of choice. Problem – the best houses are in the wrong place! We thought we might be prepared to go as far as Chania, 40 minutes away, and we even considered Akrotiri (peninsula adjacent to Chania, now home to the airport as well as part of the American base). After a couple of viewings (one house very high spec. with a fridge I could fall in love with), we decided that it’s just too spoilt, too far and not enough quiet places to swim. Every time we return to ‘our’ end of the island, it feels like home, so we are trying our best to stay West of Chania, and preferably close to Kissamos. At the moment we are trying to decide between a house that might be available and an apartment – surprise, surprise. Problem: the house might be sold, and the apartment not available until New Year, leaving us with a possibly chilly November/ December problem. If neither work out, we will just have to return to the drawing board!
Lots more detail about our lives and relocation are available on request! It’s a bit of a kaleidoscope of looking at houses, buying a car, generally taking care of business. Too much detail I think.
Wednesday 22 September
Exactly a month since we woke up in Marediana again, to a full moon, high and silver in the Western sky, and a layer of cloud lying like a duvet in the bay. Yesterday we bought a car – hope to take delivery in the next few days – pic to follow. Al has gone to the local KEP office (a kind of multi-purpose Government office) to begin the process of exchanging his UK driving license for a Greek one – essential since Brexit for people who are living here.
We have spent a lot of the last month dealing with business. The land purchase remains in the balance. We met with Lola the lawyer last week – she’s energetic and thorough and has come up with a couple of ideas for the pre-contract that will give us a little more protection. The seller is difficult to communicate with, and has no lawyer so its down to the persuasive powers of Kostis, his engineer (surveyor) who brokered the deal in the first place. Keep wishing us luck!
As a backstop, we have been combing the market for a suitable house. We have seen the ‘enchanted house’ – fabulous, on a hill top with fantastic views but appears jerry built with many cracks and damp patches, the multi-part Topolia house (actually 3 living spaces stacked up above the road to Elafonisi) and the workable but a bit boring house in outside a village whose name loosely translates as Mouseville. The last house has exactly what we need in terms of living space (3 bedrooms), self-contained guest apartment in semi basement (surprisingly light, kitchen installation not yet complete) and a massive cellar that could house a studio. The situation is good, views to sea and mountains, olive trees space for swimming pool, not too far from the epicentre of our search, but I find myself unmoved. Maybe something to do with it being just not in the area we want, west of Kolimbari. Maybe because the house layout just not interesting enough.
Sunday 26 September
The news on the plot is still no news, with no clue as to whether the engineer (surveyor) has approached the seller, whether the seller has considered the pre-contract terms, or whether the seller actually wants to sell or isn’t too bothered. I am seriously thinking that we should try to organise a meeting with the seller, so that we can ask him directly. Many things in Greece seem to be resolved by a face to face meeting. Wish us more luck!
Today we went down to the port to find out the timetable and price of tickets to Kythira – about 4 hours away by Seajets Ferry. The answer is 3 times a week and 202 euros for ourselves and the car (hopefully the new car). We think it’s time for an island holiday – I know it must seem as though we are already on one of those, but we have spent most of the month we have been here securing the foundations of our lives for the next year, at least. We could do with a break.
Since we arrived in March 2020, we have watched the ferry leave, and it’s time to get on it.
Sally Randle and I went to Greece in 1983, I think. On a whim, because I think I had seen the island whilst on a ferry from the Peloponnese in 1980. It has an umbilical connection with Australia, and when Sally and I arrived, it was packed with Aussies visiting their Greek families. We failed to find a room so slept in a half-finished hotel. Looking forward to seeing it again. The island, not the hotel, which I doubt I could recognise.
What am I Reading?
I seem to be hitting a seam of fantasy, sci-fi – perhaps on my way to Greek mythology…. Having finished Harry Potter, and revisited Philip Pullman’s Book of Dust, I found the above – I think you might be able to download free using the link. It’s a story of a historian’s time travel back to the 14th century. Will she, won’t she find her way back to her own time. Meanwhile a new virus invades the Oxford College that is her base, complicating plans for her rescue. A lot of domestic detail about life in 1320 which as an ahistorical person, I found fascinating. Who has glass in their windows? What colour were women’s clothes? How cold were the winters?
And watching?
Hmm. Succession, sort of reluctantly, but it’s quite hookey.
And eating?
Our cooking facilities here are a bit limited. There are 2 rings, but can’t use 2 large pans at the same time. Sink has a single drainer and there’s a tiny preparation space. The oven/grill is up on a shelf, and at the moment, all cooking makes the living space too warm, so meals are simple – pasta with variety of vegetables, lentil and veg soups, Greek salads, and hummus when I remember to soak the chick peas. I have bought a can of coconut milk and I am planning a curry. Huge gastric excitement. Maybe I will find some Tofu. Watch this space….
Sometimes the dreams of the future can be fragile as a Beeswing so here’s today’s music choice that simultaneously takes me forward and back in time.
It feels like there is a huge amount of ground to cover since Hereford. For those of you who like detail, I will include some here. Some of you will have heard bits of the narrative – so you can skip.
Let’s start at the end of the story – here’s our little stone hοuse in the older part of the village of Marediana, originally Πάνω (Upper) Marediana. What you need to know is the village was originally just 2 families. There is still no cafe or shop – the population is much too small. Now converted as a holiday rental, our house is a cute lower floor of a village house.
We have 2 rooms with a ‘corner kitchen’, a bedroom, a good bathroom and a large sitting area outside with a shade. The host, Elli is a keen collector of driftwood and curiosities and these turn up in some unexpected places. It’s small, but workable for now.
And how did we get here?
It was a very strange few days from last Thursday to Wednesday. Remember we were leaving my late cousin’s house in Hereford with the remainder of our Bristol belongings to be deposited with Nomad (our removal company) in Peterborough until we have a more permanent place here. Thursday 19 August
We looked at the load for the van (Transit size for those of you who remember the 1970s) and I was worried it wouldn’t fit. Friday 20 August
I called the hire company – larger van not available until lunchtime. We packed the one we had to the roof, including my bike, and it just about fitted. Phew! So Friday saw us driving to Peterborough. If it wasn’t for Al’s musical instruments and other studio gear we would be moving like normal people! But then we wouldn’t have any money either. Traffic was terrible on the way to P’boro with massive jam due to an M6 closure so we had to take a much longer route. They had to wait for us until we arrived 20 minutes after 5pm on a Friday, but they were pretty good humoured all the same. The return journey was much better apart from Al taking his eye off the ball and looking for cars in Greece. He went onto a car buying App and we overshot our exit by about 20 minutes, adding another hour to the journey. I was so exhausted I had to go straight to bed nursing a rum and almond milk! I didn’t even shout at him. He said he was sorry a lot.
The next morning I went to use my wallet and couldn’t find it. Distraught!! We looked everywhere. Couldn’t figure it out at all as I didn’t even remember getting it out at services we stopped at. Of course we searched the van, and it turned up second time around wedged between seat and handbrake. It would have bolloxed whole plan since my driving licence was inside, essential for all the car hire plans in UK and Greece..
Saturday and Sunday 21 / 22
Sorting and packing for Greece. Finding things that should have gone on the van, sorting out the last of Kay’s jewellery bequests, taking her house plants to friends etc etc.
Monday 23 D Day-1
With everything packed except all the hand luggage bits and pieces and things I couldn’t decide about, including a lifetime supply of essentials like sun protection, massage oil, cotton buds, plasters and fuck knows what else that packs out bathroom cabinets, we head out to Bristol for a last visit to Sally and Rik, then over to Chitra to leave the car. She takes us to have a tea at the local Weatherspoons. Rough but the only outdoor cafe for miles around. Back to Hereford for final night and morning pack, now 4 bags and a box as well as hand baggage.
Tuesday 24 August
We get to Birmingham Airport and the drop off (18 minutes at 8 quid) was a bit of a shocker, plus I’m not sure how much for the trolleys (4) since a helpful man in a uniform helped me with their release from a mysterious machine the wouldn’t work for me. Clearly a dark art. Birmingham Airport not at all crowded and Ryanair surprisingly efficient and generous spirited about Mr Extra Seat (a Ronroco in a case). So much room on the plane that we could be reseated having a row to ourselves – Al, me and the ronoroco. Most people were wearing their masks more-or-less properly with a few exceptions. All paperwork went through smoothly at each stage – European Vaccination Certificates and Greek PLF.
This morning I watched a yoga video from Australia – part of a series on the use of ropes. Really useful in planning the yoga room that I hope I will eventually have.
Our pressing problem is that we need a car. The mini market is probably at least a 2 hour round trip. Great exercise of course, We pray for the health of Max’s car!! There is a possibility of buying a Honda Jazz from a couple returning to Devon after 15 years here. Only problem is that they need a car until they leave and we need one now. We pray for good fortune. Actually, of course we don’t pray at all, just hope, envisage positive outcomes (me) and try to figure out alternative strategies.
The village is much quieter than we thought. We are quite close to the road, but there are few cars. Several village houses are being rebuilt as AirBnbs, but not many operational yet. I will leave you with some of Elli’s work – she’s an avid collector of shells, driftwood, bric a brac and there’s never a dull corner in the house.
Flight a bit late and as always we are last out of the baggage hall, almost forgetting the last suitcase (hastily appropriated from Kay’s house).
We arrived at the village well after 11pm. Our host, Elli, meets us. The place is small, with a tiny kitchen, but pretty and we are making it work. There is a good outside terrace and no immediate neighbours, apart from the hosts upstairs. They shout kalispera from their balcony. Our previous hosts have left us supper – stuffed veg and green beans stewed in olive oil and tomato. Delicious. Also some pastries filled with dried fruit and nuts – I suspect Despoina made those. I would have put in a photo but we were too busy eating to think about that
Wednesday 25 August Marediana
We are predictably dazed and disoriented and completely exhausted. I felt as though I needed to sleep for 12 hours straight, and that night we almost did. We have visited with all our neighbours, and done a supermarket shop, courtesy of Max’s car, Al is working on his mixes and I am trying to get organised! As you can imagine, there’s a lot of discussion about ‘what happens next.
A Few Days Later
Sitting outside the house on a crumbling concrete bench. It’s warm, and there’s a west wind. Confused cock crow, intermittent dog barks, and distant cicadas. We feel that we have arrived. This house will do for now, but by the end of October we will need something a bit more permanent and perhaps easier to heat.
This morning I watched a yoga video from Australia – part of a series on the use of ropes. Really useful in planning the yoga room that I hope I will eventually have.
Our pressing problem is that we need a car. The mini market is probably at least a 2 hour round trip. Great exercise of course, We pray for the health of Max’s car!! There is a possibility of buying a Honda Jazz from a couple returning to Devon after 15 years here. Only problem is that they need a car until they leave and we need one now. We pray for good fortune. Actually, of course we don’t pray at all, just hope, envisage positive outcomes (me) and try to figure out alternative strategies.
The village is much quieter than we thought. We are quite close to the road, but there are few cars. Several village houses are being rebuilt as AirBnbs, but not many operational yet. I will leave you with some of Elli’s work – she’s an avid collector of shells, driftwood, bric a brac and there’s never a dull corner in the house.
We watched the film Nomadland last night and of course the title also reflects a bit how we feel at the moment, only without the van! We are looking at at least 3 more moves in maybe as many months. But the trick will be to enjoy the changes, and whatever each one brings. Here in Hereford, it is the ability to get outdoors into woods, hay meadows, nature reserves, riverbanks – not enough, since our work is indoors, but still, keeping us sane.
It is definitely still threshold time for us. Of course the incendiary news coming from Greece is giving us some pause. On the one hand, from the frying pan into the fire, almost literally. On the other, the necessity for a good eco-build is clear, somewhere that will be warm in the winter, cool enough for the summer, and low enough in its carbon footprint and energy costs to be sustainable beyond our own lifespans. And segueing through to mortality: as some of you know, we are temporarily living at my cousin Kay’s house. She died in April after around 5 years of widowhood and a year of lockdown. Dealing with her earthly goods brings about quite a bit of reflection on our own lives. My friend Chitra, familiar with Hindu traditions, says that this involves a lot of negative energy and perhaps that’s what I am feeling. She says that in India the possessions of the deceased are dispersed within 14 days. Here the process seems to drag out, assisted in this by the legal process of probate. Maybe also my own reluctance to tackle the job in the absence of clear cultural guidelines. Yesterday I managed to overcome some of that and called some recipients of bequests from Kay. I was moved by their humanity, as well as curious to hear their experiences and impressions of my cousin, with whom they had had long friendships. I am sorry not to be able to meet them. They are mainly sheltering from Covid, as we are ourselves, keeping social contact to a minimum.
Dealing with someone’s clothes – such an intimate thing to do. The hopes, dreams, expectations that must have gone along with each purchase, the vision of themselves gardening, on holiday, at a wedding or funeral. The task has been made more difficult by charity shops apparently bottlenecked by a lack of volunteers, a dearth of shoppers or a flood of donations. Whatever it is, it makes it more difficult to disperse Kay’s clothes. She was a person who cared about clothes, and had a lot! She clearly looked after them – washed, cleaned, hung, folded…. She was the sort of person to have a wedding outfit.
Music
I am afraid that today’s music choice is ‘no music’.
Sunday 15 August
I really need to let this blog go….
We managed a micro-adventure this week and took a couple of blankets out to a dark field to lie on our backs and watch for shooting stars, of which we saw a few, and satellites of which we lost count. A couple of planes flying high – so strange to think of the people up in their tin can, drinking, sleeping, watching movies. What an odd world we live in! Surrounded by countryside, yet so little that’s natural and none of it unaltered by human presence; I think maybe that’s why I am drawn to rocky landscapes.
I have found some interesting g poppies growing wild in cracks in the pavement and lane edges, pale orange and mauve.
Now only just over a week before our flight. We have our European vaccination passports – hoping that RyanAir recognise these!
