Why the EU must embrace the Zorba philosophy

Anthony Quinn as Zorba, with Alan Bates, dancing the sirtaki in the 1964 movie

Anthony Quinn as Zorba, with Alan Bates, dancing the sirtaki in the 1964 movie

THE events of the last few weeks, as Greece has fought for a new bailout deal, have left us all in shock. They have shown us how oppressive and vindictive the EU can be and, in contrast, how spirited and stoical the Greeks are when under attack and fighting for their lives.

I don’t want to add any more to the voluminous public discussions. Greater minds than mine have debated all the political/economic issues of the crisis. As someone who loves Greece, I can only pray there will be a good outcome for the country, despite more austerity piling up against it.

What I have gathered from watching recent events unfold – the June referendum and then EU leaders, particularly Germany, acting like schoolyard bullies – is this: most Europeans don’t really understand Greeks, or their culture. It’s as if few of them have ever been to Greece.

What EU leaders have tried to do is shoehorn the Greek character into a northern European template. It won’t go; it never will go. It’s ham-fisted and almost laughable. Greeks have a different story, a different history and cultural influences. Greece is still the least European country in Europe, still leaning gently towards its old Levantine influences, which makes it the exotic, appealing, often chaotic and, sometimes, maddeningly different place that it is. But we wouldn’t have it any other way.

our friend artemis

A favourite old friend, Artemios, from Santorini typifies the Greek character: generous, maverick and an expert at skinning prickly pears

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Wonderful, vibrant villagers from Megali Mantineia, where we lived in the Mani from 2010

Greeks will never be cool-headed, flinty, northern European clock-watchers, which is why generations of foreigners have flocked to Greece for respite. Apart from its physical beauty, Greece still has the human touch, which is something that has been lost in many parts of Europe, and the UK as well, to a degree.

Greeks have not been blameless in the way they have handled their economy, but I believe that it’s basically because they are different from their northern partners, their character has come in for a battering. They have been labelled as lazy, work-shy and corrupt, and these clichés have been echoed unfairly throughout much of the international media.

There is corruption, of course, as there is in every country, and there are complex reasons for it, but I believe that due to a weaker and not very independent media, the corruption and excesses of past governments have not been exposed as they might have been in western countries. Only now are we seeing more transparency in Greece, and the internet and social media has helped to expose wrongdoing where some of the press has not.

We forget that Greece has only recently emerged from a devastating series of occupations and political upheavals: 400 years of Turkish occupation; the punitive  German occupation of the Second World War and the Greek civil war it spawned, and a disastrous military takeover in 1967 with a regime that lasted until 1974.

Four decades of relative calm since the 1970s is but a drop in the ocean for a country to re-invent itself. Until recent weeks, at least, the economic crisis was just another upheaval that Greeks have had to cope with.

During my time in Greece, I have found Greeks are among the hardest working people in Europe. In the last five years I met countless people, especially in the restaurant trade, who work more than 12 hours a day, seven days a week from May to October and in many areas like the Peloponnese will then do a long olive harvest in the winter.

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Greeks are bred tough like Foteini, a ‘traditional woman’ from the Mani

Foteini, one of my farming friends in the Mani, who features prominently in both my books, is an unforgettable character and the toughest woman (a pensioner!) I’ve ever met anywhere. She harvests olives from her 200 trees, alone, every year, without fail, and rears a few goats to supplement her paltry farmer’s pension of 300 euros a month, which has been cut back since 2011. No pensioner in the UK would live like Foteini.

Not only have the Eurocrats tried to reinvent the Greek personality but they have also asked for the impossible, for a country to change its system overnight.

Andreas, one of our Greek friends in the Mani, who I wrote about in my second memoir Homer’s Where The Heart Is, put it this way during a discussion about the crisis in 2012, and I quote from the book (chapter 20): “The Troika moans at us… they say we don’t make changes fast enough in the government, and with taxes… but they want us to change centuries of customs and business in a few months. We cannot do it! Impossible!”

The recent events have proved him right. Impossible, and heartbreaking!

After a lifetime of visiting Greece and after four years living in the southern Peloponnese, most recently Koroni, in Messinia, I do not recognise many of the criticisms and cliches levelled at the Greeks. And nor do I feel they deserve the excruciating contempt and hatred that has been slung at them during the crisis.

Perhaps the main fault of ordinary Greeks (and not the dynastic elites or the shipping magnates) is not just making a mess of their fiscal spreadsheets, but in not putting money first in the way that other societies in the west do. In my opinion, this is a country that has put life to the fore, and people, with a belief in leventia (generosity of heart), parea (company), kefi (high spirits) filotimo (sense of honour).

I have found Greeks to be the kindest people I have ever met. When we lived in Koroni for a year, we befriended a couple who had a small holding (with a few goats and chickens) near to where we lived. Tasos and Eleni are warm-hearted and interesting people, whom we saw regularly and became fond of, along with their lovely family.

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Gifts to strangers and hospitality, filoxenia, is alive and well in Greece

One day, after their long olive harvest, they arrived at our house with a big basket full of gifts from their farm: olive oil, olives, capers, goat cheese, herbs, and a bottle of their homemade wine (above). They simply wanted to show us hospitality, filoxenia, and make our stay more pleasant. We were overwhelmed by this gesture of friendship. It’s not the first time I’ve experienced this in Greece. Whether Greeks are in crisis or not, they never lose this generosity, or their indomitable spirit. The Zorba factor.

I believe it’s not Greeks who need to change radically, it’s the ‘other’ Europeans. They need to thaw and become more like the Greeks; get in touch with their inner Zorba. Perhaps then they’ll understand Greeks a bit better, offer a more reasonable fiscal blueprint for the future. And create a more compassionate EU.

As Nikos Kazantzakis, author of Zorba the Greek, wrote: “A man needs a little madness in his life!”

The Eurocrats need to kick off their shoes, find a beach and dance on it. Opa!

 

HOMER'S COVER FOR WEB

Homer’s Where The Heart Is

TO read more about living in Greece during the crisis in the southern Peloponnese, read my new travel memoir Homer’s Where The Heart Is. This is the sequel to my first memoir, Things Can Only Get Feta (first published in 2013) about the start of our three-year adventure living in the rural Mani.

To those who have already read the latest book, thanks for your kind comments and Amazon reviews, which are always appreciated.

Both books are available on all Amazon’s international sites and also on the Book Depository www.bookdepository.com (with free overseas postage). If you are in Greece you can inquire about having the book ordered at your branch of the Public store www.public.gr

If any readers have queries about availability for both books, please contact me via the contact page on our website www.bigfatgreekodyssey.com where you will also find a ‘books’ page with other information about the books.

To buy either of my books please click on the Amazon links below:

Things Can Only Get Feta

Homer’s Where The Heart Is

You can also find me on Twitter @fatgreekodyssey

And Facebook www.facebook.com/ThingsCanOnlyGetFeta

www.facebook.com/HomersWhereTheHeartIs

Thanks for calling by.

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You’re never a lost soul in Greece . . .

 

Caption here for Marjie at door

Marjory in one of the old doorways of Mistraki

WE were recently invited to a village church on a Sunday morning by a local papas (priest), who promised there would be a lovely service. The church of Ayia Triada was celebrating the national feast day of the Holy Spirit (To Ayio Pnevma), which is part of the important Pentecost period in the Greek Orthodox Church.

We’d never visited the old and rather remote village of Mistraki, though we knew roughly where it was, and planned to get there by 8.45am for the last hour of the service. It was a pleasant drive on a sunny day up through the hills, where there are only a few scattered villages, with views down to the Messinian Gulf.

Caption here for Mistriki old house

The splendid house of well-known, 19th-century resident Martha Kypriopoulou-Boziki 

When we got to Mistraki, however, the village seemed deserted. Not a soul about, apart from two huge dogs lying across the dusty road. All the houses were shuttered and there was no church in sight, or even a kafeneio. No signs of life.

We parked the car and walked about from one end of the village to the other. It’s a tiny place with lovely old houses, mostly dating from the early 18th century. Many have been restored to their original glory but a few others lie in ruins. But where was the church?

It was past 8.45 when we began to walk up dirt tracks out of the village, looking for signs of a church dome peeking up from the trees, listening for the sound of chanting, but every path yielded nothing but more houses and goat farms. This was curious. Had we got the name of the village wrong? Was the church hidden deep in the fold of a hill?

After nine o’clock, we were still wandering about, convinced that having come all this way we would miss the service, and the small yiorti (festivity) we anticipated afterwards. We were disappointed.

“Let’s hope the Holy Spirit’s looking out for us and we’ll get a sign,” said Jim, more in a jokey, bantering way, as on our long odysseys in Greece we’ve always tried to make light of most difficulties we’ve encountered along the way, big and small. We trudged around a bit more. It was getting hot and we decided we’d have to give up soon and retreat.

Jim suddenly stopped and cocked his head slightly. “I can hear a tractor in the distance.”

Caption for dog sleeping near hoose

There was a dog-tired, High Noon feel to the hillside settlement of Mistraki 

He started running through the village, waking up dozing dogs and scattering dust, with me trotting on behind, trying to keep my best sandals from disappearing down potholes. Sure enough, I could hear it too and we sprinted up to the ‘main’ road just as a tractor with two men on board was rumbling by. We shouted and waved our arms, and thankfully the tractor stopped. The two men looked amused when we asked where the church was.

“It’s just through there,” said one guy in overalls, “Five minutes’ walk away.”

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The church of Ayia Triada celebrating the feast of the Holy Spirit (Ayio Pnevma)

They directed us to the one dirt road we hadn’t tried yet, unsignposted, but with the remains of an old spring water outlet on the corner, which should have alerted us to a church nearby.

We thanked them and rushed along the track until the church appeared, in a clearing amid tall trees. The faintest sounds of chanting reached us now. We were late, but all was far from lost.

“Well Marj!” said Jim. “Did the Holy Spirit come to the rescue or what?”

I laughed. “Probably! It was a nice touch though, wasn’t it, sweeping in on a tractor. Very appropriate.”

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One of the icons of Ayia Triada, depicting the presentation of Christ at the Temple 

We burst into the church, a bit out of breath. Heads swivelled our way, and we were surprised to find a big turnout of locals in this old, restored church, with some lovely icons. And Papa Theodoros, dressed in his ornamental robe, was in fine voice, particularly at the end of the service, offering a spine-tingling crescendo to the chanting.

Papas caption

Genial Papa Theodoros, the main priest for the large rural community north-west of Koroni

This is an important service and celebration, coming on Monday, June 1, the day after the Pentakosti, the Pentecost, which falls 50 days after Easter Sunday and commemorates the descent of the Holy Spirit on Christ’s disciples.

After the service, the congregation gathered in the forecourt. These were locals, from several outlying villages too, who were among some of the friendliest people we had met in this part of Greece, near Koroni. They wished us ‘chronia polla’ (many years) and a good month, ‘kalo mina’. They were chatty and keen to know where we were from and what our impressions were of Greece. They were at least able to explain why Mistraki seemed deserted. There are now, sadly, only seven permanent residents left in this village, and they were all at the service.

Porky pig caption

Spit roasted pork is traditional for local celebrations in this part of southern Greece 

At the edge of the forecourt, two men had set up a trestle table, with a whole roast pig on top, complete with head, and carved into chunks, and a set of scales nearby. The meat was not all destined for this venue, however, as the pair with their ‘roaming roasts’ would visit other locations that day for other yiortes.

The air was full of the succulent aroma of spit-roasted meat, yet there were no other signs in the forecourt of a yiorti – chairs, tables, or drinks – until the papas came rushing out of the church, dressed down in his black robe and, curiously, carrying a bulging plastic bag.

Elate,” he called to us, with a wave, herding us towards a low stone wall under the trees. Perhaps because we were foreigners, ‘guests’, we were asked to sit down first and the papas unscrewed a large plastic bottle filled with local,  honey-coloured wine and put a liberal dash in our plastic cups.

There was a lot of banter and laughter from the rest of the congregation behind him, watching as he pulled things from his bag: chunks of bread, sweet tomatoes, and goat cheese, paper plates, serviettes. Someone was summoned to collect a huge chunk of roast pork, wrapped in thick paper. It was placed on the wall and opened up for everyone to help themselves, and the wine was shared around.

It was an impromtu feast, and one of the nicest yiortes we had been to for its spontaneity and warmth, and its Biblical simplicity. Papa Theodoros is like no other priest we have met in Greece, and we were introduced to him months earlier while trying to find the key holder for a local Byzantine monastery. He is warm and approachable and has a nice sense of humour.

Although in his late 60s, I would guess, he would also be one of the hardest working priests in this area, with three or four churches to preside over, as well as a nearby monastery. Due to cutbacks during the economic crisis, few retiring priests are ever replaced in villages.

Caption here

One of the colourful touches in the village

The time had passed all too quickly and people left with kind wishes for the rest of our stay in Koroni.

Tou chronou, next year,” they said, a common expression meaning that we would hopefully all do the same again next year.

Indeed, I think we will. Next time, we may be less in need of the Holy Spirit, at least on church-finding missions.

HOMER'S COVER FOR WEB

Homer’s Where the Heart Is

To read more about village life in the southern Peloponnese and how the economic crisis has impacted on Greece, read my new travel memoir Homer’s Where the Heart Is. This is the sequel to my first memoir, Things Can Only Get Feta (first published in 2013) about the start of our three-year adventure living in the rural Mani.

To those who have already read the latest book, thanks for your kind comments and Amazon reviews, which are always appreciated.

Both books are available on all Amazon’s international sites. However, several Greek friends and readers have asked about buying the latest book in Greece. Apart from Amazon and the Book Depository www.bookdepository.com (with free overseas postage), Homer’s Where the Heart Is is not currently in bookshops in Greece.

However, if you inquire at any Public bookstore www.public.gr (some of which stock Things Can Only Get Feta), you may be able to arrange for the store to order the paperback from Amazon. And some independent bookstores will also do the same for you. I will offer more advice on this in the months to come.

If any readers have queries about availability for both books, please contact me via the contact page on our website www.bigfatgreekodyssey.com where you will also find a ‘books’ page with other information about the books.

I have had some very favourable comments also about the design and layout of Homer’s Where the Heart Is and for that I would like to thank the expert skills of ex-journalist Jim Bruce. Jim’s book editing and formatting operation, called ebooklover www.ebooklover.co.uk can help both indie authors and those seeking publishers. Jim can get your manuscript ready and in perfect shape for presenting to publishers, which is a great help in this highly competitive publishing market right now.

To buy either of my books please click on the Amazon link below:

Things Can Only Get Feta

Homer’s Where The Heart Is

You can also find me on Twitter @fatgreekodyssey

And Facebook www.facebook.com/ThingsCanOnlyGetFeta

www.facebook.com/HomersWhereTheHeartIs

Thanks for calling by.

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Don’t drive yourself mad in Greece …

 

caption here please

Driving in Greece can really get your goat

I HAVE come to the conclusion that the only way to deal with the nervy business of driving in Greece, with poor roads and maverick drivers, is to treat it as a metaphor for life itself.

Focus on the scary, I’m-about-to-die moments as they come up and don’t obsess over the whole, long journey, or you’ll never set out.

Take it all one deep, crumbling pothole at a time.

koroni caption here

Koroni harbour with the Taygetos mountains in the background

I thought of this the other day when I had a long 50km drive from Koroni, at the tip of the Messinian peninsula to Kalamata, for a few early appointments. The road from picturesque Koroni is long and narrow, twisty in parts and used by tractors, pick-up trucks, buses, and all kinds of crazy drivers. It has poor edges in places, where the road sheers off on to deep drops, with no guard rails.

petalidi market caption

No driving through on market day at Petalidi

It also winds through two large villages with bottlenecks at intersections and is a nightmare on the laiki, market, days, and in summer, where the narrow roads are log-jammed with tour buses, camper vans, tractors and gypsy hawkers in pick-up trucks crammed with fruit and veg, the watermelons regularly bouncing off and splattering on the road.

boat caption here

A typical sight from the road that winds along the coast from Koroni to Petalidi in the Messinian peninsula

Of course, it isn’t always hell. There are a few calm days, and if you can ever relax for a moment, the views along this road are gorgeous, looking across the Messinian gulf towards the Mani and the Taygetos mountains, with Kalamata city spread along the head of the Messinian gulf. There are moments when you glance at this beautiful region and remember why you’re in Greece to start with, but you can never take your eyes off the road for more than a second. Around every corner is the outrageously unexpected, and the close shave, of which we’ve had many.

This is what I saw on that one morning driving to Kalamata: drivers overtaking on blind bends and coming straight for you (very normal); pick-up trucks loaded with goats in the back (normal, though sometimes its donkeys and horses); one driver hogging a whole busy stretch of road while a police car desperately needed to overtake. The driver wouldn’t budge (Greek rebel, very normal). Luckily for him, he wasn’t later pulled over by the cops. I’ve seen similar with ambulances trying to overtake on life-saving missions.

That morning I also saw a motorbike rider with no helmet (very normal) weaving about and awkwardly carrying a large wrapped package under one arm; a couple on another motorbike with two children sandwiched on the seat between them (no helmets) and at least one farmer walking along the road trailing four skittery goats on ropes. There are animal hazards aplenty on Greek roads, including runaway chickens, and once I had to dodge a horse cantering down the road with no rider or escort.

kardamili caption

Spectacular view from the road down to Kardamili

For British drivers, the roads here can be terrifying. I know expats who refuse to drive, or will only drive around their own village. I sympathise with their anxieties, especially in the Mani, where the roads through the Taygetos mountains are full of hairpin bends and sheer drops.

So when I set off on a long journey alone, I psyche myself up and say, “I’ll just take it one hazard at a time”. If you think of the whole journey, you’re doomed. It’s all you can do.

It’s also while driving that the mystifying nature of Greeks always occurs to me. I mean no offence, of course, to the Greeks because as a race I think they are wonderful, generous, unique, and I love them. But why oh why do they go bonkers on the road, breaking every rule in the book, playing with the equivalent of a loaded gun? Ordinarily, I love the maverick, non-conformist attitude of Greeks. I love the way they can think for themselves and not rely on the nannying attitude we suffer in Britain, for example, but behind the wheel of a car, this attitude goes to a lethal extreme.

donkey caption here

In the rural Mani villagers prefer donkeys to tractors

Sometimes it is comical, too, like the guy I once saw in Kalamata, driving with his knees while he rolled up a cigarette. A guy on a motorbike with a trombone in his lap. A motorbike rider on a busy city street ferrying a tray in one hand with frappes on top. A motorbike pulling a small, two-wheel trailer, in which a man sat – holding a ladder. And the parking is also crazy: cars parked at the head of one-way streets, across corners, on pavements. Sometimes you laugh at all this eccentric behaviour. But other times you live in fear.

If you were expecting any advice about driving in Greece, I haven’t got any, other than the one I stick resolutely to. Give way to everything, always, even when you have the right of way. And get a good insurance broker because if, God forbid, you do have an accident, sorting it out in Greece can be complicated, with so many drivers uninsured, driving old wrecks with no MOT, bald tyres and dodgy brakes.

Wallace driving caption

Wallace trying out his advanced driving techniques

Our Kalamatan broker Panayiotis is a star, who will let you speed-dial his number any time, if you have any incident on the road.

When we first came to live in the Mani in 2010 we went to see him to get comprehensive insurance for our Greek car. Initially there was a setback, which was typically Greek and amusing. I included the anecdote in my book Things Can Only Get Feta and I quote it here:

“We had to wait about 10 days for the paperwork to arrive, during which time we only had third-party cover, and drove the car around as if it were a Ming vase on wheels.

“When we returned to pick up the paperwork, the broker told us there was a hitch. We had been knocked back by the preferred insurance company and another would have to be arranged. When we asked why we had been rejected he told us the first company was no longer insuring foreign drivers in Greece as they were a high risk.

“Do you mean they think we are poor drivers?” I asked.

“No. The company says foreigners don’t know how Greeks drive,” he told us. When we burst out laughing, he offered a wry smile. By then we knew exactly how Greeks drive – at high speed, on the wrong side of the road, while rolling up cigarettes, eating souvlaki, slurping coffee, talking loudly on the mobile. Doing anything, in fact, but driving.”

On the way home that particular day at the quiet siesta time, the nicest time to drive, I had to smile when I saw the nonchalant farmer again leading his goats along the road, going home this time. Happily, we had all survived another day on Greek roads.

fetanucover_booksize-01 - Copy (2)Book news – Things Can Only Get Feta

AFTER being out of print for several months, the paperback edition of Things Can Only Get Feta: Two journalists and their crazy dog living through the Greek crisis has been republished and is now available on Amazon sites:

 Amazon UK

Amazon US

It is also available on Kindle as well.

The book explores our first year of living in the Mani, in southern Greece, with our dog Wallace, trying to live as authentic a life as possible with sad and funny consequences. The sequel to this book, covering our last two years in the Mani, will be available in the summer.

For more information on Things Can Only Get Feta, visit the book page on this site www.bigfatgreekodyssey.com

Thanks for stopping by.

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What’s Greece in winter really like?

 

boats caption here pleaase

Fishing caiques in Koroni harbour at the start of winter

MY work desk is currently a blue metal kafeneion-style table parked in front of the balcony windows. The view from here is always glorious, across the olive orchards to the Messinian Gulf, but now it’s a winter scene. Dark clouds scud over the vast expanse of water. There are snowcaps on the Taygetos mountains opposite. In the olive groves some stoical harvesters have spread their nets and are working in the rain and cold. We were swimming just a few days ago – but there will be little chance of that now as winter deepens.

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The view across the Messinian gulf towards the Taygetos mountains in the Mani peninsula

Everyone adores Greece in summer – the endless hot days, the warm clear sea, the tavernas brimming with happy holidaymakers – but what’s it really like living in Greece in the winter? Well, it’s very different, of course. And while it’s hard to imagine in the punishing heat of August, it does get pretty cold in winter, especially in January and February, when an icy wind blows down from the mountains, or here in Koroni (at the tip of the Messinian peninsula), across from the Ionian Sea.

Snow-capped peaks of the Taygetos mountains in December

It can rain for days on end, powerful, heavy rain. A few weeks ago we had something like a mini-hurricane in Koroni, with heavy winds and hailstones. There were mudslides on the hillside where we live and stone walls collapsed along the narrow road between the olive groves. On the Mani peninsula, opposite, there was a twister one day and then a storm that caused havoc to the small villages along the coast. But by the spring, the damage will be sorted, the beachside terraces renewed and tourists will never know we even had a winter.

 

lazy fat wally caption here for the old pupster

Wallace our cheeky Jack Russell keeping himself warm during the winter

Some days in December there were flashes of hot weather, with the temperature around 18 to 20 degrees C, and we’ve been seized by the crazy desire to grab our swimming gear and pile down to the beach for a bracing swim. We’ve usually been the only ones there but the experience has been worth it, even swimming with the snow- capped Taygetos mountains mocking us from across the gulf.

Now it seems property winter with cooler temperatures and days of rain and even Wallace our Jack Russell has been reluctant to get out of his bed in the morning. But there are compensations too: no summer pests … mosquitoes, hornets, snakes or scorpions now, apart from the huge beige one we found one morning sitting by the front door. It put us all into a tailspin, especially Wallace, who, true to his crazy breed, wanted to bark the critter into a swift retreat, as if it were a pesky Jehovah’s Witness with a pitch fork. He gave up eventually and scarpered – Wallace that is, not the scorpion, which Jim despatched with a sweepy brush.

Koroni is a popular harbour town. In summer, the narrow streets by the harbour are thronging with holidaymakers, the waterside tavernas buzzing with life. Now the road along the paralia is almost deserted. The outside terraces have their scuffed plastic sides rolled up, the tables and chairs have gone and cars park in the spaces now – at least when it isn’t stormy and huge waves roll across the road. It’s hard to remember now what it was all like in summer. For some people, this side of Greece is much less appealing, but if you love Greece, as we do, you won’t ever be bored.

In a working town like Koroni, there are always Greeks about and they have more time to talk now. There are only one or two tavernas still open, a few old-fashioned ouzeries and several cafes, as well as regular shops. When the sun’s out, the harbour still bustles but it’s different. The locals have reclaimed their town and the atmosphere is most definitely Greek. It’s now about everyday life and having a gossip over a Greek coffee and for many of the taverna owners who have survived their seven-day working week, all summer, it’s a blessed relief to have a normal life again. But with most of our favourite haunts now shut, we’re already missing the tables set by the waterside, the plates of sizzling kalamari, slabs of moussaka and the familiar bowls of Greek salad with a doorstopper wedge of Feta on top.

olive harvest picture here

The olive harvest is a familiar and comforting scene all over the southern Peloponnese, famed for its oil

In this part of Greece, for now, all life revolves around the olive harvest, particularly with the bumper crop this year and with the higher price of oil. It has lifted morale in rural areas and brought hope where there has been little for the past five years. The roads outside the town are full of trucks stacked high with bulging sacks of olives, heading to the local presses. If you want to see how Greeks really live, winter’s the best time to be here.

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There’s plenty of winter seating for the strip of road outside the castle with its gulf view. But you might need to form an orderly queue in summer

If you look hard enough there’s still plenty to do. Even if you’re not particularly religious you can also take part in one of the many Orthodox services at this time of year, just out of sheer curiosity for its history and Byzantine ritual. A few days before Christmas we went to an intriguing service called the Iero Evhelaio, in Koroni’s main church of Ayios Dimitrios. It involved a blessing with holy oil. It was a small congregation and a long service, for which we were all given lighted candles to hold, which seemed to mark the duration of this service because by the time the candles had burnt down to waxy stubs in our fingers, it was close to the end.

It was a rather solemn service, apart from the moment when one of the chanters collapsed in a chair in a coughing fit with a case of incense overdose. Yet it felt rather Christmassy at the end when we all lined up in front of a small table, a bowl of warmed oil in the centre, and the Papas blessed each of us in turn, marking our faces and hands with small oily crosses. With good wishes from friends and neighbours, we left and wandered out into the cold night.

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One of the old-style ouzeries in Koroni

Some nights it’s pleasant just to go into Koroni and sit in one of the zaharoplasteia (pastry shops) and share a slab of rich, custardy galaktoboureko, for which this town is apparently famous. One Saturday night we discovered a small ouzerie by the harbour, where we had a simple meal of souvlaki, Greek salad and local wine. It’s an old building, with rickety chairs and tables, where mementoes on the walls remind you of an older, probably happier era in Greece.

The tables slowly filled up with locals, mostly drinking ouzo. One man called Andreas told us that in the past there would probably have been a few bouzouki players here and a singer or two for an impromptu night of music, but this is rarer now. But the next best thing for many Greeks on a Saturday night is the live TV music show called Cheers, Friends (Stin Iyeia Mas). Watching it is almost mandatory and in the ouzerie, a TV propped up on one wall was tuned into the show with its popular songs and vivacious bouzouki riffs, obviously delighting this assembled audience. Had we stayed to the very end I felt sure someone would eventually have got up and danced unselfconsciously around the tables. As we left, Andreas told us he played the bouzouki and he’d bring it there one night for a music session. What night, we asked? He shrugged. “When the mood takes me.” Okay, this is Greece. No rules. Take it or leave it!

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Jim is jealously guarding his crop of grapefruits, a mere fraction of what we have gathered already this winter

Winter in Greece is what you want to make it. If you don’t live here permanently, and we don’t, then you want every day to count, whatever the season. When the weather is fine we go out and explore the countryside or fuss over our new vegetable plot, with its crop of cabbages and broccoli and pick sweet winter oranges and grapefruits from the abundance of fruit trees we have around the house.

With fewer distractions in autumn and winter we have been lucky to have time to spend on projects. I have had plenty of time for writing and have finished a second book on our adventures in Greece, a task eased by an inspiring view and peaceful surroundings.

My partner Jim has been working hard on his new ebook editing and formatting business (www.ebooklover.co.uk) and twice a week he is attending government-run Greek classes in Koroni, aimed at beginners, and held in a local primary school. He’s finding it challenging since, as Greek is a hard language, but the class has not been without humour.

One night the charming teacher Panayiotis was explaining the possessive case with the sentence “to panteloni mas”, (our trousers) but one of the more advanced students was quick to correct him. “Surely it should be ta pantelonia (trousers, plural) rather than one pair?” which is what the teacher had written on the board, illustrating the fact that even Greeks can slip up sometimes.

Panayiotis covered his mistake quickly by saying: “No, this is Greece in crisis. We all have to share one pair of trousers now.” The class erupted in laughter, and even Panayiotis joined in. I doubt that anyone there will ever forget the plural for trousers at least, or the word for crisis, a Greek word after all.

 

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Marjory wishes you all Happy New Year after her last blissful swim of the year 

 

Happy New Year, Kali Xronia

WE’VE had a wonderful 2014, with quite a lot of it spent in southern Greece. It hasn’t all gone to plan because, in crisis-ridden Greece, things never do. We have had our adventures, frustrations and our moments of anxiety. But every day has been blessed with new experiences and we hope that next year will be as good. Wishing all our loyal blog readers a very happy New Year and a joyous 2015. I hope many of you will spend some of your holidays at least in Greece – even in winter!

Things Can Only Get Feta

For details about my book, recounting our adventures in the Mani, and for reviews and articles, please visit our Big Fat Greek Odyssey website, book page

Visit Amazon to buy the book (Kindle version – new edition). A new edition of the paperback will also be available shortly.

If you like the book please think about leaving a review on Amazon. It will be very much appreciated.

Thanks for stopping by.

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How does Wallace handle 15 minutes of fame? Madly, of course …

Wallace surfing caption here

Wallace’s surfing antics always draw an audience. 

IT was supposed to be a relaxing few hours at a long sandy beach near Koroni, in the Messinian peninsula.  It was around 32 degrees and steaming.

We picked the quiet end of the beach and couldn’t wait to jump in the water. Wallace wasn’t interested in trying out hang-five manoeuvres on his small red surfboard today but more intent on grabbing the board by its side handle and trying to swim to shore with it.

While we were engaged in a game of tug-of-war with Wallace and the board, two guys strolled along the sand and stared at our watery antics. They looked Greek and I assumed they’d probably never seen a Jack Russell terrier before.

Then one of them shouted in a London accent: “Hey, didn’t you write that book? Isn’t that Wallace?”

“You mean the Feta book?” I shouted back. Okay, I had to be sure.

They nodded. “We recognised Wallace straight away.”

Is Wallace so recognisably crazy, I thought? Obviously, yes! It gave us a good laugh anyway.

“We loved the book, by the way.” That bit was good at least.

The two boys were from the UK, staying at a nearby holiday villa, and had read the book a few months earlier.

“He’s so cute!” said the other guy. “We’ve got a Jack Russell as well.”

“Is he mad like Wallace?” I asked.

“He’s… em, quieter than Wallace.” Very diplomatic!

With impeccable timing Wallace decided to demonstrate crazy for a bit and ran up and down the shoreline with the surfboard clamped in his teeth. Kids were giggling and sunbathers running for cover. It’s exhausting for everyone really which is why we don’t take him to the beach very often. Wallace has always loved the beach and is a tireless swimmer. I suspect he also likes the attention.

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A Jack Russell terrier like Wallace is equally eccentric in the sea and on dry land

I think he always has. It’s in his genes! His Edinburgh breeder, Anne, told us recently that Wallace is related to Moose, the first Jack Russell to play Eddie in the US sitcom Frasier, after an American bought one of her dogs and took it over the pond. I used to watch Frasier regularly and fell in love with the dog. That’s why I always wanted one. What was I thinking?

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Eddie the JRT terrier in Frasier 

“He’s just like he is in the book, isn’t he?” said one of the lads, chortling.

“Oh yes,” I sighed. “You bet.”

It’s always heartwarming to meet readers of Things Can Only Get Feta wherever they crop up and one of the great joys of being a writer. Wallace in particular has won quite a few hearts due to his appearance in the book. We recently met a lovely couple from Surrey who have a Jack Russell of their own and while on holiday in the southern Peloponnese, drove all the way from Kalamata to Koroni (over an hour’s drive) just to see Wallace. Overshadowed by a Jack Russell? It’s okay, I’ll get over it!!

The easy charm of Koroni

 

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Wallace and Marjory looking at the world from a Greek window

 

We are currently based just outside Koroni in a small Greek house for the summer. It’s around 200 years old, with an archetypical style: white with blue shutters and shady balconies everywhere. It’s in a lovely location in an olive grove with distant views of the sea. In the garden we are growing tomatoes, peppers and aubergines. There are also clumps of oregano, mint and marathos, fennel growing nearby.

When the owner comes to strim the grounds, the air is full of fresh herby aromas. There are fig, lemon, orange, apricot and almond trees as well and several grapevines already drooping with fruit.

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Grapevines and roses in our Koroni garden

There are old rose bushes growing as well, planted by the owner’s grandmother, and it’s not hard to imagine how pleasant it would have once been here with the whole family gathered on the balcony enjoying one of the many light breezes that sweep up from the sea most afternoons and cool the tip of this peninsula.

As with most of rural Greece, there have been critters as well. Jim has already found two large scorpions in the garden and pulverised them, I’m afraid, with a breeze block. We also saw a snake slither under a metal baking tray beside the old fournos (woodfired oven) in the garden, while we were tidying up. Not sure what kind of snake it was (a deadly ochia, horn-nosed viper perhaps?) we made a hasty few calls to the owner who came along her brother, who was equipped with a long bamboo pole (snake sorting implement). He threw back the tray to reveal … well, a rather tiny snake, and not worthy of all the fuss we made about it. The family were very gracious about calling them out and we even got a short snake handling/despatching lesson, which I hope we’ll never need.

Koroni town caption

A view of Koroni town with its old castle and harbour through the olive groves

Koroni has proved to be a very friendly and laid-back town. This lower part of the peninsula (left hand one of the three southern prongs), facing the Ionian sea on one side and the Gulf of Messinia on the other, feels more like a Greek island at times rather than the mainland. It has a casual charm about it: a row of tavernas along the waterfront, as well as bars and cafes, while tucked away in the narrow backstreets that ascend to the old castle are traditional kafeneia, ouzeries, bread shops, general stores, and some nice churches as well. In my next blog I will feature some of our favourite places in Koroni.

Wally in pink caption

Wallace showing a more demure side to his personality 

Wallakos 

Wallace has been given a new name while we’ve been in Koroni. In the Mani, where we stayed for three years, he was called Vassie. But one of our lovely friends here, Stavroula, who is fond of dogs, decided to call him Wallakos, ‘little Wallace’, which is cute and we have started using it as well. But sometimes Big Wally seems more appropriate!

GREEK BOOK IN NORTH AMERICA

My book about living in the Mani, Things Can Only Get Feta (Bene Factum Publishing), is available in North America, paperback and Kindle. It’s available on Amazon.com and through Barnes & Noble and Longitude Books. Longitude kindly featured it last month in its June Newsletter and on its blog page called A Favourite Spot. If you read the book and like it, please think about putting a small review on Amazon. It will be much appreciated. Thanks to all the North American readers for your support.

For details about the book and other places to buy it and for reviews and articles, please visit our Big Fat Greek Odyssey website, book page

Visit Amazon to buy the book (Kindle version – new edition). A new edition of the paperback will also be available shortly.

Thanks for stopping by and your comments on the blog are always appreciated.

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© All rights reserved. Text and photographs copyright of the authors 2014. No content/text or photographs may be copied from the blog without the prior written permission of the authors. This applies to all posts on the blog.

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They live in North America but Greece is still home …

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A Greek-American parade in Chicago

WE had an experience recently in Koroni that brought home to me the enduring, sometimes fateful connections between American and Canadian Greeks and their homeland.

Not long after we arrived back in Greece this year, this time at the tip of the Messinian peninsula in the southern Peloponnese, we started visiting a small, secluded beach on the other side of Koroni, facing the Ionian Sea. At the back of sandy Zaga beach is a set of stone steps and we were intrigued enough to climb them and discover what lay beyond – a white house with a large shady garden.

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A stone table built for Big Fat Greek lunches

Its best feature by far was the huge round table made of stone on a thick plinth and a curved stone bench around one side that could easily fit a dozen or more people. The place gave the sense of Greek ownership and I could imagine a big, garrulous family sitting here on hot summer days sharing a meal. Perhaps it was owned by Athenians who only came in the high summer.

Every time we went to the beach we pondered who the owners were. But in a quirk of fate, I was to find out sooner than I could ever have imagined.

After my book Things Can Only Get Feta was published in North America on May 1, I had a few emails to the website from readers, and one in particular from a lovely woman called Alexia from Montreal, Canada. She had a particular interest in the book as her family originally came from Kalamata, and the rural Mani. We exchanged several emails and she told me she had spent a few summers back in the southern Peloponnese visiting relatives and friends.

Since I mentioned living in Koroni, she sent me a photo of her father on a beach here – and I recognised it straightaway. Zaga, the beach with the stone steps. I quizzed her about the house and, sure enough, it was owned by a Canadian friend of her father. Small world. She had been to the house in the past and had had one of those long summer lunches, just as I had imagined.

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Zaga beach, Koroni, beneath the church of the Panayia Eleistria

It was certainly a spooky coincidence, you might think, but not where Greece is concerned. The longer I stay in this country, the more I recognise the tight webbing between Greece and the Greek diaspora (fittingly a Greek word) of Canada and America, and Australia too; the families who had to leave, mostly for economic reasons, though sometimes political, sometimes in a desperate bid for freedom, who have never forgotten their faith, their culture and whose connections between the two places continue to spread and flourish.

In the past year I have had many North Americans becoming regular correspondents and FB & Twitter friends, especially among those whose families came originally from the southern Peloponnese. I am always impressed and touched by their passion for Greece, how the more recent emigrants from the past four decades talk about the place as if they’d never left it, sharing pictures on FB, reminiscences and anecdotes. Many talk longingly of their next visits in the summer, counting off the days, even though most have successful, happy lives in North America. But to these people, Greece is still their patrida, their homeland.

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Many Greeks fled to North America from Kalamata after the city’s devastating earthquake of 1986

As Alexia explained: “My Dad has shared so many stories of his childhood and of his teenage years (in Greece). His father, who passed away the year I was born, shared stories of the war he lived through. He planted the trees at the Anastasi (church) on Navarinou Street in Kalamata. My uncle Soulis dove for the cross in the water for the Epiphany holiday (in January) when he was a teenager. Crazy to feel so connected to a place that my brother, sister and I have only visited a handful of times.”

It makes me think a lot of my own family and how closely it parallels emigration from Scotland, and the Scottish diaspora. After historic skirmishes with the English and from the time of the infamous Highland Clearances of the 18th and 19 centuries when tenant farmers were evicted from their land, Scots have been leaving the country in droves seeking political and economic refuge mainly in North America, Australia and New Zealand.

More recent departees, like my family, left to seek new opportunities in Australia in the 1960s, lured by assisted migration, the famous £10 boat ticket to freedom. Despite decades in Australia my family always called Scotland ‘home’. “We’re going home next year for a holiday,” they would tell their friends, as if the permanent lives they had so painstakingly etched out in Australia were nothing but a temporary fix. Which they weren’t.

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Gorgeous Kapsali beach on the island of Kythera. The island has been dubbed “Little Australia” because of the number of villagers who migrated there and then returned

Greeks are everywhere in the world, in every far-flung corner, and so are the Scots. Two very different diaspora – Greeks and Scots, but we both do exile very well.

But what the Scots don’t do is keep up the cultural life of their homeland the way the Greeks do. Perhaps if we had the vast extended families that Greeks have, we would. We tend to float away into our individual lives and endeavours and in a few generations our Scottishness is often diluted. Not so the Greeks.

I have followed my North American friends’ posts on FB and Twitter with admiration and often envy: how they have built Greek Orthodox churches to rival many in Greece and sent their kids to Greek language school, kept up the rituals of Easter, the saints days, name days, and all the Big Fat Greek weddings. Greekness is alive and well in North America. A massive achievement. How could it be otherwise?

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The bay of Otylo in the remote Mani region which has seen mass migration to the New World

Yet for all that, they often talk of an intense longing for what they or their family have left back in Greece and the things that can never be replaced. Some of this sentiment was conveyed beautifully by Katie Aliferis, a Greek American from San Francisco, in some of the poetry she shared earlier in the year on my blog. Her poems express an intense love and longing for the remote Mani region in the southern Peloponnese, and for her village of Areopolis and the old family home,  even though Katie has, remarkably, never set foot in the country.

Most Greeks would probably never have chosen to leave their homeland and you understand this better when you see some of the outstanding places they hail from, physically beautiful with a traditional, often rural, way of life that can’t be replicated anywhere else, and villages that are now semi-abandoned, ironically due partly to the mass migration.

While living in the Mani we came across a semi-deserted hillside village that was hosting a big Greek wedding for a family from Chicago. It was, unusually, filled with noise, music, life, and for a few days, the small Greek population was vastly outnumbered. Some of the Greek villagers remarked that it all felt like old times.

Wars and occupation have driven out the Greeks, so did the military junta of the 60s and 70s. But also earthquakes, like the devastating Kalamata earthquake of 1986, and the recent economic crisis has tragically forced Greeks to leave yet again, seeking opportunities elsewhere. These circumstances will no doubt inspire a painful longing to return one day and to never forget where ‘home’ really is, despite making wonderful lives in their new host countries. Whenever I hear an American accent now in the Peloponnese I am more attuned to the complex stories behind the sunny repartee.

My new Canadian friend Alexia says she will be back this summer, as will some of her family. They will visit their ancestral homes and also Koroni. A lunch around the stone table at the house by the sea will probably be on the cards. In my mind I can already see them crammed around it, full of kefi (high spirits) sharing a typical Greek meal, under shady trees, the sea a few stone steps away. The circle will then be complete.

GREEK BOOKS

My two travel memoirs about living in southern Greece, Things Can Only Get Feta, and the sequel Homer’s Where the Heart Is are available in Kindle and in paperback through all Amazon sites

www.amazon.co.uk or www.amazon.com

For more information about the books and other outlets please visit the book page on my website www.bigfatgreekodyssey.com 

Thanks for stopping by and your comments on the blog are always appreciated.

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Back in Greece & barking mad to travel with a Jack Russell!

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The coastal town of Koroni nestling under the mighty walls of its 12th century castle

WELL that’s us back in Greece for another adventure, but more of an Odyssey-Lite compared with last time. We went by car again so we could accommodate the great travel mutt Wallace and, as before, it created scenes of joy and angst. The joy was seeing how well he behaved in a car packed to the gunwales and how he slept the whole way and only barked at motorway toll collectors. We are in accord on this one.

Caption here for Wallace in Switzerland

Wallace the Jack Russell scaling the peaks of travel in Switzerland

The angst came in the form of a check-in at an Italian hotel (part of a big chain) that claimed to “take dogs, of course!” We got told off in the foyer by the manager when Wallace did a round of screamy barking at two teenagers who were shouting and skittering about, making Wallace nervous. They were making me nervous as well. One thing I’ve discovered about Wallace over the years is that he’s really quite conventional for a fizzy Jack Russell and, apart from people shouting and screaming, he doesn’t like folk wearing outlandish clothes: funny big hats, eye-watering colours, and so forth. I think most of all he barked because he didn’t like the hotel manager’s outfit: apple green trousers; loafers, no socks; a blueberry-coloured jacket. And I have to agree! What was this? Horticultural couture? But all went well really, most especially when we quit the establishment, our foreheads beading with sweat and Wallace muzzled up this time, and looking like a detained psychopath.

Caption here for Bellagio on Lake Como

The pretty town of Bellagio on Lake Como

On the trip, we had our first ever satnav and discovered that telling it to find the quickest route anywhere isn’t always a good idea. On our way to a hotel above the shores of Lake Como, the satnav arrow pointed straight across the lake at one stage. What? Did it think we had an amphibious vehicle?

“What’s it trying to tell us here,” said Jim plaintively as we followed the lakeside road, getting closer to the predicted lake plunge. All was revealed, however, when we came to a dead end at a small ferry terminal where it was explained by a grumpy ticket seller that this was the quickest way to the hotel, down the wrong side of the lake and across on the ferry to the town of Bellagio on the other side, where the hotel is situated. How were we to know? But if we’d been much later we’d have missed the last ferry. That wouldn’t have been quick!

 

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The Pappas at the church of the Panayia Eleistria in Koroni handing out the ‘holy light’ on Easter Saturday 

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Jim guarding his flames after the spectacular climax of Greek Easter

Greek drama

Lovely to be back in Greece in spring, and at Easter. We managed three swims in the first week and almost an Easter service every night of Holy Week, and enjoyed the high drama of Great Saturday, outside the church as people held their candles with the “Holy Light” first brought out by the Pappas at midnight and shared to the congregation from there. Bells tolled and fireworks boomed on the periphery and everyone went home, well resurrected, but with their ears ringing.

Koroni has a nice feel, with its harbour and narrow streets winding up to the castle on the top, which was once a stronghold of the Venetians. It’s easy to see why various imperial groups wanted to control it because the castle was almost impregnable and the town out of sight from the sea, cuddled by a high, wooded headland.

Caption here of Koroni Castle

The town reaches up to the castle walls which encloses a monastery at the top with superb views on all sides

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A tiny chapel at the monastery of Timios Prodromos with stunning views down to Zaga beach

The castle has been razed now apart from its massive walls but inside is the delightful leafy monastery of the Timios Prodromos, which has only six nuns left. It’s a peaceful, dreamy spot, and the small shop near the entrance has a phenomenal range of items hand-made by these industrious nuns.

It’s one of those monasteries that posts a list of what you can’t do, or wear, inside the monastery church. No trousers for women, which ruled out a church visit for me, though there is still plenty to see here with a fragrant garden with fruit trees and flowers. There are various nooks here to wonder around and touches of drama amid the foliage. A tiny courtyard had a stone entrance with a carved lintel saying: Orthdoxia i Thanatos Orthodoxy or Death. There is also the tiny Byzantine church of Ayia Sophia built beside the ruins of an ancient temple dedicated to Apollo. Some of the original remnants of this temple have made their way into the later walls of the castle.

Caption here for Koroni wall at monastry

Remnants of Apollo’s temple at the Prodromos monastery have been cleverly inserted into the later castle walls

Jim was left at the monastery gates with Wallace because we assumed the nuns wouldn’t permit dogs, JRTs especially, but when I mentioned this to one of the nuns later she surprised me by gripping my arm and saying: “Bring him in, we don’t mind.” Ah bless! But take Wallace to a quiet monastery with six genteel nuns wearing unfamiliar headgear, long flappy skirts, and half a dozen aging Easter pilgrims outside the shop trying to enjoy their delicious loukoumi (Turkish delight) and glasses of chilled water? I think not! Maybe on a quieter day.

Caption here for Wallace at computer

Wallace comandeering my work station and chair on the balcony with its view towards Koroni 

The house we are staying in here has a wonderful view of Koroni and the sea. My current workplace, a table on the balcony for the laptop, is possibly the best I’ve had for a while but the only problem is keeping Wallace off my chair. He won’t hand it over until I confess what I’m writing about him next. Has he lost the plot? I’ll let you all know soon enough…

GREEK BOOK IN NORTH AMERICA

I AM thrilled to announce that my book about living in the Mani, called Things Can Only Get Feta (Bene-Factum Publishing), is now available in North America, paperback and Kindle. It’s available on Amazon.com and through Barnes & Noble and Longitude Books in America. Longitude has kindly run a story about the book on its blog page called A Favourite Spot.

The go-to blog for writing tips

I was recently interviewed by Athens-based writer Maria Messini on her fascinating  blog MM Jaye Writes, under the category Work In Progress. The blog is geared towards writers, their methods, tips, networking secrets and is a fabulous resource for all writers whether they have publishers or are making their own way in the self-publishing world. Read the interview here:

For details about my book Things Can Only Get Feta and other places to buy it please visit our Big Fat Greek Odyssey website, book page

Visit Amazon to buy the book (Kindle version – new edition). A new edition of the paperback will also be available shortly.

Thanks for stopping by.

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Southern Peloponnese is the star attraction

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Stoupa beach in the Mani

THE Hollywood movie Before Midnight is now doing the rounds with mixed reviews, but one aspect is indisputable – the real star of the piece is the southern Peloponnese.

Focus on this wonderful region of Greece has been long overdue. Having spent three years living in the Mani region (situated in the middle of the three peninsulas), I can vouch for its beauty and real authenticity.

From my experience there, I have drawn up a list of some favourite places to visit, mostly in the Mani. The recommendations for tavernas and other businesses are based on my personal taste alone. Come to the region one day so you can draw up your own list of favourites.

Hillside village of Megali Mantineia

Hillside village of Megali Mantineia

* BEST HILL VILLAGE: Megali Mantineia, in north Mani.

There are many lovely rural villages in the southern Peloponnese but this is my favourite, partly because my partner Jim and I, and our mad Jack Russell dog Wallace, spent the first year of our Greek adventure here and it was the inspiration for my book Things Can Only Get Feta. It’s a short drive from popular Santova beach and nestles on a quiet hillside beneath the north Taygetos Mountains. It’s an unspoilt village with a tight-knit community where most people work as goat farmers or harvest olives.

Unusually for a rural village, there are four very good family-run tavernas here offering traditional dishes. The Lofos (27210 58630), with its vast terrace overlooking the Messinian gulf is on the drive up from the sea; Iliovasilema, or more commonly called Yioryia’s after the owner’s wife (27210 58660), and nearby Sotiris Taverna (27210 58191); Anavriti Taverna (27210 58062), behind the main church, and the Kali Kardia kafeneion in the heart of the village (27210 58306).

Dining experience in Kardamili

Dining experience in Kardamili

*  BEST COASTAL VILLAGE:  Kardamili

Kardamili is an hour’s drive from Kalamata and is the village where some of Before Midnight was filmed. It has a nice old harbour and pebble beaches. The Taygetos mountains form a picturesque backdrop and there is an historic area with traditional Maniot tower houses. From the village are good walking tracks up to the villages behind, like Agia Sophia and Petrovouni. The late Patrick Leigh Fermor’s house is situated at the southern end beside Kalamitsi beach, with excellent swimming and snorkelling.

Favourite walk: from the old town up to Agia Sophia. Favourite taverna: Hariloas (27210 73373), by the harbour, for its charming owner Maria, and the food, of course. Try the doorstep-sized moussaka, always freshly baked.

Favourite shop: The Bead Shop on the main street of Kardamili (693 9455 365), run by Gill Rochelle. This is a treasure trove of unusual handmade jewellery and a trillion fab beads if you want to get creative while on holiday and make your own. Gill is also very knowledgeable about this area.

 Kalogria beach with the house of George Zorbas

Kalogria beach with the house of George Zorbas

* BEST LITERARY CONNECTION: Kalogria beach

 Ten minutes further south from Kardamili is the sheltered sandy cove where much of the book Zorba the Greek was conceptualised. Greek writer Nikos Kazantzakis spent some time here with the real George Zorbas when they were running a lignite mine nearby (see earlier blog post in November for more details). The beach here, where the writer lived in a wooden hut, now demolished, was also the inspiration for the scene in the book where Zorba teaches the narrator to dance the sirtaki. Stoupa is a close second, a long sandy beach nearby with a good selection of tavernas.

Altomira village in the Taygetos mountains

Altomira village in the Taygetos mountains

* BEST LOFTY VILLAGE: Altomira

This is a fabulous village in north Mani at nearly 3,000 ft with a stunning view towards Profitis Ilias, the highest peak in the Taygetos range. The village is partially in ruins, though many Greeks are buying houses and renovating them for summer holidays. The best approach is from the main Kalamata to Stoupa road with the turn-off to Sotirianika, and a 4×4 is recommended.

If you’re a fit, keen walker, there is an old stone kalderimi (donkey track), called the Biliova, from Sotirianika up the side of a hill that will lead you to the village, with great views. You will need to get hold of a local walking map.

 

Near the Cave of Hades, Cape Tainaron

Near the Cave of Hades, Cape Tainaron

* BEST SPOOKY SITE: The Cave of Hades

This is situated on Cape Tainaron at the tip of the Mani peninsula. From the end of the road, at the car park, you take the path down to a nearby cove and the cave is behind a high rocky outcrop, covered by bushes. This is the doorway to the Underworld mentioned by ancient writers and scholars. The place where Hercules performed his 12th labour, dragging out the three-headed dog Cerberus.  From here there is a path to some ancient Roman ruins with mosaics and further on is the lighthouse on the southernmost point of Greece. 

Favourite taverna: This is on the road down to the fascinating town of Areopolis, and the Cape, at wide Limeni Bay near Otylo. Takis Taverna (27330 51327) is right by the water where fishing boats pull in and land the day’s catch.

Stunning Voidokoilia beach

Stunning Voidokoilia beach

* BEST BEACH: Voidokoilia

Apart from the long peaceful Santova beach in the Mani, the most perfect, photogenic beach is Voidokoilia, near Navarino Bay on the Messinian peninsula (left-hand prong). Shaped like the Greek letter omega Ω, it has two headlands, one with a ruined Frankish castle on top. The sand here is soft and the water pale and silky. There is nothing much here apart from the beach, so head back towards Pylos town to the fishing village of Yialova with its own sandy beach and a row of nice tavernas and cafes by the water.

 

View across Kalamata city centre

View across Kalamata city centre

* BEST CITY: Kalamata

Okay, it’s the only city of the southern Peloponnese, but as Greek cities go, this one is very appealing. Set at the head of the Messinian Gulf, it has the lot: a long clean city beach; history (the historic centre, Frankish castle, cathedral and archaeological museum); a vibrant café scene along Navarino Street; a bustling marina with a selection of tavernas.

Favourite tavernas: Koilakos for fish, especially calamari and grilled octopus, Navarinou St, 12,  (27210 22016); the Argo, Salaminos St 52, (27210 25380). Favourite dish, grilled sardines. The other dish is the lovely Adonis, a very entertaining waiter, and a city celebrity. Ta Rolla, Sparta St, 53 (27210 26218). An old-style taverna in the market area of the city with wine barrels full of a lovely local brew and specialties like bean soup and stuffed tomatoes.

Best monastery/silk workshop in Kalamata:

Head to the 18th century Kalograion (Nuns’) Monastery in Mystra Street (near the Ypapanti Cathedral). Once internationally famous for its silk products, made at the monastery by the nuns, it still produces many lovely items in-house though the nuns number only a couple of dozen these days.  The shop here stocks unique hand-printed scarves, embroideries, as well as small icons and religious books.

This is an oasis of calm in the city with a courtyard shaded by orange trees and two small churches. Later, head to the Ypapanti Cathedral to see the ‘miraculous’ icon of the Panagia (Virgin Mary) saved from a fire in the 19th century during a skirmish with the Turks, and the patroness of this city.

Other places to visit in the southern Peloponnese: the archaeological site of Ancient Messene, north-west of Kalamata, close to the village of Mavromati; Nestor’s Palace, one of the finest Mycenaean sites in southern Greece, near Pylos. The twin “eyes of the Venetian empire” Koroni and sprawling Methoni castles at the tip of the Messinian peninsula; lastly, Monemvasia, Greece’s “rock of Gibraltar” in the Laconian peninsula.

For more information about what to see and do in the southern Peloponnese go to our home page on www.bigfatgreekodyssey.com or visit www.mythicalpeloponnese.gr run by the Greek National Tourist Board. A great site for walking tracks in the Mani and other information: www.insidemani.gr

 

Marjory and Wallace with the new book

Marjory and Wallace with the new book

A book about living in Greece

For more details about my book, Things Can Only Get Feta (Bene Factum Publishing, London) based on three years living in the Mani, southern Greece during the crisis, visit my website www.bigfatgreekodyssey.com or visit Facebook www.facebook.com/ThingsCanOnlyGetFeta

Visit Amazon to buy the book (Kindle version – new edition). A new edition of the paperback will also be available shortly.

To read my recent story in The Scotsman newspaper about the southern Peloponnese please click on the following link: http://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/features/travel-mani-delights-in-greece-1-2976801

If you are a resident or frequent visitor to the southern Peloponnese please share your favourite place and tell me what it means to you. Click on ‘comments’ link below

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