Things can only get feta …

CAN you have an adventure in crisis-torn Greece and not come unstuck? Can you take a mad Jack Russell dog to a rural region and not create havoc? Can you ever feel like more than an outsider in a mountain village that has changed little over the centuries?

You might find the answers to these questions, and hopefully have a giggle along the way,  in the book based on my first year in the Mani, in the southern Peloponnese, due to be published in July this year. It’s called Things Can Only Get Feta (Two journalists and their crazy dog living through the Greek crisis) by Marjory McGinn.

In the first year of the big fat Greek adventure, along with my partner Jim (which I started writing about in this blog in 2010), we had such an amazing time, having travelled extensively through this beautiful region, and having befriended some wonderful local characters, that I wanted to shape it into a book so that other adventurers/armchair travellers could get a feel for this unique rural way of life.

 

Chairman: Wallace soaking up the sun in the Mani

Chairman: Wallace sunbakes in the Mani

 

I was encouraged by many of the regular blog readers who wrote to the website saying how much they enjoyed our mad meanderings in Greece, especially with naughty Wallace the Jack Russell in tow. A big thanks for that and I hope you enjoy the book.

For an outline of the book and details of how to pre-order it, click on this link to take you to the home page of our website: http://www.bigfatgreekodyssey.com

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

 

Land's end: Marjory and Wallace at the southernmost point of the Mani peninsula

Land’s end: Marjory and Wallace at the southernmost point of the Mani peninsula

 

Looking back

When we set off in early 2010, it was supposed to be for a year’s adventure only. We aimed to live in the Mani region (middle peninsula of the southern Peloponnese), but we had no idea of the exact location, or what our life would be like, or even if we would find a suitable place to live, especially in the midst of an economic crisis. But that’s the whole point of adventure – stepping right into the unknown and taking whatever comes your way.

The village we ended up in surpassed all our expectations, particularly with regard to the location and the wonderful local characters we met, some colourful British expats, and the mad escapades that would unfold. But other things were difficult, as we outlined in the blog: dealing with Greek bureaucracy, buying a Greek car, surviving the first scorching summer, dealing with alien wildlife (the critters, not the expats) – scorpions, polecats, snakes, hornets.

Then there was the problem of getting a tiny Greek village with typical zero-tolerance of ‘pet’ dogs to accept the crazy, barky, territorial Wallace. Many villagers had never seen a Jack Russell dog before and to their mind, he just looked like a small mutant sheep. To find out how Wallace’s immersion into Greek life panned out, you’ll have to read the book.

 

Branching out: Jim and Wallace enjoying the lush olive orchards in the spring

Branching out: Jim and Wallace enjoying the lush olive orchards in the spring

 

One year’s adventure turned into another and in the end we stayed almost three years in the southern Peloponnese, having loved every mad and magical moment. Then there was the Greek crisis, of course. I commented on this in the blog along the way and we did see some massive changes over the three years, particularly in the city of Kalamata where shop closures and business failures were a daily occurrence.

The austerity measures affected everyone in the region, sometimes tragically so, but one thing that never changed was the stoicism of Greek people and their enduring spirit particularly in the face of often spiteful criticism by the international media. Stories from outside the country that depicted Greeks as ‘lazy’ and ‘work-shy’ were not helpful, and yet anyone who has lived in the country will know just how hard most ordinary Greeks do work and strive for a better life, with no state handouts.

 

Water baby: Wallace swimming in a cove in the shadow of the Taygetos mountains

Water baby: Wallace swimming in a cove in the shadow of the Taygetos mountains

 

In our three years, we travelled the whole of the southern Peloponnese, through the Mani, Laconia and the Messinian peninsula, much of which we have already written about and many places we haven’t got round to writing about yet. I will post some short blogs on these, with photos, over the coming months, and general thoughts about Greek life, as we found it. So please keep reading, and your feedback, as always, is appreciated.

We are currently back in Britain for the time being but are keeping close ties with Greece and look forward to our next big fat adventure there.

Best wishes for a happy summer.

 

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Finding the real Zorba in the Mani …

 

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

 

APART from the Parthenon, Nana Mouskouri and blue-domed churches, what image or event totally captures the essence of Greece? For me, it’s the cinematic images of Zorba, played by Anthony Quinn, dancing the sirtaki on the beach to the Mikis Theodorakis’s theme tune – Zorba the Greek. The outrageous, lovably raffish Zorba is the enduring symbol of the nation’s spirit and stoicism. It’s no accident that during the international campaign earlier this year called We Are All Greeks, sympathisers world-wide took to city streets, linked arms and danced the sirtaki in support of Greece.

The character of Alexis Zorbas that Nikos Kazantzakis created 60 years ago in his book The Life and Times of Alexis Zorbas (translated into English as Zorba the Greek)  is more than just a literary concoction, however. The real man behind the character was every bit as spirited. Legendary tales about him are kept alive today in an unspoilt corner of the Mani region in the southern Peloponnese.

It was here that Cretan-born Kazantzakis hooked up with Yiorgis (George) Zorbas in 1917 for a peculiar and risky venture in lignite mining that was doomed to failure for many reasons but was nevertheless spun into literary gold a few decades later.

 

The original small white house at the end of Kalogria beach rented by George Zorbas from a local family

 

 

To find out more about the real Zorbas, we set off for the secluded beach of Kalogria, near the village of Stoupa, to meet a young woman called Mary Georgilea, whose family have been closely associated with the Zorbas family for several generations.

She took us to the small renovated house on the beach, built in the late 19th century by her great–grandfather Andreas Exarchouleas (pictured below) and rented out to George Zorbas when he first came to the Mani to be foreman of the Prastovas mine on a nearby hillside where Kazantzakis had become one of the partners in this venture. This was a time when the Greek government was offering incentives to mine lignite, a precious commodity in the war years.

The beach of Kalogria these days, out of season, is almost as deserted and peaceful as it was when the pair first came here in 1917. The small house with a red pitched roof is one of a pair built on the far right of the beach, not far from the well-known natural spring, the Prinkipa, that bubbles up cold mountain water between the rocks, like a natural plunge pool.

 

Mary Georgilea in front of Kalogria beach. Her great-grandfather Andreas Exarchouleas (below) rented out the white house to George Zorbas (bottom)

 

 

 

Kazantzakis had chosen to live on the other side of this quiet sandy cove from Zorbas in a simple hut made of wood and bamboo with nothing much inside but a table, chair and a straw-filled mattress. Yet it was here he spent much of 1917/18 writing and reading, leaving the gregarious Zorbas to deal with the lignite business, and village life.

Born in west Macedonia in 1867, Zorbas had worked in various countries as a miner before he came to the Mani, bringing his wife and some of their eight children with him, though they preferred to stay well away, living in the nearby city of Kalamata.

After working hours, Zorbas, then in his fifties, and Kazantzakis, in his thirties, regularly decamped to the shoreline of Kalogria with their supper – often cooked for them by a member of Andreas Exarchouleas’s family – for a long party session, either alone or with whoever had dropped by for the evening, over a few carafes of local wine, and Zorbas would play his bouzouki and sing. In real life, George Zorbas played the bouzouki, not the santouri, as in the book. The pair were famous locally for their rowdy beach soirees, in which they frequently danced along the shoreline, a fact that was immortalised in Kazantzakis’ book.

 

Stoupa beach, once a tiny fishing village, is now a popular tourist destination in the Mani

 

Mary, who lives in the nearby village of Stoupa and runs a villa rental business with her mother, was brought up hearing many outlandish stories about Zorbas from her grandfather, Yiorgos Exharchouleas, a well-known local resident. She says Zorbas was a unique character and faithfully captured in Kazantzakis’ book.

She also says that Zorbas and the writer more or less took over Kalogria beach in 1917 and scandalised and delighted Stoupa with their bohemian lifestyle. Stoupa in those days was a small, conservative fishing village with a few tavernas along the seashore and had seen nothing like this pair of outsiders, or their visiting friends – a  cast of exotic international characters who descended on Kalogria beach and included famous Greek actors, intellectuals and one of Kazantzakis’ best friends, the poet Angelos Sikelianos.

But while Kazantzakis was a more reclusive and complex character, the locals instantly took to Zorbas’ antics, his bouzouki playing, his kefi (high spirits). Kazantzakis, as in the book, was the total opposite of Zorbas, the cultivated aesthete compared to the rough and ready miner. It was the most unlikely of friendships, yet Kazantzakis has written many times of his admiration and brotherly love for Zorbas.

In another of his books, the autobiographical, Report to Greco, Kazantzakis explains what Zorbas meant to him.

“For he had just what a quill-driver needs for deliverance: the primordial glance which seizes its nourishment arrow-like from on high; the creative artlessness, renewed each morning, which enabled him to see all things constantly as though for the first time, and to bequeath virginity to the eternal quotidian elements of air, ocean fire, woman, and bread; the sureness of hand, freshness of heart, the gallant daring to tease his own soul, as if inside him he had a force superior to the soul…”

To complete the search for the real Zorbas, Maria took us to the abandoned Prastovas area on a Stoupa hillside which has the original lignite mine the pair were involved in. The mine proved unsuccessful and had an early demise and now it is a rather wild and forlorn rabbit warren of tunnels oozing puddles of spring water.

The work at the mine had been hard and dangerous with around 200 workers employed in 1917, some of whom later remarked that while Zorbas was always there working like a mule, Kazantzakis was rarely ever seen, even in the stone ‘office’, that is now a dilapidated old house. He preferred to keep a quiet vigil at the beach hut at Kalogria.

Some of the local Greeks we spoke to about the legendary George Zorbas lamented the disappearance of great characters like him and say the economic crisis has cut the Greek hero down to size. But if ever Greece needed another unique, maverick soul like Zorbas – it’s definitely right now.

 

Nikos Kazantzakis wrote in Report to Greco of his great admiration for the inimitable George Zorbas

 

Report to Greco by Nikos Kazantzakis (Faber and Faber) translated by PA Bien.

A book about living in Greece

For more details about my book, Things Can Only Get Feta 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 

For more information about the southern Peloponnese www.bigfatgreekodyssey.com

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When will Greece be loved?

 

Putting the boot in: Greece doesn’t deserve to be bullied by its euro neighbours

 

IN the lead-up to the recent Greek elections (one and two), much of the world’s media had a great old time knocking the Greek character, having a laugh about tax dodgers and work-shy citizens. But if the rest of the world thinks that level of criticism will pulverise the Greeks, they’re wrong. Greeks created the word stoical – and they are its best practitioners.

At Kalamata Airport recently, while waiting for two Aussie friends to arrive from Athens, we overheard a tourist (northern European) having a strop with a young Greek guy at a car hire counter. The tourist was late returning his car and was anxious that he’d be charged for an extra day. The Greek guy assured him it was okay, he’d make a note on his form and make sure the visitor wasn’t charged an extra fee. But the visitor still wasn’t happy. As the Greek guy was writing his note, Mr Stroppy started up again, demanding that the guy sign the note on the form and also demanded to see his identity card as well.

The Greek guy was surprised but gracious. He said he wasn’t obliged to show his ID to a customer but took it out anyway to calm the tourist down. But STILL it wasn’t enough. “Write down your card identity number as well,” said Mr Stroppy, jabbing his finger at the form.

The Greek guy finally had enough (as had the rest of us in the car hire queue) and refused, putting his card back firmly back in his pocket, leaving Mr Stroppy to steam away at the counter. I wanted to cheer, but thought better of it.

Yet Mr Stroppy had to have the last angry word. “You know what, you have a lovely country here but you are all totally disorganised. It’s a disgrace,” he said.

The Greek guy just looked at him, shrugged stoically and got on with his work. I’m sure he’s seen worse, heard worse and has more to worry about than a pompous foreigner trying to kick major ass over a hire car.

A Greek acquaintance here who owns holiday villas in the Mani told us that a group of Germans cancelled their holiday a couple of months back because they feared they would get beaten up by Greeks while here because of recent harsh measures demanded by the Troika, and particularly by Germany. When we heard this story we thought it was both sad and ludicrous, that tourists are so uninformed and paranoid about coming to Greece. Get real! From our recent experience at the airport it seems to me that Greeks are more in danger of being beaten up by the visitors.

Flying the flag: OK, Greece isn’t quite like northern Europe – but that’s why we love it

Greeks bearing laptops

THE fact that Greece might be disorganised is completely unfounded. Sure, the country’s politicians faff about a lot and keep doing policy U-turns, but other services here, both private and government, run remarkably smoothly. We took our newly arrived Aussie friends to the telecommunications firm Vodafone in Kalamata to sort out mobile internet connections for their laptops, since they like to keep in touch with the outside world while on holiday.

When the guys at the Vodafone office tried to fit the USB modems they found they weren’t compatible with the couple’s very new computers. The guys would have to talk to techie colleagues in Athens so they could download software to fix the problem. It was all handled calmly and graciously, without any of the frowning or moaning you might expect elsewhere.

While the Vodafone guys were working on the couple’s computers they told us all to go for a coffee nearby, which we did in a favourite venue (Le Garcon on Aristomenous St), which is an oasis of serenity and coolness on a hot day (the temperature was around 38 degrees) as the outside seating area has overhead sprinklers delivering a continuous fine mist of icy water.

Half-an-hour later, we were amazed to see the two Vodafone technicians sprinting around the corner to our table, each holding aloft an opened laptop, much to the amusement of the other café punters. The techie guys needed our friends’ passwords in order to proceed. That was sorted, and off they sprinted again.

Our friends were gobsmacked. “That would never happen in Oz,” they said.

“Not in the UK either,” we added.

We well remember it once took us a month to get a broadband connection in Scotland with a well-known internet provider when we moved house. The corporate bumbling was immense, and so was the aggravation of having to ring an Indian call centre every other night to listen to the same old comedy routine of excuses and then promises of broadband by morning, which never happened. And so it went on. In Greece they don’t outsource to overseas call centres.

Hummus and hospitality

IT’S always gratifying to see Greece through fresh eyes. Our Aussie friends have been overjoyed by their stay in this region of the Peloponnese and only dismayed at the level of misinformation filtering around the world about Greeks. They have found good service and efficiency everywhere they’ve been.

And they are delighted that the old standards of Greek hospitality and kindness have not diminished despite the economic crisis. The couple are staying in an apartment in the Mani and every day their Greek neighbours have brought produce from their garden – fat, juicy tomatoes and cucumbers – and home-baked bread, olives, oil and much more.

Attention all moaning minnies from overseas. If you can’t be open-minded and generous towards Greece during its crisis, go somewhere else. Simple. I hear the Norwegian fjords are pristine and cool this time of year. Canoes are plentiful…

Birds on a wire: Our garden owls snuggle up side by side …

 

… and have a hoot with some amorous activity

Well owl be damned …

WE have said a lot lately about our little brown owl visitor. Indulge us, we’re new to twitching. We have found out the Greek brown owl is partly diurnal, which is why it appears on our power lines night and day. We started out with one, but now we regularly see a couple sitting on the power lines, sometimes smooching. We’ve had trouble getting a good picture of them. But now we have several, which we wanted to share. We promise to only mention the owls again if they are joined by their extended family … or develop some interesting high-wire routines.

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