We
sailed from Rhodes to Symi on the day of the historical OXI / NAI referendum. We
had been “stranded” in Rhodes for 2 weeks waiting for the boat to be fixed, and
as usual we had made friends and spoken to many people. Our hearts had gone out to the Greeks
in the week run up to the referendum. Every person we spoke to was agonising
over the vote but, without exception it seemed, they had all decided to vote
OXI – NO! They could see that this could make life very tough, but at least
they would be a little bit more in control and regain some dignity. We attended
an OXI demonstration and got caught up in the emotion. It felt a bit like a
pressure cooker going off – people were being asked what they thought and they
were going to have their say by voting OXI. There was an amazing vibe with the
sounds of passionate Rebetika protest songs wafting from all corners of Rhodes
town. Debate was raging – the media was preaching irreversible doom and gloom
if the vote was OXI, but we were not convinced. It was becoming more and more
evident that big money – EU, IMF, big business – was influencing the media, and
the ordinary people we were meeting were telling us a different story.
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| We loved this Alpha bank which had become a donkey station in Lindos, Rhodes |
The night before the vote, Anastasia invited us to her apartment for
ouzo and mezze. During our feast,
her daughter phoned from Athens. She was at the 300 000 strong OXI demonstration in
Syntagma square. Tsipras had walked from home and through the crowds – with no
security. The atmosphere was electric and she was totally overcome with
emotion. Anastasia turned on the
TV so we could watch – nothing. She changed channels – still nothing, only talking
head studio discussions with the same old argument. Greeks had to tow the EU /
IMF line and accept more and more drastic austerity, which so clearly was
destroying Greece. For the next
few hours she checked regularly, still nothing. The private TV stations were
refusing to cover this incredibly newsworthy, powerful demonstration.
Our
friend Giannis sailed with us to Symi the next day after he had cast his early morning vote. It was a marvellous day – warm with perfect winds on our beam and Pegasus
sliding through the water at a steady 6 knots. We stopped for a swim in our beautiful Symi bay on the way
and we could see that Giannis felt at peace. He told us that he had felt a
sense of hopelessness after he had voted, but now he was feeling exhilarated.
After 6 hours of sailing, we got to Symi harbour, he caught the ferry back home and we
went in search of our good old friends Philemon and Mercurious.
And there they
were – no surprises - playing passionate Rebitika with a cardboard OXI sign
between them. After hugs and kisses, we once again got transported by the
moving music, the warm people, the raki and the delicious food. It was hard to
tell whether the songs got more mournful when it was clear that OXI had won,
because no-one was under any illusion that it was going to be easy. But OXI meant NO to the forced crippling austerity and Yes to more negotiating power, and if
necessary, the Drachma. At 1am, Henry and I walked arm in arm back to the boat,
clutching the cardboard OXI sign as a souvenir, feeling happy and sad at the
same time.
But of course, the story does not end there and the fears of the Greeks have been realised with the latest bailout proposal which effectively proposes the same level of austerity Greek voters had rejected in the referendum. Alexis Tspipras told allies: "Each one of us shall be confronted with his stature and his history. Between a bad choice and a catastrophic choice, we are forced to opt for the first one."
Adam Taylor from the Washington post captures the it very well in his article, "The slow sad spiral of Greece's OXI movement".
https://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/worldviews/wp/2015/07/16/the-slow-sad-spiral-of-greeces-oxi-movement/
THE ROAD DICTATES
Every
year Henry and I make an itinerary of our route – and we never keep to it. Unless
we have to be in a certain place at a certain time, we follow the wind rather
than the plan. Well, this year we have not only been subject to the wind, but
to the Turkish navy and a grumbling Pegasus with a broken forestay and furler, dud VHF radio and a burnt out starter motor leaving us stranded with no engine The broken furler drum and
forestay kept us in Rhodes for two weeks – the critical time in June when winds
are still manageable to cross to the Cyclades.
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| The broken forestay - it had been hanging on by a few wires when it broke |
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| Fotis had to climb the mast 3 times with it being held up by rope - very dangerous |
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| Hoisting the new forestay |
But, nearly a month later (after
leaving Rhodes we waited a few days for our friend Jon to get to us), we set
off. This was with much trepidation, as the winds sweeping down this part of
Aegean in July are enough to make the most hardened sailor quake with terror.
And by now most of you will know that I am a windy weather wimp and when the
wind gets up to more than 20 knots and we are bashing over waves, I go to pieces.
So, when we received the sad news that our partner Ian’s father had had a stroke and they are having to delay their August 1st arrival by a
few weeks, forcing us to turn back to find a safe place in the Dodacanese for
Pegasus, I have to admit I felt a touch of relief. We both really wanted to go
to old favourite and new unexplored islands in the Cyclades, but this comes at
a windy price. So, we now find ourselves back on the Nyssiros, Tilos, Symi,
Rhodes route. All islands by now much visited, but also much loved and all seem
to welcome us back with open arms.
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Alison's painting of our gorgeous Symi bay
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Tilos police station from the boat
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| Kos town square |
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| Henry and Jon in Kos |
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| Kos |
One
of our favourite islands is Nyssiros, the active volcano island. It was Joe’s
(Henry’s son) favourite and it also seduced Alison. This is what she wrote.
ALISON
Nissyros,
aah Nissyros. What an island – basically I suppose just one big volcano. But
filled with magic places and delightful discoveries. On arrival we hired a
small car and on our first evening set off for sundowners along the coast.
Sally and Henry had been to this little bar before but when Henry turned down a
small unmarked track through what seemed like a building site I wondered where
on earth we were going. The little road wound past dilapidated buildings (of
which there are many in Greece) and over rubble and by now I was convinced we
would find nothing down such an inauspicious track. But suddenly round a corner
we spied a lone tiny table and two chairs next to the water’s edge and then to
the right a building with steps leading up to an open door. “It is still here”
cried Sally and Henry in unison and thus we arrived to experience the magic of
Loutra.
It
was like stepping into a film set, edgy and different and rather gothic. The small,
protected patio looked down over the sea, the light lustrous and shimmering on
the water as the day began to fade. The little beach below us was composed
entirely of pumice stones from the volcano, in various shades of white and
grey. To the other side a couple of fishing boats tied to the harbour wall
bobbed gently.
The
dramatis personae consisted – apart from the three of us feeling a bit like
extras – of the young, lugubrious madame of the establishment and several
friends sitting at a long table, two women chatting intimately, laughing and
waving their cigarettes, legs akimbo and looking utterly relaxed and free. We
were all struck by the sense of something different, as though we had stumbled
onto the outer fringe of Greek society. We ordered wine and the inevitable
delicious free mezze arrived. What a wonderful and generous Greek custom this
is – you do not drink on an empty stomach and some or other small but delicious
offering is usually brought to the table. And remember, this is a nation
apparently going down the tubes.
The atmosphere at Loutra
was electric and tantalizing and after our wine we sashayed off into the
stillness of the night to feast on the boat. Since you ask - enormous and
succulent pork chops which just snugged onto Henry's tiny and miraculous braai,
mushrooms stuffed with feta and aubergine.
Seduced by Loutra we
went back the following night to enjoy more of this hauntingly beautiful place
of dreams, but before that another action packed day exploring our volcano
island. The actual volcano mouth is quite extraordinary, a lunar landscape of
many plug holes gently steaming, bright yellow sulphur crystals sparkling at
the edges, and not another soul in sight. In fact that was an important part of
what I enjoyed about our explorations, being away from the great crush of
tourism and consumerism, wandering off the beaten track, fossicking around,
eating where the local Greek people eat, enjoying all the small marvels of this
big-hearted country steeped in history and archetype.
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| We found this chapel in a field in the caldera |
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| Henry's sketch of the chapel |
Nearby the little town
of Nicolai straddles the hill tops. Like many Greek towns and villages it was built long before cars and the streets are narrow and winding and often consist only of steps. As we wandered up I marveled at the way the houses are jammed together, families living in such close proximity like a tapestry of life. Some of the little homes are old and crumbling, others freshly slicked up with splashes of that glorious Greek blue, each one individual yet part of the whole.
At the top next to the church a tiny cafe and the only soul in sight the
priest, bearded and black robed, drinking coffee and talking on his cell phone.
This came to be a familiar sight and amused me greatly - near each church a
little cafe where sits the black robed and bearded priest drinking his tiny
expresso and chatting incessantly on his cell phone. A hot line to on high, I wondered!
A refreshing bitter almond drink was served and we settled down to sketch, each
absorbed in our own world.
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| The square at Nicolai - said to be the prettiest square in Europe |
Hunger called, and we drove down from the volcanic heights to the
little coastal town of Mandraki to search for a restaurant that Sally and Henry
had visited before - chef and owner Davide produced a memorable lunch of
freshly made pasta with a mushroom and cream sauce and a platter of seafood.
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| Monastery in Mandraki |
Then to explore another hill-side higgeldy-piggeldy mostly abandoned
village, crumbling, fascinating, glimpses into lives past, other worlds and
other times. And so the days are passing, images and impressions crowding my
mind, evocative and memorable. And of course interspersed with all these
adventures much talk of the Greek monetary crisis, the plight of the Syrian
migrants as more arrive daily on various islands, the great archetypal themes
of survival and migration.
