The orphans of Fascism

While sailing around the Greek Islands over the past 3 years, we have been amazed at the range of architectural influences. From Byzantine towns to the white and blue villages of the Cyclades to the ochre and russet Venetian houses of Symi or the stone Venetian mansions of Hydra and of course to the rustic Greek vernacular. 

But what was particularly unexpected to me and may seem strange to you too, was to find modern Italian architecture in the Greek Dodecanese Islands! You can imagine my excitement in making this ‘discovery’! These amazing buildings made a change from the, albeit wonderful, Aegean architecture that we had been seeing.

The Dodecanese Islands are a group of twelve on the south east of the Aegean Sea, adjacent to Turkey.

Every empire and tyrant has subjugated the population of this area since history was recorded. Important among the tyrannical empires were the Knights of St John (Crusaders),  followed by their victors, the Ottomans.

At the turn of the 19th Century the Italians were at war with the Ottoman Empire who occupied the Dodecanese. The Empire was eventually destroyed and the Italians took over occupation in 1913. The islands were confirmed as an Italian territory by the treaty of Lausanne in 1923. Needless to say, the islanders were not consulted; it seems that in those days no one ever was! The Italians remained there until 1942 when the Germans took over briefly - with the English and Americans snapping at their heels.

So, in the early ‘20’s, architects were summoned by the Italian governors of the Islands to develop an architectural style that expressed modernism as well as the Fascist aspirations of Mussolini’s Italy while, at the same time, incorporating a regional aesthetic and influence of what remained of the buildings of the Knights of St John.

In 1933 a devastating earthquake struck the Island of Kos, destroying much of Kos town but revealing layer upon layer of hidden ancient Greek and Roman ruins. The Italians had already started excavating areas of the town to expose the Roman ruins beneath but now they made the most of what the earthquake facilitated and began to re-plan the town. A taverna owner described to us what happened as being the worst and the best thing for Kos. The Italians not only excavated further areas, they took the opportunity to build tree lined boulevards, grand public buildings, open squares, archaeological parks and even public housing turning Kos into what is now a delightful and functional town. A wonderful opportunity not only for rising architects of the time who, employed by the state, let their imaginations soar, but, inevitably, for the expression of Fascist power.

The complex requirements of the government resulted in highly eclectic styles and opened the door to many design interpretations and experiments that, although sometimes over the top, are always interesting. But, strangely, the Italian buildings of the Dodecanese appear to have been shunned by almost everyone; by the Italians because of their connection with Fascism; ignored by the Greeks as structures of a foreign power. They do not fit the strictures of modernist cognoscenti either. Abandoned and orphaned! But, SO interesting!

The photographs of the buildings are best left to speak for themselves but there are some interesting features that I have focused on:

Corner buildings are a typology that has fascinated architects since time immemorial. Think of JB’s Corner at Melrose Arch, the old McFail’s Coal building and Corner House in central Johannesburg.

Oriel windows are a common feature of Islamic architecture, giving women the opportunity to see what was happening in the street below without being seen themselves. The Knights of St John built similar projecting towers, having the same effect, but to military advantage. It is hard to say whether the oriels are influenced by Islam or by the military imperative or, perhaps, by some other.

Brackets and corbels are used extensively to support balconies and oriel windows. The variation is entertaining in itself.

Surface treatment is highly eclectic and varied and is used to disguise the concrete frame structure of the buildings. The Italians led the world in the use of concrete; framed structures were earthquake resistant. It is puzzling as to why the plans of buildings were constrained as if they were constructed from conventional masonry and the structure then disguised. However, there seems to have been a heartening lack of commitment to the ‘true’ modernism! 

Some buildings have an austerity that conforms more to European modernism of the time.

Others are so over the top that they almost qualify as Rococo.

Parapets and gables are expressed in an impressively varying array. Almost all buildings have a cornice and the gables of some are sculpted into a froth of elaborate plasterwork.

The short column is a feature of a large number of buildings and I think it is derived from the Doge’s Palace in Venice. We are off to Venice in August so I will know better when I have been there. Capitals are used but, generally, no bases. The columns are not made from stone but are moulded from concrete made using stone grit to give a colour variation similar to stone. Many buildings are made from concrete blocks made to look like stone. They are even laid in the same manner as stone! The shafts and capitals of columns are designed with amazing variation.

The corners of buildings as well as edges of arches and window reveals are softened through the use of a round plastered section that has the effect of diffusing the harsh Mediterranean light in the same way as the rounded cornices. The diffused edges are one of the few features derived from the Greek vernacular.

I have focused on the buildings in Kos for this blog as I found the town so fascinating and they are pretty representative. There are so many interesting buildings in all of the 12 Islands that it would take a treatise to illustrate them all, but maybe more in another blog....

NOT FOR SISSIES – 8th May to 4th June 2014

Henry and I set off for our 2014 sailing adventure with lots of mixed feelings in May. We were both tired, there seemed even more than usual to tie up before setting off. We were anxious about sailing in Turkey – unchartered waters for us and quite different to our much-loved Greece. We were worried about whether the wintering work had been done on the boat. Mostly, we were dreadfully sad that our friends Fran and George Alagiah would not be joining us at the end of the week as planned as George had been diagnosed with cancer.

We were leaving on election day, so we flew via Johannesburg, planning to vote and then fly – only to find that we had very consciously and carefully left our ID’s in a safe place at home as we would not be needing them for travelling. Home Affairs surprised us, and within 2 hours on the morning of election day, we marched off to the polling station with temporary ID’s, put our crosses where we thought they would be most useful – and set off with a spring in our steps.

Oren, where our boat was being stored on the hard, is described in travel books as a delightful surprise……“that rare Turkish sea side town, untouched and undeveloped with few villas and even fewer tourists”

 At first sight, it is dusty and a bit dismal – or maybe it was the grey, cold weather that made it so. But we went exploring, and discovered a fascinating old town, built against a mountain covered with the ruins of an ancient Mycenaean city – thousands of years old. Roman and Byzantine ruins, often using the stones from the ancient city lie in-between century-old Greek houses – many abandoned during the infamous swap of Greek and Turkish populations in the 1920’s.

The work on the boat took a while to finish, but Wednesday was launch day – something that had been filling us with trepidation.  For thousands of years, boats have been launched using the sledge system with wooden tracks and a winch, and here in Oren they still do it  – this was going to be our first experience of it. I was terrified! As the winch slowly let us down into the water and the hull started to submerge, the boat crashed to one side and we felt a hard bump. It bumped a few more times as Henry tried to reverse straight backwards – not an easy thing with the broad beam that Pegasus boasts. We went skew and got stuck. We tried again, but still stuck.  One of the workmen dived to dislodge us, and we eventually managed to reverse far enough out of the shallows to set sail. We sailed 3 hours across the gulf to a pretty bay where we planned to spend a few nights getting our sea legs back.

Pegasus being inched down to the sea on sledge and tracks

Ready to launch

 And then on Friday morning, disaster struck. Henry got up to make coffee and found the floor-boards floating. The boat was 9 inches under water.  We madly baled and pumped until we had most of it out and could see a steady stream of water coming in. It is impossible to indentify where from as there is a double skin making up the hull. Henry closed all the seacock’s and checked everything he could think of – no luck. All we could think is that the bump had caused damage. We arranged with the boatyard to come back the next morning at 5h30am.

Every hour during the night, the alarm went and we had to pump the bilges dry. At 5h30, we left and motored for about 20 minutes – and disaster struck again. Smoke started pouring out of the engine and the engine alarm was screaming.  Henry had forgotten to open the engine seacock and the engine had overheated, and part of the exhaust had melted. No engine in mid sea………one of my biggest fears (aside from Henry falling overboard). We raised the sails, and I took the helm while Henry tried to fix the holes with Pratleys putty. But there was no wind.  For a while we managed to sail at 1 knot, but the wind disappeared completely and we were drifting. With no wind, there was no control of the boat. I imagined the rocky cliffs getting closer and closer – it was beyond terrifying. An hour later when we tried the engine with the mended exhaust pipe, the anxiety was terrible. Within seconds, water was pouring in to the engine – there were more holes, impossible to fix. We called Adnan in the boatyard for help.

Henry hanging his head in desperation

But, as with all stories, there is a happy side. We had made friends in the boatyard with Fabian and Jeff from Paris who had already been incredibly kind to us. The relief I felt when, 3 hours later, we saw Jeff and Adnan motoring up in Jeff’s inflatable dinghy was indescribable. They tied up to us and pushed rather than towed us in, 9 hours after we had set out. But by now the weather had changed, the wind we needed earlier had risen and it was too windy and wavy to get onto the sledge, so we made for the small fishing harbour. The next challenge – to manoeuvre Pegasus in with no engine and a cross-wind.  After many attempts and excessive fear building once again on my side, with the dinghy nudging and Henry steering, we managed to tie up.

Adnan and Jeff to the rescue

Oren fishing harbour

Fabian and Jeff - dinner on Pegasus

Fabian and Jeff were amazing – they showered us with warmth and generosity and the next morning with a working engine, we motored to the boatyard, got lifted out onto the dreaded sledge and fixed a thin crack between the keel and the hull.

Joy and relief……….but not for long!

We launched, and there was still water pouring into the bilges. I wanted to weep – correction, I did weep. To make matters worse, I was sick and had lost my voice completely. We changed course and anchored in the tiny village of Cokertme.

And this is where the story gets happy again. We did not find the leak. But the help of everyone in the village was incredible. Captain Ibrahim, whose restaurant pontoon we were tied to, helped Henry dive, procured dye to try and detect the leak, brought a diver friend with tanks to plug all the seacock’s to hopefully eliminate the problem…….nothing worked, but we were so bowled over by the help and kindness, we were in a beautiful place, the pump was working well (we had to pump every hour night and day), the restaurant food was delicious – we did not want to leave.

Cokertme with Pegaus on the pontoon

Captain Ibrahim

With Fabian and Jeff at Cokertme

But we had to sort the leak out, so we arranged (through our many new contacts) to go to Bodrum Marina where Atilla was standing by to help. Six days later, with 3 guys working on the boat, trying everything they could think of to find the leak, we eventually had dry bilges and a plugged hole at the engine valve – impossible to detect without cutting part of the inner fiberglass skin away.

Atilla and his team - the "Inshallah guarantee" they gave worked

We set sail last Thursday - nearly 3 weeks after arriving - and are now in Kos, Greece. Although there is a wicked wind blowing, Pegasus is safely moored in the harbour and we have taken refuge in the town square to drink Mythos and catch up with our lives.

All I know, this sailing thing is not for sissies!!!!!