As is the case on most mornings, we awoke to bright sunshine streaming in through our full-length picture window, the one at the foot of our bed, through which we’re fortunate enough to have a view between olive grove-clad hillsides down to the glistening Libyan Sea beyond. From my pillow, once the curtain is drawn back, I regularly give thanks for the beautiful vista that I can stare out at, without so much as lifting my head more than a few inches. I’m not boasting, honestly, I’m expressing my deep appreciation for the wonderful little house that we found, and into which we moved a little over three years ago. So far, this winter has been mainly sunny and not at all cold. As we chomped on our regular breakfast of chopped fruit (whatever’s in season at the time), muesli and yogurt or tahini, with a few diced nuts (almonds, hazels, walnuts) and sunflower seeds without their husks thrown in too, and sipped our mint tea, we decided that, since it was already 16ºC out at 8.30am, we’d take a leisurely drive over to Ag. Nik. It was yesterday, December 24th, the Eve of the Roman feast of Saturnalia, although most people give it a different name nowadays.

Taking the route over the mountain from here, passing the villages of Meseleri and then Kalo Xorio, we hit the main road at Istros, where we turned left and headed up the by-pass towards our destination, Agios Nikolaos, bent on simply walking the town, enjoying a coffee out and then coming home for lunch after a couple of hours. If you’ve studied the photo at the top of this post, you’ll no doubt have spotted the grey heron flying away from me across the Ag. Nik harbour. That photo was taken at around 12.30pm, and it’s usually about as close as one ever gets to such a gloriously grand bird. Grey herons usually don’t let you get within about fifty metres of them before doing what that one’s doing – fleeing; but hold on, don’t go away, because if you love birds, as we do, though I may say so myself, I have some truly remarkable photos for you just a little further down.

We took coffee (our regular freddo espressos, since it was hot in the December sunshine) at the beautifully located Kosa Café beside Ag. Nik. lake…

The place was buzzing, and we only just found the last two-person table before it reached capacity, and the time was around 11.20am. Parents were all sat in small groups waiting for their children to return from doing tours of all the business premises with their little triangles, and cardboard boxes swathed in wrapping paper and with a slot cut in the top, so that they could hopefully see some hard cash deposited there after they’d rattled those triangles and sung a carol, or a Kalanta to the proprietor. Judging by the sheer number of groups of small children touring the streets in red floppy hats trimmed with white wool, I reckon that some of those shopkeepers paid out more than they took over the counter during a couple of hours that morning. Everyone in the café was drinking coffee of one type or another. That showed that most were Greeks, whereas if you’d sat in the same bar in July, the majority would probably be tourists, and the chosen drink decidedly more likely alcoholic.

The Greek tradition of children tinging triangles whilst singing a Kalanta to householders or shop proprietors on the eve of December 25th is thought to have originated in Byzantine times and be connected to honouring the god Dionysius, by the way.

After a thoroughly enjoyable half hour of people-watching, we left a few Euros on the table for our coffees and stood up to leave, just in time to invite an older couple to take our table, since they’d recently entered the café’s outdoor terrace area in the hope of finding seats, and so far been disappointed. Something I truly love about one of the ways that Greek people will express their thanks if you show them even the smallest kindness, is the fact that, besides actually thanking you in word, they’ll lift a hand to their chest and press their palm or fist to their heart, like they’re saying “I appreciate your thoughtfulness from right in here,” and I believe that they genuinely do.

Leaving the Café and crossing the famous bridge that separates the lake from the outer harbour, we headed around to the left to walk along the very pleasant promenade that heads north, skirting the rocks and sea below. But first you pass along the northern side of the harbour, at the far end of which is a concrete jetty that you can walk down to, and where a couple of fishing caiques were tied up. I took the photo below as we approached that jetty…

I’m sure you know that if you right click (on a laptop) or tap and hold (on a phone or tablet) on that photo, you can open it in a separate tab and then enlarge it. You see those steps at the far end of the jetty, well look closely and the heron that is seen flying away in the top photo is standing on the platform at the bottom of those steps, although I hadn’t seen it when I took this one. We reached the jetty and walked down on to it, and then this amazing thing happened. As we approached the far end of the jetty, the head of the heron came into view. As soon as we spotted it (at a distance of only ten feet or so), we stopped in our tracks, but from previous experience, we fully expected that it would hop-it pretty sharpish, as they generally don’t like to be in close proximity to humans, and understandably so. But this one stood its ground, and thus I was able to take the following gallery of shots. They’re all taken with my phone, but the results, if I say so myself, are spectacular…

Herons are huge, and if you’ve ever seen one at close quarters then you’ll know that their head can be a full four or five feet off the ground. I couldn’t believe that, since it showed by its head movements that it was aware of our presence, it still stayed put while I took those pictures. I was looking it in the eye by the time I took the last one. I knew that if I kept on coming then eventually it would decide to take flight, so, I slowly stepped forward, inches at a time, until it opened its wings and flew off, along the surface of the water, as is evident from that top photo on this post.

I was waiting for it to take off, in the hope that I’d catch a shot as it spread its wings and flew. I had no idea what I’d get, but as soon as it did that I clicked another shot. This was what I got…

I don’t think I’ve ever taken a shot as good as that in my life, and it was all over in a millisecond and I was shooting blind. I reckon that photo could win prizes, and I take no credit for having been an ace photographer, because it was pure pot-luck, but it paid off. I so hope you get as much pleasure from those photos as I do, and they almost bring tears to my eyes, because if ever there was evidence of the beauty of creation, then that was it. Anyway, off we went, brimming with excitement over that close encounter with the heron, and took the rest of these shots, before we headed back to the car and home for lunch…

I wish you peace, health and happiness. Above all, treasure what you have, because in spite of all the economic woes and the increasing cost of energy, possibly meaning you have to cut some corners with what you can afford to buy at the moment, still three quarters of the world’s population is hugely worse off than we are and live on the equivalent of a couple of Dollars a week. One final thought for this one too: The old adage that the best things in life are free is true, you know. We were out of the house for around three hours yesterday, and, apart from a few Euros worth of fuel we used in the car, we only spent the grand sum of €6.

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