Here’s another post of images spanning our two decades of life here in Greece. The one above was taken on board the Triton, during one of my excursions while I was working as an escort on Rhodes from 2007/8 until 2018. This shot was taken in July 2016. There is another, much more modern vessel with the same name operating out of Mandraki Harbour, on which I also served now and then, but this one was a beautiful traditional caique, originally built to carry cargo, although people visiting Greece on their holidays would be forgiven for assuming that all vessels of this type were first built as fishing boats. Here’s another shot, showing her under way in all her glory…

A true highlight of our earlier visits to Crete was when our good friends Timotheo and Sylvia (originally from Rhodes, but now living in Crete) surprised us by taking us to see the amazing Palace of Knossos. We went in November, so the place was virtually deserted, whereas if you go during the tourist season, be prepared to be among the hordes…

While we were living on Southern Rhodes, we ran a small charity event for a couple of years aimed at raising money for the local doctor’s surgery in the village of Gennadi. It was a great experience and to receive the gratitude of Doctor Niko and his team at an unexpected re-opening ceremony attended by some local dignitaries was truly humbling. The cash we were able to raise gave the surgery the opportunity to purchase much needed medical supplies and even one special piece of machinery for carrying out specific examinations (can’t remember now what it was though!)…

Finally, we’ve been to Vai quite a few times now, as it’s in our ‘county’ of Lasithi here on Crete, but I still well remember our memorable first ever visit, which was once again during November, when the beach was clear of umbrellas and the only people around were locals…

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A good friend and fellow admin of mine on our Facebook reading Group ‘A Good Greek Read,’ Kathryn Gauci is also an accomplished author, whose books have never failed to delight and impress me. If you’ve never read any of her work, then best get started. She doesn’t always write about Greece, but when she does her passion for the country shines through every line. It may be good, if you’re not familiar with her work, to head over in the first instance to her website, which you can find by clicking HERE. Plus, I’d recommend starting your own Kathryn Gauci odyssey by reading the epic (and I use that word advisedly, because why it’s not already a major blockbuster movie is a mystery to me) ‘The Embroiderer.’

The main reason, however, for this post is twofold (OK, so maybe that should read, ‘the main reasons..?’); firstly she has a new book out, whose cover is shown at the top of this post. It’s called (as you’ll no doubt have keenly observed) An Aegean Odyssey, and it’s a must read, and I say that even though I’ve yet to read it myself. In my defence, I’m currently reading a book written by an old school friend of mine who lives in the USA, as I’d promised him that I would some time ago. But, as soon as I finish that one I’ll be starting on An Aegean Odyssey. As soon as I’ve read it I’ll be posting my review, both here and on its Amazon page, you can be sure of that. I always try to be objective, so my review will in no way be sycophantic, but I’d be very surprised if I weren’t blown away by this book, which I can’t wait to get stuck into. Anyway, watch this space.

Secondly, off the back of this new release by Kathryn, she graciously agreed to be interviewed about it, and I’m extremely proud to present that interview for you right here. So, let’s get started.

When you decided to become a writer, what made you return to Greece? What is your personal connection with the country?

I worked in Athens as a carpet designer from 1972-78 before moving to New Zealand, and finally Melbourne, Australia. Since then, I’ve been back several times. When I first worked in Athens, Greece was still under the military dictatorship and I witnessed it move from those dark days to democracy. It was a wonderful period of optimism. The carpet factory – Anatolia Carpets – was situated in Kalogreza/Nea Ionia, and I was also fortunate to work with the Asia Minor refugees who told me their family stories of life in Asia Minor and of The Great Catastrophe and the burning of Smyrna. I also learned about Greece in WWII too, as that period was still fresh in the minds of the Greek people. My apartment was in the suburb of Kypseli, where Lela Karagiannis lived. Lela was one of the most famous resistance leaders of WWII. There was also much evidence of the Civil War that took place after WWII, too. Many old walls were pot-marked with bullet holes. After the dictatorship fell, families of those who had been sent to Communist countries started to return. It was quite an emotional time. These were formative years for me and the Greek people welcomed me wholeheartedly. I can honestly say that those years helped shape my personality.

Did you know exactly what you were looking for when you returned to write the book?

No. All I knew was that I wanted to write and I wanted to find the old Greece that I’d experienced when I was there. Between the period when I left and when I returned to write, Greece, like everywhere, was changing, mainly through mass tourism and modernisation. Where we once used to bake our food at the bakery, people now had all the latest kitchen appliances. The suburbs that had once maintained a village atmosphere had moved on. The suburbs of Athens were also spreading out at an alarming rate, and places like leafy, aristocratic Kifissia were almost unrecognisable.   

Which were the key locations you focused on?

Along with a few main areas in Athens, I wanted to explore islands I hadn’t previously visited. After much deliberation, I decided on Chios, Lesvos, Rhodes, Karpathos, and Crete, as I felt they would offer a greater diversity for me.

Were you planning to highlight specific cultural aspects such as art, literature and Greek culture, or did you focus on a certain period such as Ancient Greece, Byzantium, Ottoman Greece, or modern Greece?

I was open to exploring everything. As I have an art and design background, I am naturally drawn to all periods in history. I think it was a case of whatever that island had to offer as they are all different. With Chios, I was certainly immersed in the struggles with the Ottomans during the Greek War of Independence. The events that took place at the Byzantine Monastery of Nea Moni were a strong draw card for me. Lesvos was a mixture of the classical period, particularly with the writers of the time, and also the wonderful Roman mosaics, and its links with the Ottoman world, both during and after the Greek War of Independence and Asia Minor Catastrophe. In Rhodes, one cannot escape the Knights of Saint John although at the time I wanted to explore the smaller villages. Karpathos is unique because that not only has a different history, but wonderful beaches. And then there is Crete. I left Crete until the end because I wanted to explore everything from its Minoan past, its relationship with the Ottoman Empire, and WWII. In all of these places, I drew upon literature to help evoke the past and the Hellenic personality. I would also like to add that I have a love of Greek folk art, particularly Greek shop signs which are quite unique and unfortunately a dying art. I looked for these everywhere on my travels and quite a few led to some amusing episodes.

Did you explore Greece’s influence on the wider world, intellectually and artistically?

Yes, particularly when it came to the writers and artists who had influenced Western thinking, such as Eugene Delacroix, Lord Byron, Henry Miller, and of course, the classical writers. I also drew upon travellers’ tales when passing through Greece while it was under the Ottoman Empire.

How much emphasis did you place on the daily life of Greek people, past and present?

This is an important part of the book. While still being able to get off the beaten track, I interacted with the Greek people themselves who shared thoughts of their life and traditions. Some of these characters ended up in my earlier historical fiction books set in Greece.

Greek cuisine is a constant feature in your book. What are the regional dishes that you remember the most?

This is such a difficult question that I added a chapter specifically on recipes, including some of my favourites, and some that are unique to a certain place. It is not just the food that is important, but the importance attached to it: a sense that every meal will be a banquet no matter how big or small. Good food is very important to Greeks and they are extremely proud of their family and regional heritage. They place a great emphasis on food served in the time-honoured tradition, a special occasion, or simply for a friend. Spoon sweets are a great example of this hospitality.

Music also plays an important role in this journey. Can you explain why?

Music evokes a mood: a time and place that is special and will live in our memory. On this journey, I wanted to include some old favorites and a few new ones. The songs of Marinella, Vicky Moscholiou, and Haris Alexiou always remind me of my days in the carpet studio; Rebetika and the songs of Asia Minor too. In Lesbos I played Leonard Cohen as his songs recalled my days on Hydra, particularly So Long, Marianne. Then there was Rod Stewart’s Maggie May that reminded me of our carefree hippie parties. In Crete I played Glen Miller hoping that at times, the resistance and those soldiers left behind in WWII would have occasionally heard his music on clandestine BBC radio programmes. Elsewhere, I played classical music, particularly in spectacular or emotional settings when I was alone, surrounded by history or spectacular landscapes. 

What can readers expect from your book?

I changed careers later in life. I loved my design years, but wanted a change and wasn’t afraid to take that leap of faith.  If anything, I would like readers to realise that anything is possible if you truly set your mind to it. It may seem daunting to go out alone and explore pastures new, but at the same time it is liberating. You never know where it will lead and that is the exciting part. Finally, I would like to add that much of the time, I found myself alone in isolated places: by a beach, at the top of a mountain, overlooking vast areas of olive groves, and that sense of being alone with nature was like a rebirth. As I say in my book – “Greece in all its glory will always be with us, everywhere and for everyone, and we can all have a ringside seat.” 

Amen to that, I say. Hope you found that enjoyable and enlightening. Here are a few photos from Kathryns’s own archive to inspire you…

I particularly like that taverna sign, which translates as ‘Forty Eggs.’ There’s got to be quite a story behind that one! So, I do hope you’ll give Kathryn’s new memoir a try, and if you haven’t read any other books by her, I can only say that you’re missing out big time. On her website you can explore all of her works here.

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Click HERE to go to my Amazon Author Page, where you can browse and purchase all of my seventeen written works.

Well, my sister’s visit is drawing to a close, but I didn’t want her to go home without first seeing the beautiful job that had been done to renovate the fortress overlooking the harbour, so last Friday morning we eventually got there and took a few photos to prove it. It truly amazes me that the admission is still free. I can’t imagine such an historical monument in the UK being open to the public without there being an entrance fee and, to be honest, as long as it’s not extortionate, it makes a bit of sense. If they were to ask a mere one or two Euros I think that most people would be happy to fork out, if we want such structures to be preserved for posterity that is.

Here’s a potted history of the Fortress…

The harbour fortress at Ierapetra is called Kales/Fort Kalés. This modestly sized rectangular fortress sits on the harbour entrance and is the best-preserved fortification in an urban centre on Crete’s southern coast. Its construction dates to the Venetian period (broadly 13th–15th centuries) and was built to protect the port and town. Traditional Venetian fort-building shaped its rectangular layout. The fort suffered serious damage during the 1508 earthquake and also from Ottoman raids, and was altered during the Ottoman period (1645–1898) when repairs and modifications changed parts of its exterior and interior fabric. Its purpose was defensive control of the entrance to the harbour (preventing enemy ships from invading and protecting local trade) and nowadays, because it survives near the town centre, it’s a local historic monument illustrating Venetian/Ottoman military presence in eastern Crete. Today the fortress is an archaeological site that’s viewed as an important part of the town’s cultural heritage. Here are a few more of the photos we took last Friday. The place is very photogenic, I must say…

Anyway, I called this post ‘a quick swish a day keeps the scale away’ because I have a tip for anyone who’s resident in Greece and is fed up with how quickly their chrome bathroom fittings lose their lustre due to the build-up of limescale owing to the hardness of the water. Now, before I share this little piece of wisdom, apologies to anyone who already knows this OK? But we lived on Rhodes for a few years before we learned it from some fellow Brits who’d lived there a little longer than we had. Using strong chemical cleaners to restore the shine to your bathroom taps may be the easy option, but believe me it’s tragic for the environment, as it all goes down the plug-hole and eventually, one way or another, either ends up coming out of someone else’s tap, or in the sea, where there is already enough environmental damage done by us stupid humans to fill an encyclopaedia with depressing evidence. Yvonne and I are proud of the fact that the only cleaners we use in our bathroom are citric acid crystals, lemon juice or white vinegar.

But that wasn’t the case a few years ago when, owing to complete desperation, we resorted to buying that awful Cillit Bang stuff or something very similar, in order to get the limescale off our bathroom and kitchen chrome. One day we were discussing this with some neighbours on Rhodes when I asked to use their bathroom. I was amazed at how shiny their taps were, in view of the fact that their house was a couple of years older than ours. So I asked them how they managed to keep them so clean and shiny. You know what their answer was? And I still kick myself that it’s really so simple (but then, everything always is when you already know the answer), “Every time we use the lavatory, or the shower, or the sink, we simply wipe the fittings over with a dry towel before leaving the room. The limescale builds up when the water droplets that you leave all over the surface of the chrome evaporate in the heat, leaving the salts behind to make the surface become dull. Wipe the surface immediately and the problem disappears, et voila.”

I know, I know, some of you out there in internet land will be tut, tutting about how stupid we’d been. Yet equally, I bet there will be some out there who’ll be saying, “Well blow me down with a wet fart, but I didn’t know that!”

Above: No chemicals, no expense either, just a swish with a towel and, hey presto, no limescale.

No, it’s OK, no need to thank me. Here are some more photos, some of which are old, and some brand, spanking new:

Above: taken from the mountain road from Kritsa over to Prina, passing through the village of Kroustas along the way.

Above gallery: A few photos taken in Kritsa village, which is maybe a little too touristy for my liking, but is nevertheless worth a visit for all that, as it is a beautiful village. In fact this is a good time of the year to go, because it’s far less crowded than it would be during July and August. Just in case there is anyone out there looking at that photo of the statue of the young village girl and wondering who she is, she’s Kristotopoula, which is actually her nickname. If you want to know more about her, then the book Kritsotopoula: Girl Of Kritsa is a must. Written as a novel, but telling the true story of that brave young girl, it’s a great and also instructive Greek read.

Above: Couldn’t resist chucking this one in again. It was taken many years back at our home on Rhodes. A tiny Sardinian Warbler flew into the glass of our French windows and stunned itself. He’s a male, as they’re the ones with the black heads. Females have brown heads and slightly duller plumage. We picked him up senseless from the path, smoothed his little head and body until he recovered his senses, then watched as he began to realise where he was sitting, whereupon he soon took off, none the worse for his ordeal.

Above: A few more from around the village and town. The harbour and concert ones were taken early evening, which is why they’re not so ‘brilliant’ colour-wise.

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Click HERE to go to my Amazon Author Page, where you can browse and purchase all of my seventeen written works.

I know, I try to be too clever for my own good sometimes. I called this post ‘Not the Dave Clark Five’ because it’s full of bits and pieces. Only those of my age group (I believe we’re supposed to be called ‘boomers’ these days. It’s so hard to keep up) will stand any chance of understanding that. I’ll leave it with you. There’s always ChatGPT after all.

My dear sister’s over from the UK at the moment, and it’s her first major excursion since losing her hubby, so she’s trying to get some serious quiet reflection time as well as de-stressing to the extent possible. On Sunday evening we went down to the sea front for a delicious meal at L’Angolo. Can’t be bad can it? I mean we ordered two ‘small’ vegetarian pizzas (evidently a new usage of the word ‘small’ that I wasn’t previously aware of, since they’re still quite big as it happens), one of their legendary lettuce salads (which consists of both red and green shredded lettuce, spring onion, as well as flaked Graviera, croutons and a dressing of balsamic sauce. In fact it could easily be a meal itself for one, possibly two) and a bottle of Malamatina Retsina and a large bottle of water and the bill for three of us was around €25. A result in anyone’s book, I’d say.

What we hadn’t realised until it began happening, was that it was not only a full moon that evening, but a lunar eclipse too. What a spectacle it was. In case your grandmother isn’t sure how to go about sucking eggs, a lunar eclipse is when the earth passes between the sun and the moon, and thus the shadow of our planet passes in front of the moon, obscuring it from sight for a while. I thought that it might last a few minutes, but it actually took what seemed like hours. In fact, the first slither of the earth’s shadow began to encroach upon the moon’s disc at around 7.20pm, and the whole moon wasn’t visible again until about 10.00pm. In fact the moon was totally in darkness for what seemed like an age. I presume it’s something to do with the fact that the earth’s a lot bigger than the moon, because when we have a solar eclipse (that’s when the moon gets between the sun and the earth, of course, the mischievous little devil) it usually only lasts a few minutes.

Anyway, the fact was that it made for an amazing evening, during which we could witness the whole spectacle as we stuffed our faces at our spot near the water’s edge, magic. I hear that large parts of the UK were unable to see it owing to cloud cover, sorry about that peeps. We only had mobile phones with which to photograph it, and they have the tendency to adjust the light levels so that what you see in the photo isn’t actually what you witness as you snap it, but nevertheless here are the snaps we took, and the one at the top of this post was one of the batch too (although taken as we strolled the waterfront before sitting at the restaurant)…

I know it can be annoying when people show you their family snaps, but here’s one anyway of the three of us at our table at the L’Angolo…

Jane, my sister that is, wanted a stroll around the village, so we took one yesterday evening at around 6.00pm. It’s a good time to go, since any earlier and it’s simply too flippin’ hot, especially as from our house, to start the circuit we have to walk up a steep lane for around 50 metres or more. That section of the walk is seriously cardiovascular, believe me. Add to that temperatures in the lower thirties and the possibility of the sun being on your back for part of the time, and you have the premise for the song ‘Mad dogs and Englishmen…’ (you finish it).

So, we set out at around six to circumnavigate the village, during which we also took a detour into the heart of it too, because I wanted Jane to see the remains of the old flour mill that still sit silently testifying to a bygone age when the villagers were self sufficient in bread and olive oil. It’s amazing to think that we’re still self-sufficient today when it comes to water, since ours (as I’m sure I’ve banged on about before) comes from a freshwater spring way up near the crag that sits above the village, protecting much of it from the north winds during the winter months.

When we reached the furthest extremity of the village, where the road goes around another crag, creating a blind bend on the way up to Meseleri, a small white car came around the bend, and slowed to a stop beside us, passenger window going down all the time. It was Angla’i’a, former village mayor and still – in our eyes – the village ‘mama.’ I introduced her to Jane, at which she leaned across from her driving seat and warmly shook my sister’s hand, and welcomed her to the village. Jane didn’t understand a word of what she said, of course, but then, she didn’t need to, she understood from the way it was said exactly what Angla’i’a meant, I’m sure.

We walked back toward home following the main road through the village, passing the kafeneio and then the raised section where Manoli’s house is, then a little later on Angla’i’a and Georgo’s. Manolis was sitting on his beaten up old chair right outside his house, his walking frame almost touching his left shoulder. We took a detour to go over and talk to him, since Yvonne and I hadn’t seen him for several weeks. I’d explained to Jane about his mischievous ‘eye’ and told her about the time when the mobile breast-screening unit had set up camp in the village hall, and Manolis had offered to help out and was quite disappointed when the staff told him that his assistance wouldn’t be necessary. I shook his hand and he extended it too to my sister.

‘I’ve told Jane that you’re a nonegarian, Manoli, but how old are you now? I can’t remember exactly.”

“Ninety three,” he replied with a degree of pride, and rightly so.

“And how’s your health holding out?”

“Eh! six herniated discs, my legs are liable to give way now and then, I can’t see so well, but hey! I’m OK. I can still get over to the kafeneio, so what do I have to complain about?” He replied. I decided not to mention his teeth, which were few and far between and bore evidence of the fact that ne never darkened the door of a dentist, especially to get them whitened, as seems to be the big fad these days. “And I always have my newest best friend to keep me company,” he continued. Seeing my expression, giving away the fact that I didn’t know what or who he was referring to, he simply tapped the walking frame, that familiar little twinkle in his eye again. “Never more than half a metre away these days!” he said, and chuckled.

Just before striking up the steep hill to our house from the road, I took Jane down the single-track lane to the village church and graveyard. On our way down and back up, we had to pass Angla’i’a’s hubby Georgo’s allotment. Sure enough, as we came back up to the road, right opposite their house, as it happens, there they both were, Georgos busy tending to the irrigation system in his olive grove. He too is the wrong side of ninety, but he still gets over the road every day to tend to his chickens, his vegetables and his olive trees. More power to him.

“So, when’s it going to rain then?” I asked Angla’i’a.

Throwing her head back, she replied with a very Greek “Ach!” which, in English, meant “Only the gods know that one!” I remarked on how this time of the day the temperature is just perfect for a stroll, since it was hovering around the 22-25 mark. “Ach,” came the reply again, but this time meaning something completely different, “Krio’no!” She replied, which means, “I’m cold.” And to emphasis the fact, she rubbed each upper arm with the opposite hand.

A few more recent photos for you…

In that first gallery, does anyone know what butterfly that is sitting in one of our plant pots? I’m inclined to think it may be a Wood Nymph, but there are so many different types that I’m really not sure. And in that second batch, see the little green cricket/grasshopper, does anyone know if they’re a danger to our foliage? The hibiscus in which it’s sitting doesn’t seem to have been eaten, so I was loathe to disturb or do any harm to the little chap. He is rather handsome, I thought. The bench under the tree shot was taken at the village of Kalamafka, and the beach shots at Gra Ligia, where the beach is so gloriously under-crowded. I’d so rather be in Torremolinos …not.

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Click HERE to go to my Amazon Author Page, where you can browse and purchase all of my seventeen written works.

The above shot is of the main beach at Lindos, Rhodes during the winter of 2017-18, when there’s not an umbrella or sunbed to be seen. When you see it looking like this, you truly appreciate how beautiful that beach is. It’s a shame how different it looks during the tourist season really. This whole thing about getting the balance right between tourism and over-tourism is such a hot potato these days. I’ve talked about this before, but although getting older’s not a lot of fun, I’m so glad that we were able to experience Greece during the golden era from the 1970’s through 90’s, when most people still stayed in village rooms, or pensions, and if there were any hotels, they were of a modest size and family-run. That was when if you came to Greece for a summer holiday, you knew you were in Greece and could hardly fail to interact with local people, and thus to experience their hospitality and open heartedness.

The photo below is from the early 1990’s, taken on Symi. We’d spent a couple of weeks staying in an old village house at the back of the town, and one evening we’d heard the sound of a local shindig as we walked back to our room, and made a slight detour to a nearby schoolyard. There, in full swing, was a local celebration going on. Our landlady, the owner of our accommodation, was seated at one of the tables with her friends, family and neighbours, and there wasn’t a foreign tourist to be seen. Of course, we hadn’t been seated for long (whilst also being plied with free wine and food by some of the locals), when Yvonne was up and away. She’s always been the same ever since we first met, the sound of laika music never fails to get her feet twitching. I could probably write a book simply about all the times when she’s got up and danced in tiny tavernas, sometimes saying that she was never going home, but was going to get a job dancing for the taverna owners and bringing the clientele in. She’d have been a success at it, trust me.

Actually (never miss an opportunity for a plug, that’s me), in the Ramblings from Rhodes books there are several tales of Yvonne’s dancing escapades, at least one of which, up a mountain on Samos some years ago, went a long way towards cementing better relations between Greece and Turkiye! [Yes, folks, that’s how we’re supposed to spell it now]

Here’s a gallery of more photos from Naxos and Patmos [and yes, I do mean Patmos, not Paros in this instance]…

I still have half a dozen or so CDs with photos backed up on them to sift through, so don’t think you’ve escaped my nostalgia trip just yet.

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Click HERE to go to my Amazon Author Page, where you can browse and purchase all of my seventeen written works.