13–14 March
Friday & Saturday

Friday the thirteenth in the southern Peloponnese. We made an arrangement early in the day to take Evyenia to the pediatrician in Pylos, who has late afternoon hours for walk-ins. For more than a week our youngest child has coughed incessantly and there has been no improvement. Even the mention of seeing a doctor brings on a predictable hysteria—crying and moaning denial. “I’m not sick!” she pleaded, followed by spasms of coughing. We’ve heard that many of the local children have the same cough, a result of the high humidity and the persistently cool, damp weather.

Jonathan inquired with several of our new friends in the village if anyone was heading to Pylos. For days Dimitri told us that he didn’t like the sound of Evyenia’s cough, and he jumped at the opportunity to help us. “I will pick up your daughter and wife at 5:30.”

Earlier in the day we met a British couple, Gordon and Wendy, who manage one of the camp grounds. We had heard that they rented bicycles during the high season (six weeks in July and August). They dropped off two mountain bikes, adjusted for Lucia and Manny, at noontime. In the evening we set off on our first bike-run (Baba runs, kids bike), deep into the valley at sunset, while Ann and Nia were in Pylos.

Ann and Nia returned with an armful of medication—several inhalers and some drops. And Nia had her best night of sleep in a week…and so did the rest of us.

A glimmer of hope on the visa front

When he calls he neither identifies himself nor states the reason for his call. This has happened three times now. But Jonathan now recognized his gruff voice and halting manner. “Kerie Yianni? What’s the number for the lady in Boston?” He knew the answer to his question, but was testing us.

It was Yiorgio, the captain from the Pylos police department. In just twenty-four hours he has gone from being highly suspicious and dismissive to being helpful and concerned—an extraordinary transformation for a man who blew smoke in our face and hissed just days before. We’re still not clear if he called the Boston consulate or vice versa. But the short of it is, he told Jonathan to call the contact person in Boston immediately.

Calling her from the local phone booth, Jonathan found Keria Meropi to be gracious and reassuring. “I don’t want you to be nervous. We will figure something out for you. Give me a little time. Are you sure that you now have your father’s birth certificate?” The mention of the birth certificate leads us to believe that she will usher us through the citizenship process, rather than a simple visa extension.

We exchanged email addresses and cell numbers. She asked Jonathan to call as soon as we receive the copy of his father’s birth certificate. “Or I will call you toward the end of next week.”

Now we see a glimmer of hope amid the bureaucratic tangle.

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Saturday

A glorious clear blue morning, our only complaint being the stiff ocean breeze. It was the perfect opportunity to share the “castaway beach” with Ann and the girls.

The five of us hiked out of town, walked for a short stretch on the main road toward Koroni, past fields of wildflowers, and then picked up the trail back toward the coast.

We played for several hours on the beach before hiking up to the vigli (watch tower). Among other “activities,” Manny constructed a clever prison for his sisters, using the abundance of bamboo.

The view from the heights are stupendous—looking west toward Finikounda and to the headlands near Methoni. The video (below) gives a sense of the panorama.

We all set off for our hike in the early morning, returning to Finikounda by 2 o’clock for a simple lunch on the waterfront—fried kalamari with potatoes, marouli salada (lettuce salad), rice with cabbage, fresh bread, and a carafe of the local elixir, which cemented an afternoon nap.

After a much-appreciated siesta, we ended the day (Jonathan, Manny, and Lucia) with a sunset bike ride through the valley.