Ta Ambelia
Our little house in Akritohori, Messinia, is located in a section of the village called Τα Αμπέλια (Ta Ambelia), literally “the vineyards.” In an earlier time, the entire area was one enormous vineyard. Although this particular corner of Akritohori remains dense with grapes, in more recent years—owning to drier summers—it has been taken over by olive groves and almond trees, which require less irrigation, and by scrub brush, as absentee landowners have fled to better fields—in England, Germany, and France. Still, just beyond our front door are many stremata (one stremma=1/4 acre) of grapes, most of which are now ready for harvesting.
Yesterday we turned an important corner in our restoration
project—we have water, including a flushing toilet (how sweet the sound!), a
sink, and a working shower. (Who, pray tell, would post a picture of a bathroom!) The little house is now a paragon of
civilization…less the windows, which will be installed by Dimitri on Monday.
The kitchen sink will wait until other priorities are met: the sofa (plastering, of the exterior
walls), verandas, and the wooden sleeping/storage loft. Jonathan aspires to
sleep a night or two in the house next week. Although, the truth be told, the
present accommodations, within earshot of the surf, are extraordinarily
generous—an ancient stone house with a commanding view of the sea.
Like many of the villages in southern Messinia, ours has an alternative name, the Ottoman Turkish name: Grizes. Last night my friend Niko introduced me to my first villager, Ilias, a fellow “Griziotis.”
The Albanian mason (o
Alvanos) will come tomorrow morning to build a concrete and stone walkway
to cover the plumbing on the south side of the house. Eventually this will be
expanded to include a veranda on the south and west sides—perfect for summer
camping when our friends come to visit. The ξυλουργός (ksilouryios),
carpenter, will install our windows on Monday, and the iron grates will follow.
With a borrowed mattress and an oil lantern, the house will become a home in a few days.
Last night Jonathan contended with a lizard in the house.
After 45 minutes of fruitless pursuit, Jonathan decided on a course of
cohabitation with this curious green creature. He dreamed that the swift lizard
was sleeping on his pillow last night, and woke up early with an all-over creepy feeling of a "presence."
Earlier in the evening, while walking through the village of
Finikounda, his toe met up with an uneven paving stone. The result, a bloody
mess, is likely a broken pinky toe. It was a singular opportunity to apply all
of those bad Greek words in public. Thankfully, the other nine toes remain in
an excellent state of repair. A hobble to the beach, a swim in the salt water,
and all was cured.
Our lovely British neighbors generously offered their
wireless code, and now your hapless correspondent can communicate with this family, back
in the States, from the comfort of his αυλή (garden-porch).
Jonathan was treated to an excellent lunch with his friends
Dimitri and Yioryia and their visiting family. Tonight the five of us will head to
Pylos—ancient Pylos of Homeric glory—for a music concert by a troupe from
Kerkyra (Corfu), which will be held in the town square.
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Very much like home, in the Doweast village of Pembroke,
Maine, Jonathan finds himself occasionally
situated between warring parties. But taking the high-road approach of his dearly departed Spetsioti great-aunt, Eleftheria, he prefers to “love everyone and hate no one” and avoids conflict by remaining neutral at all costs, despite all name-shouting. Better a peace-maker than a side-taker!
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