Wild Things

The Wild Things

 

“We are all hunting for rational reasons for believing in the absurd.”

                                                                        Lawrence Durrell, Justine

 

In speaking of the wild creatures of Messinia, here in the southwestern Peloponnese, one would be remiss not to include among the feral beasts the relatively tamed human inhabitants—who are wild in the most attractive and endearing way. Our local friends are full of life, laughter, generosity, and a veritable catalog of tall tales, gossip, and rumor. And it is generally accompanied by vibrant gesticulation.

Beyond the people that populate this corner of Greece, however, they are two special four-footed animals, the jackal (τζακάλι) and the wild boar (αγριογούρουνο). The former were once abundant throughout the Balkans (along with wolves and bear, which still do exist in Macedonia), but now they are a protected species. By all accounts, they are resurgent. Not unlike the coyotes that populate the Maine woods, jackals are apparently fierce but elusive creatures known to prey on sheep and goats. They are not unfamiliar to the farmers and pastoralists of remote sections of the southern Peloponnese. Their howl is more akin to a human scream, an unnerving vocalization that Jonathan has definitely heard late at night during the past week.

More damaging and abundant are the wild boar, which can grow to more than 400 pounds and are a species hunted for their meat, or eradicated by farmers who contend with the damage they bring to the fields, orchards, and vineyards. A British friend, who lives in Mistraki, a traditional stone-house village 10 kilometers from the coast, struck one with his car while returning one night from taverna in Finikounda. By all accounts, the boar won and the car lost in this particular meeting.

 

Hot, hotter, and hottest

According to Jonathan’s friend Niko, the three warmest places in all of Europe are Finikounda (in whose general area he now calls “home”), Sparta/Githeion, and Crete. Even now, in mid-September, daytime temperatures soar into the 90s (Fahrenheit, of course), while at night the thermometer has not yet fallen much below 75. Last night we sat out by the water’s edge until 2 a.m., wearing shorts, flip-flops, and tee shirts, buffeted by a warm breeze blowing from North Africa.

On this note, in the morning Dimitri invited Jonathan to join him on a tour of the fire zone (now extinguished, or so it seemed) but Jonathan demurred as he was working on the house before the sun became too hot and retreat to the sand dunes was the only sensible course. Dimitri promised that we would set off on this sojourn sometime in the next few days. At 6 p.m., Jonathan and his Loutsa neighbor Paul emerged from their houses at the sound of the fire planes, which passed low overhead in tandem. Had the fire rekindled, or were they off to another conflagration? Neither of us was sure.

Jonathan’s “work” consisted of cleaning up the broken roof tiles and making a pathway to the front door; and then using some discarded materials to build a bench on the east side of the house.

Today marks his last week in Messinia, and there is a lot to accomplish beyond working on the house. Contending with the Greek bureaucracy (the tax office in Kalamata, the land registry office in Koroni) are necessary but hardly welcomed diversions. Also there are a handful of invitations, for meals and drinks, with various friends, both resident foreigners and locals.

But tomorrow will be an important day in the saga of our little house. The carpenter will install the window frames and then double-glazed glass, and we will discuss construction of a sleeping loft (πατάρι) that will accommodate two beds and closets. We are trying to make best use of this little space.. Yioryio’s son, Taki, will take Jonathan to look at nearby house that runs entirely on solar power. Here in Greece, one’s property tax is assessed on the electric bill, every other month. No electricity, curiously, equals no property tax—or at least not until the state figures out how to tax those who are off the grid.

 

 

Jonathan will also discuss plantings with Yioryio, who is a master gardener. The plan is to plant drought-resistant ornamentals later this fall: lavender, cypress, and the like. In the winter, with sufficient space and an ideal climate, we will plant lemon and orange trees, grapes, palm, and, of course, olives—and there will still be a small plot for a vegetable garden.

 

A vision of the beach at high noon.