Of Nuns and Thieves

Dyan and Zoe’s visit was relatively short but packed with lots of activities and sojourns to nearby sites. Jonathan and Lucia had an opportunity to offer sister/cousin a small taste of rural southern Messinia—with a visit to the Old Calendarist nunnery in Koroni, the beach in Tsapi, the Neokastro in Pylos, and a night out at friends’ house in a small village away from the sea.

While the girls climbed the stairs to the old Venetian bastion in Koroni (in which the nunnery is safely located from pirates of old and the official church’s persecution of “heretics”), Jonathan managed to check another important item off his to-do list: obtaining the certified deed to the property. Now it seems even more real to him, a document dripping with stamps, signatures, and other signs of offialdom.

The nuns, as usual, were gracious hosts. As the four set off late—the sun’s strength by noon is truly inspiring —their swim at the isolated cove of Tapsi was a welcome opportunity.

There is thievery the world over and Greece is no exception. The oft-heard expression πεινανε οι ανθροποι (“the people are hungry”), born of the crisis that is in its sixth year, does little to justify a host of petty crime, a relatively new phenomenon in Greece, a country that once prided itslef (and may still be) as among the safest countries in Europe. Most Greeks blame Albanian gangs, or Bulgarian thieves, or clever gypsies—but the truth is likely more murky. Greeks steal too, of course, but the local people are by and large generous, kind, helpful, and full of so many positive life-sustaining qualities. Every culture has it’s bad apples and malcontents, however, so the theory of “the Other” is taken with a grain of salt.

Jonathan and Lucia parked their car at Mavrovouni, the big beach in Finikounda, out in the open and at the water’s edge, within view. After an hour’s swim they returned to the car to see that it had been entered forceably from the driver’s door (the key hole had been forced with a knife). Lucia noticed right away that her brand new i-pod and her brother’s loaner camera, which were covered with clothes in the back seat, had been stolen. Even Jonathan’s shorts were missing, as were Lucia’s clothes.

The two have no small quantity of Cretan blood, Sphakioti blood no less, and a wave of vindictiveness and revenge coursed through them. Death by knifing and strangulation seem liked the sensible and honorable solution. Alas, such theft has become more frequent in recent years and the Greek police are ill-prepared (some say utterly unwilling) to stem the tide of petty criminality.

Nevertheless, Jonathan and Lucia presented themselves at the Pylos police station, where a very nice officer prepared a report, asking numerous relevant questions in Greek, such as: what is your mother’s first name? What is your religious affiliation? The two travelers are utterly confident that such vital, crucial, and pertinent information will result in the speedy apprehension of these thieves. Or maybe not. They shall see.

The police garrison notwihstanding, father and daughter have hatched a bold plan to catch the thieves (any thieves!), while remaing safe and whole. It takes a village to catch a thief—and with a growing shared concern for such incidents, something good may come of it. If nothing else a hard lesson was learned: travel light, and travel cheap. Because  yiayia’s (grandmonther’s) admonition, <<οποιος φυλαει τα ρουχα, εχει τα μισα>>—which means “he who watches over his/her clothes, ends up with half of them--rings true. They have half their clothes! (Who needs clothes anyway, especially on the beach.) Somewhere in this or another nearby village, a young man is wearing girl’s undergarments, and it is a photograph worth capturing for this  blog. Please keep checking in!

On a happier note, the stone wall that was commissioned on Monday was completed earlier today. It is truly a work of art and helps define the property, as does the planting of citrus trees and ornamentals. The blank slate of the property is filling slowly and methodically. With another month of hard work, their little spitaki in Greece will be a welcoming retreat for friends and family--and a place to ponder on those cold and snowy Maine nights.

Jonathan spent the second half of the day on the beach and floating in the ocean, where the warming water is clear to depths of 40 feet. Tonight Greece plays Costa Rica in the final 16 of the World Cup Football Championship. The village will be noisy to say the least.

Stone work, family, and panagiria

Stone Work

What does a Greek homeowner do with 15 tons of rock? It is sufficient stone to build a small house. Since Jonathan’s family already has a small house, the answer is simple: build a stone wall. To that end, he met with Petros the Albanian master masonn several days ago and negotiated the construction of a 21-meter-long (70 centimeter high) stone wall, mortared and with a double face.

Petros and his Bulgarian mason’s tender began work just a few days earlier—chipping rocks, mixing mortar. They will have completed their task in just under a week’s time.

The master masons in southern Messinia build extraordinary house, archways, walls, and lesser effects, demonstrating a level of craft and skill that is as rare as it is beautiful. The economic crisis that plagues Greek, now in its sixth year, makes negotiation for such work a possibility. (Jonathan succeeded in knocking one hundred euros off the original estimate.) The cost is made less by the fact that an enormous pile of rocks, which would  have cost about 600 euros, is readily available.

Panagiri and Pruning

Father roused daughter early on Tuesday, at the urging of her village friends, so that she might attend that day’s panagiri or religious celebration (saint’s day) at a tiny ancient chapel located deep in the agricultural valley. The feast was for Αγιος Γιάννης Ριγανης (St. John Rigani, or St. John of the Oregano). At such events (because of the size of the chapel and also the building heat) the celebrants generally remain in the shaded outside courtyard while the priest performs the liturgy.

At 9 a.m. a pickup truck appears ceremoniously with a whole roasted pig on a wooden door in the bed—complete with head—which is promptly cleaved into pieces and devoured by the masses from sheets of wax paper. There is beer and wine and blessed bread, and what follows is the kind of fellowship that only a Greek village can express.

Every village in this region and throughout Greece has its respective panagiri and one can spend a season at such events (which are always free and open to all)

Earlier in the day, Yioryio loaned Jonathan his small chainsaw following a short lesson in how to prune a tree. The object in question was an ancient χαρούπη (carob) that marks one corner of the property and provides the potential more much sought shade. In an hour’s time, while the mason’s worked on the wall, Jonathan completed his task. Gradually the property takes shape.

Yesterday Jonathan and Yiota set off at dawn for the weekly tree and shrub market in Petalidi, just over the mountain. They arrived too early and continued on to modern Messene where the two filled his diminuitive Fiat Panda with the following: three organges (two Valencia and one Navarino), two lemons, one fig, a half dozen cypress, oregano, sage, and a large δαφνή (bay tree). In a few days these will be supplemented by pomengrantate, avocado, and some large table variety of olive. All of these will be planted after sunset tonight, the small trees supported by bamboo harvested from Yiota’s house.

Welcome to Our Village

Jonathan’s sister Dyan (Lucia’s nouna or godmother) arrived in Greece with her daughter Zoe a few days ago. The found their way to Finikounda and will visit for a few days before setting off for the northwestern Peloponnese with Lucia. Jonathan will have some “quiet time” before meeting the three on the island of Spetses, the home our Jonathan and Dyan’s beloved grandmother Evstathia.

In the meantime, they have been introduced to so many more villagers than whose names they can possibly remember, enjoyed some beach time, and nights out in the village—copious quantities of food, late nights, and daytime sojourns: to the towns of Koroni, Methoni, Pylos, and several of the nearby villages. The four capped their Koroni visit (where they toured the town’s medieval castle and the Old Calendar nunnery that lies within its walls) with a swim at the little settlement in nearby Tapsi—where there is little more than a beach and two tavernas.

While in Koroni, Jonathan obtained the certified copy of the deed to the family’s property—all of those Greek stamps, signatures, and officialdom are a welcome sight. He met Dyan and the girls at the nunnery located within the ruins of the Venetian castle. The nuns remembered Jonathan and Lucia from previous visits and demonstrated their usual hospitality, offering the visitors homemade loukumia and directions around the compound.

The four took the winding road down to the secluded cove called Tapsi, where everyone swam and enjoyed a lunch of chicken in lemon sauce, meat balls, salad, fasolakia (green beans in tomato sauce), and tzatzikia.

By 2 p.m it was too hot to even walk on the beach, no less lay there under the intense sun. The four retreated for siesta hour.

DYI in Greece

The days now meld one into another, the intense sun punctuated by the rising chorus of cicadas, the multitude of house and property tasks, new friendships and old reunions. Jonathan and Lucia are blessed to have this time together—father and daughter, λάδι και νερό (oil and water)—in a place of unsurpassed beauty and traditional Greek hospitality.

In the early morning, before the heat rises, the do-it-yourself tasks are ticked away: the burying of the water line, installation of shutter clasps, the hook-up of gas of their cooker, the seemingly endless of picking rocks from the κτήμα (property), and plantings: yesterday’s lavender and mint, tomorrow’s Valencia oranges, lemon, apricot, and fig trees, pomegranate, avocado, sage and a host of other aromatic ornamentals. In a few days, Jonathan will begin to paint the house with the help of his friend Paul, but not before he closes the end openings of the ceramic roof tiles, which have become home to a variety of sparrows, swallows, and swifts, whose constant stratching and peeking in the roof can be maddening.

A few hours on the beach is all that can be tolerated now—the heat builds to an excruciating extent by 1 p.m. or so, and retreat to the shade is the only sensible option. Jonathan’s birthday suit has sustained some slight damage, so caution is the word of the day.

Each night begins with a vow to return home from Finikounda early (by 2 a.m….or at least 3 a.m.), and each night said vow is broken. Life really begins at the village around midnight and the last of the cafeneions close their doors just before sunrise, not just for the adults but for children of all ages. For this schedule, an afternoon siesta has become a matter of self-preservation.

Yesterday morning, while Lucia slumbered and Jonathan worked on varnishing the window screen frames, a small puppy emerged from the adjacent olive grove—sheepishly approaching the house, it’s little tail wagging. Jonathan roused Lucia so that she might meet the visitor, and the two bonded instantly. They named her Ελευθερία (Elefteria= “freedom”), and “Lefty” is her nickname. As much as the two might like to bring this sweet creature back to Maine, alas she must find her own home or suffer the fate of so many strays in this country.

The night before the small travel guitar followed the two into the village. Lucia serenaded their friends at the cafeneion with a mournful love song—and then Jonathan played “Stormy Monday” while their friend Niko belted out the lyrics. It was great fun for everyone.

The neighbors in this mountain village, in the true spirit of Greek curiosity, have introduced themselves—bringing bunches of wild oregano, jars of olives, bottles of wine, soda bottles full of rich green olive oil, goat cheese, and plants for their tabula rosa property. Everyone is a farmer, even those with other jobs, and people take great pride in their olive orchards, vineyards, and gardens. The kindness, generosity, and welcoming nature of the village is always much in evidence…as are the many questions. What a Westerner might consider “nosy” is par for the course: what do you do, how much do you earn, when can you retire and live here? These are frequent questions.

In a few short days, the two will be joined by Jonathan’s sister Dyan (Lucia’s νουνά—nouna—or godmother) and niece Zoe. There is great anticipation and the joy of sharing this special place with family.

He Came in Through the Bathroom Window

Jonathan and Lucia (but—in truth—mostly Jonathan) have seen their fair share of work since arriving at the village four days earlier. Jonathan has worked shoulder to shoulder with his friends Paul and Denise, whose many talents have been revealed on a daily basis. Yesterday’s task was the paragon of “grunt” labor—gathering about 15 tons of rock unearthed by the backhoe operator, who spent several days clearing the property. The stones will be used to build a back wall on the property.

There are not too many countries where the heavy equipment operator arrives at 7 o’clock in the morning with a welcoming gift of olives and local wine. But this isn’t just any country, and this isn’t just any region of Greece. The hospitality that one experiences here in Messinia is baffling in both its sincerity and magnitude. It is only one of many reasons that this is such a special place.

The many small farms (mostly olive orchards and vineyards) that surround the property were once demarcated with prodigious stone walls that were eventually taken down so that modern machines could negotiate the landscape. Over time most of the stones ended up in the thousand-meter-square lot, hidden beneath a thick canopy of overgrowth.

Today the lot is tabula rosa—open, clear of debris, and ready for planting: olive trees, oranges, lemons, pomegranate, and a host of “dry garden” species (lavender, oleander, mint).

Father and daughter have still managed to find ample time on the big beach, just down the road from "their" own nearby village, which clings to a verdant mountainside facing southwest. The big beach is just beyond in the main village of Finikounda, where the night action exists.

He Came in Through the Bathroom Window

Two nights ago, after a day of working the lot, Jonathan and Lucia set off for the main village—before heading down the mountain, however, they discovered that they could not reopen the front door. The lock was jambed and every effort to spring the lock ended in failure.

The only option (a security oversight now remedied) was the bathroom window: just slightly larger than a mouse hole and fairly high up on the wall. Father stripped down to his scivvies and managed to contort his self through an impossibly small opening—to the amusement of his daughter. Harry Houdini may well have been impressed by this feat of contortion.

That evening Lucia produced song lyrics to memorialize the event, sung to the melody of the Beatles’ classic “Yesterday”—“Suddenly, our lock would not accept the key…there is a vacancy hanging over me….”

The Fake Snake

Jonathan is never quite far from the subject of snakes, of which there are several large varieties in southern Messinia, only one of which (the οχιά) is truly poisonous. The phobia remains nonetheless. As father and daughter sat on the veranda with their Greek friends, the conversation became quite animated. The subject is rendered even more practical by the anti-venom kit that was given to us a gift from their British friends.

As the Greek friends gathered themselves to leave, one of them gasped aloud, “an enormous snake by the car door!” Indeed a beastly green creature was coiled by the driver's door, as if guarding the vehicle from theft—an utterly biblical moment made even larger by father Yioryio’s response. He approaced the sname with his hatchet, poised to chop the creature in half.

Then he reached down with his ungloved hand and picked up the snake. He looked up at the now quite distant and utterly gathering of terrified souls, and quietly pronounced: “It’s plastic.”

An so the newcomers were the victims of a well-executed hoax that plumbed the depths of their most profound paranoia.

In addition to snakes, there a host of creepy crawly creatures—scorpions, ψαλίδες (a venomous forty-legged worm-like thing also called--appropriately-- a σαρανταποδουρασα.

Plantings

A dear friend and master gardener Yiota made a most special gift of two potted plants, soon to be planted in the barren lot: λεβάντα (lavender) and mint. Her father helped Jonathan plant a small olive tree later in the day. In the extreme heat of summer it will require deep watering, as will the other trees and shrubs that will be planted next week.

The prospect of a small farm on a half acre on a Greek hillside is more than a little intriguing to a Maine gardener and his daughter.

Spitaki sweet spitaki

Jonathan and Lucia stepped back into the increasingly rarified world of traditional Greece by driving north to the island of Evia—conveniently connected to the mainland by a bridge—referred to by one author as “an island apart.” It is a apt description: for it’s natural, pine-clad beauty, its distinct and ancient folkways, and for its very size. Evia is Greece’s third largest island but one that is rarely visited by Western tourists.

The two visited dear old friends in a settlement near the village of Limni, a place of great natural beauty, sited in a narrow valley that is tucked into a fold of verdant pine. An abundance of trees, which is unusual in modern Greece, provides a remarkable backdrop of forest astride the sea.

The few days there were spent walking, running, swimming, and being engaged in lively evening conversation, illuminated by the soft glow of kerosene lanterns.

Today father and daughter set off for their spitaki (little house) in the southern Peloponnese, a ride that took most of the day.

They arrived in southern Messenia and went straight away to the family’s little house in a village above Finikounda. Placing the house key into the key hole, turning it, and opening the door of a nearly finished, habitable house for the first time was a singular experience: the pleasure of smelling fresh paint, of casting an eye upward at the bright beams of the cathedral ceiling, of swinging open the heavy wooden shutters to let in the thyme-scented air—all of this was a exciting, invigorating, and a positive relief after so many months of living vicariously through photographs.

Jonathan and Lucia enjoyed a meal with kind and generous friends at their down near the sea. The hum of cicadas and breaking surf was at one point broken by the howl of wild jackals, the remnants of Europe’s only population of this endangered species. Reminiscent of Maine coyotes, these highly elusive creatures roam the mountains and valleys of southern Messinia, and they are rarely heard and almost never seen. For Jonathan, in particular, the cries of the wild jackals was the premier introduction to their new home.

Their first full day was spent working the small property that surrounds the house, gathering piles of rocks unearthed by the hired backhoe (JCB) that cleared the lot of overgrowth. A swim at the big beach was an ample reward for Jonathan’s labors.

The two joined some friends for drinks and a meal in Finikounda in the early evening. As they walked through the village they were approached by literally dozens of friends they have come to know over the past five years. It felt like every bit of homecoming that it was.

Wake Up, You're Back in Greece

Then and Now

Our blog "Temenos" has been roused from its slumber, reawakened after nine wintery months of silence. The occasion for this "unstifling" is an epic father-daughter trip to Hellas--a trip from the "then" to the "now," with a possible excursion to the "what if": forty-seven days of temenos.




And what is "temenos" beyond the name of our blog? Temenos is both a physical place--the "temple" or "shrine"--and also a kind of abstraction: not just a place of sanctuary, the sacred precinct of the ancient world, but a creative, emotional, and spiritual place that is somehow carved off, cut off, or made distinct from the rest of the physical world. For the authors of the blog temenos is the family itself--a place of refuge.








And so we seek to find our "temenos"--a place of refuge, solace, and reflection. Under the cobalt sky and amid the ancient olive groves that rub shoulders with the wine blue Aegean.