A Last Gasp

Until Next Year

Parting is such sweet sorrow--and yet our lives on both sides of the ocean are blessed with special friends and places.

A few last gasps...

Black and tan

Just add a fork

Home away from home

View toward Schiza

View toward Finikounda 

The road home to Maine...via Pylos

All smiles--until next year

The roads not taken

Back in the hood--at Rosie's Hot Dog Stand, Eastport, Maine

Dissent is Patriotic

The Golden Rule of Living & Traveling Overseas

There is--or once was--a kind of golden rule for Americans while living or traveling overseas: never disrespect your country or its leaders in public--even those you might have opposed back home.

Following President Donald J.Trump's fine example last week--in which he did precisely this in Hamburg, Germany, at the G20 meeting--I have been given license to throw in my two cents.

Lest we forget: The Pilgrims were undocumented.

The Swampmaster-in-Chief Strikes Again

It is utterly surreal to be in a beautiful Mediterranean country--in fact, the very land where "democracy" was coined as a phrase and as an enduring concept, a place where in a general sense tolerance reigns supreme--and listen to a buffoon of epic proportions pontificate about "American values." Trump's diatribes were an utterly shameful display of what has been described as American "exceptionalism." The only thing exceptional about Donald J. Trump is his irrelevance.

The swampmaster-in-chief and his merciless band of hypocrites (aka, the Republican party) are subverting the national interest with a reckless velocity. It is a shameful display of self-serving.

We know from the US Election Commission that 47 percent of Americans "elected" the current U.S. president, who in short order has perverted the very notion of democracy, incited violence, and upended electoral fairness in a way that makes Richard Nixon look like an Amish Boy Scout; Dick Cheney and Bill Clinton look like combat war heroes; and George W. Bush appear to be an intellectual giant and foreign policy genius by comparison.

There are many places to begin, but let's choose health care. Among other travesties, the Republican non-plan at destroying health care eviscerates pre-natal care for women. Of course, men can't have babies, so why should they pay for women's health? And let's face it, the Republican Party is composed of  old, white, rich men.

Health care, in the Republican view, is someone else's problem. Their plan is a catastrophe for America--and that's not just my opinion but the assertion of every major health policy research group with any credibility, including the American Medical Association, the spectrum of insurance companies, and the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office. Only the likes of pathetic Breitbart News, the Koch Brothers, and the jihadist Republican "leadership" (in quotes, please) would beg to differ.

The Republican leadership is morally shocking and a devastating blight on America. The Republican Party, once called the "party of Lincoln," has devolved into a jihadi terrorist fringe element now supported by just 32 percent of the electorate. A funding machine for the extremely wealthy, the corporate elite, and the privileged few--the Republican party is an unbridled obscenity by any measure.

One would be hard-pressed to find a bigger assemblage of political carpetbaggers than the current Republican leadership--Senator Mitch McConnell, Representative Paul Ryan, and their audacious phalanx of single-minded minions that is subverting American democracy for nothing more than narrow self-interest.

And so, the extremists that run the Republican party, the Taliban for the very rich, have totally surrendered the party of Lincoln to an irrational and volatile man who only 12 months ago they uniformly labeled "unfit for office."

Schinochala and Voidokoilia

Schinochala (Σχινόχαλα) and Voidokoilia (Βοιδοκοιλια)

All smiles in front of our spitaki

Holding up the house--a lovely present-day caryatid

The clock is winding down for our time in Messenia, and although it takes a mighty effort and strong motivation to make any distant excursions in this heat (high 90s), we took a special trip on Wednesday.

Driving past Pylos, we took the turn toward Gialova, which is the home one of Greece’s newest and most luxurious resorts—Costa Navarino. With its thirty-six-hole golf course on the dunes and a luxury hotel (reported to offer a suite that costs over 20,000 euros per night), this place draws the likes of the British royals and princes from Kazhakstan, the soccer great Beckham, Angelina Jolie, and others. The resort was clearly not our destination, but one of Messenia’s iconic waterfalls was--the El Dorado of our morning adventure.

We lost our way several times, and finally with the help of an olive farmer, out pruning his trees, we found our way to an unmarked path. We left the buggy under the partial shade of an olive grove and headed off on an unlikely track that descended from the extreme heat of late morning to a much cooler Hobbit forest of nut trees, vines, and the sound of moving water.

Here are a few photos of Schinochala.

Next we set off to Voidokoilia, the emblematic saltwater cove just beyond the Gialova lagoon--the largest freshwater lagoon in the world and home to a bird sanctuary famous for its springtime migration of pelicans and storks from North Africa.

The big beach at Voidokoilia

Glossa, an adjact clothes-optional beach--for the so-inclined

The so-inclined, PG-13 version

Entrance to Voidokoilia--famous from Homer's description

The ancient citadel and the cave where Nestor hid his cows from wrathful Apollo

Sea maidens near the Mycenaean tholos tomb

High above the large cove is the ancient castle of Pylos and the Cave of Nestor, said to have been the place where the Mycenean King Nestor (c. 1600 bce) was said to have hidden his flock of cows, which were threatened with extinction by a wrathful Apollo at the start of the Trojan War. Remember children: always slaughter an ox for the gods before any major undertaking.

In the evening, following the essential siesta—our Mediterranean yoga—we drove to the mountain village of Chrysokelaria for a meal of fresh lamb chops—or were they goat chops? All we know is that there were over twenty-five chops on the platter, and it took the three of us two hours (and several carafes of wine) to finish.

Ice cream at midnight, bed by 1:30 a.m. Another relatively early night.

Videos of the Flamenco performance (with world-class guitarist, vocalist, and dancer) in the town of Koroni. And a video of the waterfalls at Schinochala.

Get in the Habit

Proud Evzones

Procession of icon through the village

On Saturday the village was awash with visitors, mostly Greeks but also many foreigners, who descended to watch the procession of the church’s famous icon through the narrow village streets for its feast day. The assemblage included: dozens of priests, monks, bishops (including the archbishop to the prefecture), the army special forces (toting M-16s), the navy, local police, the Pylos marching band, girl and boy scouts, and the Finikounda dance troupe, festooned in traditional clothing. And everyone in the village following behind. Most listened to the services from the megaphones that are attached to the belltower—while the pious and the clergy sweated it out inside the church itself.

The procession circled the village, led by the marching band, the archbishop, and the navy guard which carried the icon. Many homes and merchants had lit candles on their doorstops, or smoking incense trays. The gypsies were encamped in the school playground, selling a wide variety of bric-a-brac; several whole roast pigs appeared on wooden slabs, chopped into meal portions and wrapped into heavy waxed paper. The wine flowed (starting at 10 a.m.) and the atmosphere was friendly and boisterous.

The Dance Festival

An ability to perform the traditional dances of the Peloponnese is a point of pride in the village. Real men (and boys, girls, women) dance, while the others sit on the sidelines wondering where they went wrong in school.

At 9 p.m., in the village amphitheater that overlooks the fishing harbor, the dances begin. Overly amplified music provides the rhythmic foundation, while different troupes demonstrate the dances from the various regions of Greece, not just the Peloponnese: Crete, Epirus, Thrace, the Dodecanese and Cycladic Islands. The costumes, mostly made of heavy wool and flowing cotton, are colorful works of textile art.

Koroni

Two of the most famous Venetian (Crusader) castles, both in excellent shape after one thousand years of multiple sieges, lie astride Finikounda: the castles of Methoni (ancient Medon) and Koroni, which were on the Crusader trail of the Middle Ages, jealously are variously guarded and defended by the Venetians, Genoese, Turks, Greeks, and Nazis—from the 12^th century until the 20^th century.

Food, wonderful food--for strength before the nunnery

Methoni castle, with its height of population of over 20,000 inhabitants, fell to the Ottoman Turks after a lengthy siege. All of the men and boys were promptly decapitated and the women and girls were sold into (mostly sexual) slavery.

Koroni castle had a similar history. The city, owing to its founding by one of Christ’s apostles, was worthy of a bishop (like Rome, Antioch, Jerusalem, among others). When the Ottoman Turks siezed the castle, after a lengthy siege in the 1600s, the Orthodox bishop was ordered to convert to Islam—along with this Christian minions. He refused and was summarily thrown several hundred feet from the ramparts onto the rocks, martyred by the oppressors from the East

A small cel for a big girl? She will have nun of it

Both castles and its inhabitants succumbed to a particular religion that many liberal pundits and feel-good politicians say professes “peace and love.”

But the Orthodox Christians of the Peloponnese, held in abject slavery for 300 years, had their revenge in the 1820s—and thus the modern Greek state was founded.

Holy Monastery of St. John, Koroni

Modestly sanctified minus the piety

Today a new Ottoman sultan has arisen, championed as a “strong man” and a “defender of liberty” by a certain malcontent U.S. president who associates himself with other likeminded anti-democratic leaders—the autocratic Russian demagogue, the neo-fascists of Hungary, the right-wing nationalists of Poland, the extrajudicial-killing president of the Philippines. All of them good friends and allies—while democratic Europe is treated as a pariah to American “values.” If our parents were the “greatest generation,” the Orange Crush is among the most dangerous ones.

Is orange is the new Goebbels? Will the US military be patroling our city streets anytime soon? Wake up and smell the napalm.

As they say, you are the company you keep. Despicable, obscene, small-minded, fear-filled men stick together--they have no other choice. And what is the common thread among these "men"? They are privileged cowards, who have spent lifetimes preying on the most vulnerable in society.

All of which brings to mind the classic rallying cry of Greek Independence, on the lips of every child and adult in this proud country: Ελευθερία η Θάνατος—Freedom or Death!

Lest we learn the hard way.

View west from the monastery in Koroni

Cast a long net for liberty--hope for the best but expect the worst

Happy Annivesary! Καλος Επετειος Υαμος!

Spetses Island—25 Years Later

Roof of the Hotel Faros

Our fearsome threesome became “fantastic thirteensome” with the arrival of my sister Dyan, husband Stuart, and twins Zoe and Lydia; Dyan’s friend and daughter, Bonnie and Anna; and our dear old Athens friends Thanasi and Koula (our best man and wife), and Akis and daughter Lydia. The group of them met us on Spetses for the celebration of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.

Opa!

We’re all staying at the Faros Hotel on Spetses, which is owned and operated by my uncles Kyriakos and Yianni Argeitis e Yamaris.

With Uncle Kyriakos--our host since 1979/1992

I have been their frequent and grateful guest since 1979, when I was a student of the classics and archaeology in Athens.

Cannonade surrounding the Dapia Haror--keeping those Turks at Bay!

For me and my kids, and for Dyan and her kids, Spetses runs through our bloodlines. Over the past forty years, I’ve established long and enduring friendships with my many family members here—their island is my island, as it were. And so now we have the chance to share this very special place with our friends and family for a very special occasion.

Another day on Agia Anagiri Beach...on the path to the sea cave

We were married at the monastery-church of Ayio Nikolas (St. Nicholas) back on July 5, 1992.

St. Nicholars monastery-church

As they say in Greek, Πως περναει ο καιρός…How the time passes! We have such fond memories of that day twenty-five years ago, and now we are here to celebrate those many years of love and devotion—ups and downs, but almost always “ups” in the end! Our daughter, Evyenia, who is named after my Spetsioti great-grandmother, has met many of her third cousins--whose great-grandparents were siblings.

Yesterday the thirteen of us traveled by bus to Caique Beach for a “warm-up” for today and tonight’s celebration—a swim in the ocean, some παρεια (company), and then a glorious night out on the town. The group walked along the waterfront to the Παλαιο Λιμάνι (Old Harbor), settling into an elegant seaside restaurant in a converted nineteeth-century olive press factory.

Grinding wheels at Litrivio, old olive press turned restaurant

Old stone grinding wheels

The food at Το Λιτριβιο (The Olive Press) defied our expectations. We learned as the night wore on that we have a famiy relationship with the restaurant, as our great uncle Panayiotis—the youngest brother of our Spetses grandmother—worked in the old olive press until its closure in 1958.

Our night ended early, at 1:45 a.m., so that we might save our energy for today and tonight’s celebration, which included a return to Αγιο Ανάργυρη (St Anagiri) beach, on the unpopulated side of the island.

Cousin Power: Nia, Zoe, and Lydia at Agia Anagiri Beach

While there we swam, cliff-jumped, and had a fanastic noontime meal on the beach. A group of us swam into the cave, where the light and water turn your skin a luminescent blue color--a truly amazing place.

Inside the sea cave

 

Tonight we will take horse-drawn carriages to “our” church for a blessing and on to the Old Port, where we have made arrangements with the restaurant Εξεδρα (Exedra) to host more than thirty friends and family—our way of saying “thank you” to our family and friends, who have been so kind to us over the years.

The Cliff Jump--by Jonathan and Nia

More Anniversary Party Photos

Table seat, waiting for our guests

Making a Table for Our Friends and Family

Goodbye to Spetses

Nia (wo)manning the stern of our caique

All Smiles!

Heading "Home" to Akritohori

Following our anniversary hiatus on the island of Spetese, we drove back through the Peloponnese to the southern tip of Messenia, the southwesternmost part of mainland Greece--and found "our" village of Akritohori (Grizi) and our little house just as we had left it.

Approaching "our" village of Akritohori (Grizi) from above

“Our house, is a very, very fine house…with two goats in the yard, life used to be so hard…”

View of our house from the village center--tucked amid the olive trees on a tight corner