Sharing the Magic

 

Sharing the Magic

 

After nearly twenty years of visiting and living here—and other parts of Greece since 1973—I still find this place to be magical and at times even a bit surreal—for the quality of its light, the kindness of its people, the richness of its culture.

So I feel privileged to share my Greek home with any friend who wants to visit. Remarkably, there have only been two since 2013!

John H., a fellow distance runner and ultra athlete, visited for a week from Scotland. The Kalamata International Airport is adding new destinations every year. John arrived from Edinburgh.

The unmitigated joy of sharing this place with a fellow traveler—especially one who is curious and cares so deeply about the natural world and has a lifetime of cultural sensitivity—brings me a special pleasure. I become animated, excited, and passionate about Greece, and especially about the southern Peloponnese, which has retained so much of its old ways.

In seven short days, the two of us swam, ran, and explored many sites. (And, yes, we ate a lot of good food!). The sites include four of the medieval castles that “protect” our shore: The Methoni Castle, the Palaiokastro (“old” castle) near Voidokoilia—where Matt Damon and others filmed the soon-to-be released Odysseus—the Neokastro (“new” castle) in Pylos, and the Castle of Koroni and adjoining “heretic” (Old Calendar) nunnery. We also visited some small museums contained within the castles.

To clarify the modifiers “old” and “new”: the “old” one dates to early Middle Ages, the twelfth century (with evidence of occupation dating back to the Neolithic period, about 15,000 years ago), and the “new” castle dates back to the fourteenth century.

Proving that time itself is truly relative.

 

Vignettes of Life in Messenia

 

Driving in Greece

Greek drivers are a cut below the worst in the world. Regardless of age or gender, Greek drivers imagine themselves as national heroes in the big rally, constitutionally opposed to following anyone. They simply need to pass those of us who exercise what you might call “defensive driving.”

With its narrow roads, unguarded hairpin turns (often with drop-offs of several hundred meters—and the burned hulks to prove it), mountain passes, and fatalistic motorists generally, it is no wonder that Greece has among the highest fatality rates per capita of any country in Europe

A Good Year for Snakes

Greece, along with much of the Balkans, experienced the wettest winter and spring in recorded history. Is this cyclical? Or could this be a consequence of climate change (described as a “fraud” by the intellectually challenged)? Whatever the reason behind the deluge, when it rained, it poured—described to me by one villager as a “river from the sky.” 

Apparently there is a relation between the wet period and the proliferation of snakes: some harmless, others venomous.

John and I saw multiple snakes, ran over one or two in the mighty Peugeot, and, in my case nearly stepped on one.

A few days ago we saw the largest snake in Europe, known in Greek as the λαφιάτης / lafiatis, and in English—according to my Scottish ecologist friend’s research—as the four-lined snake.

Growing to a length of 2.5 meters (that’s 7 feet, folks), it is a non-venomous (i.e., “harmless”), rat-eating creature—but tell that to the Marines.

As John and I ran the Natura 2000 valley behind the agricultural zone in Finikounda, he calmly announced in mid-stride: “You know, you’re about to tread on a snake.”

My usual response of freezing in place and loss of bloodflow to my brain followed.

We gave this big guy a wide berth.

 

Reconnoitering Marathi and Tsapi

Some English friends asked if we could run to an isolated beach called Marathi and the parallel cove called Glifada. They wanted to “free camp” there and wondered if their ancient Lada—a Russian-made SUV that is, quite literally, bulletproof—could navigate the track that has been washed out by the torrential rains that are now long gone.

We were able to answer in the affirmative—and they are now enjoying the fruits of our exploration.

Food, glorious food

Because I have a minimalist kitchen and no real desire to make homemade meals, John and I ate at a different restaurant or taverna every night.

From the humble pork gyro to local caught fish, we hardly suffered. Everything here is picked (or slaughtered) in the morning, and served in the evening. The quality of food is second to none.

If people in Washington County, Maine, knew what real restaurant food tasted like, they would set ablaze all of their local restaurants—which are fairly unpalatable by comparison.

Lions and tigers and bears…oh my

The region is rich in flora and fauna. Among the latter group, there are wild boars and jackals, both remnants from antiquity that are mentioned as far back as Homer.

The jackals, in particular have grown in population and become less afraid of people. A night doesn’t pass when I’m serenaded by large packs of jackals—who live around and outside of our fenced compound. 

The villagers and naturalists say that wolves have returned to Peloponnese, with sighting at the nearby mountain known as Lykodymos (translated as “wolf town”).

Improving my Greek

I have worked hard to learn modern Greek. Despite the few words (mostly food names and kitchen utensils) that I learned from my Spetses grandmother as a youngster, I only began to study Greek in earnest as a twenty-something, as an archaeology/classics student in Athens (1979) and my first post-college publishing job (with an English-language publisher based in Athens).

My interest in the language was first born of literature (particularly Greek poetry) and songs. But there are so many ways to learn. I have a penchant for reading streets signs and the names in store windows.

If I pass a shop with chairs, tables, and couches in the window, and a sign that reads <Επιπλα> / Epipla, I can’t help but conclude, with some degree of confidence, that the word means “furniture.” An assumption that I confirm later with my trusty Oxford Modern Dictionary of Greek—with copies both here and back in Maine.

My friend Niko, a well-published/translated Greek poet, will sit across from me at his kitchen table, read his latest poem, and ask me to translate. His work is so rich in classical and folk elements, that this is usually a challenge—but one that I value greatly.

Despite being a born introvert, just being here transforms me into a hopeless extrovert—never failing to start a conversation with any stranger (which is so easy here) or ask a question about an object, local history, myth.

Greek FM radio

I have an FM station tuned in on the rental car: Palmos FM, 90.5, Kalamata. Whenever I drive anywhere, I pay special attention to the commercials, in particular. They are often quite cheeky. Here’s one that I like especially:

Two friends speaking:

“Maria, my husband says that my pastichio [a kind of pasta souffle] is dry and tasteless, what am I to do?”

“No worries, Katerina, there is a solution. You need to shop at the AlphaBeta [a supermarked chain] and buy their prepared pastichio. Your man will never forget you!”

Or, one for an insurance company:

“Assimakopoulos Insurance provides all of your insurance needs—not just for cars and trucks, but for your tractors, rototillers, goats, and sheep.”

Apparently you can insure your livestock.