The Times They Are a Changin'

 

Sunset in Messenia

From the vicinity of our home

The Times They Are a Changin’

The changes in rural Greece have accelerated since the early 2000s. Like other Mediterranean countries, the villages of the hinterland are being depopulated: young people move away, fewer babies are being born, the agricultural work force is shrinking or being replaced by foreign workers (first Albanians, who have become upperwardly mobile in their own right, and now Bangladeshis and Pakistanis).

My friend Niko predicts that the rich agricultural production of this area will whither in the next twenty years, as olives groves go uncultivated or are sold to wealthy Northern Europeans in search of building sites with views of the ocean.

Last run/swim before setting off

Still, much of the rural culture remains in intact: the olive harvests in the fall, a deep and abiding knowledge of the natural world and the seasons, the continuation of so many village festivals (panagiria) throughout the year, and the deep sense of hospitality of rural Greece.

But one detects a melancholy with the passing of a certain era, one that is so rich and ingrained in village life.

Final Tasks

At the eleventh hour we have arranged to purchase an adjoining lot for the sole purpose of retaining our privacy.

Many small lots are being purchased for increasingly larger sums, then cleared and walled, and finally set up for caravans (aka campers for Americans) for foreign residents seeking a Mediterranean retreat.

View to Finikounda before leaving

Our anniversary

On July 5th we celebrated our thirty-fourth wedding anniversary here in Greece--where we were married in 1992.

Thirty-four years of marital bliss--as a rule

We made a reservation at a traditional taverna in the nearby village of Evangelismos--a place where we once brought our young children back in 2009.

Goodbye to our little spitaki...in good hands until 2027

The food there is incredible and the owner, Fotis, ensured that our night was memorable. It was our final night in Messenia before heading back to Athens--a four-hour ride through the Peloponnese, toward eastern Attica--to return our rental car near the airport. Ann marveled at my ability to navigate through the bedlam of Athens, my old Brooklyn, New York, driving instincts still intact. 

Ain't it so...

Last night in Finikounda harbor

Athens

We are staying for three nights in our friend Akis's Airbnb in Thesion, on the fifth floor "penthouse" with sole access to a roof overlooking the Acropolis and the long, cement neighborhoods of Athens.

Last run in the hood

Acropolis now

Ann and I spent our first evening walking through the Plaka, the area on the west side of the Acropolis, and enjoyed an amazing dinner at To Abibayio ("the pirate's restaurant") in our neighborhood. The food was even better than we anticipated, the wine flowed, and we laughed late into the night.

Athens dinner

This morning, at first dawn, I ran from the apartment to the Aeropagus (where St. Paul delivered his homily to the Athenians), then through the still quiet streets and alleys around Plaka.

Hadrian's Library

Then the two of us set off on a long walk--seven miles according to my GPS watch--working our way through central Athens, to my old student neighborhood of Kolonaki for freddo cappoccinos on a relatively quiet side street.

Athens markets

Olives galore

And even more olives

By the time we returned to Plaka, we were famished and took up a table overlooking the Ancient Agora for a heavy lunch of falafel, dakos salad, and gyros.

Followed by the essential afternoon siesta--in an air-conditioned apartment, joy of joys--we will soon meet our dear friends Thanasi and Koula for a taverna night in our neighborhood.

On Thursday, we fly back to Boston via Madrid, ending what was (for me) was a fifty-seven-day stay in the land of my grandparents--who left their impoverished homes nearly 120 years ago.

We are full of gratitude and flush with ideas for next year's adventure!

Athenian nights

Got my eye(s) on you...

Busy at it since 1936

Got my "fix"

Fighting fascism since 1940--it's a family project

Spetses

 

Traditional double-ender/schooner

Town beach, shadow of Ag. Mama

Spetses

 

 

Ann and I took a brief hiatus from our pastoral home in the southern Peloponnese, driving roughly 270 kilometers diagonally—southwest to northeast—for a visit to my family on the island of Spetses. From the coastal village of Kosta, on the Saronic Gulf, it is but 5 kilometers to Spetses island.

Located in the Saronic Gulf, near to the region of the Peloponnese known as the Argolid—a Bronze Age stronghold—Spetses was the island where my maternal grandmother was born in 1899. She immigrated to the United States in 1912, for what was meant to be a one-year visit. 

Finikounda harbor--house on the hillside

In 1914, the German U-boats began sinking passenger liners—the most infamous attack was on the Lusitania—and so the immediate return to her island home was delayed during the First War War. She married my grandfather, a Greek immigrant from Nafpaktos, in 1919 and returned to Spetses briefly in 1923, in the early 1950s, and with my brother in 1966. 

The 19th-century Poseidon Hotel

Spetses

I first visited Spetses in 1979, when I was a student of classics and archaeology in Athens. I met all of my aunts and uncles, my mother’s first cousins (as well as several great aunts and great uncles) and forged a deep family relationship that continues to this day.

To the monastery

Anchors away

Now the next generation, my third cousins, run the family hotel located near the port. 

Spetses--still an island of renowned seafarers

As the only grandchild who speaks fluent Greek, I was able to cultivate a special, enduring cross-Atlantic family bond. This meant a lot to my grandmother, who lived to the age of 93.

Home sweet home

In 1992, Ann and I were married at Saint Nicholas Church (a former monastery), on a promontory overlooking the Saronic Gulf and the distant island of Hydra (home to Leonard Cohen in the 1960s) and the mainland. It is the church where my grandmother Efstathia was baptized in 1899.

Garyfalos ("carnation") beach

I’ve lost count of how many times I have visited Spetses. Initially as a student living in the urban jungle of Athens, I traveled there on many a weekend.

Grabbing the mermaid by the...dorsal fin?

Made famous by John Fowles, in his novel The Magus, Spetses retains much of its charm, although it has been divided up by the 1 percent, many of whom arrive to the their private heliports. To call it the Riviera of the Aegean is no understatement

My Uncle Kyriakos--and his "favorite nephew"

                                                 ***********

Spetses has a storied history dating back to the classical period. More recently, it was one of three naval powers—including Hydra and distant Psara—that battled the Ottoman fleets in the 1820s and 1830s, raising the flag of Greek liberation, which was ultimately realized after the Greek Revolution in 1832.

The Old Harbor

Town beach

Here is a small collection of photos from our brief visit there, with some captions. My aunts and uncle, now in their early 90s, are still active: swimming daily, enjoying siestas, tooling around on their scooters, and offering sage advice. Solicited or not. 

One of our favorite "swimming holes"

The Eve of Distraction (or Destruction)

As the 4th of July approaches, it's worthwhile to recall the words of one of America's great revolutionary patriots, Thomas Paine: "We need a revolution every 15 years."

The long-ago grievances against King George III led to a just accountability.

But, more than anyone, it was my Aunt Tifa who instilled a sense of revolution in me. And if ever there was time to be a revolutionary, this is it!

As my ancestors often proclaimed from the ramparts 150 years ago: Ελευθερία η Θάνατος! FREEDOM OR DEATH!

And isn’t it true? Now more than ever.

The monastery of Ag. Moni

Freedom or Death!

Near our family's ancestral land

Spetses sunset with my bride

The fish market