AH SURE AZURE

Category: Greece

  • Hammocks and Whistling

    Hammocks and Whistling

    In a previous post, I mentioned I had formed the habit of relaxing in a hammock on the Verandah in the afternoons, before the sun went down. Since then, I have not mentioned it as it would not be fun being out there in the severe weather we have had since early December.

    We have had a succession of severe cold – 2` some nights, torrential rain, wind and apocalyptical thunderstorms. If it was calm enough to leave a pudding bowl out at night, it would be full in the morning – that sort of rain.

    Alongside that drama , we have had bright and warm sunshine on many days like Christmas Day and St Stephens day here which is the 27th December, not the 26th as it is in Ireland.

    Hammock Selfie -Helfie?

    But the good news is that I am back in the hammock. Since almost exactly February 1st, the weather has turned warmer. We are now enjoying 20` in the sunshine. The ground has miraculously dried up and soaked all the rain that has fallen in the last few months. Spring is here again. This time its all purple irises and a warmth coming up from the ground.The lambs that were born in the first Spring are nearly ready for the pot and the clanking of bells is as loud as ever.

    Wild Iris and Aloe Vera

    • Blood Oranges ripened
    • Praying Mantis on the Verandah

    At the beginning of my stay here, I set myself two goals – one to learn to whistle and the other to learn to do latte art. Was it Malcolm Gladwell who said it takes 10,000 hours to master the art of anything? On the basis of daily practice, while walking the dogs I would blow feebly and produce an embarrassingly pathetic sound. Now I can produce a recognisable whistle to which, to my total surprise, the dogs respond immediately.

    The second goal has not worked out. Even with an espresso machine here with the right kind of steamer, I have never been able to produce anything like a recognizable shape. I have watched numerous videos and tried every kind of milk. I have tried shaking my wrist to get the right drizzle and pouring from a height but it still comes out as blob of froth on top of the coffee. Neither a heart not a tulip have I produced. I have consumed crazy amounts of coffee, not wanting to waste it all, ending up buzzing with caffeine. If and when I achieve this goal, I promise to post a photo of the result.

    Ouzo-hot on some trail

    The dogs still get their daily, if not twice daily walk. This they get very excited about, even though they could just go themselves. The two rescue dogs, Ouzo, and Xara, which means friendship, joy and kindness, that sort of thing, have warm and endearing natures. Ouzo, being the younger and male, is sillier and talks a lot of nonsense in a sort of dog language, translating as ‘yarl owooo yurl’, not unlike Boris Johnson on a bad day.

    Xara

    The older one, Xara, is a big momma. solid and strong, She has a big smile and is the most intelligent animal I have ever encountered. Her eyes are expressive of pleasure, hurt, remorse and miserableness. She actually made me feel bad one day for driving off to the gym without bringing them for their walk in the morning. That evening, she was very put out and I eventually realized what was wrong.

    They have won me over. I am only their caretaker for the winter and I would never take on the burden of a dog myself, but they are very good company.

    Now that I am back in the hammock of an afternoon, Xara has resumed her habit of placing her two front legs on top of me and leaning in to the hammock, in the vague hope of being allowed up. Sometimes she will just rest there for ten minutes, her hind legs on the ground, until some urgent stirring of a frog or cicada or bird in the garden compels her to charge off, barely taking both legs with her, in hot pursuit of the unfortunate creature.

    The island is waking up. There is a confidence abroad that the worst of the weather is over.

  • Tour of Paleopolis in – Kanoni – original site of Old Corfu.

    Tour of Paleopolis in – Kanoni – original site of Old Corfu.

    On Thursday 16th January, we met outside the gates of Mon Repos to start our tour of the old town, guided by Hilary Paipeti, originator of  the Corfu Trail.

    We were lucky to have a crisp sunny morning for our stroll.

    Hilary had given us home work in the form of information on leylines which trace energy fields across the continent of Europe. The idea that thousands of years ago, man was able to identify lines of connectivity linking major sites of worship across such a large space is truly incredible. Given that the authorities in Gatwick airport are challenged by an electronic drone in the 21st Century, one really must ask how the ancients were able to trace lines without any technology at all.



    The first site was that of ancient Roman baths. But Hilary was not yielding this information easily. We had to imagine and guess what the ruins were before she described how she was present when the director of the dig identified two walls as being too narrow for a path or alleyway and could only be a channel for water. The ruins were brought to life for us by this description and the various caldariums and saunas took shape before our eyes.

    Across the road is the island’s oldest Christian church, 3rd Century BC and Byzantine in architecture. It is located next to an ancient Agora or marketplace – greek students nοtice the similarity with the word αγορασω, to sell!!! Large stone slabs are found all over this site once they dug down to a certain level. It was the largest Roman Forum in the Mediterranean.

    Our next stop was the Monastery of Agioi Theodora. This is a beautiful church with many of the old engravings remaining such as ancient crosses.

    It was built in the 3/4 century AD, using stones from the Temple of Artemis which is in its grounds.

    This temple was built in 600/580 BC and, along with the rest of the city, was vandalised by the Huns and Goths coming down from the North in the third to fourth century.

    It is this Temple that forms the most important part of the St Michael – Apollo Leyline. It is here that the Christian  Archangel Michael is replaced by the god Apollo who is the brother of Artemis to whom the Temple is dedicated. From the western end of this Temple which now lies in ruins was taken the pediment depicting the Gorgon. This was placed in the archaeological museum of Corfu. The significance of this piece of bas relief art is set out in the information pdf circulated prior to our walk. It highly representational of the power of women in ancient times.

    On the ground, one can see the bases of the columns which formed the church and a sketch of how it would have looked, when painted in all its glory, is on the descriptive panel beside the site. The energy lines can be traced although it is not possible to stand in the ruins themselves.

    While this was probably the highlight of our tour, we spent most of our time in the graveyard around the corner. Here many of Corfu’s most eminent families are buried and magnificent and poignant tombs mark their demise. Hilary recounted numerous tales of dynasties and the rise and fall of many an ambitious man.

    One of the most touching however, was the tomb erected to the memory of girl of twenty one. She is depicted in bas relief, holding a book and with one of her feet protruding from the frieze, as if she could just step out. Beside her is a flower, broken in full bloom. One can only imagine the heartbreak of her parents who were buried many years later in the same grave.

    Hilary remarked on the parallel with the Gorgon also being depicted in bas relief albeit two and a half thousand years earlier.

    The peace of the place on such a beautiful morning affected us all. The airport is less than one hundred metres away but you would never have guessed it.

    We rounded off the morning in a café in the heart of old Garitsa.

  • An Hellenic December

    An Hellenic December

    It was a December of bells. Not sleigh bells but sheep bells. Rattling and clanking across the fields as up to fifty animals are moved to better pastures, each one precious enough to have its own bell in case it gets lost. And each bell different and handmade. Brass, faded or glinting in the sunshine, decorated or too tarnished to show a pattern, long with a pretty chain or short with an old leather tie. But each one with that lonely plaintive sound, mingling together to form a cacophony.

     The afternoon is quite often sunny here and I take the opportunity to lie out in the hammock before the darkness falls. I read a bit and then invariably doze off, my dreams interspersed with the sheep bells as they are herded across the valley below, the cacophony becoming running water in my sleep laden brain. I wake and look around at the olive trees and the stillness.

    I am reading James Angelos book on the Greek economic catastrophe. And I think what is this country I have come to. Full of contradictions and turmoil. Mirroring Ireland in so many ways but then seeming to walk itself into deepening chaos. The agricultural base, the years of domination by other powers, the stunningly beautiful country side, surrounded by water, all paralleling Ireland’s history. But it cannot seem to pull itself out of the economic mire. Is it the weight of the early Greek civilisation that they feel they have to live up to or is it that they feel they have nothing to prove given what their forbears did for the world.

    The night is so absolute here. No glow from a town to dilute the starry sky. But the moon was in its crescent phase for much of the month and is only now giving us some light at night. It was a month of storms too. Storms that had no moon to illuminate the deep inky blackness. When lightning streaked across the sky it was the more intense for its murky background. So you make the most of the daylight  before going in to light a fire. Or there is always a welcome at the cafeneion where the Greeks keep company on the winter nights.

    As we approach the shortest day of the year and move towards a new year, it is easy to see how Greeks can become distracted from the mundanities of life. With their wonderful, complex and intricate language, their commitment to φιλοχενια or filoxenia, literally love of the foreigner or hospitality, and the extremes of nature playing out all around them, what’s a few points on the stock exchange to make international bonds beyond the country’s reach.

    The bell may toll on Wall Street to end a day’s trading but it will never sound as well as the bells that wake me from my afternoon nap!

    Bells at Gardylades

    Lemons so full of pips they are lumpy on the outside

    The lovely Ropa Valley in the mist