Saturday 17 September 2011
Midnight found Charles wending his way back to the van for his turn at sleeping there, and as he picked his way along the narrow rocky path among brush, big olive trees, scattered tiny stone homes mostly unoccupied, barns, ancient stone walls and mounds of flowering plants cascading over them, illumined by an almost-full moon and a weak flashlight, he was reminded of David and Robyn's words about their chosen home: There's nothing to fear here. There's no crime. People leave things out, unattended, from a bottle of wine to a motorcycle or even cars with the keys in the ignition, and no one, not even bored teens, would even think of disturbing something that wasn't theirs, not for poverty, not for kicks. It's just not in their DNA, formed over 7000 years on this island. There's no murder, no rape, no robbery, no theft. As he walked through the night alone out in the fields on this old path Charles also thought there was nothing there that would want to eat me, no snakes, no snarling dogs, no roving bands of drunk young men looking to take out their frustrations on the "rich tourist." It's hard to describe that feeling of no fear to an American urban dweller, but it explained a lot of why Robyn and David had chosen the island homes they had over the last two and a half decades and the attendant live-off-the-land lifestyle. Their daily lives were quite like anyone's as far as taking care of business, catching the news on the Internet, shopping for food (or more likely picking it out of their garden), keeping up with friends, though the details -- learning how to grow corn and identifying the local plants, keeping the water flowing, brushing up on their Greek, going to the massive all-night sing-and-dance parties that happened throughout the summer, starting a honey business -- were different and seemed exotic. But the essence of what they'd sought and found, was a simple life with simple honest people, away from the blight of the soul that is part and parcel of the modern Western environment.
Morning brought another meal outdoors on the long patio, overlooking vistas of villages, trees and vast blue water. Robyn whipped together an omelette with garden-fresh zucchini, onions and garlic, and some succulent chicken pieces from the dinner the night before. A couple hours later they took us to their favorite beach, Livadi, where we swam in softly rolling waves of gorgeous green blue, then retired to the sand for sunning and a cribbage game between Robyn and Charles. Cribbage is a pretty old-fashioned card game that they both used to play with their fathers, and Charles brought along the small leather board that belonged to his dad 60-some years ago. We finished the beach day off by climbing steps to a hotel cafe and having coffee drinks and fried calamari with a gorgeous view of the whole beach below.
The rest of the day was lazy, with some naps in anticipation of the evening's panigiri, a community party that happens several times a month in various locations throughout the summer. Not only were we greatly anticipating this cultural event but the locals were too because it was the last one of the season. There was to be non-stop live music and dancing, from 3 or 4 in the afternoon until way past dawn all, of course, Greek-style, no concessions to modern/Western tastes, and much of it particular to the island
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| Ready to rock the panigiri |
After more than an hour's drive to Mono Kambi, we arrived and somehow found parking on the narrow mountain road, and entered from the top to see several levels below us of closely-packed people, standing-sitting-eating-drinking-visiting, the band and the dance area in front of them was packed even more tightly with dancers. We're not good at crowd estimates, but we figured 1200-1500 minimum, maybe more (on an island of 7000). From young teens to oldsters (and on Ikaria, a lot of people live past 100!), everyone was joining in, singing the words to songs they all knew and loved, and clasping waists and dancing in giant circles. The view from both above and at a long table down on the dance area where we finally landed was just a part of Greek island life, but culturally staggering to Americans, and what a delight, to see so many come to one place to celebrate the culture they all share, through music. We even recognized a few faces from "our" village, Christos Rahes. Hey, Nicoletta! (the postmistress). Robyn could not resist the smiling entreaties to dance with Stenos (David's bee guru), who's almost 80 and at midnight was spinning and crouching and kicking his heels in the air like a kid. Then there was the dude in overalls whose braided beard reached down to his ankles. It was a privilege and a lot of fun to be there.
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| Kitchen staff at the panigiri |
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| Photo by Dian |
Midnight found Charles wending his way back to the van for his turn at sleeping there, and as he picked his way along the narrow rocky path among brush, big olive trees, scattered tiny stone homes mostly unoccupied, barns, ancient stone walls and mounds of flowering plants cascading over them, illumined by an almost-full moon and a weak flashlight, he was reminded of David and Robyn's words about their chosen home: There's nothing to fear here. There's no crime. People leave things out, unattended, from a bottle of wine to a motorcycle or even cars with the keys in the ignition, and no one, not even bored teens, would even think of disturbing something that wasn't theirs, not for poverty, not for kicks. It's just not in their DNA, formed over 7000 years on this island. There's no murder, no rape, no robbery, no theft. As he walked through the night alone out in the fields on this old path Charles also thought there was nothing there that would want to eat me, no snakes, no snarling dogs, no roving bands of drunk young men looking to take out their frustrations on the "rich tourist." It's hard to describe that feeling of no fear to an American urban dweller, but it explained a lot of why Robyn and David had chosen the island homes they had over the last two and a half decades and the attendant live-off-the-land lifestyle. Their daily lives were quite like anyone's as far as taking care of business, catching the news on the Internet, shopping for food (or more likely picking it out of their garden), keeping up with friends, though the details -- learning how to grow corn and identifying the local plants, keeping the water flowing, brushing up on their Greek, going to the massive all-night sing-and-dance parties that happened throughout the summer, starting a honey business -- were different and seemed exotic. But the essence of what they'd sought and found, was a simple life with simple honest people, away from the blight of the soul that is part and parcel of the modern Western environment.
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