A Golden, Unproductive Sunday

Sunday arrives to my consciousness late and slowly. “Dinner” last night turned into visit, dinner (twice), music, dancing and overall a very late night. Give Greeks enough company, ouzo, beer and local wine and stand back. We went first to the home of one of MG and Costis' cousins, Miltos Pantelias, a well-known Greek artist and his wife, Irini Gonou, a well-known Greek sculptor.

The home has been in the family for several generations and it is easy to see why no one would ever sell it. Perched on a bluff, there is an unobstructed view of the sea that wraps around more than 180 degrees. We could see other islands in the near distance and hear the waves crashing along the bold shoreline. I was charmed even as we approached and before the view was laid out in front of us for embedded in the walkway are tiles embossed with raised images of local and seaside motifs which Irini made. Here a seashell, there an olive branch, over here a salamander. The path leads to the front of the house and a stone terrace, part of which is surrounded by a knee high wall enclosing chaise lounges perfectly positioned for sun bathing during the day, sunset watching in the evening and star gazing at night.

The top of this wall consists of terracotta sculptures of open books that look like someone was just there a minute ago but was called away, leaving their book partially read and lying open on its spine. Irini carved inscriptions in each. One is a poem inscribed in French across the two leaves of the book about a perfect day at the beach, another tells of the myth of Venus (Aphrodite) and so on. Later, after the sun sets, Venus is visible directly above the book telling of her myth.

We sit in the dusky light telling news, funny stories, their childhood memories and tales of former times involving local characters. The language is in a curious mixture of part Greek and part English in deference to me, but I find a curious thing is happening. I am beginning to understand and follow conversations even though, technically speaking, except to say “thank you” and ask “How are you?”, I do not speak Greek. Sometimes my “understanding” veers off in a direction that has nothing to do with what is being discussed, but it satisfies me and I learn new things ;) Much of the time, however, when someone is kind enough to translate for me, I have understood correctly. This must be how children learn to speak or how language immersion results in language acquisition. I do need to begin a program when we return to Boston as I believe these immersion experiences will allow me to learn the language more quickly. This will help as I am socially handicapped and dependent otherwise.

As we sit in the gathering dusk and enjoy the view of lights twinkling on the islands of Paros and Mykonos across the way, we snack on melons, grapes and plums from their garden. The grapes are exceptionally sweet and conversation turns to wine-making. Miltos tells us the best way to cultivate the sweetest grapes is simply by not watering them. All the sugars are concentrated and the resulting wine, he says, is the best. All the cousins and extended families are on the island for it is time to harvest and crush the grapes. This micro-climate brings the grapes to ripeness the earliest in Greece and everyone loves to be here at harvest time.

The moon is full tonight and rises like a glowing balloon. While its reflected light is so bright it makes viewing the constellations difficult, Miltos nevertheless brings a telescope to the terrace. We take turns spying on Aphrodite, Arkturos, Scorpios and the Polar star. Viewed with the naked eye, Aphrodite appears round, but with the aid of the telescope, we see her “half moon” shape. It is magical to see and a revelation to learn that, like our own Moon, Aphrodite is lighted by the sun and thus has phases like those of our Moon.

Just as I am thinking it is so enjoyable to have a light dinner of fruits, cheeses, bread and wine, Miltos announces, at 10pm, that it is time to go to dinner. Everyone piles into cars and we drive down to the beach to the restaurant of Panayiotis. He and Evangelina are at a table in the corner having their dinner. The local regulars and renters are finishing up their dinners. We are greeted by everyone as we make our way across the outside terrace. “Good evening, good health” is wished by everyone to everyone who enters. Again as parties leave, they send the same parting greetings to each remaining diner, sometimes shaking hands or hugging and double-cheek air-kissing, as they make their way to the exit. I find this a charming custom in Greece and it is how you know you are in an establishment patronized by locals or an establishment that caters primarily to tourists and foreigners. These simple and generous gestures make everyone feel part of the same experience, whether they are strangers here for one meal only or part of the family.

The scene unfolds like theater. Always there are four generations present. Even though it is after 10pm, there is a cluster of children ranging in age from about 3 to 13 playing hide and seek, taunting the cats and dogs lounging about, having a scavenger hunt and generally amusing themselves in their own drama. The oldest members of the crowd, similar to Chance the Gardner in the Peter Sellers film “Being There”, like to watch. Periodically they doze off but may suddenly rouse and break into song. The real action happens among the parents and grown children. There is a lot of teasing and telling of stories across the two generations. Each tries to embarrass the other, but this does not seem possible as the ironic barbs are delivered with such affection and good humor that it is impossible not to chortle at the punch line, even if you are the butt of the joke.

Meanwhile Evangelina has abandoned her dinner and gone to the kitchen to make and serve ours. Panayiotis tells us that they thought they were finished for the evening but are happy to see us and prepare a meal. Soon another couple arrives, then a party of 4, then a young man and two young women. Suddenly Evangelina is faced with 14 more meals to prepare and serve. It is now past 11pm and her day began at 5am when she rose to begin preparation of the casseroles before the heat of the day set in. When I ask how they manage all this, Panayiotis says, “We like much work”. I tell him I am glad of this because they have much work!

Dinners are arriving from the kitchen, wine is being drunk and someone begins to sing. An older man whips out a mandolin and begins to play. Panayiotis disappears into the kitchen and returns with a guitar. The party is now in full swing. Someone moves some empty tables and chairs aside and begins to dance. Others join in. Who needs Netflix when spontaneous entertainment unfolds like this? We go on and on until, literally, we hear the rooster’s crow. The final dirty dishes are cleared with all the revelers helping to put things back in good order for this day's breakfast crowd. The sleeping children are collected from the cushions upon which they lie curled up, carried to the cars and whisked away home. Tomorrow is Sunday and everyone can sleep till noon or beyond.

Fortunately, when our little party of three arises, we find there is no wind so windsurfing is off the agenda. I thank Mother Nature for granting small mercies to those in need of them! For the remainder of the afternoon, we go to the beach. We swim to exercise away the remains of last night's eating and drinking, walk along the beach to stretch our muscles, read to kick our minds into gear.

We eat an early (8pm) dinner on the terrace of scrambled eggs and toast, enjoy the moonlight and go to bed at 11pm, feeling put back together after the weekend. Tomorrow there are lighting fixture decisions and more shopping to be accomplished. The crew will install the kitchen and shower surrounds. In the afternoon we will make an excursion to a village and a beach on the eastern coast of the island and have dinner at a taverna Costis knows. We sleep peacefully now that we know where dinner will be eaten tomorrow evening.

Falling Into an Easy Pattern

Last evening we ate dinner on the terrace under the stars and nearly full moon, our table lighted with candles and graced with a delicious and simple dinner prepared by Costis. He boiled ziti al dente, drained it and in the same pot, sautéed 3 cloves of finely sliced garlic in about 4 Tbsps of fresh local olive oil. When the garlic was fragrant and golden he added a chiffonade of a handful of fresh local basil leaves and sautéed it until wilted. To this he added the still warm ziti and a generous sprinkling of freshly grated Parmesan. The mixture was stirred just until the cheese melted, then he served it up on individual plates. While he was working this magic, I sliced the bread and prepared a salad of sliced local tomatoes, chopped fresh oregano, Kalamata olives, cubed local sheep's milk feta, slices of peeled cucumber, a bit of finely sliced onion and a tablespoonful of capers. We drank a local wine given to us by the ever-generous Panayiotis and had a wide-ranging conversation about art, beauty, lifestyles, politics, economics and the environment. The menu I can re-create at home. The warm wind, beautiful stars overhead, conversation and camaraderie cannot be duplicated. These are special memories to store up for cold nights during Boston's long winters.

We all trundled to bed about 12:30 arising at 7 for coffee and breakfast which we attended, in accordance to last night's plan, wearing our bathing suits. We nibbled, threw our dirty dishes in the sink and walked along the path to the beach, avoiding the many piles of cow and horse poop along the path we share with local farmers and their animals. It's actually a very fine walk; however, I made a note to myself to reserve a “special” pair of flip flops for walking to and from the beach. Nothing compares to a morning dip in the turquoise sea. The water glittered in the sunlight and proved to be an inviting temperature that does not shock. We had the beach to ourselves and truly reveled in our own paradise. We could not tarry too long, however, as today is another work day.

After showers and dressing, we met with Vangelis, who will make the cushions for our couch and for the three verandas. Discussing the many details of heights, depth, foam firmness, piping, sun protection and the like we struck on a plan which Vangelis will implement after we meet again at Christmas time, when we will next be here. The couch cushions, however, he will complete in time for our next visit.

Next we went next door to our house to watch the arrival of the doors and windows. We had heard that they would be installed by the time we arrived, but now understand they will be installed by the time we depart. It was quite something to watch the arrival of the 2,000 pound glass patio door. It is the largest, by far, single door this company has designed and installed and it was clear Demetrius, the project manager, was very nervous about how successful the implementation would be. His father said it was impossible to talk to him since 6 am.

The doors and windows were made to Demetrius' specifications and our wishes at a factory in Poland. From there they were trucked to Thessaloniki in north Greece where they were loaded onto another truck. The second truck drove the load across Greece to Athens. At Piraeus the truck came on the ferry to Naxos. At the port of Naxos, the second truck loaded the goods onto a third, local truck, captained by a local crane operator. The last part of the trip was very precarious and succeeded because Demetrius walked in front of the truck. He thus guided the driver through each and every rut and dip in the cratered path to our house site. Next, the crane operator skillfully guided the pallets onto the various terraces. The final maneuver was truly the piece de resistance. The 2,000 pound door, consisting of a single sheet of triple pane glass, was removed from the truck bed and dropped exactly into place without the intervention of a single human hand save that of the operator's hands on a remote control. He was able to guide it 1 centimeter in any direction and succeeded in putting the entire unit exactly into place as if it were no more complex than setting a glass on a tabletop. It fit into the space like a hand into a glove. Only after it had been screwed in place and slid open and closed to test it several times did Demetrius finally smile and sit down for a glass of water. I am sure he will sleep well tonight!

For now, however, his work continued. We met and finalized plans for the 3 bathrooms and powder room. Vanities, mirrors, lights, doors, windows, heaters, towel racks and pegs, colors...all is now designed and understood so that the bathrooms will be completed and installed in our absence. We reviewed the kitchen plans for the last time as the kitchen will be completed two days hence. The kitchen installation needs to be completed before the remaining doors and windows. We visited the marble and granite stone cutting factory yesterday and decided against black granite counter tops. We chose granite that is a flowing mix of terracotta and gray which will complement our floor tiles, appliances and cabinets while keeping the look lighter. As the kitchen is quite small, I hope it will appear more spacious with this lighter colored granite. Our new choice needs to be cut and delivered before the factory closes for holidays on August 1st. It cannot be measured or cut until the kitchen installation is complete.

Things are progressing very quickly now. While it is great fun, it is also tiring and we are in need of lunch as all this activity has taken until 3:00. When we arrive in BF's kitchen we find a huge workman's bucket of yellow and red grapes that Panayiotis brought earlier. We fall upon them greedily devouring them like starving little piglets. To my delight they are seedless. They naturally taste divine as they are fresh from the vine this morning. After lunch and Ouzo, we sleepily trundle off to our room to examine our eyelids for holes until it is time for an evening swim around 6.

This is an easy pattern we have developed in only a few days of being here. We arise early, swim, have breakfast, shop and work on house related projects, eat lunch around 3, take a siesta, swim in the evening, shower and dress, prepare dinner and eat around 10pm. Then it is off to bed around midnight. This evening, however, we have been invited to eat at Panayiotis’ restaurant. After our swim we will make our way by car to the north side of the island where we will meet up with 3 cousins who also have a house here and who come to escape the infernal heat of Athens during July and August.

There will be no work tomorrow as it is Sunday. We may try our hand at windsurfing and become three in the multitude of moving colorful dots upon the water that we see from the terrace. Monday it will be back to work for we need to select lighting fixtures and small appliances for the kitchen. No rest for the wicked.

We Love It!

We arrived in Naxos after an early morning fast ferry from Piraeus. We typically pay an additional 7 Euros to upgrade to first class and it was SO worth it in order to curl up to nap and read in a comfortable seat. Upon disembarking the ferry with many suitcases and duffel bags, we were greeted at the dock by an astonished brother, Costis. “What is IN all these cases?” We had trudged along on our journey, sweaty and sore of muscle from hauling the cases filled with house wares from Ikea that I finally managed to accumulate. Though we brought only a minimum of clothes and personal items, we were heavily burdened and glad for Costis’ help.

We caught up on each others' news as we joined the mad crush of drivers racing away from the port and through the town. The cars and taxis dispersed as we continued and finally we approached the beaches and villages. With great anticipation tinged with a touch of dread, we arrived at the houses. BF's is complete and we will stay here during our visit. Ours is to be completed in the coming 4 to 5 weeks and requires more decisions. I was anxious to see the installed tiles, windows, doors, outside pavers and other progress that had taken place since we were last here in May. We toured BF's house, admiring the details, the functionality, how beautiful it is, what a marvel he created, how well it all came together.

Finally I could resist no longer. Would we like our choices now that they were realized, would we be disappointed, and worse, would we find that we couldn't live with any of the outcomes? We walked across to our house and entered. I was aware of holding my breath.

Oh! The blessed relief we experienced upon seeing the floors and terraces! We instantly saw our choices were good; love at first sight. The guest bathrooms are thrilling. The copper-colored tiles and mosaics are simply spectacular. Our bathroom in aqua tiles and mosaics is bright and cool and lively. The turquoise doors for all the rooms inside are just the right splash of color in an otherwise all white palette. The outside signal blue doors and window frames are iconic against the white stucco. Oops! The paint color in the guest bath is simply nauseating. If I can choose another color quickly, the crew will repaint it. How does 5 seconds sound for fast!

As we depart for the paint and hardware store, Yannis, the electrician, playfully calls out to me, “Choose with care! The whole island is waiting to see what you will do next!” As we drive, Costis tells me that, indeed, locals have been coming by to view progress on the houses. Tongues have clucked at my choices of color, bath tiles, floor tiles, kitchen design. It is not traditional and I, a foreigner, am highly suspect. Well, I expected this as I was forewarned by MG. I've been a rule-bender my whole life so it doesn't bother me. What does bother me is that “they” may think I really wanted that ghastly color in the powder room. I, too, was shocked at the screaming chartreuse where I expected soft pear. In any case I choose neutral beige for the second go-round. I hope “they” will approve!

It is very helpful to stay in BF's house. My list of what we will need for functionality and comfort grows by the minute. Fly paper and fly swatters! Drawer lining! Dust pan and brush! Yoga mat! Door stoppers! What I did not expect is the force of the wind, the Mal Teme. It blows steadily during July and August. During the night it howled so strong it precipitated dreams of hurricanes, sailing in raging storms at sea, crossing the desert in a sandstorm. It howls so and anything outside not nailed down is blown across the countryside. It blows dust into the house through the screens and penetrates every crevice. Door and window management is an art during this season. However, if not for the wind, we would suffocate in the heat. As it is, the temperature is very comfortable and mosquitoes are kept at bay during the day. At sunset, the wind dies and the mosquitoes come out in force. We flee indoors.

Before then, however, it is time for Ouzo and pistachios on the terrace as we watch the spectacle of the sun going down in a blaze of orange and scarlet into the sea. Costis shows us his latest photographs in black and white. He has toured the island and taken remarkable images of the mountains, the sea and other geographic wonders. He is preparing for a one man show that will feature some of this latest work. He will contribute some of those we instantly love to the house. I am both elated at this gift and jealous of his talent. Perhaps we can also take one or two back to Boston to remind us of our home and life here when we are off island.

The water is hard and leaves deposits and rings everywhere it touches. Am I really going to be able to deal with a black granite counter top? My fear is that I will want to constantly buff it and eventually will engage in a war with it. MG mentioned that he thinks it is too dark. We call Panygiotis. Yes, the black granite has been ordered but not cut. We can go tomorrow and look at other options. He will be here at 10 am. Perhaps we don’t want those towel bars with warmers built-in. Their foot print is too large. Yes, the order can be canceled. We also need to select lighting fixtures for throughout the house, and air conditioners. The latter will be our solution to the dust...simply close everything up tight and turn on the energy efficient air conditioners during the period of the Mal Teme.

We return to BF’s kitchen to prepare our evening meal. Oh yes, we will need a tea kettle, sponges and rubber gloves, left-over containers, hot mitts.....

Adjustments

We arrived mid-afternoon at Athens Airport. Immediately the differences to Boston are apparent. Throngs of tanned, sweating, scantily dressed people pushing, shoving, gabbling away simultaneously and vying for a better position make me feel that I have been dropped into an ancient Middle Eastern bazaar. We retrieve our bags, pass through customs and exit, then are bodily assaulted by a furious blast of hot, dry air and a shockingly brilliant sun. We find our rental car and drive into Athens where we are to pick up a second car belonging to MG's brother, who left yesterday for the house in Naxos. MG has business meetings in Athens for three days. I plan to shop for house wares so both cars are necessary.

Much of Athens is plug ugly. There is no getting around it. The architecture is the worst of 70's cement buildings and the streets are dirty, small, choked with cars, signs, graffiti, and litter. There appears to be no zoning as existing side by side one finds a pharmacy, a gas station, an apartment house with shops on the first floor and a row of dumpsters overflowing with smelly trash, followed by a dry cleaner and a coffee shop. In the future I intend to skip Athens entirely and simply take a taxi from the airport to the ferry dock at Piraeus and head straight to the nature and beauty of the island. When I wish to see the Acropolis and other important sights, I’ll spend a day doing so before departing for home.

As MG, BF and I made our way to a local taverna later that evening, it occurred to me that Greece strongly resembles the Philippines, where I lived for several years when a young woman. I see resemblances in climate, disrespect for the environment and an ability to tolerate everything happening all around one at once. All the senses are stimulated simultaneously and nothing happens in an organized fashion as I expect. Things happen through signals that I cannot read. I can say with certainty that this is NOT Switzerland. Oh, how I love Switzerland where everything is organized, in good working order, where the environment and beauty are respected. I wonder how I will fare here over time.

As soon as he sets foot in Greece, MG becomes a different person. I see the young man he was when he lived here return to him. He becomes more animated, affectionate, funny, more expansive in his speech and gestures. I love watching the changes overtake him and half expect his hair to re-grow.

To find the taverna, we drove along rutted roads, dodged stray dogs, avoided motorbikes with headlights flashing from unexpected directions, were mindful of children who ran barefooted in the streets at 10pm, avoided cars going every which way, and were assaulted by radios blaring with voices in a foreign tongue. After a few days have passed, this will seem like a party. On the first night as we finally arrive in a cloud of dust at a beach, it seems harrowing.

I understand the urge to colonize. I want to collect all the trash, clean the graffiti, round up the stray dogs, wash the children and make them sit at the table, tidy up the gardens, paint the houses, tear down the shanties, organize the drivers, build sidewalks and curbs and make and enforce rules about everything to keep life contained, neat and tidy. As it is, I will require a few days to get used to it, stop judging and wanting to change it, and just relax. It is how it is and always has been.

Here’s the improbable restaurant scene: a shack set in the middle of a pebble beach with tables and chairs ringing the gently undulating water’s edge. Diners are stationed alongside late night bathers still sitting upon their towels, shouting at their children through the darkness. We devoured delicious, fresh and locally caught and sautéed octopus, anchovies, calamari and another fish the name of which escaped me. We enjoyed a large salad and drank wine from a carafe underneath the moon and stars as we watched yachts come into the harbor and anchor for the night.

After MG is finished with work in Athens, we will take the ferry to Naxos to see the results of our decisions and the work of the laborers during the past few weeks. I am very curious to see the outcomes, especially since I heard that the workmen don't approve of any of my choices. Neither the floor or bathroom tiles, layout of the rooms, location of closets and cupboards, kitchen design and appliances, nor paint colors are traditional. They feel sorry for MG who is forced to put up with his ignorant American woman. People harboring these secret or not so secret thoughts that their way of seeing and doing is the normal, best and right way seems to know no national boundaries. They want me to be like them and I want them to be like me. We all will have to adjust and truly embrace the French way: Vive la Difference.

MG has left for work and I realize this is my first time unattended while in Greece. I am prepared to make my way to Ikea to buy pots, pans, mixing bowls, candles, place mats, sheets, towels, pillows and the like. His brother left me a cell phone and a GPS that he programmed to English. The rest is up to me. I think I will avoid this as long as possible. I can see the pool in BF's back garden from where I sit in bed. The sun has not yet found it. Right now seems like a perfect time for an avoidance swim.

A short swim completely awakened me. The pool is filled with fresh water and heated only by the sun. During the night the temperature drops enough to slightly cool the water. The morning’s combination of cool and wet are ideal to wash away the fog left from too-warm sleeping conditions overnight. We could not locate the “on switch” for the overhead fan, so spent the night with our very skin reaching out for the slightest breeze.

On the back veranda, we ate breakfast of cheeses from Naxos, bread, coffee, yoghurt and fresh fruit from the garden. Even at this early hour, the heat is too intense for my northern genes. I attempted to read after breakfast and promptly fell asleep until what I thought was 11:25 a.m. but proved to be 5 minutes to 5 p.m.! The inertia from the heat combined with the time zone difference and loss of a night’s sleep due to travel makes me long for energy. I sit in front of an open window trying to catch a breeze. The air that blows is hot and dry. My eye cavities seem like they are filled with glue and my face feels as though if I smiled, the skin would crack and split. I see no reason, fortunately, to smile. I shall jump into the pool again even though it means another complete application of sunblock when I emerge.

How do people manage to live and work in this environment in the absence of air-conditioning? BF’s wife and daughter and I drove to an upholstery factory to find fabrics for our sofas. It was so hot that the weavers periodically poured water from jugs over their heads. We found the fabric we each wanted and left before we choked to death in the dust and lint. Some birds we noticed hanging dead from their nests in the ceiling rafters were not as lucky.

I will attempt a trip to Ikea tomorrow. The best I could manage was to begin a list. I am reading a book called “Honey from a Weed: Fasting and Feasting in Tuscany, Catalonia, The Cyclades and Apulia”. The author follows her stone-cutter husband as he moves among various marble sources. She writes of the food and lifestyles of the named areas. It is of particular interest to me because the Cycladic island where they lived is ours...and they lived in a small stone cottage that sounds similar to the former goatherd's hut on our property. Impossible to think two people lived in such a building as it consists of nothing more than thick stone walls, a packed dirt floor and a heavy earthen roof supported by beams upon which lie a mat of bamboo. The author clearly lived a close to the earth experience. Perhaps this is what inspired her to trace the culinary beginnings and practices of the areas she visited. She provides a list of a typical goatherd's cooking tools that bears no resemblance to my Ikea shopping list.

On Day 3 I discover a way to survive the heat and dryness. After a dip in the pool to awaken the senses and stir the brain, I sit in a wet bathing suit under a ceiling fan spinning at high speed. My hand and arm veins no longer rise from the surface of my skin like so many snakes trying to escape. The constant urge to sleep has passed. I am beginning to be here now.