June 25 – Help: a barracuda!

(Wallpainting at the tavern O Rofos)

Because of the bad weather it was doom and gloom for lots of people who came to Lesvos and other parts of Greece in May and early June. The more sturdy tourists didn't mind, although there were days when it poured so heavily that there was nothing to do other than sit inside and wait for it to end. After years of crisis, this spring has brought many more tourists to the island, and what did they get? There were some people who were so disappointed that they said: “I will never return to Lesvos, because we did not see the sun!”

But the people who come to the island often know that this past May and April were exceptions. Very bad weather can be encountered anywhere, even on the sunny island of Lesvos. Although a writer on My Greece Travel blog.com thinks differently: he (or she) made a list of his bad-weather-experiences in May and June during his holidays on several Greek islands. He finished with the advice that travellers to Greece in that period should pack some firm shoes with anti-slip soles in their suitcases so they can gallivant carefree over all the wet tiles and marble floors.

However a heavy thunderstorm often offers exciting views and lots of tourists consider such a downpour as a refreshing experience. The most exceptional thing about the past bad weather was that it kept going on, not for days, but for weeks: a weather phenomenon that even in wintertime is seldom experienced on Lesvos. Not only tourists were plagued by it, also the farmers had to stay indoors. And they cannot simply go to another island next year, they just have to muddle on in their own patch of land

Lesvos was actually relatively lucky during those dramatic bad weather days; on the Greek mainland it was so disastrous that many a harvest was washed away. You would think that all that rain is good for the plants. It is so good that all those weeds that were so painstakingly removed in early spring, got new life. Now that the heat finally reigns over the island, it's time to weed again. My prunes certainly didn't like all the regular water from heaven and were bursting open in protest. Even the strawberries, who are known for their unending thirst, got confused and no longer knew when to ripen: for two months now, every few days I harvest a poor little bowl full of them, while in other years the harvest took just two weeks. 

I am wondering from where shops and restaurants get their tomatoes, because for sure they do not come from the land around here. Tomatoes don't like mud and the fields have been muddy for weeks on end. Only the green beans, cucumbers and courgettes enjoy a soggy earth. They are the main harvest right now. When you eat in a small tavern, the choice on the menu may be meagre, because they serve only vegetables from their own garden. Last week I was in Gavathas with my family and after a swim I really longed for ouzo and fish. When we were passing through the village, I saw a small psarotaverna, a fish restaurant, which I had never noticed before: O Rofos, named after very tasty fish (dusky grouper).

In the open door stood an old Greek lady and I was not sure if she was waiting for customers or if she was on the point of scrubbing her doorstep. We decided to give it a try and I asked if the restaurant was open. Of course it was and we took a seat on the balcony that has an astonishing view over the village and the Gavathas Bay.

We were given paper tablecloths that kept on waving around our ears because of the wind. Lady ‘O Rofos’ was confused what to do first - take the order for the drinks, make a list of the food she could present or search for the table cloth clamps that seemed to have gone with the wind. She just kept on pacing back and forth. She found a solution by making a telephone call. While we removed the tablecloths and got beer and ouzo (there was no retsina or other wine) we saw a speed demon racing over the road towards the village. It was the reinforcement: the son of lady ‘O Rofos’. He proudly showed us two large dishes piled with fish, all caught that morning from the bay. And he even pointed out where exactly in the water he had caught them. We had a choice between gavros (a kind of anchovy), kefalos (mullet) and there was a bigger fish with a long thin nose that I had never seen or eaten before: its name was loutsos according to the fishing son. “A pike!” everybody called out seeing the fish. But how can a pike, a freshwater fish, have come out of the sea?  We were hungry and settled, thinking it was a fish with a local name and we rounded-up our order with whatever else there was on offer: French fries, a cucumber salad, the one remaining dish of green beans and some feta.

I am afraid we ate the midday lunch of the family. Just below the great wall painting of a rofos smoking a cigarette and downing an ouzo, we dined as kings. The loutsos – the middle part cut in slices and fried – was excellent, the green beans were gone within a minute and the salty feta was homemade and great. Such simple but divine, fresh meals are now only to be found in the small taverns where an old Greek lady serves and her son does the fishing.

And the loutsos? After hours and having no result in finding a loutsos on the internet, I decided to take a look at a pike: the fish did look exactly like the fish we ate and its latin name is Esox lucius (lucius could be pronounced as loutsos). Could this be the one and could it have been raining so much on Lesvos that in the bay of Gavathas there is now brackish water, suitable for pikes to live in? Of course not! Eventually a friend suggested it might be a barracuda (Sphyraena), also a fish with a long and thin nose, called by the Greeks loetsos. Just like the pike it is a predator, but this one with a bad reputation. Maybe that is why I couldn't find it on different lists of Greek fish. According to Wikipedia most stories about barracudas attacking people are urban myths. But a barracuda on your plate sounds far more interesting than eating a pike and this predator definitely comes on my personal list of delicacies.

(With thanks to Mary Staples)

© Smitaki 2014

June 20 – Culture clashes

Saints do not talk (ag. Eirini, Neochori)

(By: Pip)

When we visit other countries, we're open to other manners and customs. We're interested and we adjust. That is right, yes?

We make some efforts to learn the language, even if it is just a few words. We will be touched by seeing an old woman with a back like a snapped tree, dressed all in black, shuffling along a street. We will wait patiently until she reaches the other side of the street. Our hearts beat with joy, seeing an authentic village square where old men play board games with others watching and hanging around. And even though we know we will make a fool of ourselves on Greek nights, we will join the group to dance the sirtaki. And we will feel honoured when somebody offers us a local delicacy. Even if we are afraid it will give us the shits, we are too polite to refuse the offer. I recently was offered a preserved fig filled with nuts; it came from a smudgy pot standing on a even more smudgy kitchen counter, where beside it sat a soup pot and the worn-out mules of the lady of the house. I should not have worried: the fig tasted wonderful, my intestinal flora kept calm and I did not offend this woman by refusing her offer.

But we do use our own culture and habits as the base from which we judge other people. It is not that we want to harm locals, but without knowing we might offend them. I will not use as an example the young people dancing topless on bars and boozing until they drop in Chersonissos on Crete (and other popular Greek destinations), because while this behaviour is obviously offensive, it has no practice here on Lesvos. Not yet. And I do not want to call this scandalous behaviour cultural, it is just commonplace obscene vandalism.

An example made by young and old passing a cultural border, has to do with customs: while the Lesvorian people are still wearing winter coats in spring, the first tourists, happy to finally see the sun, parade with their milky white calves in short trousers. Even though we know that it is not appreciated, we just pop into that lovely little church in those same short trousers with bare shoulders. In the larger Greek churches, popular with tourists, the parish clerk will have shawls ready for visitors to cover their nakedness. The small ones however, many of them having the key in the door, are unprotected and everybody can visit them, in whatever manner they are dressed. No living soul will see it, except for the many images of saints, who do not seem to judge - though they may think it unworthy.

And the so-called ex-pats – people who have houses in a foreign country – also trespass on many cultural borders. It can be in the Algarve, Tuscany or on a Greek island like Lesvos. When  a handyman is needed and he does not come at the agreed time, there might be a culture clash. Then the air fills with lots of grumbling about the work ethic of the Portuguese, Italians or Greeks. What we don't consider is that the handyman is too polite to say that the proposed time to do the job is not convenient for him. He doesn't want to bother you with the information that he has a second job or that the proposed day is on a local holiday, that he cannot get the materials in time or that he does not have the money to pay for them. He will simply come as soon as he can.

My first encounter with a handyman on Lesvos also came as a cultural shock. The ordered washing machine was supplied earlier than expected. Because I wasn't at home and my door was closed (I may be the only one on Lesvos who locks doors) the deliveryman came to fetch me at my work. The next morning, totally unexpected and very early, the plumber knocked on my door - on Sunday! Instead of being grateful that he came on his free day to connect my washing machine, I nearly refused him entry to my house.  In my culture it's not the custom to receive a plumber or any handyman in your nightdress. Before you know it, you may have a bad reputation and every Sunday you'll  find a Greek on your front porch.

© Pip, 2014

June 8 - Eftaloumberti

(The presentation of Eftaloumberti)

I come from the cheese country, Holland and I love its cheeses. However I have started to be critical in regard to their taste. Is it because cheeses produced on a large scale loose some of their taste? Or am I now accustomed to more natural products so when I eat a pre-sealed Dutch cheese, I only taste plastic? I stopped buying imported Dutch cheese here on Lesvos because the Gouda (as far as I know the most known Dutch cheese abroad) has no taste at all.

Lesvos is also known for its cheeses. That is very evident; in fact, the island has more sheep and goats than people living here. No matter which landscape you take a walk in, you will always hear the tinkling of goat's or sheep's bells. Dutch black & white spotted cows are world famous, but the sight of such a cow in a bright green meadow belongs to the past because cows in Holland are now stabled all year round. And what do those milk producers eat there?

Greeks wouldn’t think of keeping their sheep and goats in a shed. These animals belong in the mountains and on the grasslands. Greece nearly has as many breeds of sheep and goats as it has islands: and due to their isolation, over time, many different varieties have developed. On Lesvos there is the Mytilini Goat (black, sometimes dark grey or black & white, with long horns and very small ears), the Black Lesvos Sheep from Agia Paraskevi (and yes, there are also white Black Lesvos Sheep) and the Lesvos Island Sheep, also called Mytilini sheep (how original). Probably descended from an eastern breed, some 80 to 100,000 of them still roam the island. These grass devouring four footers can be seen as lawn mowers, when herded well. The European subsidy has caused the number of goats and sheep to increase, and unfortunately some of their owners – who only want quick money – do not care sufficiently about the land, so that big parts of nature have become overgrazed and become barren.

I'll leave this subject for another time (during the crisis it seems that the number of goats and sheep has actually decreased). It is a fact that milk producing sheep and goat in Greece are far better fed than Dutch cows. In Greece they even pay attention to what the animals eat; for instance not all regions producing feta are allowed officially to call their product feta: for feta (as well as other Greek cheeses) you must farm in a region where the sheep and goats receive a rich variety of fodder. Not all regions in Greece are graced with fatty greenery.

But Lesvos has a very green nature and therefore is on the official list of Greek feta producers (the other regions are on the mainland: West-Thrace, Macedonia, Epirus, Thessaly, Central Greece and the Peloponnesos). Lesvos not only produces plenty of feta, but also the hard cheese graviera, ladotiri, which is stored in olive oil (also called kefalaki and one of the licensed cheeses of Lesvos) and the fresh, soft cheese myzithra. In contrast to the Dutch cheese which is made with cow milk, cheeses on Lesvos are mostly made with a mixture of goat and sheep milk. I have to admit that I find Greek cheeses often a bit too dry, but just like nearly all Greeks who do not eat a meal without cheese, I love dishes with prepared cheese, like ladotiri saganaki (baked ladotiri) or feta kafteri (feta mixed with chillies and/or garlic cooked in the oven, a nice spicy dish). And you have the homemade fresh feta, which can be so delicious that I cannot stop eating it, especially with a lick of honey on top.

I have been told that making your own feta is not so difficult. But you need space to curdle the milk, to strain it and so on, and everything with the right temperatures. I do not have that much space in the house, so I have never started the adventure of making my own cheese. But I do love to experiment with Greek cheeses, like making a kind of mousse by mixing feta with cream, yoghurt or Philadelphia cheese, then adding green herbs or horseradish.  Other Lesvorian cheeses can also be easily mixed together or with other dairy products so that the hard goat-taste can be softened.

But I do continue to miss the French and Belgium cheeses. Blue cheese, brie and camembert, a chèvre, along with the many other cheeses they produce in those countries. As they produce so much sheep and goat milk here, I sometimes wonder why there is not a bigger choice (there is a large variety of Greek cheeses, but – just like the goat and sheep breeds - do not differ very much from each other). I am not the only one wondering about that, because people have now started to experiment: feta with herbs or nuts for example. The most different cheese on the island was presented to me at Easter: a real Levorian camembert. So it is possible to produce different cheeses here! You only have to find and import the special rennet (in the case of camembert, that is Penicillium camemberti), and hoppa!: a goat camembert (The French camembert is made with cow's milk.

It seems there blows a fresh wind through Greece: forced by the crisis new initiatives are taken. Let’s hope that the government not only allows rich and big developers to make quick money but also encourages small people to dare to start innovative businesses so that in a few years we not only order the world famous feta cheese in a restaurant, but also an Eftaloumberti (the first sheep/goat camembert on Lesvos was produced close to Eftalou at Dio Petres).

(with thanks to Mary Staples)

© Smitaki 2014

June 2 - Warblers and other amusements

(Rüppell’s warbler [Sylvia ruepelli], photograph: Gerard van Zeele, www.gerardvanzeele.com)

(written by Pip)

Many other Greek islands haven been transformed into amusement parks, but Lesvos has not. This island is the perfect destination for people who want to live the real Greece. This is what the travel guides say and from what I have seen from the island so far, the guides are right. The question however is how long Lesvos will remain an island unspoiled by tourism.

As the island is really a large green nature park, tourists have fun on Lesvos; but instead of aqua parks with complex-constructed slides, bearing names like Water city or Aqua Plus, tourists here have to make-do with some sixteen waterfalls like the one of Pesas. For others, climbing up Mt Olympos or Mt Lepetymnos with a rented car may be even more exciting than having a ride in a dangerous rollercoaster. And, when arriving home, being able to tell the story of how you survived an earthquake, sounds far more interesting than the one of how you were nearly shaken off a banana towed by a speedboat.

But this year there have been developments in order to raise the amount of fun for tourists, a change that might attract another kind of public. It is clear that not everybody is happy with these ‘improvements’. There has been lots of commotion around the two tractors that tow two wagons between Molyvos, Petra and Anaxos. This slow train, which disrupts the traffic on the small boulevard of Petra and the not-too-wide road between Petra and Molyvos has got the name Village Train. The drivers of these trains and those from the regular buses and cabs have been close to a fight on more than one occasion. The resulting road blockage was so bad that the police had to come and restore order. There is talk through the grapevine that this was done on purpose – an attempt to harm the train company. I’d best say no more about this. Even if they ask me for my opinion about this train I‘ll keep my mouth shut. Whether you approve or not, before you know it, you may make enemies for life. The good thing about this train is that since it now crawls all the way up to the medieval castle above Molyvos, the local beach bus between Anaxos, Petra and Molyvos now goes up the steep hill too and tourists no longer have to do the climb themselves or to take a cab to visit the crown of the town.

Another development is the reconstruction of the ‘flying saucer’, a building that has been standing empty for a decade (changing into a typical Greek ruin) on a mountaintop between Petra and Molyvos. Next month will be the opening of the Star beach-like club and then Lesvos will have a fancy night club with swimming pool, just like on Crete: the Oxy-club. Years ago this used to be a nightclub, but for reasons I do not know it closed down. The young Lesvorian men are all looking out for this new event, ready to practice their seduction tricks on the female tourists. With some cocktails, a nocturnal swim while accompanied by music of a famous DJ, they will feel confident success may be at hand. Another kind of men (and women) are not too happy about the opening of this club. They are the masses of birdwatchers who come every spring to Lesvos. The area around this nightclub is the breeding habitat of the Rüppell’s warbler. Even though the nightclub will probably open after the shivering spring nights, birdwatchers are afraid that this little bird will have to look for another spot to lay and breed its eggs and the birdwatchers will also have to change their beautiful look-out over the Aegean Sea.

That a Dutch snack bar, with real Dutch snacks, has been opened is not worth mentioning. For years you could find English breakfasts all over the place. Tourist attractions and foreign entrepreneurship remain small on Lesvos and I expect will remain small in the near future, especially now that the whole island has been named as a geo park. So it is Nature that still has the last say. It is still unknown what the warblers are going to do. Maybe they like Dance music and will remain where they now are. 

(With special thanks to Gerard van Zeele for his photograph and Mary Staples for the English corrections)

© Pip 2014

May 18 – No summer, only nasty animals

(The train from Petra to Molyvos)

Last week I wanted to make a cup of tea and reached for the teapot. The pot was very nearly dropped and broken into thousands of pieces when I saw what it was hiding when I picked it up: a dark brown snake (well, I admit, it was rather small, only about 40 cm)! I put the teapot down quickly and, before the snake could react, I placed one of those mesh food covers on top of him (or her). I think the snake was as scared as I was: he didn’t move.

The weather is still is playing around. If there are no showers or no grey or black clouds sailing across the sky, there is a cold wind blowing from the north or an impressive storm from the south. Real Greek summer weather has not yet reached the island and in the evenings you have the choice of either catching a cold outside or moving inside. Even during the day I am still spending a lot of time inside the house, just like my teapot that has its place on a sideboard in the kitchen. I suspect that the snake had also had enough of the cold May weather and was happy to have found a warm teapot to curl himself around.

But now the snake was trapped under the food-net and I wondered what to do next. It was no use smashing his head in with a hammer; there was the net in between the snake and me and, in any case, I didn’t really want to do that. I wanted to find a way that I could safely transport him out of my house and set him free. But how to proceed? I decided to use the pizza shovel: I ran outside quickly, scared that the snake would come-round and escape. I grabbed the handle with its large round flat metal plate at the end and was back in no-time. The snake had not moved an inch.

The round surface you use to get pizzas out of the oven was about the same circumference as the food net. But how do you shovel a snake out of it? I decided to give it a try — took up an acrobatic pose, trying to manoeuvre the food-net with one hand and the pizza shovel with the other (and, of course, keeping as far away from the snake as possible) while shifting the snake from the net to the shovel.

I should have known that this was a dangerous action: the snake panicked (I already had), it started to squirm, found an opening between the net and the shovel and shot away! Well, there I was, with a pizza shovel in one hand and an empty food-net in the other hand, staring at the crack between the side board and the wall into which the snake had disappeared. What to do next? The sideboard was too heavy to move, but I did not intend to rest the case and let the snake escape. I mean, I couldn’t carry on working, sitting in front of my computer, drinking tea or cooking or anything, with the thought that the snake might enjoy having my company at the table. It might curl up cosily behind my warm computer, or when having my afternoon nap it might think that sleeping with two is much more fun than sleeping alone.

The only thing I could think of was to close all existing gaps between the sideboard and the wall. So I gathered up lots of plastic bags to temporarily stuff the gap, then rushed to the shed where I got slats, a hammer and nails and furiously nailed the slats over the gaps. It was only when there were no more holes to be seen that my breathing returned to normal.

Of course I asked the snake for forgiveness because I’d killed him in such an atrocious way and for days I really felt guilty; nonetheless I couldn’t bring myself to remove the slats. I silently hoped that he might have found a way out, for snakes are also creatures of God. According to friends he was not even a poisonous one, so he would not have hurt a fly. But, having taken over my teapot without asking permission was asking for trouble.

The Queen knew better. For years now I have celebrated Queensday with a glass and a fly swat. This day always takes place at the end of April or in May and starts with the entry of the Queen. It’s an enormous hornet, the biggest wasp in Europe, who flies buzzing loudly into the house (well, whether she is flying or not, I’m not sure; I have never discovered how she enters the house, she is always suddenly there). After circling the house for some time she gets me so mad that I have to stop whatever I’m doing and then we start the game: the Queen flies all over the house and I run behind her with a big glass and the fly swat. As soon as she settles on a flat surface that I can reach, I trap her under the glass, shift the swat under it and I put her out of the house. That is round one. A little later the Lady reappears in the house and the game continues. Last year I won after four rounds when she gave up. Last week she was here again and I guess she was a bit older because this time she gave up after two rounds.

This, of course, is bullshit because a wasp does not live more than a year. So each year it must be a new Queen making her entrance to the house. I wonder why each year I am honoured with the visit of this mega-wasp who enters the house not just once but sometimes four times in a mysterious way.

So even though we are still waiting for the summer, insects are ever present again to give your life even more problems. Spiders, ants, caterpillars and mosquitos are again part of daily life. Recently, I heard somebody say that on Lesvos we have Tiger Mosquitos, a dangerous variant from that buzzing species that gives irritating bites. Yesterday when I was at my computer I saw a kind of mosquito passing by, although it seemed a little too big, so I thought no, maybe not a mosquito. When I took a better look I saw that his body was lightly striped; I became alarmed: was this an infamous Tiger Mosquito? The good thing about working on the computer is that you can quickly find answers for a lot of questions — so I discovered that this was no Tiger Mosquito, just some sort of dragonfly. And after asking some more people about this redoubtable mosquito, there seems to be no evidence that a Tiger Mosquito has ever entered the island.

The only new ‘danger’ here in the north of the island is the motorized caterpillar, also called The little Train. It is an amusement park style vehicle that has its habitat now in Molyvos and in Pètra. First there was only one, but now it has increased to three and its habitat now extends as far as Anaxos. It transports everybody who wants (and pays) from Pètra to Molyvos, all the way to the harbour and even up to the castle. You do not have to be afraid of it because it creeps very slowly (causing plenty of irritation to fast drivers) along the road. In the evening it is so brightly illuminated that it looks like a fairground attraction. The route of this sweet locomotive with its two or three wagons has not yet extended to Eftalou, so there is no reason for me to be afraid that coming home one day I might find a derailed train trying to steal my teapot.

(with thanks to Mary Staples)

© Smitaki 2014

May 13 - Coming and going

(The airport of Mytilini)

It has been more than ten years that I have been writing about the island of Lesvos. I will not pretend to know all corners of the island, nor that I have written about everything on the island; but it’s not easy to find an entertaining subject to write about every week. If it was only for me I would have written: “Woahh, the island is so beautiful”, because I do enjoy being on Lesvos. But writing each week things like: “The apricots start to blush, the vines are reaching to heaven and this morning the sky was ink black”, is not too interesting for a reader.

This summer a cultural anthropologist / sociologist who is also a writer has settled on the island. I have persuaded her to write some columns for me. Because everything will be new for her, we start afresh discovering the island. I am not finishing writing, but my columns and those from Pip will be published alternately on this blog.

Here is her first column: Coming and going.

The friend who is picking me up from the airport in Mytilini is not waiting behind glass walls, but just next to the luggage belt. While we have a welcome hug, my suitcase passes by on the belt and I have a tenth of a second to grab it before it will disappear outside again. My plane landed barely five minutes ago, it was four minutes ago that I descended the wobbly stairs leading out of the Havilland Bombardier. It is still early in the season, so there are not yet direct flights to Lesvos. The Havilland Bombardier came from Athens. The name of this relatively small two-prop plane, reminds me of images from the end of the movie Casablanca: Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman in a romantic scene at an airport, in the background an airplane looking like the one on which I had just travelled. It is a strange association, because this movie is from 1942 and relates a story occuring during the Second World War. It may be that I have mixed up Ingrid Bergman with Olivia de Havilland, who is another actress from those times. Although de Havilland did not have a role in Casablanca, but in Gone With the Wind, and she was not in the same movie as Humphrey Bogart. Even stranger is the fact that I was born decades after those movies were made and I was not at all impressed seeing them so many years later on television.

What did impress me was the landing of the de Havilland at the airport of Mytilini. The forty passengers just barely ended-up not in the cockpit, because the plane had to brake so hard. Another impressive thing was that the hundred or so metres from the plane to the arrival hall were crossed by bus (it is not long ago that you just could walk this distance). This arrival is so different to those at the big airports elsewhere in Europe, where you leave the plane through a tube, then you still have to walk another kilometre and a half and you may wait at least half an hour before your suitcase arrives. Arrival at Mytilini airport is pretty rapid: within ten minutes I am standing outside. Tourist season on Lesvos starts around the first of May, when people from (a.o.) England, Netherlands, Scandinavia, Czech Republic and Turkey start pouring in with the big international charter planes. And even though they come in big numbers, they all quickly are able to depart the arriving hall, pleased to be facing the bright blue sea and an idyllic chapel at the other side of the road at the beach.

Returning home is another story. The gap between a big airport and a local Greek airport such as on Lesvos then starts to show. The automation is simple and controlling names and luggage costs time, a lot of time. The fact that each airline has its own rules for luggage gives the airport staff hard times. Handling the luggage is not easy, because the belt that used to run behind the checkin counter has been removed because it failed so often. This means that passengers after checking in their luggage, must take their suitcases back and drag them a few metres further along to the scanning machine. A metre before the checkin there are poles indicating that you have to wait there for your turn. But nobody seems to notice them or they just disregard them. As soon as holidaymakers pack their suitcases to go home, they become impatient: everything has to go fast again. The Greek siga siga (slowly, slowly) – so enjoyed during their Greek holiday – is now cause for stress. Everyone wants to be first in the queue and everything has to be handled as fast as possible. People pushing-in and suitcases that block the paths are causing chaos. Slaloming your luggage through the waiting crowd from checkin to scanner requires a lifetime of experience. You will hear and see irritations accumulate in this traffic jam as time runs out.

However the Lesvorian ground stewardesses seem to have a lifetime’s experience of all this and remain calm whilst hearing the grumbling and seeing the angry faces. They keep on doing their work in a friendly and secure way. Even the people who think it is bullshit to come to the airport two hours before their plane leaves, and arrive at the last minute with their rental car and then panic because they cannot find the rental agent, they will be welcomed by reopening the checkin, even though it was long closed. That is: if the latecomer does not cause a row, because that does not work on Lesvos; for then the airport crew will work only according to the rules. So just remember, patience and a smile are the thing. Then all will be good. Even flying back home.

(with thanks to Mary Staples)

© Pip 2014

April 30 – Explosive Spring

(orchid hunters)

Persephone, the goddess who lives half the year underground with her husband Hades and the other half with her mother Demeter on earth, is seen as a spring goddess. When she returns to her mother, who is the goddess of fertility and growth, Demeter becomes so happy that she makes everything on earth grow. Just like this spring, although I think that Demeter must allow some things to grow in winter too because in the dark months we still have plenty of wild vegetables, citrus fruit and mushrooms.

There are people who were concerned about how little rain fell last winter, a time that I remember with blue skies and very pleasant temperatures. But when the real spring arrived and Persephone came from Hades and saw the dry earth, she might have made a plan with her mother to seduce the gods of the weather to bring a little bit of winter weather. Well, temperatures did not drop quite as low as in winter, but for weeks the weather gods have played a game where masses of clouds, heavy rainfall and deafening thunderstorms race through the Greek skies and the earth gets soaked with the water from heaven. The sun has taken up the challenge and tries desperately to win back ground. The result is a muggy atmosphere, like in a subtropical climate, and it is the plants that take profit and shoot out in record-breaking time. If you have not been visiting your little piece of land for a few days, you risk not recognizing it because of the vegetation reaching up to heaven. Even the asparagus have not stopped growing; thanks to the last rains they have started afresh with new shoots.

I don’t know if the birds are also profitting from this subtropical weather. But with the first charter planes, lots of birdwatchers have arrived on the island and taken their positions at strategic places with cars, huge tripods and cameras as big as cannons. If you pass such a gathering of people along the road or if the road is blocked by people wearing all kind of electric devices, this will be the birdwatchers waiting patiently for the one bird they have yet to spot.

However this spring there are also other gatherings of people: the flowerwatchers, including a large number of orchid hunters, who normally travel individually, but now seem to gather more and more in order to shoot pictures of as many orchids as possible. Lesvos was already known as a paradise for birdwatchers, it’s now becoming famous as a paradise for orchids.

For example when you visit the Chestnut wood above Agiasos and you want to quietly admire the view of a Comperia (Himantoglossum comperianum), it may happen that suddenly ten little rented cars stop and out pops a mass of people that kindly pushes you away in order to be able to photograph this miraculous orchid. These gangs of people are not yet trained to behave in groups like birdwatchers and there is a big risk that rare and beautiful orchids, that are difficult to spot amongst all the other greenery, will be trampled by so many sturdy walking boots. Although I must admit that the orchids are not small flowers anymore; they have never been bigger than this spring, and you might think that Demeter mixed the rainwater with some nuclear waste in order to get such huge plants. In America, when a fish with more than a normal size is discovered, they blame this on the 2011 leaks of the Fukushima nuclear plant (Japan) after the tsunami; though scientists deny that nuclear waste can transform fishes into monsters of big sizes. But I bet that Greece (and all other countries around the Mediterranean sea) will be in for terrible surprises once the Syrian chemical waste gets destroyed in the middle of the Mediterranean sea and the fish get feed by the waste waters that has been absorbing chemicals such as sulphur, mustard gas and sarin gas. Will we be finding gigantic octopus or other huge sea monsters in the sea next year, or will all fish slowly die (O, sorry experiment destroying chemical weapons has failed!)?

I suppose orchids will not easily change into monsters, but who knows what influences make them change their habitat. It seems that orchids growing in the warm south are marching northwards. And this spring orchids are spotted here on Lesvos that have been hidden for almost twenty years. For some people looking for orchids is not just about finding different kinds but also to study their habitat, the hybrids and mutations.

This year we will blame the sub-tropical weather for the explosive growth of the greenery and the outburst of big flowers. Persephone and Demeter did a great job. I must admit that Greek Gods are not always so nice — for instance the Weather Gods, who can spoil many a holiday. But at least they keep the world turning. The question is if they can continue doing this, now that chemical and nuclear waste is spread all over the seas of Poseidon and over the earth of Demeter.

(with thanks to Mary Staples)

© Smitaki 2014