A Dip in the Aegean

Crete, Greece.
Those that know, know that those words can come with a sigh from my mouth.  Not a " how enchanting " sigh,  but  a" when will it end" sigh.
So I am very happy to report to the world, that I sighed many a time with a " How enchanting" coming from that turncoat mouth of mine.
And those that know, know how happy I might be to find something enchanting in a place that has been buttoned up with so much disappointment over the years.
There was humour, and lots Geis sas " HALLO THERE "( sounds like jasuse); and Entaxei
" ALLRIGHT THEN";  Brava, " WELL DONE"; and kala, " GOOD."
We drank wine made down the road. We poured olive oil, made down the road. We ate bread, made over the road. We ate tomatoes and onions, from across the road. Ate Feta and Mizithra made up the hill. Scooped up yoghurt and honey, from up the mountain.
We swam in the oh-so-blue-sea that poets have written about for centuries. And yes, it really is that blue.

We saw carefully excavated remains of those clever Minoans. a culture back in 3650 to 1400 B.C. who had it all sorted when it came to the practicalities of plumbing and the beauty of art. In Aptera, five minutes from where we were staying in Megala Chorafia....can't you just roll these words around in your mouth like exploding marbles? .....Gavalochori....Kokkino Chorio..... Hang my hat, drape my mosquito net, peel me an olive and I swear, even after all that those who know, know....


 I would take off my shoes and pull me a book off the shelf and smell me some oregano and breathe out until my lungs were empty.

And can I just go back to that blue sea again? The Mediterranean, as everyone knows who has swum in it, has a higher density of salt than most seas. So you swim like a mermaid.
And when your feet hit the water of Souda bay, which you see above, and a wave covers your feet, it is with kindness. "Come in" it says. " have a chat with me, with your friends."
And Greek people do. They get in the water and they talk about their day, the politics, their children, their aches. My friends told me that they do this for forty minutes. It is an unwritten rule that Cretans follow. Maybe it came from the Minoans. They weren't stupid.

So just , for those that know, these are photos of our last remaining piece of property. Something we have always called ' the Headland.' This headland has two neighbours who believe they have rights of way across our property. One is called Harokopakis and the other is called Christolakis. They don't roll  around my mouth in the same 'marbley' way. There were these 'rights of way'.... agricultural  tracks , let's call them, across everywhere;  for people to feed and water their goats. A man walking; a man and bicycle; a man and a cart.
This, ladies and gentleman, is what Mr Harokopakis and Mr Christolakis believe are agricultural tracks..... I think I rest my case....

Mr Christolakis

Mr Harokopakis

The headland and it's view with sister



We stayed with a friend Maria, in house that she had built with her Austrian husband. An Ecological house with walls made of clay and straw bales and underfloor pipes that cooled or heated, depending on what was happening outside. with solar panels and toilets that did something clever.

The terrace for breakfast and for dinner. Do we all remember what the night sky looks like when you can see all the itty bitty stars? Dark Blue sky and freckles of silver? How you tilt back your head and think, how clever of whomever it is that got to design all of this?

And there was a dog who lived across the road in a fenced -in yard, who sat on the wall to greet us whenever we came or went. And Maria will have that dog, or I will go back and steal that dog. Because he is an Einstein amongst his species and he needs a place to have a bigger conversation.

And there is just a time when you look at yourself and think, I want to be a singer.  It worked for John Denver. It will work for me. You rock ONO ENA.

So all that is left is the water the food and what takes your breath away...... 

My deckchair, my sister...testing the waters

The splash way out there...my feet, kicking for some Olympics.

and we will always have to talk about tomatoes

and we will fly away and remember this.

that bump on the left. Apocoronou. Plaka. Where my father carved out a place on the rocks to sit naked after a swim to dry off. where my nephews played heroes with towels pegged to their shoulders and spatulas stuck in their belts, where so much more, so much more....
fouff says the world. fouff says time. fouff says the tomatoes. ......

because we will always be bigger than our history.