( Photo Credit - Babylonstoren)
' Sounds embedded in silence like snails whorled in stone. Sounds that ancient: shepherds' voices rising behind the sheep, the sheep's bells ringing, ringing their passage, the donkeys' brays, the whirr of wasps and bees in blossoming oregano. And silence around the din as solid as rock, born in the horseshoe of low mountains beyond the house ....' Karen Connelly - One room in a Castle - Names for the land.
A couple of weeks ago I went back to Greece. After many years it was time to revisit and a reunion with a good friend was my reason to return. We needed a place to unwind and catch up on the last 5 years. We wanted sunshine & ripe tomatoes bursting with flavour. We longed for misty mountains and quiet monasteries. My friend was weary and in need of some solitude. I just wanted to spend a day or two doing nothing but swimming in the inky blue sea. Having spent the past couple of months avidly following the story of The Durrell family and life on Corfu, I felt like it was my turn to eat olives and feta cheese and to say 'Kaleemera' to every Greek person I saw.
I also wanted to rediscover the reality that Karen Connelly so poignantly captured in her book - One room in a Castle. ( A Canadian writer who settled on a Greek island in a shepherds' hut.)
I still have my copy of her book, now covered in brown paper and tucked onto my groaning bookshelf. I loved her writing from the first sentence. She paints pictures with her words, spilling lines of prose onto every blank page. I like her words so much that I have copied and pasted them all the way through this blog post.
'The metaphors of poetry promise that everything is connected, everywhere. That is why this place begins with poetry. Because here, on the island, the bonds between objects and landscape, between people and history are visible and overwhelming. I am the blind woman who wakes one morning and sees, for the first time, her naked feet; then realises in astonishment that the curved delicate prints appearing behind her in the dust are linked to her own bony toes. So I wade, amazed, through the union between trees and stones and their shadows, between air and sun fire. ...'
Karen Connelly - One room in a Castle - Names for the land.
Trinity Monastery - Meteora, Kalambaka.
Simona & I met at Athens airport and headed off to catch a train inland to Meteora and the 6 resilient monasteries balanced precariously on the rocky outcrops that stand there. The first ascetics settled in Meteora ( rocky forest) in the tenth and eleventh centuries, making their dwellings in the natural fissures in the rocks or in small monastic 'cells.' The desert fathers came here to escape persecution after the Eastern Orthodox church split away from the Western Roman Catholic church. Men and women living in caves, refusing to abandon their faith. Slowly moving their settlements higher and higher until these little islands of peace emerged above the clouds.
May was a good time of year to be there. The fields lying at the base of these soaring pinnacles were alive with wild flowers and poppies. The rose bushes in every monastery were in their first flush of bloom, thick and lush and fragrant at the start of the flowering season.
We hiked up winding stone staircases that took us to heady heights. We marvelled at the beauty. We ate a spontaneous picnic on top of a mountain sitting on a simple bench nestled alongside a big old brass bell tower. The bell rang out at mid-day, so loud and unexpected I nearly fell off that mountain into the field of beehives below! We sat licking melon juice from our fingers while enjoying the view overlooking the monastery vineyard. Salami from Simonas' mother in Romania, pecorino cheese, slices of ripe melon and big fat tomatoes. We lit candles and talked to Nuns and bearded men. It was slow and simple. I was smitten with a handsome lonely monk at Trinity Monastery, which was my favourite out of all 6 that we visited. He offered us a piece of lemon Turkish ? delight covered in icing sugar. A shot of sharp sweet sugar on a hot day. It was the perfect pick me up. That simple kind act of hospitality and the view were just what my soul needed. Oh, and a cup of icy cold water. Pure pleasure.
It was a beautiful place. A quiet terraced garden of roses and lavender, a simple orchard of olives and lemons. Swallows dipping in and out of the sunshine, catching insects in the shadow of the chapel.
'I inhale air that contains twenty different scents. From the high places, and even from this whitewashed bench, I raise my head and gaze past the parched trees and wounded field of poppies, observe the silver green hills of olive and apricot orchards, the stone huts almost identical to the one at my back. They say a poet was born on the slope of rock and thistle that rises above the smaller hills. Both slack and tight around the edges of the land loop an indigo ribbon of Aegean water, an open ended azure length of Aegean sky.' Karen Connelly - One room in a Castle - Names for the land.
So that was Meteora. 2 days of mountains, monasteries and monks. Our thirst for spiritual interlude sated, we headed back to Athens.
I need to quickly mention however that during our time in Meteora and on the train journey home we had 2 very unusual encounters with 2 very different people that God sent our way. I don't have time to write more but just believe me ... even in the middle of Greece on a random Tuesday, God can set you up and cause your paths to cross with one person or in our case two, whom you have never met before, from the other side of the world, who are about to play a part in your future! The chances of meeting these two was one in a million. A different bus, a different train carriage, any earlier or later and our paths would never have crossed. But He did it. He is amazing !!!
But that is a story for another time. Back to this little narrative.
Our hankering for solitude and mountains met, we made our way to the island of Hydra, a 2 hour ferry ride from Athens, Piraeus port.
Hydra was all that we wanted and needed it to be. The three most prominent features were donkeys, elderly men and cats. Men smoking cigarettes in open air cafes, men sitting on benches chatting. Men sitting in the cool shade of a tree watching the world go by. Men offloading the fishing boats. Where were all the women? I expect they were inside cooking and cleaning. The island also had more cats than people. A million cats taking a snoozy siesta on every stone surface.
Hydra is an island with no traffic, just fishing boats and luxury yachts. And all surrounded by the deep cold sea. Needless to say I got my desire to swim in the inky blue water. Every morning when the water was calm and tranquil, I glided into its' salty embrace and slid away the cobwebs of sleep. I love the quiet mornings more than the hot afternoons. The water is still as a pond, the island still sleeping.
' One thought occurs to me repeatedly, I walk through the field bleating at sheep, scrutinising red carrion beetles, laughing at nervous lizards. One fact makes me pick up handfuls of dry, gray soil to rub and rub between my hands. Despite the shimmer of sea, sun and beauty, this is not a postcard. This has never been a postcard. This is a day, and I am alive. ' Karen Connelly - One room in a Castle - Names for the land.
Our week nearly over, we returned to Athens for a day seeing the sights. But lo and behold, the Divine hand behind the scenes worked His magic one more time. This one I will tell you about.
Arriving in Athens we were hot & slightly grumpy due to the early start and the lack of sleep the night before. Our accommodation on Hydra was a shared house. It had been going very well until our French neighbour and her husband from New Zealand, rocked up at 2am and started cooking loudly in the shared kitchen. Having a 6am start we were not impressed with their selfish behaviour when pots and pans were loudly banged around and dropped on the floor. It was obvious that the late return home was due to a drinking session and now the two were famished and the whole house was going to have to wake up and listen to their drunken cooking session.
Simona took the whole 2 hour ferry ride back to Athens to work through her anger and forgive the insensitive couple who had robbed us of our sleep! Added to this we had to find a place to leave our luggage for the morning before we could check in to our accommodation in Athens in the afternoon. Having finally found the luggage storage, I dragged Simona across to a groovy pad I had spied. Outside the front door were a handful of wooden bikes. I thought the set up looked cool and stylish and wondered if it was a hub for cyclists with a cafe area we could sit down in. We just needed some air conditioning and a coffee and this looked like the place to find it.
On entering the huge solid glass doors I realised our mistake. This was an expensive hotel and by the looks of things it had only just opened a couple of days ago. A trendy young man welcomed us like royalty at the door. Inside a hip designer was putting the finishing touches to an aerial display of flying birds that circled effortlessly towards the ceiling. On entering the entrance foyer we were forced to walk over a thick glass floor, below our feet swam ceramic turtles. To our left an area of architectural ruins were being unearthed, Athens is just layers and layers of history and the hotel was making the most of it and displaying this piece of exposed cultural heritage right in the centre of the hotel foyer.
I felt slightly out of place but decided that the air conditioning, the lush chairs and huge vases of flowers looked too inviting to leave. I asked a kind looking lady if we could rest here and have a coffee despite the fact we were not staying. She asked someone behind the bar and we were ushered in.
It was over a huge glass of freshly squeezed orange juice that a laid back happy looking man in shorts and a plain T shirt approached me. He started making conversation ... "What do you think of the place? Are you enjoying your stay?" I had to brush that one off and say "SORRY, we just dropped in for breakfast." He asked what we did. We explained and then he said he was paid to do nothing!
I thought he must be the resident writer, the poet, the man with no money who everyone tolerates and has become a part of the furniture.
I smiled and said ... Oh, you are an artist. He laughed and said ...
" No I own the hotel ! "
Paul Efmorfidis co founder of Coco-Mat
And so it was that we met Paul Efmorfidis and his wife and his son. With a twinkle in his eye he showed us around. He encouraged us to go up on the roof and enjoy the best view in Athens. He trusted us with his precious new home and gave us freedom to wander at will. It was very very strange. I don't know about you but I've never met the owner of a hotel before. They remain hidden. But here he was complimenting his wife on her taste. He credited her with all the decorations. The fresh flowers, the rich vibrant wall of greenery lining the restaurant. He introduced us to his son who stopped and talked to us. When I went home and did some research I realised he plays football for Ajax in Holland.
It cost 10 million Euros to build this place! It seems to be a copy of the award winning Tashchen
designed Acropolis Museum with its huge areas of light, ginormous glass windows and wide open spaces. If you stand on the roof of Paul's place you can see the dark outline of the museum just a stones throw away, an elegant silhouette lying at the foot of the Acropolis.
Having spent the day wandering the backstreets of Athens we returned at sunset to watch the sun go down over the sacred rock and its temple from the most exclusive terrace in the whole city. The crew at Coco-Mat Hotel had just pulled off a huge day, putting together all the last minute details for the hotels' opening. We joined them in the elevator as they went up to the roof to celebrate with 2 bottles of wine. No-one blinked when we rocked up and joined in. The accidental visitors who were now allowed into the inner workings of a very well designed and brilliantly put together hotel. The Divine hand behind the scenes worked His magic and knit our week together even to the spectacular finale, a sofa with the best view in Athens.
Having arrived back home I did some research and looked at old interviews and a TED EX talk Paul had delivered. Watching the numerous interviews, I was even more impressed. What an interesting man. He doesn't have a smart phone and he cycles everywhere. He pays his staff to cycle to work and not to drive. He hires men and women with disability and treats them as extended family.
When asked what he wanted to be remembered for when he died. He laughed and said ... "my dancing. Have you seen me dance?! And my parties."
"Money is power" he said, " and if you don't share it you will be very lonely. I want there to be a smile when I get to heaven, I want them to be happy to see me."
When asked abut taking risks and getting it wrong, he laughed and said. "Just don't do it again. Learn the lesson but don't stop taking risks." He talked about the Greek financial crisis stating that you could either see it as a recession or as an opportunity.
"We still have nature, we have a huge number of sunshine hours that make us wealthy as Greeks. We need to trade on what we have, sunshine hours. We have the best oranges, the sweetest tomatoes. The ripest peaches. And they are organic. Put the price up. People will pay for it. Forget about China. "
He loves nature and doesn't live in the city. For him the countryside is his home. I watched a video of him meeting an elderly couple who sell woven cane baskets to make a living. Within half an hour of meeting them he had embraced them and was taking them on a guided tour of his factory where he is using bamboo cane as shampoo bottle/containers. He cuts the bamboo into short 5 inch sections, cutting at the natural point where the bamboo seals itself and regrows. Pours shampoo into the green cane, seals the bamboo with a lid and some wax and then artistically ties a strand of rosemary around the bamboo vessel. Natural and organic. The couple were amazed and before you know it he was hiring them to cut bamboo cane for his factory.
I also watched him explaining how he makes mattresses of coco fibre. " They are natural mattresses & smell of the herbs in the mountains."
I could go on and on but won't. Just look him up and you will see for yourself the man that I am talking about. One person said he was the living embodiment of love ! But for me there was one statement that caught my attention because it was so familiar to me.
Paul said that "the aim of growing older is to become more childlike." This above everything is the one statement that stuck in my mind and won't go away.
Having just read M Scott Peck - Further along the road less travelled, I immediately recognised this statement about becoming MORE not less childlike mentally as we grow older.
Peck, a psychiatrist, talks about meeting a 65 year old man who he admired and was friends with because he allowed himself to change his mind, question his opinions and allow a child to influence his thinking. This struck Peck, a trained psychiatrist, as being a sign of a very healthy mind. Being open to new ideas. Being interested in people and life. Being flexible mentally. Seeing the world through a childs' eyes. Amazed and open to wonder.
" This capacity for ongoing change and transformation is the most salient feature of our human nature. "
M Scott Peck - Spirituality & Human Nature.
The statement was also very familiar to me because it was something Jesus said ... 'unless you can become like a little child, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven!' ( Matthew 18:3 ) The choice is yours, you can live a mundane life and never see the wonder in the world around you, or you can choose to see the glory resting in every little detail.
Paul made a huge impression on me and I think I will always remember him for the twinkle in his eye and his line about growing more childlike as we get older. He was a kind man and a good man and I knew it as soon as he first approached me.
As I thought back on my week in Greece I realised that there was also another gentleman who also left his mark of wisdom on my trip. The wisdom came in the form of a joke and it was delivered by a passing monk. When I first heard it in his thick Greek accent and realised that this man of the cloth had just cracked a joke, it made me laugh out loud.
On coming back down from Mount Eros and Elias Monastery, we saw a lone monk making his slow laborious way back up to his home laden with fresh produce from the harbour down below. (Hydra is an island with no traffic, only donkeys and horses are used to carry luggage and deliveries to and fro.)
As he trotted past the inevitable happened, I grabbed my phone to snap a photo. The monk turned and smiled and patted his donkey as he trotted by ...
" I taught my donkey to say CHEEZE! " he beamed at me.
A monk with a joyful heart and sense of humour. He surprised me and reminded me to never lose my childlike joy. It is the key to the kingdom of Heaven!