Images of a Cretan Christmas

My Cretan Christmas was spent at Julie's house in Plaka, a magical spot overlooking the White Mountains. Our tree was an arrangement of roses, angels flew across the chimney breast and olive branches and fir took the place of holly. Christmas morning glowed with jaw-dropping beauty as the snow-topped mountains were etched an immaculate white, a warm sun split the heavens and the sea and sky were impossibly, perfectly blue.

 

Part of Colm's Christmas gift to me was euros to buy champagne - along with the brilliant suggestion that Julie and I should head for the beach and have a paddle whilst sipping the bubbles. Rude not to really...Do we look like we're having fun yet? Thanks Colm, I know the Mourne Mountains and Newcastle beach are giving you just as much pleasure, even if they're 10 degrees colder. 

 

 In the olive grove garden behind the house, the ground was a soft green bed of oxalis

And on Boxing Day night the sunset was so awesome that you had to shout and dance for the joy of being alive. Nature was presenting a theatrical spectacular with a broad smile and a blessing.

 

Christmas and a computer crisis

In Chania, Christmas slowly builds to fruition with an understated buzz. There is no frantic rush, just a pleasantly festive air with everyone wishing each other Xronia Polla - 'many years' or Kales Yiortes - 'happy holidays'. Oh, and the Red Bicycle cafe will have a barbecue and live music in the open air on Christmas Eve from about 11am, cunningly timed to catch the church crowd as they emerge from the early services at the cathedral and the Catholic church. Normally they head straight to the cafes for coffee. This time, they'll join a full-on party.

A few shops have a few cards, many of which look as though this is about their third Christmas on the rack. Turkey is hard to find, parsnips are like gold dust and Christmas pudding has never been heard of. But there is a great air of bonhomie, lots of sparkling lights and a few blasts of seasonal music.

This is the scene in front of the market building - not my photo but you can get a feel for the place and the lights.

I have borrowed a photo rather than downloading one of my own because I am in the throes of a computer crisis. Clearly I was getting a little far into the festive spirit and managed to spill some red wine on to my laptop keyboard. I've bought a cheap external keyboard and am hoping that this will work when the innards of the poor machine have dried out. Fingers crossed! Meanwhile, I am using the internet access in the reception area of the studios where I am staying.

Returning to my seasonal theme, we are now in the three day period of the Winter Solstice, the ancient festival of the turning of the year during which the bright light of flames was employed to invoke the continuing brightness and warmth of the sun for the season ahead. Yule tide is symbolised by holly, the shining king of winter trees, and by the white berries of mistletoe. Also a time to celebrate the barely visible start of new growth that will come to fruition in spring. All acknowledgements that we, as humans, fit right into the natural rhythm of the seasons, our hearts beating in resonance with Mother Earth.

These are the ancient origins of what we now call Christmas and in their spirit of joy and gratitude, I wish everyone a time of great sharing, love and warmth. May our hearts stay open and our happiness be complete in every moment.

A great Christmas party

I was recently a privileged guest at one of the most fun, feel-good Christmas parties I have ever experienced - and the only hangover the next day was a sense of gratitude and joy.

The party was organised by my friend Mollie and fellow generous British residents of the Plaka area and was held in a bar in Almyrida. The main guests were youngsters who attend a centre in Chania for people with special needs, together with their carers - a truly shining and delightful bunch of young adults whose dedication and devotion is carried with great lightness and humour.

The centre struggles to cover the overheads of its running costs and the British contingent has raised substantial funds to help during the last few years - and encouraged Cretan people to take notice and get involved.

The Christmas party is an opportunity to show the youngsters a good time, give them presents and let them feel that people care about them. Feeling is the operative word here because when communication through the mind is limited, then human connection is made entirely through the heart - and what an amazing, heart opening experience that was!

I had been practising lately trying to live from the heart, to allow the dismantling of all those protective barriers that we erect in response to life's pain - and here was my opportunity to reach out from the heart. I was so richly rewarded and humbly saw the gift of learning. Just let the mind tick over in the background, release all self-consciousness, make the heart open and vulnerable and there rushes in the overwhelming love that is our true essence.

 Rania is a young woman in her twenties who loves to dance. At first, when we were just talking without music or movement, she shied away from being touched or getting too close. But when the music started and we danced together, she grabbed my hands as we jumped in rhythm, then linked her arm in mine to spin round. She could clearly feel the music through her very being and it brought her brilliantly to life.

Little Katerina is about nine years old but tiny as a slender toddler. Just holding her hand gives you a warm glow and when I held her in my arms and she blessed me with a huge smile, I felt bathed in a sense of bliss.

Scenes from a Cretan weekend

It's feeling quite wintry here in Chania, with grey skies and a fierce north wind whipping the sea over the harbour pavement. Nothing like as cold as the arctic conditions that seem to have struck Britain - but nevertheless a stark contrast to last weekend, when I did my driving tour of the coast and countryside. I'm so pleased that I took the opportunity then, as the weather was exceptionally kind - about 21C and mainly sunny - and it wasn't hard to guess that this would soon change.

As I drove around, it did seem hard to believe that the date was early December, as the air and colours felt like a pleasant British autumn. You don't associate Crete with autumn colour, but I loved this view of a mountain village glimpsed through gold tinted leaves.



And this chapel looking as though it has grown out of the landscape.



I enjoyed, too, the contrasts of the peninsular resort of Paleohora on the south coast. One beach faces west, the other east. I like to take strength from the sea, seeing her as a great female power that knows exactly when to flow softly and when to roar - a judgement that we all need to make from time to time.
Here, she was doing both within the space of a few metres and it was instructive to notice that the wildness, whilst slightly threatening, was also invigorating and stimulating. The calm, whilst soothing, was also predictable and unremarkable. Both nature and humans are susceptible to paradox. A Greek word of course....






 

























 

Two kafeneion experiences made me smile. The first was in Zagores, a tiny mountain village 

famed for myths of water and nature spirits - so I had to see and feel it. The only watering hole in the place was run by an ageing British hippy who had 'gone native' and the only customers myself and three French walkers. The four of us sat outside chatting as we drank and when it was time to pay, the owner had disappeared and the village was deserted, so we just guessed how much to leave - probably we were over generous. The kafeneion interior was a step back in time.

 

The second kafeneion was on Sunday morning, in a place called Limani, meaning harbour. There was nothing but olive trees, a tiny fishing boat harbour where nothing moved and the kafeneion with two fishermen sitting outside. When I drew up in my silver car and ordered coffee, chatting to the owner in Greek, their curiosity was tangible.

Eventually, after catching them staring at me surreptitiously, I put them out of their misery and told them that I was staying for the winter in Chania and out exploring the area, also that I had lived in the Dodecanese previously. With great restraint, they refrained from asking me my age, why I was alone and whether I was married and then happily posed for a photo. The coffee, by the way, was excellent.

The last - but far from least - remarkable place was the mountain eco-retreat of Milia. It's 6 km above the main road - the final 1.5 of them a rough, unmade single track with unfenced edges above sheer drops. But the journey is worth it, for the views en route made me shout with delight.

Once there, the feeling is of such peace and serenity and the organic food in the cosy stone-built restaurant so good that I just wanted to stay for hours. Instead, I returned the next day and had the good fortune of meeting Jakovos, the now elderly man who had the inspiration to build this place. We immediately fell to talking about the living spirit of the land and he told me that it had belonged to his family, but after the war he was left alone and would come here to tend goats, cry, commune with the land and dream. Now, his dream of an eco-centre where people could become healthier and happier for their stay has been realised. Read more about it at www.milia.gr

The olive harvest

Olives are a staple in Greece - and especially in Crete. The soil and climate are perfect and nearly everyone seems to own at least a small piece of land with a few trees that produce oil, even if it's only enough for their own family use.

The silver leaves and gnarled trunks of olives give distinctive character to the land. This is a really hardy species and its root system can regenerate the tree even if the above-ground structure is destroyed. Trees can grow to as old as 2,000 years, as has been verified by examination of trunk rings. We saw some fabulous ancient olives in the village of Argyroupoli, which has its origins way back in the mists of time.



You might think that olive trees are naturally squat, but they are actually pruned and if they are grown for their fruit to be eaten rather than pressed for oil, then they are allowed to reach their full height, which is quite a stately size.



As I drove around western Crete last weekend, the ground beneath the trees in most olive groves was covered in black or blue nets, which can only mean one thing - it's time to harvest the olives and take them to the press for the production of rich, gloopy, gold-green olive oil.



From early in the morning, families were gathering to shake the olives loose from the trees and then get stuck into the painstaking task of separating the fallen olives from twigs and leaves that inevitably accompany their descent from the tree.







In one remote mountain village I found pressing in full swing - clearly on a small scale and not proceeding at a fast pace - but growers had brought in their sacks from all around and they filled the square, each labelled with its owner's name. The owners will be hanging around to keep watch that their olives are pressed as a separate batch and they receive all the oil due.





































I mentioned black nets. Certainly these were standard, but in one hillside grove where the harvesting had finished, I spotted  red nets wrapped around the tree trunks and looking for all the world like a beautiful landscape sculpture.

Sunset on a Cretan beach paradise

The weather forecast was good for the weekend, so I decided to hire a car and see some of the more remote parts of western and southern Crete. A place high on my list was Elafonisi, a beach with a small island offshore that you can walk out to when the tide is right.

Elafonisi is right on the most south-western tip of Crete, facing the Libyan Sea. Doesn't that sound exotic? As I arrived, the sun was low and the air had a kindly warmth. The atmosphere felt magical and I sat cross legged by the sea and drummed for the sheer joy of it all (yes of course my drum came with me).

I felt energised, content, at one with the beautiful world around me and took photos to share the feeling.

Walking the past and future in Chania

Is Chania really the oldest continually inhabited city in Europe? That's what was suggested to me recently. Well, I've been doing some research and it's probably not the oldest - but certainly up there among them.

In case you're yawning already, I do agree that such statistics and labels are pretty boring on their own. They only become exciting when knowing this information gives us some insight into our own existence, some meaning that is relevant to us living in the here and now.

So, bear with me because I think I've found something pretty exciting and very relevant about Chania and its story.

I've mentioned before my fascination with the Minoans as an inspiring culture of peace, equality, creativity and general joy in living - the last such culture in Europe until its final disappearance in around 1200 BC - and Chania was definitely an important centre for Minoan life on Crete.

Now my recent reading is putting the Minoans into a much bigger context - no less than the whole of human existence on earth. The Ancient Problem with Men by Bruce Garrard is an exploration into how our state of warfare and oppressive social structures came about. It's taught me a lot - and, like me, it is certainly not anti-male as the title might suggest.

Humans - in our various forms - have inhabited this planet for about 2 million years and 'modern' humans (homo sapiens sapiens) for between 100,000 and 200,000 years. Big numbers. So how come the milestones of what we learn and know of as 'history' usually take us from primitive cave people to Ancient Egyptians, then Classical Greeks and Romans and finally to Christianity, spanning a time period of only around 5,000 years?

Look at the numbers of years like this:

Whole human history       2,000,000
Homo sapiens                     200,000
'History' we learn about          5,000

Do you think we might be missing a trick in understanding who we actually are? When you look further into what was going on during the big number centuries, you discover that humans were far from primitive or brutal in their relationship with each other. They (we) actually evolved as social, co-operative, peaceable beings with an awareness of spirit and an intrinsic role in the earth's eco-system - and their natural mode of relationship with each other was co-operation and affection.

Then, starting around 6,000 years ago, humans developed behaviour patterns that led to violence, cruelty, war, taboos around sex and other bodily functions and domination of men over women, masters over slaves, one race over another. In other words, seriously stressful, warped, unnatural behaviour which is clearly to the detriment of both the oppressors and the oppressed.

All of us lose from this way of living and I feel that we all know in our hearts that it's not meant to be this way. We also know from just looking at the world around us that it is unsustainable. It has been suggested that the true natural law for development of humanity is not a matter of 'survival of the fittest' based on competition but 'survival of the most loving' based on co-operation.

And where does Chania come into this? Well, again it's a matter of numbers. In most cities in Europe, there is little evidence or imprint of the 'loving culture'. Not only did it largely die out around 5-6,000 years ago - usually before the city was even founded - but also there are few meaningful physical material remains. In Chania, on the other hand, the numbers are like this:

Earliest known habitation by 'loving culture'  (Neolithic remains)       5,650 years ago
Latest known habitation by 'loving culture' (end of Minoans and
start of dominance of warring Mycaeneans)                                       3,200  years ago

This means that the city has experienced at least 2,400 years of people living in natural co-operation and 3,200 years of people living in warped, unnatural behaviour patterns. It's not an equal balance - but much closer to one than most other places.

I wrote the other day that events, experiences and feelings leave an energy in the fabric of a place and the land on which it is built.

When I go into the museum around the corner, I see and even touch beautifully worked and decorated Minoan objects that were found a couple of streets away.
 

When I walk along the quiet, narrow roads and paths of Chania, there are some of the very stones that were put in place by Minoans to create their houses and sacred places.






As my feet tread this ground, not only do I spontaneously feel a sense of love for the city as it is now, but I also become deliberately aware of the spirit of its co-operative past, drawing on the energy of peace and love that we all so fervently desire in our hearts and the earth so desperately needs for its survival. It makes for enjoyable walking.

Happy 18th birthday Daisy!

Today my granddaughter Daisy officially becomes an adult.

Daisy is the eldest of my five granddaughters, the miraculous series of gifts with which my life has been so blessed. Her dad is my eldest son Dominic, a successful wedding photographer. (Know anyone getting married? Check out www.dominicwhiten.co.uk)

Dominic took this lovely picture of Daisy last year. This is a photo of a photo so it's a bit fuzzy (sorry Dom) but you can see something of her essence and of the love and humour that they share.

Daisy is a London girl with a talent for writing and keeps a highly entertaining blog called Confessions of a London Teenager. She says I inspired her to keep a blog and then, truth be told, she inspired me to start this one. Proof of what goes around and all that.

Anyway, a few weeks ago Daisy wrote a post about her forthcoming birthday, thus:

It's my eighteenth in a month and a bit and I'm in the midst of questions from parents and family on gift preferences (it's a hard life). Naturally, I compiled a list of the usual suspects: perfume, jewellery etc... but then, just on the off-chance that my parents suddenly win the lottery or become heirs to a long-lost late relative's wealthy estate, I added a few items that wouldn't go amiss should their funds allow it. This includes...

A Chanel 2.55 bag, Ella Henderson's voice, the entire Jil Sander A/W 2012 collection, Jessica Ennis' abs, a gold encrusted Gibson J-200 and a lifetime pass to Brixton Academy.

I also suggested that it would be preferred for Harry Styles to present all these gifts to me (they might need to get Tom Daley as well because there's a lot of stuff there to carry, especially for just one person).

I'm not asking for too much, am I?
 
Remembering this gem, I went shopping in Chania for one of her presents and browsed the Street of Leather Goods. Very soon a nice little black handbag looking remarkably similar to a Chanel 2.55 and costing remarkably less than the £3,000 or so of the original was in the post to Daisy. Chuffed? Echoing the spirit in which it was sent, she laughed out loud and declared it officially top of her list of 'novelty presents'. I always said she would run the United Nations one day with her diplomatic skills....

On a more philosophical note, whilst reflecting on the nature of time, life and the generations, I thought of Kahlil Gibran's famous words that I discovered when I was 18 and already a mother. I tried to remember them at all times as my sons were growing up and they seem even more poignant as my granddaughters start to reach adulthood.

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself…

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

Chania celebrates its big festival

I've now discovered why the cathedral and its contents were getting so spruced up the other day. Wednesday 21st November sees just about the biggest event in the year for Chania and its church, for this is the festival of the Virgin Mary. Not Mary the mother and 'the queen of all saints' - her day is 15th August, the name day for all married women called Maria.

No, Wednesday apparently marked the presentation of the Virgin Mary at the temple when she was three years old and is the name day of all unmarried girls called Maria - in theory themselves virgins.














    Celebrations for this festival started on Tuesday evening, with a lot of bell ringing and chanting broadcast through the loudspeakers on the front of the church (and very close to my balcony). This lasted until at least midnight and then it all started again early on Wednesday morning, which was one of glorious warm sunshine and clear blue sky. Mary was smiling down on her big day.

 And big day it was. Hundreds - maybe even thousands - of people dressed in their best were filing in and out of the cathedral and milling in its courtyard, the centre of which was firmly occupied by lines of armed soldiers and sailors. Some lit candles or ate chunks of ceremonial bread, others greeted and chatted while yet others simply looked on thoughtfully.
 
 















The constant background sound to all this activity was the chanting and sermons of dozens of priests and cantors, all clad in their white ceremonial robes with red flowers embroidered on the back. 

Out in the narrow street, children were gathered in preparation for their turn to process into the cathedral. The younger ones were wearing uniforms (only used on ceremonial occasions) while teenagers were dressed in the traditional costume of this part of Crete. None seemed self-conscious, instead they looked quietly proud and extremely dignified.

I was really struck by the similarity of some modern young girls to the portrayals of Minoan women and girls of around 2,000 BC. The same beauty and bearing was there, the same strong sense of femaleness devoid of any coquettish undertones  - even among some very glamorous young police women.

The same could be said of most people, who exuded a dignified sense of togetherness, an easy awareness of community. Darting around with my little camera, I tried to be respectful but I did want to capture the uplifting spirit of the day to share. I hope you can feel and enjoy it.