The Ark

On Friday a neighbour of Julie's kindly gave me a lift to the Post Office in the village of Vamos. She is an animal lover and supports the local Red Cross and had errands to run on both counts. So after our business in the village, off we went - to one of the most curious places I have ever come across in Greece.

It's called The Ark and is a now defunct zoo owned by the Greek Orthodox church. Against a stunning backdrop of the White Mountains, the animals are still in their cages, but the zoo is no longer open and hardly anyone ever comes here.

 "A few years ago, it was really nice, with children enjoying the animals and a big cafe where you could have lunch", explained my companion as her little boy stood fascinated by a gaggle of geese around a dirty pond.

But now the Church says that, with the economic crisis, it can no longer afford to keep the zoo open. In the monkey cage the food container was full of bread and water. It was untouched. Perhaps most bizarrely, in a large compound was a whole flock of black African ostriches, enormous creatures that run like lightning. Unsurprisingly, they looked mean and unhappy.

We gave hay to some shetland ponies and two of the thinnest horses I have ever seen and then delivered clothes and supplies to the people living on site. First, a Bulgarian family whose home is, well, a large timber shed almost without windows. You can see part of it on the left behind the horses.

Second, to a young Afghan refugee, who is in Greece as an illegal immigrant. How does he survive? By working for the local priest, toiling all day in the hot sun doing quality stonework. To build new accommodation? No, for the construction of a brand new church, just over the hill from the zoo. For this he is paid 150 euros a month.

Minoan Crete - a blueprint for our future

I've been asked by people at last Sunday's Eisteddfod to write down my spoken story. As this is a theme that I feel passionate about, I'm posting it as today's blog. (The photos of Minoan art I took a couple of years ago at the Iraklion museum and Knossos).

A Minoan grandmother tells her story

"It was from the east my ancestors came, the place known as Anatolia. Spirit had spoken and so the mothers decided. They asked fathers and sons to build strong ships and all set sail until they came to a land of mountains and fertile plateaux, a land of olives and honey. This island of Crete.

Here we settled and built our sacred centres of community as places of beauty - and oh, we knew such joy! Our lives were lived in happy co-operation, in harmony with the rhythm of nature, for we understood that all life, like Mother Earth herself, is imbued with spirit and we were grateful for her bounty.

We had no fear of death, knowing all that dies shall be reborn. Our rituals were held deep in caves like a womb, the vessel of regeneration, and everywhere we placed artistic symbols of new life - the snake that sheds her skin, the butterfly that emerges from her chrysalis.

Our people were all held equal. We understood the sacred power of women as bearers of life and women held authority alongside men. Everyone was respected, whether a farmer or craftsperson, a musician, a mother or a person of learning. Nobody dominated or had ranking over another, nobody went hungry and  nobody amassed goods through greed.

And we lived in peace. There was no aggression between people, no war or battles, no man given glory for killing. You see, we understood that what you do to another you do to yourself, so why harm any other being?

I believe that a great reason for the peace among our people is that we expressed our natural sexuality and physical desire openly and with joy, so nobody felt hatred for themselves. We also released our energies through sport, drama, dance and music – especially our bull leaping and our circle dances, connecting with each other and deep into Mother Earth.

Every woman and man had a chance to fulfil their creative urge. Such beautiful buildings we made, such wonderful art and artefacts. You only have to look at them to see how we celebrated the wonder of nature and our sheer joy of living.

Our practical skills were great and we valued learning. Our men built comfortable houses, drains, roads and ships, our women taught architecture, mathematics and astronomy. Ours was indeed a thriving, happy world.

And then it was as though a madness descended on the earth. Warrior people came from the north and all around us there was war and battle, slavery and domination – of men over women and one race over another.

Our knowledge of spirit through the Earth Mother goddess was turned into tales of a family of warring sky gods – and eventually a single, judgemental sky god, with no recognition of the loving, sacred female. Women became demonised, especially for their sexuality, and conflict was considered normal human behaviour.

In our land of Crete, earthquakes and floods wrought massive destruction, our people died and our beautiful home and way of life was buried to sight and almost lost to memory. I passed into spirit at that time and have watched in sorrow as the world has embraced this madness.

Then, around a hundred years ago, there came an Englishman, Arthur Evans, who uncovered our temple at Knossos and so much of the beauty of our way of life. As a man of status, blinkered by the now all-pervading assumptions about humanity, he declared Knossos to be a palace and our people to have been ruled over by a male king.

But later have come women of brilliant brain and inspiration who have better understood the truth. They saw that our way of living in equality, peace, joy and harmony with the earth just three and half millennia before their time proves that domination, conflict, self-hatred and hunger are not the way that humans have always been.

Our beautiful truths have been warped and twisted but now we, the grandmothers, will stand it no longer. The lies must stop. We see that people, so naturally beautiful and full of love, are hungry for a better way. So let our Minoan world on the island of Crete be a shining beacon of hope and light - a blueprint for the future of humanity."

A place in the sun

When Al and I went to live on the island of Kalymnos in 1995, the only other British residents were girls who had married Greek men, travel reps who had stayed on for the winter, an elderly Greekophile and two or three couples who were running businesses. Like us, they all lived in older houses or apartments that were quite simple, in the Greek island tradition, all spoke reasonable or even fluent Greek - or were at least at some stage of learning - and all wanted to learn about and fit in with the Greek way of life.

Each had also developed close ties with their own one or two local families and would exchange favours, spend feast days together and generally learn from each other. Julie, whose house I am staying in, first bought her property in Crete long before that, in the 1970s, so she has lived in a similar way for even longer.

In about 2004, when property was booming in the UK, a new wave of 'settlers' arrived in Greece, generally retired couples whose first major interaction with local people was the process of buying land and having new houses built - their own 'place in the sun'.

 
In Kalymnos, a small expat community developed and a few Kalymnians got involved in the building boom, but traditional Kalymnian culture remained absolutely dominant and visible.

Here in Plaka and the villages around western Crete, the balance is quite different. I would guess that Brits and other foreigners must make up at least half the population and local shops have sprung up, run by fellow expats, catering almost exclusively for their tastes and needs - or people drive into Chania for Lidl and Marks & Spencer. The vast majority are retired couples and there's no doubt that they have injected new life and prosperity into previously poor rural areas. Crete is a large island, the size of a small country with strong farming traditions, so life is bound to be different from on the dinner plate of rock that is Kalymnos, with its traditions of seafaring and sponge diving, but this is a new, unexpected phenomenon for me.

 

Of course, people move here because they love Greece, the sunshine, the gentler way of life. Yet it also seems that the boom of a few years ago is over and not only do brand new houses remain unsold, very many British residents who have lived here a while are trying to sell their homes and move on. I see 'For Sale' signs all around the village. Is the dream over? When I've asked people why, they reply almost sheepishly that they moved here as younger, fitter retirees and now they're getting older, perhaps with health problems, they find they want to be in the UK.

Others say that they miss their families - especially grandmothers miss seeing their grandchildren grow. I can relate to that. But it's as though there's something missing from their explanations, perhaps from their lives. Maybe it's difficult to find a sense of purpose, a way of feeling useful. Certainly those most actively involved in charity fund-raising seemed particularly positive.

And, inevitably in this situation, there's curiosity about anyone new who shows up. I met a couple who I didn't recognise, but had apparently been at Sunday's Eisteddfod. "Oh hello Faith, how are you? We heard that you're in the area looking to buy a house and settle. Is that right?" Already,  through a process of Chinese whispers, house-sitting had become house-hunting....

Cretan flora and fauna

At this time of year Greece enjoys a brief but bounteous spring. The winter rains have turned everything green, there's a flourish of growth from the flora and a palpable drive to reproduce among birds and other fauna. Everyone's out to display and play, so my walks are surrounded by a myriad delicate flowers in long grass and accompanied by a rippling choir of birdsong - all seizing the day before the fierce summer heat turns down the pace and volume, before the flowers burn to brown and the birds are drowned by cicadas.

I think my favourite flowers are the bright poppies beneath the olives beside my garden

but these delicate thistley things are also pretty cool - and so are the tiny blue and orange flowers that are either varied expressions of the same plant's joy of living or simply best mates

I always have to stop and smile when I pass this neglected but happy plot of land on the way to the village.

So what about animal life, aside from the dogs and cats? Well, the other morning a brilliant green lizard scuttled across my path and then I spotted a strange lizardy thing that looked almost like a snake with legs, a hybrid creature that moved awkwardly and slowly. Neither of them were familiar, but after some research I can introduce you to.....

The Balkan green lizard, which is the largest lizard in Crete, a truly handsome dude and a real fast mover. I hope he/she hangs around longer next time our paths cross. And below is the ocellated skink. Strange little creature, but quite harmless and shy. The one I saw had lost its tail, so looked real stumpy. BTW, these lizard photos are not some miraculous product of the humble phone camera that I rely on - they are from this website: www.cretanbeaches.com/Fauna/Reptiles/lizards-of-crete/ for all those who want to know more about Cretan reptiles. You know who you are....

A Greek Eisteddfod

A few days ago I spotted a notice board outside the mini market in the local village of Plaka and was slightly surprised to see that all the notices were in English. I knew that a lot of Brits and other northern Europeans live here, but wasn't aware of just how many and what a varied, lively community they are.

Anyway, the poster that caught my eye advertised an Eisteddfod, with song, music, stories. Intrigued, I phoned. In several days I hadn't spoken to anyone except the dogs - which tends to be a one-way conversation - and the owner of the mini market, so maybe it was time to branch out and socialise. I was told that this would be an event more pagan than Welsh, in the tradition of bards and storytellers. Oh, right up my street then. Before I knew it I heard myself volunteer to take part....

A lift to the venue was organised for me and I found an assortment of friendly Brits, mainly people about my age who have retired to live here, together with a few Greek people, notably Yorgos, who would later be playing drums. He's an educated man, a teacher of Greek who also runs a music cafe-bar and I asked him how local people feel about all these foreigners moving in. "Oh, you British people have saved this area by bringing in money", was his immediate reply. "First, you have houses built and then you buy food and goods and use all the services - it gives employment to a lot of people who had nothing on which to survive except salt from the sea, which they sold."

He observed diplomatically that not all our ways are their ways and that the foreigners will never change Greek culture, but that they are influencing local people on two significant matters - the idea of charitable giving and concern for the environment. The event was in aid of the Chania school for children with learning disabilities - some quite profound - which has recently been starved of government funding due to the economic crisis, the teachers even remaining unpaid for months.

The Brits' environmental concerns have actually influenced local policies, explained Yorgos, not least because there are 600 foreigners registered to vote in the region of Apokoronas, so their voice is heard and noted by politicians.

The event got under way with some excellent folk songs sung a capella, a delightful Yorkshire poem and various readings, all in a relaxed, convivial atmosphere. One highlight was a reading from a memoir by Marie, a lady of 95 who is one quarter Scottish and three-quarters Greek and who grew up locally.

The Brits hung on every word, hungry for insights into Greekness, I felt. This was emphasised by the delight of our hostess (above) at having Greek people play and sing at her house - something she had long dreamed of. Her pleasure was quite touching and it made me feel privileged to have had the Kalymnos experience, where British residents were so few in the early days and we could immerse ourselves in the Greek way of life, music, dance and everything.

Then Yorgos played African drums together with an African man who lives locally and a fellow Greek. They were very, very cool.

In contrast, but equally talented, came Chris, a professional writer and performer who has just published volume 1 of the definitive biography of George Leybourne, the music hall entertainer known as 'Champagne Charlie' and who regaled us with songs and a reading.

And finally, I was asked to do my bit. I had decided to prepare only the outline of 'A Minoan grandmother tells her story' and to wing it, simply speaking from the heart without notes, or rather from the spirit of said Minoan grandmother. I told the story of settling in Crete and establishing a joyful, peaceful, creative way of life and then said that the lies must stop - the lies that say that for humanity a state of self-hatred, inequality, domination, conflict and disparity of resources are inevitable because we've always been that way. The Minoans are proof that we have not and can be humanity's blueprint for change. I found quite a deep well of anger and passion about it - and that seemed to really speak to people, both British and Greek, especially one young Greek woman, who really thanked me afterwards.

 The final final pleasure and surprise of the day was that I won the raffle and was really moved to come away with a bright patchwork blanket hand knitted and crocheted by one of the organisers and her elderly mother. Last night I sat outside with the olive trees and birdsong, thinking and reading until it was nearly dark, the blanket wrapped around me like a hug.

Dogs and domesticity

A major part of my role while house-sitting is to take care of Julie's two dogs, Magic and Petal. Magic is Petal's mother but she is more lively and active than her daughter. Petal takes life at a slow pace but is very sweet and affectionate. We go for walks along unmade lanes and through olive groves and before Julie left she showed me roughly some routes to take - but then the car broke down and the routes became quite confused because, frankly, one track and olive grove look much like another. So now my strategy is to go some distance along a lane and then let Magic take me into an olive grove, hoping that we'll emerge the other end safely and I can then simply follow her home.

This works to a limited extent because, of course, Magic is a dog with fur on her legs and the ability to bound up and over stone walls. I, on the other hand, have to make diversions to avoid the walls and still emerge with scratches on my legs from the undergrowth. Never mind, compensation comes with the glorious wild flowers that dot the long grass beneath the olives and the glimpsed views of sea and mountains. In fact, the white mountain peaks usually serve as my directional guide until somehow, by Magic (groan), we turn up in the garden of the house and are home.

During this process, I try to walk briskly to give the heart and legs a bit of a work out - but Petal doesn't do brisk. So I stop and turn and there she is several metres behind me, reluctantly planting one paw in front of the other, panting heavily. Her delight when we're home and she can have a drink and bony chewy thing is palpable.

Both dogs are also delighted when they get a stroke and a rub, so often when I sit outside, they sidle up and put their nose on my lap with a pleading look in the eye. Irresistible, of course.

The apartment I'm staying in is on the top floor of a three-storey building and is the only storey that is complete and habitable (It's quite common in Greece to build in stages as budget allows and circumstances dictate). The main entrance is from the garden, over a bridge that crosses a rocky chasm, and into the kitchen.

From here, you walk through to a dining room and adjoining sitting room, both of which have amazing, panoramic views over the Bay of Souda and the mountains and, of course, there's a large terrace facing west, so taking in afternoon sun and uplifting sunsets. The sea views even extend right around the side of the house, where the bedroom is located.

The house is not one of those bland, modern 'eurovillas' that have sprung up everywhere in Greece and have very little Greek character. It has a traditional feel but there are the essential mod cons of wi-fi, dvd player, cd player (with  great collection of music) and a washing machine in the basement.

Since I arrived, I've been sleeping A LOT, but today it feels that a routine is emerging. Up fairly early, let the dogs out, feed the three demanding, hungry cats, give the dogs a bonio then sit outside and meditate. After my breakfast and chores, the dogs and I take a walk, then another walk in the late afternoon. In between, the time is mine to work, read, think, walk to the village and shop  - but not much. I'm grateful that Julie left me loads of food, so I've spent very little money so far. That's maybe one blessing of being without a car - petrol is about £1.70 a litre here!

Tomorrow, my routine will change as something different is happening....nope, you'll just have to wait!

My temporary home by the White Mountains

I knew that I was coming to stay close to Crete's White Mountain range, but was completely unprepared for the drama and awesome beauty of their snow-topped peaks. I was first treated to a very exciting view of this natural wonder as my plane circled to land at Chania airport on Tuesday - and now they are the backdrop to my everyday life. Yesterday's wind and rain has abated and today, if I stop typing and look up, I see turquoise sea, rocky cliffs, green hills and then a hazy line of purplish grey, above which emerges the mountains, topped by white fluffy clouds and a sky the colour of forget-me-nots. This view is from the side terrace of my apartment:

The white peaks are still covered in snow at this time of year, which may seem unexpected for Crete, but apparently they also look white in summer as the rock is so chalky.

Taking in this panorama, I am constantly reminded of paintings by Nicholas Roerich, the great early 20th century Russian artist, writer, visionary and peacemaker who journeyed to Tibet in search of Shangri-La, that mystical, timeless land of contented human beings living in harmony with nature. The White Mountains seem to offer me a possibility - the invitation to embrace inner peace that can become a consistent state of being, even when I'm in less peaceful and more challenging situations and surroundings. It's not always easy to remember that we can have dominion over our mind - it's entirely up to us to choose how we react to whatever is going on. Here's Roerich's painting Kanchenjunga - see what I mean?

A rainbow and a broken Renault

Yesterday's journey from Stansted to Chania and on to Julie's house at the White Mountain retreat was entirely smooth and uneventful. She had cooked delicious gigantes (Greek beans) and as we sat outside to eat under a star-sprayed sky, I felt so grateful to be back in Crete.

This morning, however, was not uneventful. The weather was wild and windy with alternating sun and showers and there, suddenly, across the bay towards the White Mountains, was a superb rainbow. I have never seen rainbow colours so clearly nor witnessed one that lingered so long. It was exciting, exhilarating, magical - and gave me the feeling that I'm right to be here and all will be well.

So when we went out in Julie's trusty old Renault 600, bumping along dusty lanes between olive groves, and the car simply refused to go into any gear and had to be abandoned with a presumed dead gear box, I was surprised but not too fazed. A hardship to be 'stuck' in a comfortable apartment (with internet access) overlooking sea and mountains, surrounded by flowers and olive groves, the only sound a brisk wind through the trees? I don't think so. The village is just ten minutes away on foot and the walking will do me good. Julie got a taxi to the airport for her trip to England and I'm quite happy with the two dogs sleeping beside me and three cats somewhere around. When I need a car, either the Renault will get fixed or I'll hire one. Simples. Welcome to Greece.