Almyrida beach at dusk, end of season

Wild, warm wind has deposited flotsam, the cafe with its caravan kitchen is closed, sun beds lie at unkempt angles and the happy people are gone. My early evening stroll glimpses a melancholy beauty.

Dog days

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the challenge to remain serene in the face of all life's situations, to remember that the experience and the journey are the purpose and not something to be got past. Well, it seems that I'm being given an opportunity to put that concept into practical action.

During the last week, it has been easy to be happy with the fact that Ella, my lovely granddaughter, has been staying here with me. It's been a joy to share this beautiful place, go out on adventures and just chat for hours under the stars. Ella is studying art and photography, so she was presented with an abundance of subject matter and was enchanted by Crete, which she saw in all its weathers, from torrential rain and high wind to scorching sunshine.

She takes her A levels next year and will be off into the world, so it was really precious to have this time together and cement our loving bond that I intend to ensure will last a lifetime. I am so grateful for all five of these powerfully individual girls, my sons' daughters, who always have something to teach me and keep me on my toes.

Last Monday I was particularly glad of Ella's help and support as life dealt me an unexpected blow - well, to be more precise, the blow was instigated by Magic the dog. I was out walking the dogs and they were on leads to get them going when a pick-up truck approached us, quite slowly and carefully.

 


I decided to stand at the side of the stony track and hold the dogs to let the truck pass - but it seems I made the wrong decision because just as the truck was nearly upon us, Magic lunged suddenly towards it and pulled me over quite violently on to my back. I vaguely remember smacking down on to the road, hitting my head and the base of my spine, and then lying there, stunned and unable to move.

The poor driver must have wondered if I was even alive and, after what seemed like a very long pause, he got out of the truck and asked whether the dogs would be likely to attack him if he helped me up. I managed to garble in Greek that it was ok, so he helped me to my feet and went on his way.

In shock and pain, I started staggering back to the house and then remembered my glasses (expensive bi-focals). There they lay, on the other side of the road, bent and scratched, one arm at an angle and the other hanging off. The final straw. I started weeping with the trauma of it all.

After tea, a glass of 5 star Metaxa (Greek brandy) and a sit down, we decided that I didn't have concussion and I wasn't inclined to go to Chania for an X-ray. I phoned Colm for comfort, too, and he was wonderfully sympathetic and supportive as ever. The curious thing is that he had fallen off his bike the previous evening, after skidding on a crisp packet left in the road. He had hurt his ribs badly and was shocked and winded, but was heroically at work the next day. We had to wonder about the synchronicity of unwanted events...

For the rest of the week I took painkillers and waited for everything to ease. But my coccyx area is still very painful and I can't walk too far or sit or lie comfortably, so this morning I went to the osteopath/ acupuncturist. His verdict is that the whole area is very bruised and inflamed and he started some treatment which will continue on Wednesday.




The next time I passed that place in the track, I was surprised by the traumatic effect of the memory of the event. I can see why the word trauma is used for both physical and psychological events. The body is shaken and battered and needs time to mend and the mind is disrupted in its normal expectations of everyday reality and also needs time to heal. Thoughts can't help exploring 'might have beens' in an attempt to accommodate events.

And thoughts of what 'should be' also have to be adjusted. I had not planned to be obliged to rest and visit the osteopath this week, so my challenge is to practice what I've preached, not to be resentful of dogs or circumstances, not to beat myself up for deciding to keep hold of the lead. Even, as my cousin Palden says, to ask 'Where's the good in this situation? I am working on that one. I'll keep you posted.... 





PS Thanks to Jo for the photos, which show that the normal dog walking experience is not too much of a hardship.

Sun setting and new moon rising

'We must realise that our own existence is a gift from the whole universe.... A fully developed human heart is essential for addressing social issues. But no one can possess this without also finding their relationship to the whole cosmos, and in particular its spiritual attributes.' 

Rudolf Steiner

When I was feeling unwell, I sat on the verandah one early evening, a bottle of water on the table beside me and the patchwork blanket that I won in a raffle here in April wrapped around me. I felt too lethargic to read, listen to music or even talk on the phone. So I decided to just sit and watch the pure theatre of the universe as it progressed through the amazing sequence that it performs every night, all over the world. I watched from dusk and the setting of the sun to the rising of a new moon and the stars bursting into light.

Yes, I really do know how lucky I am to be here and observe this and I'm not trying to make you jealous. It was truly humbling and inspiring to be fully present and just notice and tune into the awesome, living world that we occupy. I did make the effort to get my camera and I'd love to share some images.

 

An encounter with the Greek health service

All the signs were there - I was clearly afflicted with a bladder infection. Too much swimming in a colder sea perhaps? So I dosed up with vitamin C and grapefruit seed extract, an anti-microbial, antibiotic and one of nature's great gifts. And then my kidneys started to hurt and I felt pretty unwell.

Not only is that no fun at all but kidney infections are not to be taken lightly, so I decided to consult a doctor. How would the Greek health service be functioning, I wondered, in its present economic crisis? I'd read about cuts, long waits and people having to pay more for services and drugs - and I was a foreign visitor. So it was with some apprehension that I drove the five or so miles inland to the village of Vamos, which serves as a regional centre for this area. A lot of its traditional buildings have been restored, like these houses.

Following the well signposted route to the Vamos Health Centre, I eventually found a pleasant building the size of a large clinic with an ambulance outside. This centre serves a pretty big area and it's open 24 hours . To my relief, the car park was fairly empty, so perhaps I wouldn't have to wait too long.





Inside was quiet and empty, except for the reception area, where five or six white-coated women chatted or busied themselves with paperwork. I showed my European health card to the friendly receptionist, who told me that I just needed to pay 5 euros and I could see a doctor. I was immediately invited into the room of a French-Greek doctor called Christine, who was thorough, friendly, relaxed and treated me like an intelligent adult who knows her own body.





Her quick test showed no sign of infection, but she advised me to have a fuller test done. "You could go to the hospital in Chania but you'd have to wait a long time. I suggest the private microbiology lab in Kalyves. Go there tomorrow morning, they'll phone the result through to me and I will call you tomorrow afternoon."

The lab was similarly efficient and charged 20 euros for the service. At lunch time Christine called. "There's still no sign of infection, I think you've flushed it through by drinking plenty of water and doing what you've been doing, it often happens. Call me if you have any more problems."

Clearly not everything in Greece is falling apart and the concept of help and hospitality to strangers still thrives....

Check out my travel feature on the Imbros Gorge!

From time to time I write travel features for Travelbite, an online magazine, and my latest is an account of walking the Imbros Gorge and some other places visited, complete with photos. Here's a taster:

Hiking the Imbros Gorge in western Crete

Thursday, 18 October 2012 11:55 AM

Imbros Gorge is equally beautiful as the famous Samaria Gorge but less well known

Faith Warn hikes through the Imbros Gorge in the White Mountains of western Crete and is rewarded with spectacular views along the way

“Ah, I see you have strong shoes. Wise woman,” declared the village taverna owner as she served my freshly squeezed orange juice. “Last week a Russian girl walked the gorge wearing heels as high as your glass. It took seven hours and her feet were bleeding. Crazy. ” As she raised her eyes to heaven, I looked down at my own feet and realised that the embarrassment of emerging from a plane into the baking Greek sun of Chania airport clad in stout leather walking boots had been worthwhile after all.

 Now read the full feature here:
http://www.travelbite.co.uk/holiday-ideas/2012/10/18/hiking-the-imbros-gorge-in-western-crete

I got my hire car from Holiday Autos and there's a great offer from them at the end of the feature, with 15% off car hire worldwide until the end of the year. Worth going for if you're travelling. The Chania office were really helpful - couldn't do enough for me.

I'm quite pleased with this feature - let me know what you think and feel free to share the link with your friends!

Living like the Minoans

Yesterday I wrote about the joy of life that shines through Minoan culture and since then I have been thinking. I believe it’s important to pass on the knowledge that it’s possible to live in celebration of life, without conflict, fear and angst, but example is more powerful than words, so am I living in this way myself?

I’ve certainly been working on it. Recently I read the brilliant book The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, who explains very simply that when we feel pain, it’s based in experience of the past (which no longer exists) and when we feel fear and anxiety, it’s based in possible experience of the future (which hasn’t happened yet). So the only reality is the present moment and, even though we may have ‘life situations’ that are challenging, we have the ability to feel ok in every present moment.

 

I think too about what we believe life is meant to be – how it’s ‘supposed to’ unfold. How often we think that life would be better if only we had some different or new person, circumstance, activity or material possession. But we all know that even when this longed for change does come along, another desire, longing or need pops up to take its place and satisfaction is never reached.

The simple truth that I’m learning is that life is not linear, it’s really not about striving until you reach some finish line and saying that’s it, I’ve made it. We believe that other people have done that, but in fact none of us has – because that’s not built into the system of being human.

Being human is actually meant to be a journey full of varied experiences and constant expansion of awareness. There is no destination, no right or wrong turnings, the journey is the purpose. Well, we all know that the stuff of life just happens without us doing a thing and we have to keep plowing through it, so phew, none of us can fail! We’re all getting it right, making our journeys through life and probably having experiences that we chose and created on some level to meet our need to know how that feels.

I also learned from Japanese wabi-sabi philosophy that built into the journey are imperfection and impermanence.

We are actually designed to be less than perfect and every individual foible has its own beauty. We see that in nature, why not accept it in ourselves? Doesn’t mean that we ignore our darker tendencies, just that we can accept and become aware that they exist without judging ourselves.

 

As soon as I turned a neutral light on my undesired behaviour, the stuff that was making me unhappy, it somehow dissolved in the light of my awareness. I used to think that I was right and other people had a problem that I may need to help them fix, but I’ve stopped needing to defend myself or be right because that just makes me isolated in my illusion. We are all simply human and I know I’m still imperfect because that’s how it’s meant to be.

And what about impermanence? Built-in impermanence means that change is meant to be constantly happening. Of course the scenery on a journey changes with every step we take, every mile we drive, so we can see changing events as an opportunity that we have helped to create rather than a disaster with which we cannot cope. This was another powerful lesson for me when feeling grief, learning to live alone and facing my fears of survival.

Well, I seem to be well into philosophical mode now so I’m going to sit and look at the mountains, sky and sea and think more about the Minoans and my own life. Watch this space.

Phaistos - a stunning Minoan site

My fascination with the Minoan culture on Crete continues. It seems to me so inspiring to know that this - the first European civilisation of around 2,000 BC - was a highly sophisticated culture where the sheer joy of life was celebrated in peace, where people in lived in harmony with nature, men and women were equal and the sacred was vested in and expressed through the feminine.




I love the way that this challenges so many of our suppositions about what it is to be human and confirms that we do have the potential to live in joy and co-operation without conflict, incorporating the spiritual into everyday material life and thus creating a happy balance in our relationship with ourselves and others. We really aren't designed to live a grind of daily toil or to constantly beat up ourselves and everyone else!

Minoan settlements engaged in farming, creating beautiful goods and trading and they seem to have centred around large, decorative complexes of buildings that have been labelled 'palaces' but were probably more like a combination of temple and community centre.

 

 There are three major complexes that have been uncovered on Crete. They would have been joined by roads and surrounded by farms producing olives, grain, honey and more, by sophisticated, comfortable houses and streets with drainage systems.

Knossos is best known and is situated for trading with northern Aegean islands, Malia would probably have been the setting off point for Cyprus, Rhodes and the eastern Mediterranean and Phaistos, in the south of the island, is perfectly located for trade with Egypt and other North African countries.



I explored Knossos and Malia when on holiday a couple of years ago and recently I set off with Julie to visit Phaistos. It's probably best known for the Phaistos disc, which was discovered there - a clay disc of hieroglyphic style writing that has not yet been deciphered and is therefore the subject of  fascination and intrigue.


 

Phaistos is in an absolutely stunning location, surrounded by mountains and close to the sea. Fields and olive groves around it probably look much as they would have done in Minoan times.



All the Minoan complexes are remarkably similar in design, with an open courtyard for rituals such as bull leaping and sacred games, a theatre for music, dance and drama, store rooms with large amphora that would have contained oil, wine and other produce and workshops where beautiful, intricately designed pottery, jewellery, sculpture and other art was created.


 


The final area contains the innermost sacred rooms that go down deep into the earth - the province of the priestesses who represented the goddess. Little is known about the nature of Minoan ritual because we have no written records, but the physical remains speak of a shared, uplifting sacred experience without fear or domination.

 

I wanted to reawaken some of the Minoan energy that is embedded in this site and so I took my drum. After sitting and meditating, giving attention to the spirits of the place, I stood looking across to the sea and mountains and drummed for a short time to raise the energy, checking that I wasn't disturbing any fellow visitors. Just as I was concluding, a girl in official uniform bustled towards me and told me to stop. We agreed with a smile that I was now finished and I silently blessed her along with the Minoans.

The mountain village of Argyropouli

I may have written about Argyropouli on my previous visit, but I make no excuse for doing so again because I love this mountain village. It's about a 40 minute drive from Almyrida and Plaka, along the National Road and up into olive groves and mountain peaks. The sort of place that makes me wonder what life would have been like if I'd been born there. Not a wish, you understand, just a wonder...

The name literally means silver springs - and the lower part of the village is a celebration of water, with springs that cascade in eternal abundance from the mountain slopes and nurture enormous trees, creating cool shade. The springs are channelled into waterfalls, waterwheels and ponds of trout and enormous sturgeon that dominate the fancier end of the menu at the many local tavernas.

On a recent visit, we opted for more modest mezze and were delighted with courgette flowers stuffed with rice, courgette balls containing the green and yellow types, slightly spicy meat balls and aubergine salad, which is a really tasty dip of aubergine mixed with yogurt and other stuff, ideal to enjoy with fresh crusty bread.

The upper part of Argyropouli is a place where avocados grow in abundance and buzzards fly overhead - and there are stunning views. This place was a Roman settlement and you can walk a circuit of the upper village taking in an ancient cistern, an elaborate mosaic pavement and tiny Orthodox churches, one of which incorporates Roman columns.

 

 

There is also a gateway lintel with a Latin inscription that translates as, ‘All in this world is smoke and shadow’.

 

I got quite interested in that very philosophical statement, thinking that perhaps it harked back to an ancient Greek spirituality where overnight 'incubation' in the temple would reveal the illusory nature of what we perceive to be physical reality. All very quantum physics. However, it turned out that this cautionary note actually refers to a medieval army that accepted an invitation to a wedding, only to be ambushed and slaughtered. Very much more mammon than spirit then....

Many places you can visit in Greece are sadly lacking in information, but in Argyropuli the local community have got together and produced a leaflet in English and German giving visitors a map and description of the various sites, which makes one's wander round the village so much more meaningful.

I think the project was spearheaded by a lively German lady who runs a shop selling toiletries and healthy things made from avocado, but it's clear that the Greek residents do not resent tourists because a friendly elderly man led us down a narrow path that we might have missed, especially to show us some ancient buildings. I also caught sight of these very Greek shutters and a table outside a tiny house. (Thanks Dominic for my new camera:-))

 

Gorgeous gecko

One of the delights of a place like Crete is the range of small creatures that share the living space with humans. Of course, some of them are not so delightful, as I discovered when I got bitten by a scorpion a few years ago. But I guess they've all got their thing to do and I did unwittingly get in its way. Anyway, the lizard family are particularly intriguing, and I was thrilled to see a small gecko in the kitchen last night.

This gorgeous gecko was scuttling along the worktop behind the electric hob and it may have been quite young because its movement was awkward and jerky, almost lumbering - but in a fast way. It would hop a few steps then stop and raise its head as if to sniff the air and get a grip on its surroundings. Fortunately it hung around long enough for me to get a couple of photos.

When I lived in Kalymnos, I would write in a hut in the garden and feel that I was privileged to enter the home of the geckos. They would run across the ceiling, lurk in corners, fight, mate, chatter (yes, a sort of deep chirruping) and one even lost its sucker footing and fell on to my desk on one occasion.

I love their markings and the almost translucent quality of their bodies. Also, their presence seems to bring a nice energy - and of course they eat the bugs. And if the geckos could eat every mosquito in Greece, that would not be one too many as far as I'm concerned, as I sit here trying not to scratch the lumpy bite on the back of my neck....

Conquering the Imbros Gorge

A major objective of the holiday part of my Crete trip was to walk the Imbros Gorge. Originally I had thought of hiking the more famous Samaria Gorge but, at 8km, Imbros is about half the distance and you can easily arrive and depart by car. It was also reputed to be just as beautiful, so the decision was made – and I arrived at Chania airport wearing stout leather walking boots and feeling a bit daft in the hot sunshine.

Our journey started 1,230 metres up in the White Mountains and when we took the path of big, round, loose pebbles to the gorge entrance I realised that the boot embarrassment had been entirely worthwhile.

As we walked, a flotilla of butterflies danced around us, their wings delicate flashes of red and brown. Even after we paid our 2 euros entrance fee and started carefully descending the track, the butterflies still seemed to lead us on.

A little way in, it felt like entering nature’s cathedral.  The rock cliffs towered some 300 metres above us, of Gothic proportions, and the roof of bright blue sky felt peaceful and uplifting. Occasional rocks and trees had the form and texture of sacred sculptures and the atmosphere was hushed, with only the occasional fellow worshipper sharing our path.

Suddenly, this sense of communal appreciation was enhanced as we came across hundreds of small cairns - conical piles of rounded stones clearly created and added to by walkers. They were perched everywhere on rocks beside the path and even along a tree branch, tiny altars to the spirit of place. Naturally, we each added our own stone with due reverence.

 After a while, the track narrowed to less than 2 metres with sheer, high rocks on either side, but they didn’t feel scary or claustrophobic.

 

Then came two animal attractions, the first a donkey tethered to a tree. Normally unremarkable in Greece – but this donkey is the official gorge rescue service and the his official handler was sitting close by fiddling with his mobile phone.  Second was a handsome dark green lizard basking happily on a stone.

Wooden signs mark the distance left to walk at every kilometre – and when the last one appeared after three hours I was surprised at how short the journey seemed. We had kept a steady pace, stopping only for photos and a picnic brunch, yet my calves hardly ached.

Close to the end we saw fellow hikers trekking their way back up the gorge, but that looked like seriously hard work and they were sweating profusely. No thanks. Instead we plumped for a cold beer and transport back to our hire car parked in Imbros.

 

Our ‘taxi’ turned out to be a pickup truck. I sat in the open back with my hand clenched tight on the side bar as we swung round 18 km of steep hairpin bends. A panoramic view of the sea widened below us as we climbed ever higher, the wind was in my hair and a smile was spread wide across my face. I had conquered the gorge and enjoyed it!