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.