Digging into layers of energy

Somebody told me today that Chania is the longest inhabited city in Europe and possibly in the world. Just imagine - all that accumulation of energy and spirit of people who have experienced and felt layers of joy and suffering, war and peace, creativity and destruction for thousands of years.

Something beyond logic drew me to Chania this winter - an impulse, an intuition. My reading while here is focused not only on the Minoans but on the whole history of humanity, especially the bit where the neurosis of the last 6,000 years set in - although it was only 4,000 years ago here in Crete. That was the point where we went from being happy, harmonious and collaborative to stressed, competitive and aggressive. The land of this town has witnessed and absorbed that change. Both ways of living are held in its very cells. 

Chania old town goes back at least to the Neolithic - I must check the date of the earliest finds. The town that survives today was largely built by the Venetians from medieval times to the 17th century. Then there are buildings by the Ottoman Turks, who occupied Crete from around 1600 to 1912. The harbourside mosque is a prime example, with its voluptuous curves, heroic scale and plain grey finish in fascinating contrast to the compact, geometric, multi-coloured Italianate buildings.

Although the old town is not large, it is divided into distinct districts, perhaps the most famous of which is Topanas - and the most famous street in Topanas is Theotokopoulou (say it as thayo -toko - pooloo). I thought I had seen most of the town until I discovered the existence of that street the other day and this morning, with the sun shining, I set out to rectify my oversight and to appreciate the beauty of this string of architectural pearls.

I heard the industrial machinery before I saw it, caught the sound of shouting workmen before they hove into yellow-jacketed view. Now that the tourists have gone, Theotokopoulou Street is a construction site. I think it's all about the drains.

At first I was a bit shocked, then I got fascinated by the juxtaposition of modern on ancient,  industrial on artisan, stark plastic colour on the faded hues of timber and plaster. So I started taking photos....

 

 

 

Alice Somer Herz and sunshine

I was quite proud of working out how to post a video on the blog (yes, I know, be patient!) But I gather that it can't be opened in i-pad, so in case anyone needs it, here is the link to the video in Youtube
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Gd02AyjIiU

You won't be sorry for taking ten minutes to watch it!

For the last few days here there has been heavy rain here in Chania, sometimes lasting for hours. 'Raining like chair legs' the Greeks say. One afternoon I sat by the harbour and watched the raindrops bounce off the sea, sparkling in the sunshine. And then I saw, out at sea, the end of a rainbow. Aaah!

Anyone who has followed my blog from the beginning will remember the amazing rainbow that appeared on my first morning in Crete in the spring. When I see one, I always feel very cared for, especially by dear Al, who seems to be encouraging me to be happy. Here's a reminder

Anyway, today the sun is shining and the sky is blue so I am going out exploring with my camera and with luck I'll be able to share some nice photos tomorrow.

Choices about being human

I've lost touch with the day to day stuff of world affairs here, simply checking the headlines every few days. But events in Palestine and the attacks on Gaza - that's something different. When I read the live factual report from the Ma'an news agency on the ground, my heart just breaks. I'm not normally given to joining demonstrations, but if I were in England today, I would be demonstrating in London against the calculated Israeli aggression at the very time that a truce was about to be signed.

All military aggression is a sign of tragic failure of will to resolve human and political affairs in a manner that avoids unnecessary suffering. It is a statement of who we believe ourselves to be and a failure to recognise that what we do to others, we do to ourselves.

The suffering of the people of Palestine feels personal because of my cousin Palden Jenkins' involvement in peace work there over 20 years. In the face of current events, I can do little better than to quote from an entry in Palden's blog:

'The current outbreak of violence in Gaza is just classic, an eruption of the same old stuff in the same old way. Yet amidst the propaganda there’s one fact everyone studiously misses. The sides are not equal. One side, Israel, has military, diplomatic and financial power and sovereignty, plus a powerful ally, USA, supporting its case. Israel is militarily occupying Palestine. 

The other side, the Palestinians, do not have these strengths. Every time an Israeli dies, ten Palestinians die – this has been the case for sixty years. So one side gets its way and the other side is faced with a painful choice of lying down and accepting it or of somehow fighting back.'

 

Palden has also sent a letter to the British Foreign Office about the UK's involvement.

You can read the full letter and much more at the blog, Palden in the Middle East, and for a really vivid account of life in Palestine, insights into Palestinian culture and beliefs and wisdom about the historical, modern and possible future relationship between Israel and Palestine, I wholeheartedly recommend his book, Pictures of Palestine. It's not only a real eye-opener but also a jolly good read.

You can see more about the book and order a copy at the website devoted to Pictures of Palestine

Of course, the past suffering of the Jewish people who founded the nation of Israel and set its character after World War 2 cannot be denied. But everyone has a choice and can take responsibility for how they respond to suffering and who they want to be. We all have fears and are capable of lies and aggression - and we can all be filled with love and the mystery of life, determined to see the good in the world and hold the highest vision for the future of humanity - the future for ourselves.

Alice Somer Herz is a 108 year old woman who was a concert pianist and lost all her family in the Holocaust - in fact she is the world's oldest Holocaust survivor. What could be more inspiring than this video where she talks of the secret of her long life. I am captivated by the bright light in her eyes and her continued assertion that 'life is beautiful'.

Close to the cathedral

I'm getting used to being woken by the bell of Chania's cathedral. It is rung at 7 on most mornings with a simple rhythm and an almost austere, stark clang. This is not intended to be pretty music for the ear but a signal to penetrate the soul - and it rather reminds me of shamanic drumming in the way that the sound vibrates within the body, raising energy and a feeling of well-being.



Like the drum, this bell is a call to the spirit and for me it symbolises the traditional total lack of separation in Greece between everyday life and the sacred - a phenomenon that traces back through centuries of human existence, especially here in Crete. These days, even among those who have little time for organised religion, this connection finds its expression in the way that Greek people live from the heart, keeping their heart always open to human connection.

Even the name of this ornately decorated cathedral is a clue to the past - for it's called the Cathedral of the Presentation of the Virgin Mary and will certainly have been built on the site of an ancient temple to a goddess.

 
Interestingly, it's just opposite a Catholic church with a delicate, feminine interior and a strangely haunting Madonna statue.

 

I find the Madonna figure in Chania truly moving as a visible remnant of the sacred feminine and the Mother Goddess so closely related to Mother Earth herself - a concept long suppressed by patriarchal religion with its dominance of sky over earth, spirit over body and, of course, male priests (wearing frocks that they took over from the priestesses of the goddess) over a predominantly female faithful. Did you know that women are not allowed to enter an Orthodox church when they are menstruating?
 








Yet paradox is a Greek word, so although the priesthood is entirely male, it depends on the approval and support of the thousands of women who regularly attend services, chant the psalms and take on the practical upkeep of church interiors large and small.

One such woman is the blonde power house who cleans at the Presentation of the Virgin Mary. The other morning I spotted her in the small courtyard behind the church, deeply engrossed in rapidly polishing the brass holder that usually contains a tray of sand into which I have pressed a good few lighted candles. After vigorously applying polish with her gloved hands, she took hold of a hairdryer to finish the job.


















At first I was amused by the scene as a detached observer, then I allowed my heart to connect with her humanity and I was moved by her concentration and the positive energy that she put into polishing that brass.
There was nothing of the oppressed victim in this woman's manner and the skill and grace that she brought to her work was an inspiration. I'll think of her spirit the next time I light a candle and press it into the sand.

 

Here in my room

Did I mention that I really like my room here in Chania? If you're thinking of the typical Greek holiday studio of old with barely room to swing a cat, basic furniture and mismatching everything, then think again. Here, someone has put a sense of  flair and imagination into creating comfortable, large studios with solid furniture and design details that take their cue from the restored Venetian wooden ceiling.

There's a large wooden bed with fancy headboard and a nice firm mattress

 


The red faux leather sofa is very comfortable for reading, sprawling or napping - but not for watching TV because that's really only visible from the bed. Not that I feel much moved to watch it. All the channels are Greek language and whilst there are films and American programmes with sub-titles, they are broken up by long advert breaks.

 

In front of the sofa is a massive coffee table with an equally gigantic candle holder and I've added a vase of flowers that I bought cheaply in the market on Saturday.

I really like the solid, sideboard-type cupboard. It's great for storage and is topped by a classy mirror with a beaten silver frame. There's even a vase with two quite convincing artificial red roses in it. The frames of the still-life pictures pick up the silver look and the images themselves echo the shades of the room.

 

Every window has shutters and a beigy-gold coloured net curtain with a simple, pleasing pattern. I don't bother to close the shutters at present, but as the weather gets cooler I'm sure I will appreciate the option to keep the place cosy after dark.








The kitchen is compact and the sink the size of a saucepan, but the fridge is full size for storage, there is cupboard space and it's perfectly possible to cook meals. There's even an extractor fan with light above the two-ring electric cooker.

 





Finally the bathroom is - well, white really. Oh, and look - there's a glimpse of me in the mirror! The shower is good, the hot water plentiful and the basin large enough to wash out clothes. This morning I rinsed out a pair of jeans, lightly wrung them and hung them in the sunshine. By mid afternoon they were dry.



I pay a very reasonable monthly rate for all this, which includes cleaning and change of sheets and towels once a week. What, as they say, is not to like? 

A room with a view

I love 'A Room with a View', both the book and the film. Of course, the view in question was of the River Arno in Florence and the Tuscan hills beyond and I can't claim to seeing anything as picturesque as that from my room in Chania - but I like the outlook here.

I have two balconies - the first one faces south and is great for sitting because it gets sun for most of the day, although it was quite cloudy when I took these pictures. On this balcony there are two chairs and a nice marble-topped table, so it's my spot for eating breakfast or reading with a cuppa.

 

The view from inside the room is filled with green, as there are one mimosa and two plane trees outside. The mimosa seems very exotic and must look spectacular in spring with a mass of feathery golden flowers.









The view from the balcony takes in shops in one direction - closed today as it's Sunday - and Chania's cathedral in the other. As you can see, the cathedral has a bell tower and at the weekends the bells ring at 7am and 5pm. They sound very loud, but I'm happy to be woken by them. The Sunday service is relayed by loudspeaker from the front of the church, so I catch the faint, ethereal rhythm of chanting for a couple of hours.



























 After church this morning the entire congregation seemed to resort to the pavement cafes below my room for coffee and chat, creating a nice buzz. I like the sound of people around and the fact that I hear no traffic except the very occasional motor bike. I also hear the subdued sound of music from the Red Bicyle cafe, and their taste pleases me - anything from Beatles or rock classics to jazz or classy Greek music with soul.


























My second balcony is on the west side of the building and here there is a washing line for drying my towels and clothes. The view is towards the cathedral in one direction and down a narrow alley in the other. This alley leads to the harbour. Its name is Agion Deka, which literally means 'Saint Ten', who is described on the road sign as a Cretan martyr. Despite taking great pleasure in life, the Greeks seem to appreciate their martyrs.

 

 




































Yesterday I shared the Greek pleasure in life when I set off in the sunshine to find the market on Minoos Street and got to a point in the route where I wasn't sure where to go. A woman just leaving her house asked if she could help and when I explained that I was looking for the market, she gestured to the pilion of the scooter she was revving up and said 'hop on, I'll take you.'

After a fun few minutes flying through side streets, she stopped at the end of the market, smiled her farewell and as we bid each other have a good day, she was off.

'

Coming to Chania

How have I accumulated so much stuff? I left Julie's house yesterday with two suitcases (one borrowed from her), a wheely back-pack (my technology bag for the laptop etc) and a beach bag containing food and other bits and pieces.

Julie kindly drove me to Chania, parked illegally so that we could get close to my new home and helped me get all the 'stuff' inside, with a lovely welcome from Alexandra, who runs the studios.

I found this place serendipitously when Colm and I were in Chania for my birthday. We had just had a cuppa at my favourite pavement cafe, the Red Bicycle.




As we left, I saw the sign for Vranas Studios and remembered having noticed on the internet that they seemed to offer a lot of space for your tourist euro. As we hovered at the entrance, the sunny, friendly Alexandra popped out and before I knew it I had done a deal on number 23 for my winter home. If you're curious, take a look at the Vranas website to be getting on with and I'll post some photos of my room very soon.

 Chania is just emerging from the tourist season into its winter mode. It's around 20C with a cool breeze, but dry with sunny intervals. Most of the tavernas and cafes around the old harbour have closed, but when I was here for the evening with Ella two weeks ago, they were still buzzing. We arrived just before dusk and sat over a drink watching the light change. I these photos say a lot about why I wanted to be here....