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Category Archives: Greek Islands
Always try the sea urchin
I am photographing yet another blue doorway when I hear a male voice behind me say, “If you want to photograph a beautiful view, come this way.”
I turn around to see a friendly, wholesome, and trustworthy face smiling at me. He motions me into a house. I follow him through two rooms, we pass a petite blonde woman. “Hello,” she says shyly.
He takes me out to the terrace where there is indeed a beautiful view. I set up my tripod and snap away as the sun sets. The woman joins us on the terrace. There are introductions and small talk. Then I spot them: a bowl of sea urchin in the middle of an interrupted cleaning. I’ve never eaten sea urchin but I’ve heard they’re extremely flavorful.
I ask her how she cleans them. She shows me her raw red hands, and describes to me how she cuts around the mouth (Aristotle’s Lantern), discards the dark parts, and serves the roe on a half shell. She is gentle and bird-like, and brings out my protective instincts. I feel sorry for her raw red hands. “Would you like to try?” she asks me. “No!” I answer much too quickly, and to my horror.
I want to try the urchin, but I feel too sorry for her raw hands. She’s worked so hard for the urchin, she should gorge herself on them. In trying to be generous, I’ve denied her the same opportunity. A faux pas on my part, and I’m not sure how to fix it.
He is observant, out-going, and charming — the perfect couple.
“I know!” he says, making it all right again. “You will take our picture!”
And so I do.
© 2012, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved. Text and images copyright protected.
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Dolce far niente
I would set out in the morning and look for new coves and inlets in which to swim. For hours at a stretch I would lie in the sun doing nothing, thinking of nothing. To keep the mind empty is a feat, a very healthful feat too. To be silent the whole day long, see no newspaper, hear no radio, listen to no gossip, and be completely indifferent to the fate of the world is the finest medicine a man can give himself.
– Henry Miller
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No one belongs here more than I do
Every time I turn a corner in the old town, I feel like the tableau has been arranged just to please me. There’s poetry around every turn: flowers arranged just so; the perfect blue against the perfect red; a fishing net tied just the way I would have wanted it; an old ruin of a door that is just the right amount of shabby.
Is some forgotten, lesser god of Olympus preceding me? How does he know me so well? Or perhaps it’s a Satyr sent to entertain me. As with all things that seem too perfect, I wait for the other shoe to drop.
I want to live here
From noon until dusk the old town is completely deserted, then, at 7:00 pm, it springs back to life like a desert flower after the rain. The night is full of revelations. Through an open window, I catch a glimpse of a Michealangelo candle-maker completely absorbed in his art. I take his picture. He spends the next 20 minutes showing me his designs and explaining to me how he gets olive branches and clothespins to glow in their wax prison.
People lounge in doorways, half in this world, half in another, waiting for another Ed Hopper to come along and immortalize their subconscious.
© 2012, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved. Text and images copyright protected.
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The nine heads of Hydra
In Greek mythology, the Hydra was a nine-headed reptilian creature that lived around the swampland of lake Lerna, five miles from the ancient town of Argolis. Killing the Hydra was the second labor of Hercules — an exceedingly difficult task because one of its heads was immortal and the others were almost as bad — as soon as one was chopped off two others grew in its place.
On Hydra Island breathtaking vistas and the comforting lull of a quiet life have replaced the sinister nine heads. Every time I trick myself into believing I’ve conquered the island and seen everything there is to see, another vista appears and proves me wrong. I could go on like this forever, but my time is short, so I’m forcing myself to move on. I’ll be spending the rest of my time in Greece on one of my favorite islands.
A while back, I received an email from someone who’d read this blog: “I was just wondering if you had found your perfect island yet,” he wrote. “I won’t ask which island it is because I think we all need a secret place that no one knows about.”
I couldn’t agree more.
© 2012, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved. Text and images copyright protected.