Pirate’s Lair

Still single, I boarded a small passenger boat called the Blue Velvet and set off for an archipelago of islands near Ikaria called Fourni.

Ikaria went through a long and dark history referred to as the “Age of Invisibility” — a time when pirates ransacked the island on such a regular basis, the locals were forced to move inland and build camouflage homes made from slate and rock that disappeared into the mountains when viewed from afar.  As seen from the sea, Ikaria was a deserted island.

Fourni, the island group right next to Ikaria, was where the pirates hung out.

Some observations on Fourni:

70% of the women on Fourni wear black.  Black skirts, black stockings…but there’s nothing provocative about it:

With so many widows, I wonder what’s happening to the men of Fourni.

As one would expect from such an isolated and small group of islands, the people of Fourni did a lot of inter-marrying.  The pickings were slim, so a lot of people look alike.  I was told that the islands were settled by four families, and it’s fairly easy to see the familiy lines:

1.  The ‘I’m a little teapot’ family group — short and stout.

2.  The ‘unfortunate nose’ family group — hooked noses.

3.   The ‘wooly mammoth’ family group — thick, curly, wooly hair.

4.  Descendants of a Venetian Casanova — taller, fairer, grey-eyed.

There seem to have been a lot of marriages between family groups 1 & 3, and 2 & 4.  Occasionally, one sees a combination of 2, 3 & 4.

Having just come from the warm and welcoming arms of Ikaria, I initially felt a cold chill in Fourni.  But after spending an evening sharing a lemonade and talking with the local schoolteacher, and then helping a widow cross the street, the people of Fourni warmed to me…or maybe I warmed to them.

If Fourni were any more authentically Greek, tourists wouldn’t be able to stay here.  There’s no car rental; you either use your feet or befriend a local.  There are no stores selling souvenirs or useless knick-knacks.  There’s one bakery and one mini-market.  There are lots of fisherman, and lobster with spaghetti is the local specialty. To get to the best beaches, you’ll need a boat or the mountain climbing skills of a billy goat.

I found a great bargain studio for only € 20 a night. There seems to be some construction going on the island, so I suspect its in the process of renewing itself, but Fourni is still another world.

Old traditions continue here.  Men sit in the cafes and talk politics, women congregate in the whitewashed backstreets, gossiping and playing with children.

The children, by the way, are the happiest, smilingest children I’ve ever encountered.  They loved my camera, and wouldn’t stop smiling for me.  The schoolteacher told me he loves teaching in Fourni because the children are pure (the word he used) and untouched by the outside world.

For an even more remote experience, I went to the island of Thimena, a stone’s throw from Fourni.  The entire island has about 20 homes on it, and I was able to walk its full length in 1.5 hours.  The road I walked was gravel and freshly bulldozed, and it led me to the church and beach of Agios Nikolaus.  When I returned to the port, an elderly man sang out “Brava! Brava!”  when I told him I’d walked to the beach and back. Apparently, not many people do this.

The people of Thimena are beyond friendly.  Everyone waves and says hello and asks if you want to stop for a coffee.  The elderly man spent an hour speaking Greek to me while I waited for the boat to take me back to Fourni.  When I waved from the boat, it seemed the entire island waved back to me.

I spent five nights on Fourni and was able to leave only because I told myself I’d be back someday.

© 2010 – 2011, Ithaka Bound. All rights reserved.

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