RECOLLECTIONS OF SYMI
By Mary Rose
Swallows skimming the sea. Swallow tail butterflies floating from flower to flower. The almost mournful question and reply of church bells. Warm winds that snatch at your hat. Vine leaves rustling on the patio. The aggressive Greek language that is used when discussing football as well as politics. Young and old men alike clicking their worry beads or key rings to some internal rhythm. The smell of oregano, garlic and the occasional drain. Precious water flowing down a road from a Greek hose pipe. Ice cream wrappers tossed away nonchalantly by small brown skinned children.
The clear early morning light that gives a promise of another hot and sunny day. The sweat trickling down your face as you scramble over the rocks and then, oh then, the sight of a deserted beach, the clear, cold water, the invitation to swim, to relax, to enjoy.
The small green lizards with iridescent blue tails who slide over the small stones and your belongings, occasionally lifting their little feet one at a time as if the stones were too hot.
And the cats. The cats are everywhere. Some big, some teeny kittens, but all lean and probably hungry. They slink about in restaurants and then try to make their scarred faces look appealing as you put each morsel of food into your mouth.
Michali who used to be an engineer on the ships and now has a back problem that stiffens his walk. His mischievous little face breaking into a wrinkled grin when he hides his friend's drink and who won't talk to me unless I speak Greek.
Big Michali who proudly carries his enormous stomach before him and watches all the tourists, calling out to them as they pass by. The old women like small black crows who sit on doorsteps and display toothless gums when you greet them.
Young girls with long black hair tossed oh so casually when young men eye their tightly clad figures that will turn to comfortable fat after one or two babies.
The spontaneous generosity that brings ouzo and retsina that someone else has paid for.
The tourist boats each with their own character - usually that of the person steering the boat. Michali (they are all Michali, Yianni or Giorgios) with his blue eyes, flashing smile and well-earned beer belly. Giorgios whose normally impassive face breaks into an evil grin as he turns up the Greek music while people on the front of the boat get drenched by the water he is ploughing through. The Sortiris dynasty whose patriarch used to look like a little dark brown walnut, but whose recent illness has reduced his physical stature but not his spirit as he still calls out "ouzo, brandy time" as soon as the boat clears the harbour.
Supermarkets stacked with things you recognise and a lot you don't. Soaps and shampoos jostle for space with olives, nuts, coffee and mosquito tablets. Fruits of irregular shapes and sizes are displayed next to the inevitable garlic, tomatoes and herbs.
The cacophony that is Giorgios' taverna. "What you want; you go look in kitchen".. And in the kitchen how can you choose from fish and meat, stuffed peppers, aubergines, dolmades, octopus stew, stuffed chicken, beef fileto, special macaroni, Greek salad and tsatsiki. And every night the choice of food changes. Depending on his mood, Giorgios will entertain the diners and himself on his accordion and then say "Sorry for bloody noise". The bill, if you can get it, is accompanied by free brandy or watermelon, or if Giorgios thinks you have not had enough, another bottle of retsina.
The ruined houses whose bygone splendour you can still recognise in their architectural grace. Houses that have been restored and in the summer house the tourists who are the life blood of the island.
George, the laid back jewellery shop owner whose almost perfect English is punctuated by Greek words when he wants to make a point. He tells you not to look at the prices, they are for tourists.
If you choose to holiday on Symi and keep coming back, you are not a tourist. For a short time you are one of them.
1999
Many thanks for letting us show this Mary. |
