General note: please leave wild animals alone. They are not there for the benefit of your Instagram account.

There’s a place on Symi’s coastline known as ‘Seal Cave.’ Some of the around the island boat trips stop there so guests can swim around and into the cave, and anyone who has been on the Poseidon trip will remember Captain Yiannis’ famous saying, ‘No swim, no ouzo,’ before leaping into the transparent water and hanging about there while cooling off.

I, for one, have never seen a seal there, but I have seen them elsewhere around the island. One year, some time ago, we had a seal hanging out in Harani, and because it liked to bask, it had started helping itself to fishermen’s boats, those it could drag itself into, but otherwise, it was having trouble finding a place to come ashore and do whatever seals do on dry land. In this instance, some of the boat owners, or one of them, made a floating pontoon for it, so it could use that instead. Then, it was left alone.

Yesterday, I saw a short video of a seal coming ashore and basking at Yiala, the sandy-ish bay on the way to Nimborio. Where this place was used as a beach/swim venue only by a few visitors and locals, it has become more popular over the years thanks to the cantina (café) that is now there, and probably due to the road being made up and easier to use than it used to be when it was little more than a path.

The thing is, unlike just about everything else in the world today, a wild animal is not a tourist attraction. You can’t buy a Get Your Guide ‘beat the queue’ ticket to the beach in advance; there’s no entry fee and no waiting in line; it’s a public beach. One that a wild seal has chosen to also use. There’s a debate about exactly what kind of seal this is – some say it is a rare Monk seal of which there are only a few hundred in the world, while others have said it’s a something else seal, and there are several hundred, and I say, for what it’s worth, that it doesn’t matter. It remains a wild animal in need of the beach and in need of privacy.

Being new to humans, it appears to be relatively tame and docile, but that’s not a reason to Instagram the hell out of it, or pose in front of it with your puffed-up lips and red-carpet swimming costume just so you can share a pic of ‘Me with the seal’ on your socials. I mean, it’ll only get seen for five seconds until the viewer scrolls on by, so really, what’s the point of all of that? So, if you’re heading that way and you see it, respect its space as you would want others to do if it was you basking in all your flubbery glory. It’s not in need of help or publicity. As one commentator said, “It’s moulting its skin, a natural process. It doesn’t need food, water, or any ‘help’ from humans – however well intentioned.” As I know this person to be a well-respected author and naturalist, I am inclined to side with that assessment.

Also in recent years, we have had other wildlife come to visit the island. For example, sea turtles are seen more often these days and have been spotted in Panormitis and closer to more densely populated areas, like Yilaos or Pedi.

We’ve also had an invasion of massive sea urchins (diadema setosum). They feature remarkably long, hollow, dark spines that can be mildly venomous, causing a painful sting if stepped on. They are typically found in shallow subtidal rocky shores and coastal habitats, commonly recorded by divers at depths ranging from 0 to 10 meters. (See this article.)

There are increasing numbers of lionfish around Greek waters, too. (Pterois miles.) The reason for this, it is thought, is easy access through the Suez Canal and rising sea temperatures, making the north more attractive to non-local species. Some of these are not only dangerous (i.e. the lionfish and others), but are also destroying the natural water habitats of existing species. The advice is to stay away and leave them to the experts. They are not there for your benefit, and don’t want to be on Instagram.

[Photos from Greek Reporter.]

My main news is, of course, that I spent a weekend writing, and you can find out what over on my pen name blog, Jackson Marsh.

Here, there and elsewhere:
After talking about moments of silence last Friday, I’ve had a few moments of non-silence this weekend. The water pump has added percussion to its repertoire. Now, every time it turns off, it does so with a dull thump. I’m not sure if that’s normal, but it wasn’t doing it before. It might be its way of telling us it’s about to give up and go home, but let’s hope not. The owner has just advertised downstairs for ‘seasonal rent’, by which I think he means a professional needing a place to live while serving short-term in the military, at a school, or with other local services. The current tenants have been lovely, but as we’ve seen from experience, there’s never enough water for both properties to exist normally, and any new tenant will soon come to learn that even a thousand-litre tank can only hold so much water between fill-up days. (The advert is in a Facebook group about Symi if you are looking for somewhere, but I can’t remember which group now, and FB has done that thing where you turn your back and the feed changes so you can’t again find what you were looking at.)

Neil’s been out and about now and then and usually early in the morning; today’s photos were taken around the area of St Evangalismos, the church above Harani.

The Nimos festival took place last night, with taxi boats working through the night until 2.00 to ferry people across from 8pm onwards. There are videos of this on Facebook too, and on Symi TV on YouTube.

For my part, I have seen only a few people these last few weeks, mostly because I work from home, and because when I do go out, it’s during the time most visitors are at the beach, and most locals are taking a pause during the afternoon. People are out there, though. On Saturday night, I was woken at around 2.30 by someone having a good old go at someone else out on the lane. Whoever she was, she wasn’t very happy, and the other person was getting a right dressing down in a language I couldn’t detect through my sleepiness. After about five minutes of this, I was able to tune away from it, treat it as white noise, and doze off for an hour, by which time the heated debate had settled back to silence. I hope they resolved their differences, whoever they were.

The weather has remained pretty much as was; up to 37° in the afternoons, around 30° overnight, over 50° in direct sunlight, sunny skies, a little breeze, some humidity… People are calling it September weather in August, so maybe we will get the August highs in September instead.

I’ve figured that my new keyboard is not suitable for my laptop. It’s a wireless one and, as far as I can make out, although it all works, the mouse isn’t compatible. I click a word to correct one of my many typos, and the whole word gets highlighted. Or I highlight a couple of words, and the thing highlights a whole section. I spent some time doing things with drivers according to online advice and thought I’d fixed it, but it’s back.

What else…? Oh, our youngest godson turned 19 at the end of last week, and, by the looks, had a great time with new friends in Rhodes where he is working as a restaurant manager for a large hotel as part of his vocational college course. His brother, who celebrates his name day on his brother’s birthday, continues to sweat it out in the Kali Strata restaurant, which continues to be full just about every night (book in advance).

Any other ‘news’…? Nothing much comes to mind. We’re looking forward to regular September visitors returning soon, so hopefully, I’ll have something or someone more interesting to talk about soon.

I had an eerie moment in the courtyard yesterday afternoon. I was sweeping up the leaves from the permanently dying vine when something felt wrong, so I stopped and listened – and heard nothing. I mean nothing. No passing bikes, no chattering tourists on the lane, no boat noise drifting up from the harbour, no breeze, no chickens (!), no cats in heat, and not even the water pump. Nothing. And then, after a short while, a lone cicada dared break the unreal silence and another dead leaf fell from the vine. At the front of the house when I went through, the harbour was alive with boats coming and going, but as there was no breeze, the sound didn’t travel far enough to reach the back, so I could see the world hadn’t in fact stopped turning. It wasn’t long, of course, before someone roared past on a machine that needed attention, but for that short while, it was just me and silence. Wonderful.

From our last place, nearer the centre of the village, we used to be able to hear the power station working away, the sound growing louder and dimmer on the wind, until improvements began to make it quieter. Can’t hear that from here, and maybe you can’t from closer, too; I’m not sure. I’ve said before that we can sometimes hear the sea lapping at the Yialos quaysides, but that tends to be in the dark hours of the morning, and talking of sounds, we’ve not heard the owls so much this year.

Yesterday I also heard the band doing their sound check from the harbour main stage, a helicopter coming in and going away, various ferry claxons as they came and went, and the chickens started up later in the day. There’s often the sound of the dustbin lorry collecting from the bin store, a gentle chug and occasional crash of glass followed by a broom sweeping the road. Don’t get me started on the wildlife; ravens, sparrows, black redstarts, smaller twittery things in the various wild trees around us, and now and then a gull or two. All rather wonderful, but not as unusual as a moment of complete silence at three in the afternoon.

Anyway, that’s all I have in my mind this morning, that and the next chapter of a new story I am writing, on which note, I shall get back to it, and see if I can hear any more unusualness over the weekend.

The other day, we were talking about the number of places to eat and drink in Horio. Where, in recent years, there was something of a dearth, there are now 12. Some are cafés, others are restaurants; there are bars too, but I’ve not gone into the details of each, because, well, life’s too short and you’re quite capable of undertaking your own research. Let’s go on a quick walk, and please let me know if I’ve missed anything…

Starting from where the road from Yialos meets the road to Pedi, and you head up the hill into the village: Just there, on your right, you find The Secret Garden. Keep heading uphill, and you can veer off and up to the right to find the Sunrise (evenings and late nights only). If you stay on the main road and either cut through or go around the technical school, you will come to Ringo’s at ‘Kampos Corner.’ This is where the bus stops, and right behind that you will find Scena a little way up the slope into the village.

Just past there, on your right, is Taverna Zoi with its rooftop dining, and if you turn left at that junction, and pass the ‘American’ supermarket, you will find Niki’s kitchen. Double back and turn right at Zoi’s, and you follow the lane past the new Barra Resto on your left. Keep going to the square, and you find Lefteris Kafeneion (green chairs), and the Rainbow Bar (orange chairs). Next to this is Taverna George and Maria, and next to that, the Kali Strata Restaurant.

Turn right at George & Maria, and you will come to the recently reopened Windmill restaurant, Mylos. Carry on past that and down the hill, and you will be back at the Sunrise (on the left) and finally, the Secret Garden where you started.

You can add to this the two cantinas on the main road out of Horio, both of which offer spectacular views. Also in the village, there are two bakeries, three supermarkets, a corner shop and a peripteron.

Now, what have I forgotten…?

Ah, yes. These days during the summer, you are advised to reserve a table at all and any of the tavernas and restaurants on the island, just in case. Some are booked up in advance, while others might be hosting a large party or a baptism, or similar. So it’s best to investigate early and reserve.

I had a moment yesterday. Well, I had two. One was before I left home, when I had that half an hour between work and leaving for an appointment; that half hour where you can’t do much except hang around. I happened across a social media post where someone had asked a simple, legitimate question to which there was one simple and legitimate answer, but it took several replies before anyone had the decency to give that answer, which was ‘No’, but which, from a helpful human, also came with an explanation, and that was all that was needed. Before then, though, there had come opinions and unhelpful alternatives, several unnecessary pieces of advice, and then more opinions.

Why can’t people just answer the question? Why do some feel the need to denigrate the question, and thus the asker? The question was a very valid one, and was, basically, ‘Is there anywhere to leave luggage on Symi while you enjoy a day trip here?’ It also applies to anyone having to leave accommodation hours before a ferry, where the accommodation can’t accommodate your left luggage, as some can and some can’t. What do you do with your Louis Vuitton sac de voyage, steamer trunk and hat boxes? Okay, so not everyone travels with a husband like mine, but… No, there are no lockups as you find in cities and maybe on larger islands. The person posting this query also mentioned why they were after this service, and sadly, it’s this kind of detail that feeds judgmental commentators. ‘Why do you want to do that? Do this instead. We always do XYZ, and we’ve been there hundreds of times. Why do you have to bring luggage? You’re not going to enjoy doing that on Symi. You should do this instead…’ Atque ita porro usque ad finem temporis. (And so on until the end of time.)
Reminds me of Kevin Costner in ‘JFK’ reading trial transcripts and hissing, ‘Answer the question.’ Luckily, someone did, simply and without judgement or unhelpful helpfulness, and that was that. I scrolled on through other people’s lives and my moment passed.

The second started when I left home and headed down the KS to visit the dentist. By the time I reached our old shop, I was almost out of kalimeris and cheery greetings. In town, I called into the post office to collect a delivery, and as there was a queue, I went to check our PO box while I waited, and was hailed from behind the counter by, ‘Don’t go,’ and a few seconds later, my delivery was handed across the counter. This happens to all and anyone when there’s more than one person on duty there, so I wasn’t pushing in. And off to chat with the dentist and get those two temp fillings made permanent, and complete that massive opus, and off again to catch the bus. On the way, I had to restock the kalimera cupboard while weaving through the daily arrivals, and these greetings were from people I haven’t seen in months. Cheery greetings from taxi boat captains and their wives selling tickets to someone who last used their service in 2019; from a shop I haven’t needed to use since about the same time; a less informal greeting from Sotiris-the-supermarket that, as per, came with a risqué joke; and from young men and women who weren’t born when I landed here, and who are now running their own businesses. That’s when I had the antidote moment to the earlier one, and it put a smile on my face so much that I treated myself to a taxi home.

As the Baker’s Wife sings in ‘Into the Woods’:
Oh, if life were made of moments
Even now and then a bad one—!
But if life were only moments
Then you’d never know you had one.
Well, I had two; one virtual and not so pleasant, and the other, real.

Later came frappe hour in the square, which, as you can see, is currently a place for peaceful moments during siesta hours.