It’s an ‘I don’t know’ morning, as in, I don’t know what to tell you today. When this happens, I usually start with the weather, which, as it so happens, is on the change this week. According to the Poseidon website, the storm coming in from the west was going to pass over us on Thursday, but now it looks like it might just miss us, but there are to be heavy clouds over us on Wednesday/Thursday, when it is most likely to rain, but may not. It was breezy and cloudy yesterday, sending us scurrying for t-shirts in the evening. Inside the house can still be humid, so the nighttime fan is still on, though now it’s down from the top speed to the second, and it might soon be time to put on a top sheet.

Talking of rain that may or may not happen, people often ask what it’s like here when it does rain. Rather, we’re often asked if it rains here in the winter, which is part of the ‘Essential Guide to Asking Symi Questions, Book One.’ The principal one being, ‘What’s it like in the winter?’ Rain is part of the winter, and very occasionally part of the summer season too. It’s difficult to picture what people mean when we say it’s dangerous here to go out in heavy rain, but this little video, taken 13 years ago from our shop doorway, may explain why. The shop was near the top of the Kali Strata, opposite Nikos’ herb shop, so you can imagine how strong the current is further down.

Rain through the roof has also been a part of our life since 2002, though at the first house we lived in, it came in under the kitchen door as there was no defence on the threshold. In this second house, it came in through the kitchen skylight and dripped into pans, and did the same in the sitting room. The joys of a flat roof. Here, it only comes through the bathroom ceiling if we don’t concrete paint the flat roof, and even though we do, it still sometimes drips directly above my office door with no visible sign of entry. Not every house does this, of course, but if your gutter is blocked, it can come up and over the wall and in under the pitched roof, there to run down the walls. When we had the great storm that washed away at least one house and nearly took away the nursery school, our house remained dry except for a puddle in the middle of the sitting room, nowhere near the windows or doors, and with no sign of a roof leak. Odd, but water will find a way.

However, I doubt any rain we have this week, if we have any at all, will be as bad as in that video, but you never know. The rain is good too, of course. It helps fill buckets and butts for the plants, washes away the red dust and general dust of the summer, and doesn’t take long to turn the currently ochre and umber hills to a greener colour. But panic ye not; winter has not suddenly arrived, and the weather is due to improve after Thursday.

I think today is the first time in a couple of months I’ve had to put on a shirt. Mind you, it is the middle of the night for many, and it is actually 30° outside, so it’s not cold; just feels it after two months of something slightly higher. It’s good to see and meet up with returning regulars and to meet new visitors. Several of late had been here for the day and decided to come back for longer, which is how many people come to be longer-stay visitors. We’ve had a few bewildered folks wandering the village looking for their Airbnb accommodation; the ones who don’t get met at the port. That can be something of a double-edged sword.

On one side, there’s the excitement of an adventure about being given the treasure map and being left to follow it on your own. Off the ferry you get, and armed with your message from the owner and a map on your phone, off you go. ‘It says we go up this wide road,’ says one intrepid traveller to their companion. Only, the road on Google Maps is actually a set of 380+ stone steps going up a hill. Only, the map doesn’t show you the gradient (or the steps, clearly), but they struggle upwards, because it’s all part of the quest. Then, summiting the Kali Strata, the map shows a left turn, but which one? The instructions say, ‘The one with the blue door,’ and again, the same dilemma. Off into the lanes, with the image from the website on one screen, the map on the other, heads down, occasionally looking up to say, ‘It must be that one,’ and off into another lane. There, to try various private gates and doors, and to search among stones for the hidden key, or to look in a wild fig tree for the lockbox, because they’ve already cracked the combination clue and know how to get in, but not how to find the portal through which to enter. Hopefully, they find the end of their quest in good time before nightfall. If/when they do find ‘home’, they’ve spent so long looking down at a useless Google map that they then have no idea how they got there and can’t get out again. All part of the fun!

On the other hand, others arrive to be met by an owner or representative, slide into a comfortable taxi, and are transported up the winding road with spectacular view of the port, and then down into the maze of lanes, and up some steps, and remember to turn right here, not left, then right at the ruined building, and there you are.

We stayed in an Airbnb in Athens a couple of Christmases ago. Taxi booked to meet us at the airport (a Welcome Pickups transfer has always been excellent for us), off into the city, arriving later at an address, and then, out come the instructions. ‘Orange tree outside the main doors…’ And there’s the lockbox secured to the orange tree, there’s the combo, and in we go. That’s not so easy to do around here.

Here’s a more recent memory than those I have been recalling. These days, when staying overnight in Rhodes, we have been using the Castellum Suites; an all-inclusive hotel behind the old town. Very welcoming, modern, clean, very friendly and overly generous. ‘Check in is at three, but although it’s only 9.30, of course you can check in now and why not have breakfast while you fill out the form? Yes, have lunch too, and all your meals and drinks from now until you leave…’ (This is usually in the winter, mind you.) Once, though, I thought I’d ‘save money’ and booked into a Rhodes Airbnb for a night for €25.00. Gaining access to this property in the New Town took me and another visitor arriving at the same time a phone call and fifteen minutes to get through the lockbox stage. Then, once inside, the single room I had was reminiscent of a British boarding school in the 1950s (I’ve seen documentaries). Single bed, nothing else, no towels in the shower box, etc. Dinner out was a basic affair and another €25.00 without drinks either side, and I went without breakfast. The Castellum would have been cheaper, and was certainly easier to get into.

Anyway. Didn’t mean to witter on, but after spending yesterday with a raging headache for no reason, this morning the mind is clearer. Sorry about that. You can get on with your day now, as will I.

Here we are, back to the usual, with a photo taken from the balcony…

That was on Saturday, and as you can see, still blue sea and sky, boats coming and going, though the temperature is definitely cooling gradually, as we expect it to at this time of year. I’m talking, between 32° and 35° by our courtyard thermometer. Still plenty of beach time and sunshine left to go, so there’s been very little change there. On which note, thank you for the responses to last week’s ‘now and then’ notes. As you know, I write these posts first thing in the morning, so nothing is hugely considered before I set fingers to plastic, and I am sure there are many more changes I could mention if I put my mind to it. I will, as and when anything comes to my early morning mind.

I managed to achieve a few things during last week. I finished my first draft of a book with the working title of ‘Journeyman Joe’. We also finished putting a few of my wayward teeth to rights in the dentist’s chair, so that’s three root canals done and dusted without any pain over 12 visits in total. Along with that, we scored a double triumph yesterday when I finally set about cleaning out the trap under the kitchen sink, so it no longer pongs when you empty the water, and while I was doing that, Neil started on the mousandra. We’ve got about ten years’ worth of ‘might be useful one day’ things up there, and the clearing and sorting is expected to take several weeks, doing bits and pieces now and then. We’ve not, though, been able to hurry things along when it comes to replacing the hot water tank that split two and a half weeks ago.

That’s something else that’s changed somewhat in recent times. Whenever we had similar problems in the past, we’d sort it ourselves because it’s easier, but now, the landlord insists he takes care of these things. I assume this is so he has all the necessary paperwork and whatever in place, so he can prove the work was done and when, for when he comes to sell the property. Ah well, at least it’s not yet too cold for cold showers.

The afternoons in the square are becoming busier again, after the quiet afternoons of August. People are coming back from the beach earlier, or staying to walk among the lanes and spend the day among the authenticity of the village. The football boys reappeared the other evening, the local boys and girls who play football in the square and play chase games among the nearby lanes. That’s good to see.

The day boats continue to arrive regularly as do the other ferries, and there are still plenty of boats tied up in the harbour, and coming and going, so the season is not yet over. It usually runs to the middle of October, when the taxi boats stop and the beach tavernas begin to close down, so there’s plenty of time to go before the official season’s end. And generally, life continues to tick over.

Changes

To finish off this week, I was trying to think of other things that have changed over the last 24 years. As I said, change happens slowly, so you tend not to see it as much as someone who pops in once a year. I’m thinking as I go, so this is in no logical order…

In 2003, when working in the harbour, I seem to remember counting three day-trip boats a day, sometimes only two, maybe one more at busier times. The last time I bothered to stop and count them, a few weeks ago, I counted 13, and a couple of them do two trips a day, including one that comes for the evening. There is a new port now, and a wider road in places, but not always where there needs to be a wider road, some different shops/businesses, of course, though many still are as they were. What’s now the performance area was a car park, the Nautical Museum has gone, there are far more vehicles than there were, including tour buses that have replaced the open truck trips across the island. Even a new beach or two has opened up, as has access to several hinterland churches. The Symi Visitor newspaper has sadly long gone, but so has another publication that brought Symi nothing much more than bad feeling, though the Symi magazine (published since the 1930s and posted down from Athens, mail order only) still arrives with those who know about it and order it. The loudspeaker system that used to announce everything from bad weather to lost property is no longer heard, the post office is no longer in the police building, and we finally have a permanent medical clinic, though no permanent doctors. My first visit to a Symi doctor was to see ‘the Russian Doctor’ who worked out of the old pharmacy, which is now, finally, an open museum.

Beaches are now crowded with fancy sunbeds. More ruins have come into use, though the majority look to be seldom-used holiday homes of the glossy magazine class, and where there were one or two traditional hotels, there are now top-range places at top-range prices. There are more slopes built over the steps so mopeds can access more of the village, though only one more rubbish collection point, so many people still have to walk a long way to deposit their rubbish. There’s not been as much rubbish burnt in ruins as there was, which is good, though there is still no recycling. We now have a wind turbine as a monument to an effort that didn’t last long, and I’ve not seen it turn for many years, and we have the desalination plant for water, though still not enough water to be self-sufficient, and the water boat has been seen docking again as it used to do.

Prices of everything have gone up, of course, though some shops and bars have managed to keep some drinks reasonable; ouzo and coffee prices haven’t changed that much, going from €1.50 an ouzo to €2.50 in some places, and a glass of wine at Rainbow, for example, has taken 24 years to go from €1.50 to €3.00. It is still the case, though, that you don’t plan a special meal at home; you decide your menu on the day depending on what you can find in the shops.

In the height of summer, you used to see people queuing to get into ‘Georgio’s’, and people sitting on the steps of the village square because all the tables were full at both bars. Now, those sights are rarer, but you have to book for most restaurants or be disappointed. Luggage and supplies used to arrive by mule, but I’ve not seen a working mule train for years, and now, people carry the bags and building supplies. Oh, we now have decent internet. When we first came and bought our first mobile phones (Nokia, you know the sort: press A three times for C), communication to the outside world, for us, was through pay-as-you-go phones, or the public phones which required a complicated arrangement of pre-paid cards. Our first internet connection was a 56 kbps dial-up one, but now, we have (goes to check) 140 Mb; higher at some times of the day. There is more street lighting, and there are more streets.

What’s not changed, though? Well, as I heard a visitor discuss the other day, the philoxenia of the island’s people hasn’t changed, and despite all this trying to keep up with the ‘improvements’ demanded by a modern world, our Symi neighbours remain charming and friendly, caring and welcoming.

I’m pleased to say not everyone is about making money. There remains a lively community at the centre of village life, and not always based around the churches (which welcome non-Orthodox worshipers), but also around the schools, which still don’t have decent or any air conditioning for summer or heating for winter, or enough books. There are dance, singing and other cultural classes and events, neighbours, including us foreigners, are invited to weddings and baptisms just as we’ve always been, and you know that if you need help, someone nearby will give it.

I could go on, but I won’t. There are many people who have known Symi longer and better than I, and these are just some vague five-in-the-morning memories I wanted to get out of my head before I start work. I’ll get back to my usual whitter on Monday, and leave this anniversary week there.

Thinking about it now, a lot happened in that first week of being here on a non-holiday. The first thing was to start looking for somewhere permanent to live, and how do you do that in a place you don’t know? Back then, it was a case of word of mouth, so the only way to find was to seek, and the only way to do that was to ask. So, we started asking around. We’d still not found anywhere by the end of the week, and ended up sitting on the steps opposite the Rainbow Bar with our rucksacks, wondering what was best to do, and who was best to ask.

Two years previously, we’d stayed at a holiday apartment, and it happened that I bumped into the owner in one of the shops and did that, ‘Hello! How are you…?’ conversation with the other person being polite and answering with little or no idea who I was, and that was that. So, after sitting on the steps, homeless and considering hotels, I found the same apartments, and there was the owner, and that time there was a little more recognition, and I explained the problem, ending with, ‘Do you have anywhere we could stay while we look…? The upshot was, she did have, temporarily, because she had someone coming to stay in it for the winter, but we could have a place until then, but we’d have to go as soon as she knew when the booking was to arrive. That was fine, as we’d want to move as soon as we found somewhere more permanent, and on those equal terms, she asked how much I wanted to pay. With that negotiated, we secured a small place for however long, and the search continued.

A few days later, we were offered the share of a house, using a spare bedroom until the occupier moved to a new house of her own, leaving us this one and its contract. That was a very kind offer, and it was what we did. It involved a visit to the landlord in Rhodes so we could take over the contract, and when the time came, we found ourselves with a two-building property that housed only us. All a stroke of luck and at the expected price of €300 a month in rent, plus bills. Now, after 24 years, we’re in our third rental house, and the rent is 60% of my pension, and that, these days, is something of a bargain.

Talking of changes, it was much easier to find decent housing then, though it is all arranged privately, as there’s no such thing as social housing around here. These days, there are more letting agencies, and there are online ways of searching, but as with everything else, the cost of renting has gone through the roof, and with many people greedily grabbing the Airbnb craze, fewer decently sized houses/homes to rent. I’ve seen adverts for what we’d call a bedsit going for €500 a month, and that’s just ridiculous. After living in the first house for a year, we decided to make our move permanent, and that meant finding another home on a longer lease, and while I went back to the UK to sort things out there, Neil went looking.

He’d found a place within a week or so, and it was a two-bedroom house with a garden and terrace and was also at €300 a month. There were other options too because there were long-term rentals available in those days, and at sensible rents. There still are some to be had, but not many, and that’s a constant worry, unless you are very rich. We stayed in that house, at that rent, for 11 years, until the daughter it was being kept for was heading for marriage and needed it back.

That might have made it all sound very easy, but there were difficult moments. Sitting on the steps homeless was one, but weren’t worried then, because we knew there were places, and it was only a case of finding one, or asking the right person. Now…? Well, now we’ve been lucky enough to have been in a third house for 11 years, but things here are changing; the price is going up while the condition of the property is going down, and we’re thinking about starting the same search over again. Gone are the days when you could turn up, find a long-term place to live and get on with life. You can still ask around, and that’s the best way if you want somewhere as secure as it can be. The trend for renting property while it waits to be sold is very helpful, and how we came to be in home number three, but that’s not secure, and when you have furnished a home with everything you own, and then have to transport it to somewhere else, that’s another matter entirely. You don’t want to be doing that every few months.

So, I guess the more the years go on, the luckier you have to be, because now the island is more about holiday rentals than it is about permanent residents (unless you own a house, and at these prices, forget it unless you’re very privileged). That’s one of the main changes I’ve seen: the cost. People say, ‘that’s cheap’ when you tell them you pay €500 a month, but then people on Symi aren’t earning comparable incomes. Nowhere near.

Anyway, let’s not get started on that, it’s far too serious. Let’s get on with Thursday instead.