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.

Continuing the theme of morning… Stick your fingers in your ears while I blow my own trumpet.

You never know what you are going to wake up to. Sometimes I wake up to the sound of liveliness in the harbour, if one of the later-night bars is still going at four; sometimes, it’s the sound of a large boat coming or going below, or the sound of the sea lapping at the quayside, because that can be heard from up here when the wind is in the right direction. Occasionally, I hear a ridiculously noisy motorbike passing the house, or the agonising strains of cat courtship nearby. Often, one of my first sights is the vine leaves in the porch, blown in there during the night. Usually, with tea brewed and loins girded, I get straight to work, and the first thing I get to see there are spam emails, bills and bad news.

This morning, though, the first thing I saw was a quote I can splatter all over the place with pride, because it was about me, and it was repeatable. This was in several groups on Facebook, where an erudite reviewer has spent the last several months giving honest and rather brilliant reviews of my Victorian mystery series (plural). All thirty books and two special collections of short stories. This chap is the Curator of Decorative Arts and Chief Curator Emeritus at New Jersey’s largest art institution, so I am inclined to listen to what he says, and what he said this morning, made the thousands of hours writing millions of words over the last ten years more than worth the enjoyable effort. Talking about me (as my penname) he wrote, among many other flattering words: “Marsh’s work is a monument in modern gay literature.”

It may not mean much to you, but to be called a monument is rather flattering, and having read all of his other reviews of my work, this is only one quote I could have pulled from many. So, that has brightened my day no end, and it’s only 04.40 in the morning.

The rest of the day will involve more writing, another trip to the dentist, and picking up a copy of my latest book from the post so it can go on the shelf with the others.

And if you want to know what this fuss is all about, take a look at my other website and/or my Amazon author page, where you can find the entire collection on Kindle, KU and in paperback.

It looks like the festival concerts are a great success, and there are a few more left to go. This week, if you’re on Symi, you can attend the wine festival on Tuesday, with music from the  Giannis Barbaris Band, and on Thursday, there is a concert from Symi’s own young musicians and their band, both being held in the town square. Also happening this week is the traditional feats of St Maria of Nimos, so there will be boats going back and forth to the island throughout that evening and into the night; everyone welcome. [Festival programme here. Scroll down it for English.]

The concerts at the weekend were well attended. The amphitheatre was packed, with the chairs at the back full, and festival goers forming large rings to dance on the main amphitheatre floor. People were still on their way home from a good night out when I got up early on Sunday, and it’s been a while since I’ve heard the harbour still going at that time of day. Both sides were full of boats; there were more lying off in the bay, and come the Sunday Panagia ferry and the end of the weekend getaway, well, I’d say that boat was totally full. Obviously, the church festival on the 15th swelled the numbers greatly, as they did on Tinos and other islands where this festival is particularly marked, and I get the impression that many people will be returning to work today with a sense of, ‘Phew!’

I see the opposite of this during my coffee break in the afternoon. I’ve fallen into my own tradition of heading down to join Neil at Rainbow around 16.00, and to sit there and watch the world go by until five. Only, there isn’t much world going by at that time of day, and sometimes it’s only a couple of us. I remember, when I started work at the bar in 2004, ‘Just for two weeks’, it was in late September, so the afternoons were busier. Over the following 12 years (because two weeks is a long time in Greece), I found July and August to be almost embarrassing; I was basically paid to do nothing because there were few customers during the siesta shift. Everyone was either at the beach or taking a nap, and my only customers were the occasional day-trippers with enough time for a quick snifter, or people on holiday who weren’t beach fans. It seems the afternoons are still the same. The evenings, though? Apparently they have been very busy, and that’s partly due to us now having 12 or 13 places to eat and drink up in the village where a couple of years ago we had fewer. I’ll put up a note about them, maybe tomorrow.

One thing I did do at the weekend was get distracted by a cardboard box. I know. So fickle! I was going for a walk, and dropping off the rubbish on the way, when I noticed a decent box, and thought, Ah ha! I took it home, cut it about a bit, and placed it over the water pump, leaving an airflow for the machine, and then bunged an old towel over it with an even older pillow on top as a muffler, and a couple of rocks to keep it down, and he presto! It made hardly any difference to the noise, but it’s helped a little. It’s only temporary while we wait for a new and hopefully quieter pump to come in before this one breaks down. It should be with us, ahem, ‘within the next two weeks.’ And we know what that might mean. Not to worry; the box has helped in the meantime.

I also had a look at our thermometer, which came from the Chinese emporium a couple of years ago. Convinced it wasn’t capable of rising over 37°, I put it in direct sunlight while I threw some water on the plants. Within five minutes it had climbed to its maximum, 50°, and was still climbing, so I put it back in the shade. Just think, while you’re sunbathing, swimming, or just walking about, you’re walking in temperatures of over 50°, and thinking, ‘It’s only 37,’ when, of course, it’s not. So, bear that in mind the next time you pay €10.00 to oil up and lie down. All I can say is eek!

Meanwhile, as you will see from the photos, Neil has been catching more sunrises in Pedi.

It looks like the island is now full.
This weekend is the holy festival of the Dormition of Mary, also known by other variants of the title depending on what you read. On Symi, the day has traditionally consisted of church services in the morning and a festival of service and celebration at Aletheni on the Pedi Road. You may have heard it called the Panagyri, which is the festival after the service where, for those that keep it, the 14-day fast of the preceding weeks is broken. More colloquially, here you might hear the day referred to as simply the ‘Aletheni’, the name of the church where the festival is usually held.

Apparently, this is not happening this year. The morning services will be, but not the festival in the evening. This has been replaced (or postponed) by a star attraction concert in Yialos’ main square on Saturday night, raising the question among some, ‘Is this a sign of the over-commercialism of Symi?’ Or, put another way, ‘Are pop concerts now more important than religious events?’ Maybe the consumer culture is the new religious event?

I expect there was great debate in the council chamber when setting dates for the festival, itself much scaled down since its heyday in the late 90s and early 00s. Deep discussions with the ruling Church elite must have also taken place, I imagine, but who knows? Not everyone is happy about this change in island tradition, and not everyone is happy that ‘the island is full.’

When I say ‘full’, I am quoting what I have read on some social media; stories of people frustrated at not being able to find a table at a restaurant, or a car to hire, or a place to stay, all of which are avoidable issues. Book in advance has been the mantra for several tavernas in recent years, but now, perhaps, it’s best to book at any eatery if you want an evening meal. The same applies for accommodation. Gone are the days of rolling off a ferry and finding someone with an advertising board and a whisper (for the practice is/was illegal) touting rooms to rent. These days, you will need to either book well in advance, or take a very rough chance. Even with every other apothiki, cow shed, granny flat, old shop and whatnot converted into an Ikea showroom Airbnb, there is not enough room for everyone who wants to attend the non-existent August 15th festival. Greek news has been reporting the ‘great exodus’ from Athens, via X number of ferries from Piraeus on Thursday, and X-thousand people going on their annual within-Greece holiday. It is probably the busiest time of the year for travelling within the country. As for bike or car hire. You might find somewhere to rent you something now that we have an inordinate number of cars, mopeds, electric vehicles, electric mopeds, bicycles and mules for hire – except for the mules, I made that up. You can hardly move for Rent-A-Thing parked up waiting, or trying to find a place to park (there aren’t any), or trying to get along the harbour side when a day boat has come in (don’t bother unless experienced, it’s dangerous and you might end up in the sea).

The island, full? It sounds like one of those ‘no boats’ no hopers claiming the yUK is full and ‘we can’t take anymore’ as an excuse for their insecurity or racism, but that’s not the reason on Symi. Here, it’s simply that it’s a very popular island at this time of year because of the festivals, and, probably, the reputations of some restaurants and hotels that attract the visitors with money to burn. I mean, don’t turn up tomorrow hoping to find a room, because you probably won’t, but having said that, I’ve seen plenty of new Airbnb properties standing unused all summer, so maybe there will be one of them left lying around.

Meanwhile, as a background, it was 32° in our courtyard at 03.30 this morning with 60% humidity. We’re not seeing the 40° + temperatures of further north, which we are usually suffering by now, but the humidity is back, and that’s draining, so as usual, take care. Let’s hope there are no fireworks or other dangers used as part of the festivals, which are very well attended. Last night ‘Locomondo’ was on the Yialos main stage, and the audience space looked packed.
Let the good times continue…

Last night in Yialos. Video from Symi TV

No solar eclipse viewing for us yesterday. I don’t think it was visible from where we are, but if it was, we didn’t see it. We see lots of sunrises though, if that helps. As the sun sets behind the island, as it were, we tend not to see much of that, only the start of it. To see the sunset proper, you’d have to go up high or over to the west side of the island. It can look dramatic just before it dips behind the hills behind Yialos, but you won’t see it sizzling into the sea. Similarly, you won’t see it rise from the sea, but from behind Turkish mountains to the east.

If you are staying in Horio, you can easily see the sunrise from up in the village, though the higher the better, as you will need an unrestricted view of Pedi Bay to catch it all. Or, you can be down on the shore in Pedi. To see it from elsewhere, you’d have to get yourself to a place somewhere along the east coast of the island, or just off it if you’re on a boat.

Yesterday, Neil took this one from up on the main village road where you can see the sun come up over the bay.

The best place though might still be down by the water, where the colours change by the second once the spectacle starts.

Now, who’d want to hide such a view as this with a pair of cheap paper and plastic glasses bought from an online retail store? (Just don’t stare at it openly for too long.)