She sat stiffly like the other women, looking at her prayer book, but she could not make out a single letter, not a page, nothing, for those sad eyes, sorrowful eyes, blazing flashing eyes, stood before her, shining like stars. They blotted out the entire world, so that she completely lost her head, was utterly hopeless – and still he knelt there, she could hear his short hot breathing and feel that sweet power, that terrible power that radiated from him, that went straight to her heart, seemed to bind her like a rope and fill her with such sweetness, fear and trembling that made her lose her mind, a cry of love so powerful that every bone in her body quaked, and her heart thudded like a bird whose wings have been nailed to a wall by children for the fun of it!
We arrived from Hydra to the nearby island of Spetses undergoing an island wide electrical blackout, so we required careful guidance from the ship to a waiting van to take us to the Poseidonion Grand Hotel. It was so dimly lit it would not have been difficult to take a few misguided steps and end up bobbing in the Aegean.
Our van driver was Indian and well as the bellhop taking our luggage to the room. Filipinos in Samos and Indian in Spetses. How Greece has changed!
My goodness the “Grand Hotel” in the hotel’s name is no misstatement or exaggeration. The hotel was built by Sotorios Anargyros, descendant of the great 18th century Spetsiot family who had emigrated as a young man in 1868 to the United States becoming a wealthy tobacco tycoon who started on a mission to transform Spetses. The hotel was built by him in the style of the Carleton in Cannes and the Negresco in Nice. It rapidly became the favourite vacation spot for high society, royalty and rich Athenians who came to enjoy a small slice of the grand life.
One can’t see much of its exterior when arriving in pitch blackness. Hotel generators kept lights on the lobby and we were welcomed with a glass of prosecco on check in very Old-World way particularly in Portugal!
We joined T and I in the small dining area off the Library Room for a dinner of sea bass.
Our room may not be classic Old-World but allocated a humane amount of space in comparison to our Superior Room broom closet in Hydra it feels like a glorious football pitch! A rather colonial type room with broad planked wooden floors similar to the older homes I have been in Salem, Massachusetts where planks of two hundred years ago were much larger than today’s.
Next door on the balcony a group of American girls is shouting to their friends “back home in the States” about their minute-to-minute adventures in Greece accompanied by a howls and shrieks! Sounds like a neighbourhood raucous teen party! Love that sign in the bathroom saying “No paper and foreign objects” by the toilet. No flush! Stuff! Strange but not uncommon in Greece. Glorious sleep in a football sized (at least it felt so) ro
As we exited the Museum of History and Archives of Hydra I spied some ominous black clouds and lightning bolts in the distance. I advised Dearest F, T and I, perhaps a bit more speed was warranted to return to the hotel. Not heeding my warnings in a timely fashion we managed to nip into a covered restaurant with dozens of other people. The restaurant staff valiantly brought down the wildly flapping awnings as the rain and thunder intensified. In five decades travelling Greece I have never seen such intensity.
Peering out from the safety of the restaurant one could see torrents of water flowing down the streets. If this torrent wouldn’t have knocked you off your feet you certainly would be made very wet. To all’s consternation the water outside slowly started pulsing to us standing in the entranceway to the restaurant. The port area of Hydra is built below steep hills where residences are located so water can flow down through the streets quickly. After an hour of drenching rain a break permitted us to tip toe, jumping water here and there to our hotel where the reception area crowded. The rain again shook its fist at Hydra so we sat and waited with no rooms as we had checked out late morning as we were travelling to Spetses on the 19:35 High Speed Aero Catamaran.
We nipped out down the street for a quick snack of dolmades and taramasalata with stupendous fresh bread and headed back to the hotel at about 19:00 where Petros and his battery powered cart were waiting for us to take our luggage down to the ferry. It was raining so we paid Petros to hold our luggage until we were ready to board Aero High Speed.
It arrived on time and with few passengers. Forty minutes later were in the darkened port of the Island of Spetses.
He sat down on the edge of his bed and thought of Chicago. He thought of his childhood there, the Lake Shore Drive, Winnetka, the trip to Niagara Falls with his mother. He could hear the Falls now; He remembered the Fourth of July on the boat; the crowded examination room at college; the time he had broken his leg in baseball, when he was fourteen; and the stamp collection he had lost at school. He remembered his mother always saying, “Michael, you must learn to be orderly”; and the little boy who had died of scarlet fever next door; and the pink conch-shell smashed in the backyard. His whole life seemed to be composed of such trivial and infinitely charming little episodes as these; and as he thought of them, affectionately and with wonder, he assured himself once more that he had really been a good man. And now, had it all come to an end? It had all come foolishly to an end.
‘Not young for sure, but well enough, except that she were a little, bald, crooked and with gimlet eyes, but her face were smooth as a loaf nibbled by mice for a week or two, a fine woman, good. I got plenty of grub – eggs scrambled with sausage, vodka, lard, other tasty bites, and she became frisky with me she were ready to get under the quilt…but in the night I scarpered…’
‘Why not marry? It’s always five morgen….’
‘And the dead husband’s sheepskin. What do I want with a woman? I’m long sick of the whole tribe! All they do is shout, yell, rush about, like magpies on the fence. You say one word, she comes back with twenty like she’s shaking a handful of haulm …You have reasoning, she sweeps, unthinking with her tongue. You speak as one human being to another, and she neither understands, nor ponders but yatters any old thing. They say the Lord Jesus gave women only half a soul and it must be true – and let the devil rule the other half…’
This “one at a time hotel room”, or rather our “Superior Room”, permits only one person to prepare for the day e.g. to shower and dress. Dearest F did so first leaving me to navigate the tiny space and get ready which I did. I looked for Dearest F, I and T in the breakfast room but they had gobbled and ran so I skipped breakfast, which in any case looked on the minimally interesting side and headed to the sea boardwalk and caught up with the gang but not before purchasing a rather unique and folksy icon bargaining the price down by 60 Euros. Cash deals are always the best way to bargain. I had promised myself when leaving Toronto for this trip I would not purchase another icon but this one with its folksy style caught my eye and wallet!
We walked to the left of the main square and admired the coastline of Hydra.
Coastline of Hydra: Photo R. Kennedy Stephen
We headed to the right of the square and visited the Museum of History and Archives. When travelling in many countries in Europe one may be easily afflicted by various “fatigues” one of them being “museum fatigue”. Geez seeing the name of “Museum of History and Archives” does not exactly act as a vaccine against “museum fatigue” but reluctantly I entered.
In 1918 the Historic File Museum of Hydra was founded by a shipowner and benefactor Gikas N. Koulouras who donated the building to the Municipality of Hydra in 1952. Antonious D. Lignos, doctor and the mayor of Hydra for over 40 years, sorted and transcribed all the files pertaining to Hydra which he found in storerooms inside the Holy Church of Dormition in Hydra. The Museum contains a File Department, a Library Department and a Museum Department.
Hydra sailor portrait; Photo R. Kennedy Stephen
The Museum Department has two levels; the ground floor displaying exhibits from the Balkan and the two World Wars and in the antechamber there are traditional costumes for Hydra and figureheads from Greek battleships. Most impressive are a collection of portraits of famous Hydra navy commanders many with eyes that peer at you to the extent that when walking around the exhibit area one feels that they are following you. These portraits were the highlight of the museum to the extent I returned to them two more times. Hydra has given birth to many well-known naval commanders. My impression this is very much a seafarer’s museum. I felt I was on the deck of the Pequod hunting for Moby Dick.
As we left the museum ominous dark clouds could be seen in the distance prompting my urging the gang to get a move on. If only they had listened to me!
Still tussling with autumn, it rampaged, bellowing in the blue distances like a fierce and hungry beast, and who could say when it would trounce her and leap to savage up the world with its ice-cold fangs…
Still fitful were the scatterings of pallid snow-autumn snow….
Bewildered days still came, blue sickly days, wistful, sighing, festering, utterly lost in lamentation and drizzling with icy light. Deathly days, when birds flew into the woods with a cry, the waters babbled more anxiously and drifted sluggishly, thickened with dead. The earth shivered, and every creature raised vigilant, fearful eyes towards the north, towards the cloud’s fathomless depths…..
After a two-hour journey from Piraeus, we dock at Hydra one of the Saronic Islands of Greece in the Aegean Sea. Hydra Port (Hydra as we will refer to it as) is the sole main town of this small island with a population a little over 2,000. Hydra consists of a crescent shaped harbour around which is centred a strand of shops, cultural sites and restaurants. Narrow streets head upwards from the harbour.
Dearest F had been to Hydra three years prior and noticed this time there were fewer donkeys transporting luggage. Replaced by these battery powered carts?
Wheeled vehicles are not permitted on the island including scooters and bikes! As our hotel is up a bit from the harbour we make arrangements with Petros in his battery powered cart to transport our luggage from the High Speed Catamaran to our hotel, Hydroussa Hotel. Funny how hotel rooms are named as in this case we have a Superior Room (225 Euros) but I can’t see too much superior about it at 22 sqm. I can imagine one person might find it cramped but two is just about impossible. Dearest F explained she was fortunate enough to book this as it was the last room available. I mean it is clean and the bathroom is modern but try two people trying to get ready to go to dinner it just doesn’t work. We tried to book a superior room to our Superior Room to no avail as no other rooms were available.
Clever photo of a Superior Room but in reality a one at a time room!
We joined T and I in their Junior Suite and I turned green with envy with their room as big as a football pitch. We enjoyed a Greek Sauvignon Blanc (the best Greek white so far) and headed out to dinner in the port area at 21:00. Orea Ydra looked like the best restaurant overlooking the harbour and we were not disappointed with the grilled octopus and Greek Salad along with a bottle of wine all for 80 Euros.
Crappy sleep on a cement bed with rock-like pillows at Ananti City Resort.
The dirty laundry beginning to mount and as we are on a whirlwind expedition no time for visiting any laundry facilities. I conducted a brief inventory and have just enough clothes to make it to the 25September the day we fly back to Toronto.
The coffee machine back at Doryssa Seaside Resort made a rocket fuel latte which was undrinkable. Now here at Ananti City Resort the coffee machine makes me a latte with hot milk but no coffee. I try again and I see a message on the screen the machine requires servicing. I miss those lattes at Daios Luxury Living in Thessaloniki made by a talented barista! I settle for a poached egg and a koolouria. Greek eggs with their almost orange yolk beat the pants off Canadian eggs, anemic by comparison.
So poor T was stung by a wasp at the pool after breakfast and his hand is swollen but I has a cortisone cream to stop the infernal itching.
We load up the Land Rover and head off to Piraeus for our trip to the island of Hydra. T is an awesome driver throughout this trip. The motorways and country roads are fine but Athens is another story! I feel if I had been driving in Athens I would have hit a few cars and knocked down some motorcyclists who weave in and out of traffic in a suicidal fashion as far as Canadians might interpret their manoeuvring.
Clear sailing on the motorway almost deserted at points but 75 kms from Athens it thickens a comes to a crawl 20 kms from Athens. Thank goodness for a pee break in a highway bunker. In addition to large rest stops with restaurants and a plenitude of washrooms there are occasional little cement bunker WC’s you can pull over to. Not exactly pristine but they do the trick.
We make it to Anthology of Athens to pick up a large suitcase T and I have been using but stored for our outbound trip from Athens to Delphi to Meteora. By some miracle the monster is loaded on and off we go to Piraeus nutso traffic all the way. Trick to find gate E-9 where our Aero High Speed Catamaran will take us to the island of Hydra. A fast trip with very little motion a boon for those with queasy sea stomachs.
First stop Poros a beautiful island with stunning architecture along its main street. A large crowd welcomed one of its young residents returning from cancer treatment in Athens.
After two hours on the Aero High Speed we land at Hydra as the sun sets.
