Postcard from a Greek Island #2 – Nature in all her contrasts

August 15, 2014 

By Justine Bothwick
The sun descends in a wash of fiery orange and pink while the sea turns violet and lavender, laying itself out in complement to its reflection above. A stillness falls over the bay, the air holding its breath for what is coming next. We have just finished dinner when a few spots of water darken the balcony floor. Looking up I see heavy clouds are covering the stars and then the sky flashes white. The wind picks up and thunder grumbles to the north. The spots become more frequent and there’s barely time to bring in the drying beach towels before the storm is upon us. Bolt after bolt of lightning thrown down from sky to sea, Zeus and Hephaestus battling it out, animating the scene like the flickering images of an old ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ zoetrope. The noise is terrifying, explosions that force the ear drum inwards while the rain rages on. Now the bay is obscured, just a grey sheet of water, a curtain pulled across . I know there are several sailing boats anchored out there, somewhere: half an hour ago there’d been champagne corks and music. I am very glad to be on land, even if the rain is now creeping under the balcony doors and pooling in various and unexpected areas of the apartment. The roads have turned to rivers, pouring down the slope past our window and still there is no diminishment. Occasionally the clouds swirl apart to reveal a pallid, gibbous moon, but she is not invited tonight, rapidly extinguished by their dark bat wings.

Sunset from the balcony earlier in the evening

Then lightning splits the sky in two

Finally, after longer than was diverting, the storm retreats. Rolls of thunder continue and skittering sheets of lightning still illuminate the cloud masses, but they are being pulled apart now, and one by one the stars return.
The next morning, the air is fresh and through the village echoes the sound of water being swept away and neighbours comparing notes on damage and flooding. Some hazy clouds have lingered and at the beach the sea licks contritely at my calves as I wade along the shore.

As if the storm never happened. View from Sigri surf centre the next morning.

Later we cycle north up the coast, taking the road that leads inland before turning east back to the sea. Here there are isolated villas with gardens irrigated to a bright verdant green, incongruous against the island’s otherwise terra-cotta landscape.

The Black-eared Wheatear is a common sight in Sigri

Wheatears perch on rocks and low electricity lines. Swallows careen across an emerald field of clover, purple flowers just coming into bloom. I stop to investigate but am distracted by a large green stick that hops off the sprig I have plucked. I look closer and see orange eyes and alien forked head, body designed to mimic exactly a large blade of grass. I watch as this small, incredible creature finally tires of my gaze and jumps back into the mass of plants: an instantly invisible phasmid.

The disguise works better in a field of grass

Postcard from a Greek island #1 – Arrival

By Justine Bothwick

August 12, 2014 

For a second year we are spending August in Sigri, Lesvos. This small and sleepy fishing village lies at the end of a long road that snakes over the spine of the island away from the port and its ferries and cars and lorries and cargo; tourists waiting for boats in harbourside bars and restaurants. The trip takes you through hillsides of olive trees, some areas scarred black from scrub fires, past salt pan waters dotted with prawn-pink flamingoes. On past the town at the crossroads that swelters in its basin and up into the central heights where the air is cooler and rugged stone monasteries look down like monks in prayer from skeletal, vertiginous outcrops. The road continues its switchback course, down over the ridge, passing a scattering of white houses and terracotta tiled roofs. The land grows in breadth as it opens up beyond the pass and the light reflects back from umber rocks and the harsh ochre of dried grass and bush, inducing a mild case of photo-sensitivity, even behind a pair of sunglasses. A new road is being hewn into the side of the hill and the shapes of ancient, petrified trees rise out of the dust and rubble, protected for now by a utilitarian coating of plaster – the bones of ancient monsters exposed by modern machinery.

Approaching Sigri

The road descends further and round a corner, finally, the bay sweeps into view; its glittering water, inlets and coves all watched over by the lazy, feline mound of the isle of Nissiopi opposite . At the southern edge of the coast, on a jutting peninsula, a cluster of buildings fall down the final slope to the small fishing harbour. The ruins of an old Ottoman fort are sketched in carbon against a vesperal sky. A restaurant on the sea-front is festooned with garlands of octopus tentacles which sway in the wind above the heads of the nut-brown, sea-weathered men who sit with a glass of ouzo in one hand and a clicking loop of kombolói – worry beads – in the other. The Meltemi is late this year, but here, at the edge of the village, standing in front of a handful of tiny carmine, white and indigo boats moored in the harbour, a breeze is kicking up heads of sea foam out towards the horizon.

Fishing boat in the harbour

The Kastro at sunset

It all feels a wonderfully long way from home.

Sigri, by Laura Wilson

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It is worth reaching the end!

It is worth reaching the end - Sigri – June 2014

I live in the centre of Liverpool, England – home of the Beatles, two football teams and a history of political opposition to national governments! But away from urban living I’ve been lucky enough to be introduced to Sigri by my friend Pat Mary who has been coming here for long periods for many years.

This year was my fifth visit in 10 years and as ever the sun warms your skin and the people your heart.

 Highlights for me this year were:

Inflating my tyre!!

I’m a pathetic non swimmer but because I really envy those swimming in the tranquil waters of the town beach among the shoals of little fishes I brought my own adults’ swimming ring that was made to look like a tyre. But I found to my horror it had to be inflated by machine – what could I do? A visit to Adonis with my problem was the answer and hey presto he found a kind person to blow it up for me. Next time I will have learned to swim honest!!

Birds – on the way to Faneromeni, by the flat marshy bit before the little church of Prophitis Ilias on the high mound, I saw on the same morning two egrets, two ruddy shelducks and ... two black storks! On the way back to the airport I saw flamingos at Kalloni.

Horses – some magnificent stallions and mares (as well as a sweet foal) were in and around the village this year.

Food – of course! There was wonderful fish at all the tavernas including sea bream, sea bass and red mullet. Local dishes such as gigantes (butter beans) and meatballs were excellent. The souvlaki bar served not only excellent food but also, on this visit, excellent music from visiting musicians. The church festival ended with a buffet and many plates of homemade savouries and pastries were pressed upon us. Every day brought pies and tasty breads from the bakery; locally grown plums, peaches, and vegetables of all kinds from the green grocer and everything you could ever need from Georgia’s shop. Last but not least an invitation to a local home for coffee introduced us to homemade preserved figs in syrup, peach kernel liquor and melt in the mouth cake.

Petrified Forest  – I have to go to the Petrified Forest Museum every time I come to Sigri as it is truly unique and amazing. The staff are always helpful and eager to answer any queries. On this visit Spiros, taking me back to Mytilene by taxi, explained that the women I saw working with the road-widening crew were specialists there to identify any new petrified trees emerging from the rock. Indeed he stopped and showed me where two tree trunks had been found and could be seen quite clearly.

I only stayed for 10 days but all this happened and I know I will have forgotten some things.

What can I say? The Beatles say it for me below (and by the way the font is from a charity for homeless people in Spain and has been formed from their writing on street placards http://www.homelessfonts.org/buy/)

There are places I remember (Beatles, lyrics Paul McCartney)

There are places I remember all my life

Though some have changed

Some forever, not for better

Some have gone and some remain

And I know I’ll never lose affection

For people and things that went before

I know I’ll often think about them

In my life I loved you more

Steph Petrie