Showing posts with label earthquake. Show all posts
Showing posts with label earthquake. Show all posts

Sunday, 26 April 2026

2026 Skopje

Not a London double-decker bus
Not a London double-decker bus
18.4.26

In Macedonia Square by the stone bridge, the Archaeological Museum in front of me to the right. The River Vardar quite narrow, shallow and fast flowing. Behind me, the truly massive equestrian statue of Alexander the Great, although for political reasons it is known as the Warrior on Horseback (Greece hates any reference to Alexander and Macedonia here). Sun shining, clouds, gentle breeze.

Don't call him Alexander the Great
Don't call him Alexander the Great

The most amazing thing about this place is that it exists, a complete culture and nation that practically no one outside knows about. It is like a secret land, hiding in plain sight. This ensemble – the square, statues, river, buildings  is astonishing. Although quite new, it has an eternal, classical feel to it. It brings to mind The Ideal City, usually attributed to the architect and artist Fra Carnevale.

Flight here from Luton, alas – with Wizz Air – was also rather magical: I fell asleep as is my wont, and woke up thinking I had had a short nap, to hear the captain announce we were beginning our descent – I’d slept for over two hours. Incredibly cheap ticket – just over £100. Accommodation cheap too, about 130 euros for four nights, even though I will only sleep three – my plane leaves Monday evening, so I can use the place during the afternoon.

Met at the airport by a cheerful chap who spoke a little English. Said there were few tourists coming here – something that will change, I am sure. New airport, pretty relaxed passport control. Road good on the way in, lots of Turkish companies in evidence – Halkbank etc. and the airport is Turkish-run, the taxi driver said. Ads for solar panels – some of which I saw in fields flying in, as well as some small-ish wind turbines in the distance. The villages have that characteristic spider web appearance – houses joined by tracks. Beautiful landscape flying in – very hilly, covered in thick but low vegetation, few roads – mostly dirt tracks.

Once I arrive at my flat, at 21 Dimitrie Cupovski, very close to the centre, out again to buy a few groceries, water and some apples. Which they only sold in big packs in the nearby Kam supermarket. The lady on the till looked a typical ex-communist worker: really unhappy with her lot, unsmiling. Seemed fairly tranquil out last night, and still very quiet now. A couple of street dogs – large – lie in the sun. Sparrows abound, as do pigeons. Also saw a hooded crow. Quite a lot of green here, probably because it is all quite new.

A fair number of electric scooters, ridden by people smoking as they go – lots of cigs here. On the way in last night, on the verge by the traffic lights, there was a Roma woman – young, early 20s, with her three small children, all under five. She was begging from the cars that had stopped at the lights, and the children were, well, surviving somehow, as the traffic zoomed around them.

People out running along the river – lovely location. A man selling sunglasses – the sun is indeed bright – might have to put mine on. People out walking their dogs.

The old bazaar, similar to Sarajevo's
The old bazaar, similar to Sarajevo's

Across the bridge, past the South East European University, into the old bazaar. Very extensive – far bigger than in Sarajevo, but very similar in feel. Full of shops offering jewellery, the main tourist gift here, it seems. Beyond the bazaar lies the real Skopje market – quite small compared to Bishkek et al. A few cats around, a few very large stray dogs. Rock music playing from cafés, a very lazy feel to this fine Saturday morning. Few tourists – seems mostly locals that are out.

Back to the flat, then out to get Denar. Found an ATM, which charged me £5 commission per transaction. But no choice: I need them for the taxi to the airport when I leave. Then back to the bazaar, taking a right, not left, past the Historical Museum and Art Gallery – closed. Then a long walk uphill to the Museum of Contemporary Art. It seemed closed at first, but as I walk around, it opens – well, one room, done out in garish red for a single theme exhibit. I sense a pattern here. Feels very like Sarajevo’s historical museum, rather run down, half-hearted, but they probably lack funds. More people out now, enjoying the sun and the warmth.

Museum of Macedonia
Museum of Macedonia

To the Museum of Macedonia. No sign of how to enter. I go to the museum shop, which is where you buy the entrance ticket, apparently, costing 100 Denar – about £1.40. No one else here, of course. Historical section about the liberation of Macedonia – very recent, 1940s. Civil war in Greece (1946-49). All so close. Clearly a lot of suffering back then.

To the ethnological part, which is larger, but equally deserted. Halls full of mannequins wearing ornate national costumes – lots of red and black. They look frozen, like a meeting of faceless zombies… Dug-out canoes, wooden wagons, threshing instruments. Lots of pix of traditional house buildings, but too dark to see well. One room looks very Turkish, seats around the walls, lots of carved wood, as in Topkapı Saray. A “town reception room” apparently.

I discovered why everything was so dark: I forgot to take off my sunglasses…

Back to the old bazaar, to here, “Eski Kasaba” – the old town. A burektore – börekci in Turkish, a kind of pie shop, selling börek. Eating one with meat, another with cheese, wrapped in slightly oily puff pastry. Delicious, and just £3 for the two, plus a glass of tea.


I forgot to mention: weirdly they have lots of red double-decker buses here, apparently 202 of them bought as part of the Skopje 2014 project…

St. Clement of Ohrid’s flying saucer church
St. Clement of Ohrid’s flying saucer church

To St. Clement of Ohrid’s flying saucer church. Quite effective. Inside, every surface is covered with painting/frescoes – all with strong blues and reds and yellows. The iconostasis is huge, but oddly unimpressive. North of the church a big Macedonian flag flutters in a desultory fashion. With its form and colours, it has always struck me as rather similar to the Japanese “Rising Sun” flag. But now that I am here, seeing it everywhere, I detect another congruence: to the Union Jack. Make of that what you will…

Walking around the area to the west, where there are quite a few restaurants, then back to my flat for tea. UHT milk here – usually tasting of plastic – remarkably tolerable. Out to the main square, full of people, then taking a right through the huge “City Trade Center” mall that runs alongside the river. A strange atmosphere inside: vast and yet not very glitzy, but not exactly rundown either. 

Another relic of Skopje 2014
Another relic of Skopje 2014

Then north over the Phillip II bridge, past the semi-derelict Jack Sparrow galleon, to here, by the Foreign Ministry. In front, there are curious statues of couples, neither classical nor modern. Lots of litter everywhere, although it has to be said my block of flats very clean – a woman was washing the floor this morning, eyeing me suspiciously.

South over the Bridge of Art – adorned with 28+1 statues of artists – all men. To the north, the huge pepper-pot design of the Public Prosecutor's Office. The south side very like London's South Bank, full of pubs and restaurants. Rather wider – but then the river is narrower than the Thames… On the north side, there are some female statues in front of the Macedonian Opera and Ballet – only nine (the muses?), and all ancient. The opera and ballet seemed closed, at least today. And pretty run-down. The Philharmonic of the Republic of Macedonia hall more impressive – a huge bulbous edifice – but closed. Its orchestra on tour in Germany apparently – Bonn this evening. Lovely end of day atmosphere as the sun declines, the wind rises, and people sit peaceably by the river.

Philharmonic of the Republic of Macedonia
Philharmonic of the Republic of Macedonia

A Polish group of tourists get explications. Earlier, I heard Greek, in the pie shop there were Turks (who spoke to the staff there in Turkish). Also worth noting the use of Albanian on signs here – the other official language. A fair number of women wearing headscarves – I can’t make out if they are all locals, or visitors… Probably the former.

19.4.26

On the way to the Museum of the City of Skopje in the hope that it might be open, I pass a typical post (?) communist building. Very odd proportions – squat, with the stumpiest columns at its base – completely out of place. The columns’ capitals look like smudged approximate versions of the Corinthian style. Moreover, the columns themselves are made of fibre glass (I think), certainly flimsy and hollow.
How not to do columns and capitals
How not to do columns and capitals

I write this sitting by another such building, with the enigmatic name of “BMPO-ΔΠMHE”, which apparently stands for “Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organisation – Democratic Party for Macedonian National Unity”, which really rolls off the tongue. Also very odd design, with all the windows bearing Michelangelo-esque pediments – each storey alternating round and triangular ones. A portico with four Ionic columns is stuck on the front, and in front of that, in a square currently closed off with graffiti’d corrugated iron, a weird column – quite low, with a bronze lion on the top. Seems to be commemorating various uprisings – 1903, 1922 etc., and dedicated to “Revolutionary Organisations”.

City museum with its symbolic stopped clock
City museum with its symbolically stopped clock

And of course, the museum is closed when I get there, even though a sign on the door says “open”… But wait, a man has opened it just for me… In the entrance hall, a frieze of pix shows Skopje on 26.7.1963 – ruined buildings everywhere as a result of the massive earthquake that struck that day. Apparently around 80% of the city was destroyed [I found out later that the clock on the front of this museum, which was the old railway station, is fixed to show the time 5.17am, the moment the earthquake struck the city].


Skopje before its neo-classical remodelling
Skopje before its neo-classical remodelling

An amazing black and white pic of the city – perhaps taken in the 1960s after the earthquake – showing a depressing Soviet-style city, with many dull tower blocks in the centre, perhaps replacing the homes destroyed in 1963. The flying saucer church is there, looking very shabby, as is the old fort, but nothing of today’s neo-classical confection, which is much later. The bazaar is hard to make out. Interesting to see the block of flats where I am staying already present.

In the museum’s basement, ancient historical periods – the usual pots, coins, ornaments, vases – plus a rather fine 2nd century “Venus pudica” in good condition, from Roman Scupi. Makes you wonder who the original model was, 2,000 years ago. Most of the museum is closed off. Still no one here except me. Wonderful smell in these old, rather neglected museums – of ancient things…

Church of Saints Constantine and Helena.
Church of Saints Constantine and Helena.

Walking north, past the new Church of Saints Constantine and Helena. Very unusual geometrical decoration of the external walls. Inside, super-chromatic frescoes. Rather nice. Alongside is the bell tower, with the similar geometric patterns. Very pleasant sitting in the morning sun here. A pedestrian precinct full of cafés and trees. Skopje has come a long way since that grim black and white panorama of the city 60 years ago. A man brings out a few second-hand books for sale; but who buys this stuff? 10 o’clock – the bells strike in the bell tower – a fine, clangorous sound.
The great mother goddess
The great mother goddess

To the Archaeological Museum. From the archaic necropolis of Korošišta - 6th century BCE helmet + gold pectoral + other bits – impressive. Must have been thriving at that time. The museum is very modern, very well presented. The most impressive things I’ve seen so far are the votive offering boxes (?) - human figures, mostly female, on top of empty spaces, presumably for offerings. These are from 8,000 years ago… Some have interesting octopus-like legs attached – clear proof aliens visited us back then, no? The section with Macedonian armaments very interesting.

Just part of a huge and well-presented collection
Just part of a huge and well-presented collection

To the bazaar, and the horribly named Kebapçılnıca Turist restaurant next to the place I ate yesterday. Despite trying to avoid it, I end up eating veal, which I hate doing. It seems widely used here 
– and not much food suitable for vegetarians. A lot of tourists out: a group of very dark Tamil/Indians – Gastarbeiter? Also, a group of Muslims, looking quite Central Asian/Malaysian. Very hot out, but a slight breeze.

To be fair, all the restaurants and shops are pretty relaxed – no pushy selling as in some places. Similarly, in the museums, everyone is very helpful. (Fabulous bread – pide. The muezzin calls to prayer – such an evocative sound…). Everyone is smoking here – even in the restaurant, next to small children. Macedonia still has a long way to go in this respect. Surprising number of electric mobility vehicles here – would not have expected them. Also far too many electric scooters – going fast… But no electric cars that I’ve seen. I’ve also not seen pregnant women here: I wonder if that is because they don’t go out, or is indicative of a demographic problem. There seem to be plenty of children, so presumably the former.

The Archaeological Museum is really well done: exhibits well displayed, with good info – but only in English. One problem is that the building’s unusual shape – a very long and thin squashed ellipse – makes it hard to provide a logical flow from ancient to more recent. At times I had to backtrack to continue. Not a big issue, and the building is indeed rather fine.

It’s a pity that so many of the other museums and galleries here – including the National Gallery and the Museum of Contemporary Art – were closed. It made it hard to get a more rounded picture of Macedonian art and culture. But obviously they are tight for funds, and there are as yet few tourists to justify diverting money to keep them open all the time.

In the Archaeological Museum there was a group of Greeks being shown around – nice hearing the language spoken. And I’ve heard German and English spoken today by tourists. Before, I’d heard Spanish and maybe Russian, and definitely Turkish. Indeed, judging by the signs everywhere, Turks form an important group as far as tourism is concerned. There is a greater presence of Islam than I expected – pretty much as in Sarajevo.

Out to the church of this morning, and I hear my first French tourists. Lovely atmosphere here in Macedonia Street (appropriately enough). The pedestrian street and its cafés in the shade, the church and its bell tower still baking in the hot afternoon sun. Quite a few people here have tattoos – mostly men, but a few women with more discreet ones.

This city is a great place to spend a long weekend, but the absence of much to see is a big drawback. Next time I come I would aim to hire a car and drive out to Ohrid with its lake, and elsewhere. The landscapes look very attractive, and with a car it would be easy to access some out-of-the-way places. The drivers look vaguely sensible on the roads here, surprisingly.

There seem to be fewer women in scarves here than in the bazaar: is this the more cosmopolitan quarter perhaps? Also there’s the Orthodox church here, whereas the bazaar area has several mosques reflecting its Ottoman heritage. The south side is more secular and Western.

The unfinished, hollow bell tower with its cabling
The unfinished, hollow bell tower with its cabling

Upon closer examination, the new bell tower is only partly finished: one third of the external marble (?) is still missing. It also seems entirely hollow: I wonder how they ring the bells… One thing conspicuous by their absence : Chinese tourists. Not a single one have I seen. Everywhere else – even Khujand, say, they were present. Here: 不是,没有… So the bell tower is indeed completely empty, but I can see at least two metal cables running the entire height, obviously connecting to the bells.

On the stone bridge, a balmy night. The Archaeological Museum looks splendid, of course. Hundreds out, enjoying the evening. I guessed this is how it would be. But hard to imagine how this spot looked 50/60 years ago, as shown in the black and white panorama. Different worlds.

Van Gogh would have loved those eddies
Van Gogh would have loved those eddies

To the west, a suitably thin crescent moon + planet. The reflected lights on the swirling river eddies create a Van Gogh-like effect. Into the bazaar. By the entrance, a man selling roast chestnuts. Quiet at first, further in it livens up, people out eating, drinking, smoking. Lots of small children, even though it is getting late…

The old bazaar by night
The old bazaar by night

Just seen my first pregnant lady. Do I get a prize?

On the way back from sitting by the river, I saw not one, not two, but three red double-decker buses – a herd of them. They were going home – I had seen them in a similar group last night. Has to be said that these Chinese-made buses are singularly dirty.

20.4.26

In the old fortress. Good view across the city, and north to the snow-capped mountains. The fortress is big – and mostly derelict ruins. Various buildings here of unknown use. Up in the highest stone tower, with a telescope on a platform that can’t be reached since the stairs have disintegrated. Cigarette butts everywhere. Grass very green – but probably full of poisonous snakes. Sunny, but with light clouds. On the way here – which is the same route as to the Museum of Contemporary Art – I passed a rusty howitzer sitting amid peaceable trees. A relic of past civil wars, presumably.

A view from a stone tower looking across the old fortress
A view from a stone tower looking across the old fortress

Looking east towards the bazaar, the minarets and characteristic metal domes are evident. I can also see the small church of the Ascension of Jesus where I hope to visit next. First Chinese tourists – one wearing a face mask, in the middle of a large open-air space… Needless to say, when I got there, the church was closed to visitors, even though it was supposed to be open, for no good reasons.

Into Ramstore Mall, which is as anonymous and depressing as malls everywhere. One minor difference: a sign on the door indicating “no guns”. To the Diamond Mall next door. More modern, better designed, pretty empty and still depressing, also with a sign saying "no guns". Quite a good bookshop – Literatura.mk.

No guns in this shopping mall, please
No guns in this shopping mall, please

To the Memorial House of Mother Teresa (with the rather splendid domain name memorialhouseofmotherteresa.com) – not something I would normally bother with, but there’s not much else to do here on a Monday (as in many cities around the world, most museums are closed today). Interesting pic of Skopje 100 years ago – unrecognisable.

In the airport. One thing I forgot to mention is that along with a huge number of electric scooters, there are also WOLT deliveries zooming around everywhere.

Skopje has been very pleasant, aided by the splendid weather, although let down by the fact that half of the things to see were closed. Perhaps preparing for later. Also, I have to confess that Skopje was a little too familiar - it was clearly European, albeit with fascinating tinges of the Ottoman empire that linger on. I suppose I have been corrupted by my Central Asian travels. I now hanker for more of a cultural difference, if not shock. Bad me…

Looking at the departures board here, it is striking that there is one flight each to Bologna, London and Paris, seven to Germany, four to Turkey – three to Istanbul, and one to Izmir. The German flights are presumably migrant workers and their families coming and going, since there don’t seem to be many German tourists as such. Also two flights to Ljubljana, which is odd...


Moody Sonnets: Discovering Skopje

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Saturday, 2 May 2020

1996 Ithaca

2.6.96 Fiskardo

We sit on a healthy-sized boat, its prow pointing towards Ithaca.  The stiff breeze blows grilled fish savours towards us.  Brilliant sunshine, temperature in the 30s.  Clear blue sky – outshone by the ridiculous blue of the sea. A 90-minute drive around Cephalonia.  A twisty road surpassed only by that to Kashmir. 

The day began early – 3.15am, almost dawn.  Taxi at 4.15am, at the airport by 5am. Checked in et al., breakfast, then to our gate (after a falsely-stated 35 minute delay).  At the gate, they inform us of the obvious: we had been booked on a flight to Brindisi – same time, same company.  There were seats – obviously not together – but our luggage was on the wrong plane.  The baggage handling system was to be tested…

3.6.96 Kioni

The story continued…

Well, we got on the plane, which was full of sun- and sea-seekers, and vulgar air hostesses.  The flight was bumpy and seemed longer than it was.  But we arrived at the small airport on Cephalonia, and stepped out into real sun for the first time in 18 months (since Sri Lanka).  Miraculously, our luggage did arrive (though carrying it was fun without a trolley, as we made our way on to the coach).  The drive along twisty, half-made up roads was, for me at least, heaven.  It reminded me strongly of that Kashmir road from Jammu, with one breathtaking vista supplanting another.

The village of Fiskardo was picturesque, and busy with restrained tourism.  The ferry to Kioni was the perfect way to arrive – across the straight, and then around the incredibly verdant hills – barely a house in sight.  Rounding the cape of Ithaca (sounds suitably nautical), we passed down to the port, with three ruined windmills to the south.  It was particularly strange to see the place we had pored over in the brochures – and to find it corresponded exactly.

Last night we stared across at infinite shadings of heat haze; and, right to the east, the Greek mainland and various islands (Levkada etc.).  I sit now on our balcony, with the scene below me.  It is 3.30pm, the sun at its most savage, and I'm glad that I am out of it.  The sea is that impossible Grecian blue, boats out at sea (Θάλαττα! Θάλαττα!), below me are olive trees and pines – the latter scenting the air wonderfully.  Near-silence but for distant waves and a few birds' twitterings.

One thing that we were not prepared for arriving here (at Melissa Apartments) was the lack of parking space.  We are on the road south out of Kioni that just stops – the end of the map.  It is also mostly single-track, with no barrier between you and the rapid fall of the olive groves to the sea.  To turn, you must drive to nearly the end, where there is what looks like a disused quarry (small, though).  There you can execute a slightly precarious three-point turn.

The car is a bonus: new (400km on the clock), and superior class.  I hope to explore the island a little in it.  The boat (with an outboard motor) we picked up this morning.  A Greek woman explained how things worked, but as ever, in these things it's more a question of practice and instinct – both of which I lack.  This made our excursion to a very near beach rather fraught, particularly landing.  Stupidly, I did not have suitable shoes, and so murdered my feet on the rocks, stones and pebbles.  Somehow we got ashore.

The beach poor, with much tar (bastards – I can see a tanker out there now, perhaps discharging even as I write).  Well-covered with suntan cream, which seems very effective, thank goodness.  A taverna on the beach – very small and rustic – promises future delights (a man cleaning fish on the nearby rocks).  We stayed a little, and then back to the harbour where we have left the car.  Afterwards to "our" taverna – by virtue of being the first place we ate, last night.  This is right on the harbour, has a large tent-like (permanent) construction outside the small restaurant.  

The menu is the usual incomprehensible Greek/English selection, most of which is unavailable.  It is family-run (it seems): a younger brother, and two elder men.  One of these has a pony tail and striking green eyes – a real Odysseus.

4.6.96  Kioni

As can be seen, I am beginning to lose sense of time here.  Are we AD or BC…?  And I'm getting behind - so much so, that I can't remember what's to tell.  Did I talk about the butterflies here (now extinct in England, it seems)?  Or about the shivering sheets of water, interspersed with patches of calm?  Or the savage black cat – more of a small panther – that claims our terrace as part of its domain?  Did I mention that I was bitten 27 times yesterday, that my left-hand side looks disgusting?  Here there are large black insects that bite; the only consolation is that they are slow and very easy to catch.  We killed hundreds of them.  Although I've brought one of the lethal insect-repellent machines (plug in), we're reluctant to leave it on.

There are six boats (yachts) turning into our bay.  Strangely, the distant view is clearing now (5.30pm).  This morning there was a glorious Claude haze covering everything.  A wonderful feeling, powering away (-ish) through the opalescent water.  We went round towards Frikes, and then on to a beach (one of two) further north.  This would have been perfect: steeply shelving for the boat, and swimming; surrounded by green hills; trees offering shade.  But it was spoilt by two things: the litter everywhere, and worse, the flies.  We left early, but at least had a swim and fine journey.

5.6.96 Kioni

I sit after lunch facing a landscape/seascape I can only think of as mine.  The weather very hazy and close: there will be a storm tomorrow, I suspect.  We left early-ish with the car, off to Vathy.  First we took the eastern route, passing through Frikes (tiny, less atmospheric than Kioni) and then Stavros, attractive, with a view down to Polis bay, supposedly the site of a sunken city, perhaps of Odysseus.  What a name: Polis, the City, here amidst poor villages (including the bent, gaunt crones in black, the arrogant old men sitting outside dark cafes), symbolic snakes in the road, orthodox churches, many ruined cottages, mules, etc. [the village factotum has just come to fix the blown fuses in our flat – everything is out.]

The road out of Stavros rising through a surprisingly green landscape.  Sharp bends zig-zagged us up the mountain.  We passed through Anogi (very small), and then began a descent after a long level patch.  From the latter, the views were perhaps the best I've seen from an island.  To our left, the distant islands and mainland, to the front, the deep natural harbour of Vathy (Greek: Βαθύ, meaning deep), held in the vice of the foothills of the mountains.  Again, everything very green – and the sea so blue.

Joining the west side road, we suddenly had the sea on both sides of us (and Cephalonia laid out in a stretch to our right).  We also passed the field of Laertes – supposedly of Odysseus' father.  A field of stones, in truth – but see below.

Vathy itself was nothing special.  Like most of Ithaca it was badly hit by the earthquake of 1953.  It has been rebuilt without anything too horrible along the way, but lacks any real charm.  There we bought some supplies, plus a book for me.  Not just any book, but The Book of Western Civilisation: the "Iliad" and "Odyssey".  For long I have wanted a good translation to read here (my Ancient Greek is still far too weak), but looked in vain.  The problem is fundamental: English is just the wrong language.  This is shown by all the previous attempts at translation: either they are flat (like Rieu's for Penguin), or mannered (like Pope's, where the heroes become Restoration fops).

There is an equivalent problem in all languages.  In French, the best you could hope for is a kind of ultimate Racine; in Italian, a heroic Dante.  But in German you have a language perhaps the closest in spirit to Ancient Greek.  Highly analytical, inflected (and therefore able to take certain freedoms with order for emphasis), full of Greek abstractions, so you can hear something classical in it.  So I bought what I had long looked for: a classic translation, by one Johann Heinrich Voss – end of eighteenth century, and so a classical writer himself, and full of the right spirit.  

And this leads neatly on to a theme I wish to consider: the Homericness of Ithaca – and of the surrounding isles.  I have been struck forcibly as never before by that spirit in this place.  Leaving aside the fact that an island called Ithaca almost has to be Homer's/Odysseus', I feel like defining this place as authentic.  Not least because it is just enough off the beaten track to be relatively untouched (the empty, verdant hillsides bear eloquent witness to this).  

Ithaca would also be the perfect base to explore from: Cephalonia, Levkada, Zante, Corfu etc.  Explore by boat, though:  and this is another thing.  Being here, seeing the yachts and their easy, obvious grace, taking a little boat out and feeling the sea wind in my hair and the salt spray in my face ("I must go down to the sea again…") makes me understand Greeks as the archetypal sea-faring race.  Which is why Odysseus, not Agamemnon or Achilles, is the great hero and character of Homer's poems: Odysseus the sailor, the island-hopper.

One day, I would like to learn to sail, such an ancient and yet timeless skill.

6.6.96 Kioni

Last night was different.  We ate at home (partly to save money, since meals here are not cheap in the tavernas).  We also slept in the living room – putting the mattress on the floor in an attempt to harden our sleeping surface (the bed is hopeless soft).  In vain, but we see huge illuminated liners passing in the night (and the night before, what must have been a satellite zooming across the sky).  

Today was also different, but very holiday.  We rose early, and walked down to the village.  When we came back, we took out boat ("Rosmary"), later then usual.  We went beyond the beach we first visited, and found a gem: cleanish, shingle (not just pebbles), perfect water – and no flies.  Yesterday we went back to the beach in Kioni bay – but disliked the dirty water here.  The sun soon went in, with very high, thin clouds.  We expected a storm or bad weather today, but although hazy, it is fine and hot. Before leaving for the beach, I read Book III of the "Odyssey" – for the first time, now that I have found the right translation.  Very interesting.

9.6.96 Kioni

What happened to the 7th and 8th?  The days begin to merge in a rather fine fashion.  The rhythm is starting to define itself.  Awake at 6am to 7.30am.  Feed ourselves, then down to the boat, and off to the beach.  The heat, even at 8am, is pounding in these days.  Fortunately, none of us is burnt, unlike many of our lobster-coloured compatriots.  Return about 12.30pm.  We eat, rest in the afternoon, perhaps visit a village before the evening meal (Frikes yesterday, Stavros today).

Of course, there are slight variations.  Like today, our boat full of water and very slow (engine very low in the water).  And as we leave, we lose our anchor.  I think I have more respect for the sea than anything: nobody messes with it with impunity.  Yesterday, a sinister man in a black scuba suit zoomed up to us in a fast motorboat, asking if we were OK.  Er, why? we asked.  It turned out the wake from his boat had filled two others…

Today is the clearest we have seen (pity, then, the battery of our camera is flat – idiot me).  The view before me is just utterly amazing.  Not only is the main island clearly visible, so are the mountains on the mainland.  And the view of the sea is, if possible, even more majestic.  In fact, I have an increasing impression of this great flat, blue plain between lordly mountains, traversed by boats (and some big ships) like skaters.

Managed to read a couple of the "Cephalonian Tales" by Skiadaresēs.  So different from the way I write – and nice for that.  Renewed (and belated) sense of the Ionian isles as the most European parts of Greece, not least because they were occupied by the Big Three – Venice, France and England, and so little by the Turks.

To Stavros and the church.  Full of the smell of incense, and flies. Crystal chandeliers, nineteenth-century iconostasis, and eggshell blue everywhere.  Now in the bar in Stavros.  Before, we had gone down a long, 1km track to Polis – a beautiful bay set at the beginning of a flat valley plain.  Ten or so fishing boats, a couple of rich yachts, a desolate, semi-ruined café – and a view to die for.

11.6.96 Kioni

The days start to play hop, skip and jump.  

Yesterday, after the usual morning and afternoon, we drove to Stavros, and then to Exogi.  A road for goats, an eternal up.  And so narrow that you can't turn, and thus it seems that all there is to do is to keep going until you fall off the top, or enter heaven (or both).  Little to see there, except houses perched along the road, a church (locked) and stunning views to three seas.  I love driving to the end, discovering that maps finish, petering out rather than always leading to the next village, that theoretically at least, space may be open…

Afterwards we stopped in Frikes for a drink and a meal.  Although Frikes is the main ferry port for several islands, it is smaller than Kioni (but its bay perhaps deeper) and far less picturesque.  It is at the end of a valley between two hills, with windmills (disused) on either side.  There are fewer houses, and more showing damaged from the earthquake.

Apart from a few people waiting for the ferry (shades of the Orkneys, which seem so distant from here), there were practically no tourists.  We ate in Odysseus' bar (where else?), fish (expensive here as everywhere, because of the crazy overfishing), as well as a new sweet, very sweet and greasy.

Today, rose at 6.45am, left at 7.30am to go to Vathy in the cool.  A few errands there, notably buying a new battery for the Canon EOS 100 we have : one boo-boo was to let the old one run out last week, which meant no pix here.  The second mistake was to let the local tourist shop (run by the daughters of the formidable supermarket woman) try to get it – and fail.

I'm now on the balcony, which, though in the shade, is like an oven.  And only mid-June.

The thing we miss most: music – and Radio 3.

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Moody's Black Notebook Travels