Subject: BS: Postcard from Dendros 2013
From:
Roger the Skiffler
Date: 15 Sep 13 - 07:53 AM
We were pretty sure the mythical island of Dendros (which you won't find on any Greek map) had risen from the sea again this year as friends had reported sighting. They also reported an outbreak of peace and harmony in the little village we know so well. An unlikely story, we thought.
However, they did report that there had been a dispute over mooring buoys. It is common practice (endorsed by the Agean Pilot for mooring buoys to be sponsored by tavernas and it is accepted courtesy that if you avail yourself of such a free mooring you eat or drink at the establishment. However, one taverna in the village that didn't have any moorings complained to the mayor. Mayors are elected for 4 years and seem to have dictatorial powers between elections. The judgement in this case was that everyone should remove their name from their buoys! Why not tell the taverna that didn't have a buoy to get one? In the past there have been disputes on the lines of "they used our buoy but ate at X". Now the hapless yachtsman won't know who to thank (or blame when the rotten strop breaks!) and the owners have no incentive to maintain their moorings.
I have written before over the great sunbed wars of the 1990s. Now tables have crept onto the beach and beachside service offered from some establishments. Again the mayor was appealed to. His judgement this time was to limit the tavernas to 3 tables each or all would have to be removed. One evening I did a rough count. They varied from 8 tables (from the taverna that resisted sunbeds and umbrellas for years) to 3 (for the taverna that pioneered tables on the beach, with 5 not uncommon.
Reports suggest the island population has dropped from around 20,000 to just 7,000 in twelve years, which probably accounts for the fact that you seem to meet everyone you know very quickly. We had a surprisingly comfortable flight with more legroom than usual, though no headphones for the inflight entertainment (I'd packed mine, not expecting any screen on the budget flight)! Then we had the usual hair-raising and expensive taxi to the port (up 2 euros on last year). We were warmly welcomed as usual by the friendly port taverna staff, we had a leisurely lunch before catching the ferry, a more modern one than the usual one. Waiting on the quay were The Landlord and his elder son, reluctantly dragooned to help me with the baggage. We also saw a couple who had a house & boat on the island and spent a long time there each summer who had driven another family (who we also knew from previous holidays) to catch the ferry we came off. Later int eh fortnight we met two groups of Austrians and an Itaklian yachtsman we'd met before. Our journey to the village at the end of the island made a detour to a spring so Elder Son could fill a large demijohn with water for the family (the piped water is brackish and rainwater run-off to sternas is full of limescale from the hills) and to go past mother-in-law's house down some very narrow sidestreets we'd not encountered before. Then we stopped at a supermarket for us to stock up with breakfast essentials, wine and nibbles for our pre-prandial balcony sessions at cheaper prices than the limited village shop. Despite VAT on food going down this year we didn't notice cheaper prices. Our usual rotgut wine was about 5cents up on a litre and a half flagon to 4euros 50 (Puilly Fuisse it ain't!). However, our taverna bill at the end was less than last year (fewer beers?).
Usually, when we get to the apartment we have difficulty getting rid of the Landlord who wants to chat while we (who have been up since 2am UK time) just want to shower, eat and go to bed. However, he had to take his Younger Son to the ferry to go and get his school certificates ready for starting an engineering course in Athens like his older brother- both hoping to go into Marine Engineering) so he made sure we had enough towels and bedlinen for the fortnight, apologised for not giving us the usual bottles of wine (as compensation for doing our own cleaning and linen changes) as his wind merchant hadn't delivered (yeah, right!). We tipped Elder Son who had carried our bags the 100 yards along the shingle beach and up the 2 flights of steps to our apartment (it's good not to start the holiday with an aching shoulder- wheeled cases are no good in soft shingle and steps!). Landlord said he'd be back at the weekend and his wife would cook us something. Poor woman: she is a school teacher and busy getting ready for the new term.
He also spotted a water leak in the road from the mains supply (only a few years old) which he doubted the villagers had noticed or reported. It was fixed before we got up 2 days later.
I understood the last tenants had been a group of young German climbers who he could charge 100 euro a night (we have paid 65 for the last 3 years) which probably accounts for the unused condom in my bedside cabinet.. Herself was much amused by the thought I might find a use for it at my age and state of general decrepitude.
And so, unpacked, showered, changed, a glass of wine and a few oregano flavoured crisps later we arrived at our favourite taverna to be greeted by old friends the Magician and the Broadcaster and the Family and caught up on the gossip: who's married, pregnant, finished school. The Taverna Younger Son was also awaiting news of College entrance and was "stressed" by working very intermittently as sous-chef and waiter. Goodness knows how he'll cope with College and then a job!
Early reports told us that the village now has WiFi (but no broadband) and indeed most tavernas had free WiFi and I also got a good 3G signal on my Kindle. Apart from checking the Mudcat and a couple of friends' blogs I try to ignore the rest of the world when away. The major change in the village was that the shop had opened a taverna in its unused space and a tiny Snack Bar had opened along the access road to the village where there didn't seem to be any customers. As the man running it was referred to locally as "Crackhead", perhaps theer was something I'd missed. Although busy at lunchtimes and high season, most of the eating establishments struggle to attract custom in the evenings. The Magician, as usual, has a "busman's holiday" and entertained customers with table magic- and I still can't see how he does it! The Broadcaster worked on his latest adaptation, Herself worked on the sermon she had to deliver the weekend we got back… and I worked on my tan. We only had one musical evening in our first week. I had added the Swanee whistle to my usual kazoo and spoons and by popular request I only played it once. Our second week, the Guitarist was more in a playing mood and we had music most nights ( I noticed he had a second Yamaha 12-string this year despite the Greek recession!), especially once P (Greek yacht owner with multinational lady friends) and A (Dutch solo yachtsman), both harmonica players, arrived.
We Brits did our usual Flanders and Swann (Hippopotamus/ Song of Patriotic Prejudice) and I was coerced into doing House of the(bleeping) Rising Sun every night, and a couple of other tuneless ditties. However, over pre-dinner drinks the Dutchman and I started thinking of 16 Tons and between us remembered most of the words. The Broadcaster found the missing verse on his I-pad and we duetted to a certain amount of acclaim!
As usual, food features high in my holiday experience. I managed not to have the same main course twice and had some new dishes, including parrotfish (sagros) baked in a tomato sauce, pitta parcels with eg, mushroom, ham, whatever you chose, and a stew called Giouverlamia. When The Landlord and his wife came up for the weekend she cooked us a mushroom dish for breakfast and an aubergine and mushroom dish for lunch.
I noticed one of the tavernas advertised discounts for climbers. How can they tell I wondered "by the smell" was the cruel reply. Well, the same taverna offered them showers!
I wouldn't want you to think the fortnight was without incident. There were the usual yachting mishaps. It was very windy for about a week and one boat dragged its anchor and another broke its mooring strop. In both cases crew were below, asleep, one assumes, and had to be alerted by other boaters and shrill Greek whistles from the shore. Also a local family (ma, pa 3 small children) arrived at the weekend and the father was tinkering with his outboard. They set off for home and broke down before they were out of the bay and had to be towed back. "He's always breaking down" other locals said.
We shared a car with the Broadcaster and the Magician for a few days and witnessed a grass fire in one village- police and 2 fire engines quickly on scene.
We used the car to visit the monastery of Ay Savvas again. There was a coach load of Italians who universally ignored the rules on appropriate dress (covered knees and shoulders) and photography (not inside the church or in the monastery buuildings). The Broadcaster in his purple tee-shirt and knee-hiding wrap looked like a bishop himself!
We also followed a sign to a tiny chapel, Ay Antonias, we hadn't visited before. It was up a VERY long, narrow, winding mountain track but had spectacular views when we got there. It was well-kept despite its remoteness, but there was barely room for anyone other than a priest inside. We also hoped the visit one of the older Byzantine churches, Ay Theodoros, but although it was open it was swathed in plastic sheeting as the painters were in. We also saw the site of an early chapel- Taxiarchis Michalis, just a few whitewashed stones and an olive tree. We also visited an ex-pat couple to look at their very nice house and sample the olives from their own trees- they were awaiting the first pressing of their own oil. In the capital we parked (with the Broadcaster's Blue Badge) in a disabled parking place which then had a pavement fence for him to negotiate!
It is a good thing Dendros is a mythical island or you wouldn't believe…
Consulting the bus timetable outside taverna X caused all the staff of taverna Y to come out to watch in case we were looking at their menu and going to eat there. A regular visitor was hounded out of her usual taverna because she gave directions to a rival establishment and was accused of recommending it.
Wind blew down a power cable from a taverna to light their beachside tables (connected only by insulating tape!). Sabotage by rivals instantly assumed!
A Belgian built a house in the village, very stylish. Just ready for occupation this year but…now they tell him, it needs to be moved 5 metres back (which would be on the road!) as it is too near the sea. It is behind the church which is behind our apartment. But those were built before the new law and can even be extended without penalty.
Rather like one of the plots of Andrea Camilleri's Commisario Montalbano Italian detective stories- another house is built with undeclared underground garage and room. Builder pushed spoil in front. Building inspector, used to these wheezes, spots it, owners have to pay more for redrawn plans. Another house, built without permit is denied electricity or water but still lived in with own well and generator.
We heard a story of a man who used to go for an early morning swim with cap, towel and two banknotes, one less than the price of a beer, one requiring a lot of change. The waiter could never be bothered to go and get change that early in the day so he always got his post-swim beer cheaply.
We did a few walks on windy days, accompanied by the Magician. On one he and Herself were followed by a herd of hungry goats. Fortunately, I was on hand to open the goat gate and let them through before they were devoured! We saw some partridges and a couple of Scops owls and lots of lizards. In fact, our house gecko was always waiting on our steps when we got back from the taverna at night, almost tapping his foot ("what time do you call this?").
People watching is always a delight. The Greek family who took up a table, two sunbeds, a hammock and 5 chairs (there were four in their party); the ones I called the Three Fates: three large Greek/US expat ladies who sat in the shallows and discussed (loudly) what properties their husbands owned in Ohio ("We owned the bowling alley", we owned the movie theatre", we owned the gas station") and exchanged favourite Greek recipes; the two young German ladies who posed for cheesecake photos of each other (Schwarmerei Monthly bikini edition?); the man in trunks, flat cap and moustache who was a dead ringer for Osbert Lancaster's Lord Littlehampton or Wodehouse's Lord Emsworth; the short round lady who looked just like Mo the Might Atom from the chubby tap-dancing troupe the Roly Polies. On Sunday a boat full of very jolly ladies came over for an extended lunch. I like to think it was the local WI monthly outing. I hope the voyage back wasn't too choppy.
"Our" end of the beach doesn't have any beach furniture or tavernas so is favoured by locals for a quiet swim but one weekend saw a 20-strong family party with bags and bags of food and beach clutter for the kids descend. I was impressed that they took all their rubbish away with them. Greeks are notoriously bad at littering. The countryside is disfigured with mainly plastic rubbish, ruined boats (even up the hills!), dead fridges etc.
Catching the 7am ferry off the island at the end of our stay requires a dark start, lugging our luggage down the steps and along the beach. Our taxi was not only on time but practicing for the Greek Grand Prix. He did the 40 minute journey in 25 minutes, no goats on the road, fortunately. He overtook any other taxis we met in the more built up areas, the local dustcart, and on the zigzag coastal road, a motorbike and pickup, both without lights! We were first in the queue when the ferry ticket office opened!. We saw the dawn as we waited for the ferry to leave and said farewell once more to this mythical island.
When we got to the big island we had a leisurely brunch before our flight (same good leg room. I'd carried my headphones but no screens or audio tracks). While eating we saw a workman cutting the grass around the Poseidon statue. He used 3 extension leads, including one across the road. We found the following prices interesting: 10 minute taxi on the big island: 15 euros. 25/40 minute taxi on Dendros: 35 euros. 30 minute ferry 5/6 euros each.
Up until the final few days I thought the annual Swimsuit survey would be inconclusive, but thanks to the influx of Greek ladies of a certain age at the last weekend, not forgetting the Three Fates, black, again, is the new black.
It is strange that doing nothing for two weeks seems to expand to such a large Postcard. We've already started thinking about islands for next year. We will probably give Dendros a miss for a year, my blood pressure can't stand all the excitement, and I need to give them time to forget the Swanee whistle.
RtS
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sj
