uucp@ucbvax.UUCP (06/26/84)
From: decvax!mcvax!ariadne!tugs (Stephen Hull)
The following is a collection of random thoughts and near-thoughts which
accumulated during the course of my first two months here in Iraklion.
I hope you enjoy them...
* * * * * * * * * *
_H_o_l_i_d_a_y _F_u_n
At last count, over 563 people (564) have, upon hearing that
Steve works at the Cretan Research Institute, replied with a
humourous comment which hinges upon the similarity of the words
"Cretan" and "cretin". Join in the fun! See how many more times
Steve can react with delight to this pun before he cracks! (To
add to the challenge, Steve has stopped referring to the Insti-
tute by that name. He now calls it either "Research Institute of
Crete" or "Institouto Plirophorikis Kritis", which is sort of
what it says on the letterhead.)
But be warned: last year an overly-enthusiastic tourist made
this pun for a colourful native shepherd late in the season, and
they're still finding little bits of him all over the island!
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_F_i_r_s_t _I_m_p_r_e_s_s_i_o_n_s
My calmness was surprising.
A taxicab driver named Karl Marx told me of a drunk being beaten
in Kitchener.
I sat in the midst of Italians.
A man with a boil big as a bocce ball got drinks for the ladies.
I saw a film where Robby Benson played an Indian who crossed a
chalk line a second before another man and, as a consequence, was
given a gold pendant to be worn once.
I reflected that the state of hard-edged reality I occasionally
long for is the same state of myopic certainty I've always
striven to avoid.
I ate many meals on airplanes.
I spent much time trying to make my left inner ear accept the
concept of pressure changes.
I meditated on Italian high-tech arcitecture as men in white
coveralls placed many more meals on airplanes, and I sweated from
tiredness.
I considered the appropriateness of Hawaiian muzak to acclimatize
passengers to Amsterdam and Milano.
I felt a cool, clean breeze in northern Italy, and wondered who I
could phone in Rome.
I saw many automatic weapons in Rome Airport, always being car-
ried by easily excitable young men in olive-coloured clothes.
I failed to find the phrase "metal detector" in my Berlitz.
The Italians all applauded whenever the plane landed, although
they clapped the loudest in Holland.
Greek airplanes are decorated like vases, with repeating patterns
and dolphins. They serve Spam.
I made my first unintentional rude gesture to a taxi driver in
Athens. He must have known I was new in town.
I decided to get the worst over with first: I drank water in the
airport.
You can't see the Acropolis from the terminal.
Even duty free, Joy costs $224.00 CDN per ounce.
I saw a man walk by with one stilt on, and noted that he always
has a lap, even when he is standing.
I fall in love with beautiful twin stewardesses. One smiles at
me; the other does not.
I am met at the airport, and Iraklion is nothing like what I ex-
pect, and everything like what I want.
I eat, drink and am merry.
I stay up late to interrupt my parents' dinner preparations, then
sleep.
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_O_d_e _T_o _A _G_r_e_c_i_a_n _E_a_r_n
(being a Lamentation on Government Policy)
Thou still unhandl'd mass of capital,
Thou bastard son of currency restrictions...
These drachmas may be good, but German marks
Are better...
Ah, happy, happy banks! that cannot loose
My cash, nor ever bid this Dough adieu;
And, happy government, unworried,
For ever holding on to every buck;
More frozen funds! more unexported funds!
For ever there, and not to be enjoy'd,
For ever earning, and for ever stuck...
after Keats -- or was it Keynes?
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_P_u_z_z_l_e _T_i_m_e
Now for a short multiple-choice quiz to test your
knowledge of your holiday paradise, Steve's Wonderful
World of Crete...
1) As one roams round the majestic mountains and verdant
valleys of this inimitable isle, one's wonder is not
jarred but intensified by the frequency with which this
pastoral solitude is interrupted by
a) flocks of wild mountain goats,
b) poor but friendly shepherds, as fiercely indepen-
dent as they are overwhelmingly generous,
c) ancient and weathered monasteries, some intact,
some in ruins, but all reiterating the faith of
these islanders, or
d) local garbage dumps.
2) Similarly, whilst wandering the maze of winding streets
and crowded shops which is - not Knossos! - the heart
of Iraklion, one can catch a glimpse of its ancient
cosmopolitan nature, as the graceful rounded balconies
of its Byzantine conquerors mix haphazardly with the
forts and delicate houses of its Venetian rulers and
a) the plain but comfortable flats most Iraklians
call home,
b) the tiny grocery stores, filled to bursting with
fresh oranges, artichokes and retsina,
c) the remarkable variety of taverns and coffee
bars, to which the natives swarm after work to
relax and commune with their fellows, or
d) hundreds of half-finished apartment buildings.
3) Sitting in a sidewalk cafe in March with the fiery
Mediterranean sun beating down upon you, a Greek coffee
delighting your already over-satiated taste buds --
could there be any finer way to spend a lazy afternoon
siesta? You lean back, drinking in the sights, the
sounds, the tastes, when from behind you comes the
overwhelming aroma of
a) hundreds of wildflowers, fresh cut from the sides
of Crete's mountains that morning, waiting to
decorate dinner tables throughout the city
tonight,
b) thousands of oranges, just minutes from being
picked, ready to be purchased for a pittance from
the back of a truck,
c) the refreshing, rejuvenating salt air, blown
south from the fabled Aegean, sea of myth and
mystery, or
d) the exhaust from the badly-tuned diesel engine of
a rusty tour coach.
4) Times are hard, and yet these sturdy people survive
and, yes, even thrive here on the beauteous isle they
call home. But none thrive more than those enterpris-
ing Greeks who
a) dedicate their lives to the production of the
famous Cretan wines, delicious result of that
glorious marriage of sun and earth which is
Crete,
b) pursue their chosen craft and, after years of
dedicated study, regularly turn out masterpieces
of pottery, weaving or sweater-making to delight
the avid souvenir hunter,
c) gregariously hawk any of a thousand useful or
simply pleasurable items at the year-round open
air market, filling the air with their joyous an-
nouncements of bargains for all, or
d) own the local Yamaha motorcycle dealership.
5) But Crete needn't be all peace and relaxation. For
those with a taste for excitement, what could be more
exhilirating, more spine-tingling than
a) a hearty hike up one of Crete's mighty mountains,
b) skin diving off the rocky coast in the crystal
clear waters of the Libyan Sea,
c) riding a high-powered motorcycle down the
treacherous hairpin switchbacks which constitute
so much of this island's charming road system, or
d) trying to cross a street in downtown Iraklion on
a red light?
6) The interplay of mountains, sea and sky make for a lim-
itless variety of settings for the humble yet beautiful
villages which pepper the magnificent countryside. But
one thing is common to all the villages of Crete, and
that is
a) the stark, simple coffee bar in front of which
the old men of the town gather each day to ex-
change opinions and muse on the mysteries of
life,
b) the beautiful complement of sky blue doors and
shutters against whitewashed plaster walls that
looks so peaceful amongst the rugged greens and
browns of the earth from which they spring,
c) the small but immaculately kept church, its
rounded arches and sturdy steeple a testament to
the deep religiousness that informs the sensibil-
ities of these forthright folk, or
d) the shoddy little bar by the name of "Zorba's
Disco."
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_M_e_a_t & _P_o_t_a_t_o_e_s
I've only toured outside Iraklion four times, and each trip
strengthens my belief that I'm living in the least interesting spot on the
whole island. If I could strap the computer on my back and move to a lit-
tle coastal village on the south shore, I'd be gone tomorrow.
Iraklion has its good points, though. My apartment is by the sea,
there are lots of good restaurants -- Greek ones -- and I'm centrally lo-
cated on the island, so the furthest spot on the island is only about three
or four hours away.
I still go into a mild state of shock when I see a check in a restau-
rant. Two people can feast on seafood, meats, salad or pizza with a bottle
of great wine or a litre of beer for about $5.00 Canadian. I eat at least
one meal a day in a restaurant. In fact the only food I've had at my
apartment so far is fruit juice, a bag of carrots and some halvah. I tend
to only eat two meals a day -- large ones. I wonder: after my return from
Crete, will I ever be able to eat a meal without an alcoholic beverage?
I've been trying to slow my pace down to something resembling a Greek
one, but it's very difficult; I keep wanting to do things instead of just
sitting in the sun, drinking coffee.
There's some tradidional music around here, too. A couple of places
have bouzouki groups, and one had a group with a lyra player. The lyra is
the traditional instrument of Crete: sort of an unholy union of a mandolin
and a viola da gamba.
There are two cinemas within a block of work, one of them a twin.
They show an, uh, interesting assortment of films: so far I've seen such
classics as "Ilsa, Harem Keeper of the Oil Sheikhs" and Jacky Chan in
"Fearless Hyena II."
Right now is the time when the island is flooded with German tourists.
Next it will be flooded with English tourists. I can tell the German sea-
son is nearing its end: now, when I walk into a store, they automatically
address me in English instead of German.
I walked the Samaria gorge some weekends ago. It's the largest gorge
in Europe -- a thirteen-kilometre walk through a variety of fabulously
beautiful terrains, from pine covered mountains through a wooded grove to a
rugged valley and a rocky river bed. The most spectacular point is the
"Iron Gates", where the gorge narrows to about 6 feet (!), the sides rising
up around a thousand feet. The water was only up to my knees...
I think the nicest thing about where I live is that it's by the sea.
Very often as I walk home, I'll go the the seawall and watch the waves,
listen to them break below me. The Mediterranean isn't polluted around
here, so you get a lovely salt smell in the air. Off in the distance, you
can see the lights from a little village half way up the side of the moun-
tain. It's a trip and a half...
Easter in Greece is a Big Event, even if you're not religious. There
are ceremonies on Good Friday and Holy Saturday, and at midnight Saturday
everyone lets off firecrackers, fireworks and (in the villages) firearms to
celebrate the Resurrection. The music in the church service was amazing --
the whole experience reminded me of something by John Cage.
On that Saturday, a bunch of us from work went to a small village in
the south and experienced the true meaning of Hospitality. We were sat
down and, over a three-hour period (at least) were presented with plate
after plate of cucumbers, olives, bread, tomatoes, cheeses, potatoes, ar-
tichokes, oranges, cheese-filled pastries, lamb, more lamb and still more
lamb, all washed down with gallons of home-made wine, retsina (resinated
wine) and raki (Cretan fire water). All of this was accompanied with much
conversation and much fussing to make sure we were completely comfortable.
We then went for a walk, had coffees and saw some scenery. When the time
came to leave, my boss was laden down with three or four bags of baked
goods, wine, raki, retsina, fruits and vegetables, the woman in our party
had been given a hand-made doily for her dowry (!), and we had been invited
back THE NEXT DAY to repeat the entire process. I should point out that
this took place in a village of about twenty, with chickens wandering about
everywhere -- these people are NOT well off. At one point a French hiker
stopped to ask directions. He was invited to join us...
* * * * * * * * * *
That's it. Hope you enjoyed it...
steve hull
ariadne!tugs