Holiday short stories

Katsuna

During our previous trip to Crete I had admired the traditional Cretan walking stick, the katsuna.  Handmade in the mountains and used by shepherds and the elderly, it is also a symbol of Cretan pride and strength.

I asked Babis if he knew where I could buy a katsuna.  Not one of the thin, pale wood numbers made for the touristic market, but an authentic one of mountain wood - strong and rich in colour.

Babis said he would ask his friends, and the next day he said that some families in the next village were meeting for a celebration after church.  Over the past winter they had completed some renovations to their church and were having a traditional feast to celebrate.  He said that we were invited and that his friend may have a katsuna that I would be interested in.

'Follow me, we go slow, the roads are very rough' said Babis and he took off leaving us to try and keep up through the winding, dusty tracks that link the villages in the eastern foothills of Mount Ida.  The 'black arrow' was no match for Babis's familiarity with his mountain roads.

We will never forget the setting of the ancient little church under the shade of massive wild oak trees, and the families who welcomed us and shared their traditional lunch of Cretan salad, boiled lamb, lemon rice, bougatsa, homemade wine and raki, apricots and graviera cheese made from their sheep's milk.

We laughed a lot as Babis translated for us, and one by one we were offered a cup of each family's wine, each offerer proudly pouring their homemade wine from a plastic water bottle and then waiting for our reaction after we tasted it.  Each one thought their wine or raki was the best and wanted to know if we agreed!

After a couple of hours we started saying our thanks and goodbyes and one of the group placed in my hand a beautiful rich wooden katsuna.  So smooth, and with a perfect elegant hook, I admired it and whispered to Babis 'how much for this beautiful katsuna'.  Babis lowered his eyes and said quietly, 'we cannot talk of money, it would be insulting to them, they want you to have it as a gift'.

I now understand the meaning of the word, peskesi.  It is of Turkish origin and it's used in the folk Greek language and Cretan dialect, and it means an unexpected gift as a sign of friendship and hospitality.

We will never forget the beautiful Cretan people we met that afternoon around the little church near Ano Asites.  Their generous and beautiful gift will always remind us.

The end

This is Babis leading us to the gathering of his friends
outside the terrace of the little church on the side of a hill.

The tiny church under the massive wild oak trees where, once
again the Cretan people extended their friendship and hospitality
and we learned about peskesi.

Yaimus!  A viva!
(I think this was the final time Mr Three Summers
has drank raki on this trip, must have been the
of 38 degrees day ;)

Everyone shared the huge pot of boiled lamb on the bone, lemon rice
and Greek salad, and in addition each family bought some of
their own produce to share, hard cheese, apricots, melon, cake, sweets,
wine and raki.  The setting was beautiful, under the giant trees beside the
terraced olive groves.

This delicate flaky bougatsa was delicious!

Katsunas lined up in a taverna

'Adults in the Room'

My name is Robyn and I have a problem.... with books when I travel.

In which ever country we are travelling I only want to read books, fiction and non-fiction, that relate to or are set in that particular country.  For months prior to a trip I research and track down authors and titles that I think will add something to our in country experience.  Once our trip has commenced I also find myself hunting down book stores to peruse national authors whose books may have been translated into English.  Sometimes, if I have a current book as well as a next-in-line-to-read,  I surreptitiously take photos of bookshelves in store so I can buy or download a local title when needed.

Mostly so I can remember the beautiful authors and stories I've read during our travels, I keep a widget list in the right side bar of the home page of this blog.

This trip is no different, the first three books I've read have been stories and non fiction set in Crete.  Satisfying and enjoyable, all three.  Then I added a title to my kindle that had sparked my interest when it was recently published, Adults in the Room by Yanis Varoufakis.

Yanis Varoufakis, born in Athens, lived in Australia for many years lecturing at Sydney University, and I first heard of him years ago when he sometimes appeared on current affairs segments on Australian television.

In 2015 when we spent a summer in Greece, Varoufakis was Greece's Finance Minister.   He led negotiations during the debit crisis before the bailout referendum held on 6 July 2015. We were on the island of Naxos in the Cyclades when the referendum took place. I remember all over Naxos and neighbouring islands that we visited, the slogans "Oxi" "Nei" graffitied on buildings, poles and public property.  On 6 July we watched the locals attend the polling stations in the schools to cast their vote.

But back to this trip.  Three books competed, House of Dust and Dreams, The Island, and The Golden Step.  Tick.  All great stories about Crete, the people, history and the earth.  Time for me to move on to 'Adults in the Room'.

I'm not far in, probably a fifth of the way through when, on the breakfast balcony overlooking the Libyan Sea one morning and Mr Three Summers is already taking his first dive into the crystal clear water,  I decide to linger over an extra coffee and read a for a while.

A couple arrive at the next breakfast table. I look up, 'kalimera', I say and go back to reading.  'Kalimera', they reply as they sit down.  It's the chorus that everyone chirps at breakfast in Greece.

My eyes shot up again from my book.  I blink to make sure my eyes are not deceiving.  There, sitting next to me, was the author of 'Adults in the Room', Yanis Varoufakis.

I wish I could calculate the mathematical chance of reading a book only to look up and find yourself looking at the actual author?  Reader, book, author in the same destination in this big, wide world.  I guess that the answer would be 'one' in a very big number.

The end

Yanis was friendly and gracious and happy to chat.
  When I show him that I was currently reading his latest book
he suggested a photo, as he couldn't sign the front page
of my kindle.  

Earthquake

"What are you doing..... stop it", I sleepily moan while being shaken awake.  It was 11.30pm, Saturday 18 July, and Mr Three Summers was sitting on the side of the bed, "I'm not doing anything", was his reply as our extra large king size bed in Heraklion's Megaron hotel shook in waves.

Backwards-forwards-backwards-forwards the bed rolled as our eyes grew larger and larger.

"Earthquake", we said simultaneously.

Twenty seconds seemed longer than it actually is before the sensation of our surroundings returned to normal.  I think I swore first.

Within minutes it was happening again.  I think we swore simultaneously.

My first rule with breaking news, nationally or internationally, is to check Twitter.  Sure enough, within minutes a global monitoring organisation had reported the location of the earthquake 40 kilometres away on the south coast of Crete, the size of the earthquake and its aftershocks.

It was kind of difficult to go back to sleep on that summer night after the earth moved for us!


The End.