Packing

One day to go. For ages, I had been flinging things I might possibly, just possibly, need, into a pile in the corner. The pile would fill the luggage hold of a Dornier. Time to rationalise. Long ago I used to get everything together I might need, then cast aside three-quarters. Now I have a list on my laptop of the things I need, really need. Could I manage without something I intend packing?

As far as clothing is concerned, I work on the principle of one on, one in the wash, with an extra of anything not easily replaceable on a remote Greek island. As with making tea, I tend to throw in the odd extra or two ‘for the pot’. Will it be hot or cold? One November it was cold. Thessaloniki airport was closed by snow. Athenians were wearing fur coats. I discovered why the streets around Syntagma Square are lined with fur shops. I was wearing all the clothing I had, cotton leggings acting as improvised long johns (I suppose I should call them yannises) under my cotton trousers, short and long-sleeved T-shirts, long sleeved blouse, jumper, cotton jersey jacket and lightweight nylon jacket and still I was cold.

Spring would be different, I told myself, and it would be getting warmer as time went on, not colder. I was not convinced and flung in a few more winter warmers. I thought of the previous spring. Perhaps setting out in late March had been a mistake. On the way out, we were storm stayed in Syros. Then on Amorgos, the standard greeting was "Brr, cold today. Do your rooms have central heating?" No, and I suppose very few do on Amorgos, which is not really geared to winter visitors. One girl we met kept warm by using her hair dryer. [2011 update. Heating now available in some at least of the rooms on Amorgos. A few years ago I arrived in winter, soon after snow had fallen in the islands, to find a heater already switched on in my room. And now air conditioning often has a "heat" setting.]

 

I always take too much luggage, no matter how hard I try to travel light.

Once my luggage weighed in at 19.80kg - not counting my hand luggage (if you go on an internal flight on a light aircraft, you may find that hand luggage as well as main luggage is weighed. Oops.) Now the limit is 23 kilo, and I am trying oh so hard not to let my bag weigh 22.80 kilo. I walk about my bedroom at home thinking how light my bag is (I have no scales that weigh that much); but wear the same rucksack in the blistering Aegean sun, up hill, up steps, and after a sleepless night travelling, and you will realise just how heavy it is.

Strange how priorities change. At home in England I think about new clothes, etc.to take on holiday. When I am in Greece, I keep on wearing my favourites - the T-shirt that is soft and bleached from navy blue to pale blue by the sun. Faded and stone washed clothes are fashionable.  I have achieved mine by hard wear and tear in Greece. Clothing that seems fine when I pack it yet I am too modest to wear it when I get to Greece, especially when staying in untouristed parts. I do not want to stand out like a sore thumb. Yet next time, I will be tempted to pack unnecessaries. "What if that wears out?" I tell myself. "Now that is something I could not buy in the Cyclades."

I tell myself that now there is a Marks and Spencers in Athens all I need do if my trousers, leggings, or shorts become too battered to be decently repaired and are not replaceable on an island, is to hop back to Athens and buy a pair. I would never do this, I would make do and mend, but the thought is reassuring and helps me to pack less.

Packing to go to Greece is like decorating a Christmas tree with old and well loved baubles, but the baubles I take to Greece are all (or nearly all) useful ones.

Every holiday I am ashamed at how little Greek I speak. I have (or had) good intentions of learning Greek and listened to a Greek language tape whilst packing.  But I reached the stage when I knew what was on the tape and wanted to learn more. 

So much for my good intentions and now as usual I am packing with a Greek language tape playing in the background, reminding me how to transport, accommodate and feed myself in Greek. I did once many years ago start an evening class in Greek. I went to the classes for a term and a half but then had to give up, as I was working away from home. To be honest all I can remember from the classes is how to ask for something. "Perhaps you have ...."   [Mipos echete]  Our teacher insisted on writing the Greek words in lower case letters on an old blackboard. I realised how difficult it is to read an unfamiliar script when written in a non-standard way. Greek capital letters I can just about manage, and I know most of the lower case letters (but often have to look at the alphabet when I look words up in a dictionary as I cannot remember the order in which some of the more obscure letters appear). Even in English, it is sometimes difficult to read a word when it is written in an unusual script. The chap who gave the Greek lessons wrote on a scratched old blackboard with third rate chalk, and only about a third of everything he wrote appeared as a white squiggle on the board. To make things even harder he wrote with such a small, wobbly and inconsistent style that his English words would have been difficult to understand. His Greek writing, suffice it to say that it was all Greek to me. I was reminded of my schooldays when we had a very elderly French teacher (an English teacher of French). She was very old, or at least seemed very old to us teenagers and was reputed to have retired several times and come back so that she could get another leaving present. She was very deaf and wore a hearing aid that looked like a primitive set of head phones. But we wondered if the "head phones" worked for one of our tricks when she asked us to say something in French was to stand up (as we were expected to), open and shut our mouths indistinctly without actually uttering anything at all. "Well done, very good Susan". Smirking (cruel girl that I was, that we all were), I would sit down.