An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1991 - The Church Mural Painter on Amorgos
In 1991 we climbed over the ridge of Mavrovouno to Arkesini, where we turned into the taverna for a drink. Why do my trips to Greece read like a pub crawl? It is the heat that makes me thirsty, honest! I am not really an alcoholic. At the taverna, we chatted to a chap who turned out to be a travelling church mural painter, who offered to show us his work in Arkesini church. We eagerly took up his offer. He spent the summer months as an itinerant church painter, and in the winter painted icons in Athens. We found the church full of scaffolding, and the artist hard at work. We were surrounded by paintings of saints, martyrs, and angels in various stages of completion. He worked amazingly quickly, sketching in the basic design on the wall in black crayon, then filling in the background (mostly in dark blue), then the basic colour of the robes, the highlights and finally small details such as faces, hands and flags. He applied the paint in bold strokes; I got the impression that he did not pause to contemplate what he was doing, and had painted similar figures many times before. After all, a saint is a saint is a saint. The paintings were commissioned by parishioners, who pay for the paintings according to their size. I took some photographs of the icons, and showed them to an expert who said they were good paintings in the style of thirteenth or fourteenth century Byzantine work.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Greece - Kalo Taxidi! Notes from Greece and the Greek Islands.
Showing posts with label "Un Village Cycladien Chora d'Amorgos". Show all posts
Showing posts with label "Un Village Cycladien Chora d'Amorgos". Show all posts
Monday, 26 September 2011
Kalo Taxidi - Amorgos 1996
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1996
It is on revisiting islands that one notices the changes. The two islands in the Cyclades that I have visited most are Naxos and Amorgos. Naxos is large, the largest island in area (although not in population) of the Cyclades. Amorgos is smaller, although there are many far smaller islands in the Cyclades.
Amorgos is perhaps not every tourist's glass of retsina, but I find it a charming place especially when there are few tourists about. Some tourists may want better and more accessible beaches, and more vibrant nightlife. I keep on going back to Amorgos as I enjoy the relatively unspoilt villages, the countryside and the friendly islanders.
The villages on Amorgos are small enough for the attractive countryside to be within easy walking distance. On larger islands unless you walk for long distances through dusty and sprawling suburbs, you have to rely on buses to reach the countryside. The buses are often overcrowded, and are understandably scheduled for the needs of mountain villagers heading into town to shop, not for tourists wanting a day in the countryside. Although the villages of Amorgos are small, they are large enough for the islanders to be busy with activities other than catering to the needs of tourists. Some of the smaller islands in the Cyclades (such as Iraklia, Schinoussa and Donoussa) have been on the verge of total depopulation. It is pleasant to see them still inhabited, but when an island depends solely on tourism for its existence it lacks the Greekness that a tourist likes to see.
There are two main centres of population on Amorgos, Katapola, Chora and the villages of Katomeria in the south; and Aegiale, Langada, Potamos and Tholaria in the north. Until recently the two halves of Amorgos were like two separate islands in that the easiest way of getting from one end of the island to the other was by boat. That is changing now that the road linking Chora and Aegiale has been improved, and, in 1996, tarmacked.In 1996 I overheard an American who had been in Aegiale twelve years earlier say: "Then the electricity was switched off at night. I hear there's a resort there now. Wow. I'm going there tomorrow. I wonder what it's like?" I did wonder if a foreign tourist who was in England during a power cut might think that power was always cut off at that time of day. I also thought of how little frozen food was available when I first visited Greece in the early 1980s. Years later, even small food shops sold a range of frozen food (and no doubt had a generator to cope with the rare power cuts).
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1996
It is on revisiting islands that one notices the changes. The two islands in the Cyclades that I have visited most are Naxos and Amorgos. Naxos is large, the largest island in area (although not in population) of the Cyclades. Amorgos is smaller, although there are many far smaller islands in the Cyclades.
Amorgos is perhaps not every tourist's glass of retsina, but I find it a charming place especially when there are few tourists about. Some tourists may want better and more accessible beaches, and more vibrant nightlife. I keep on going back to Amorgos as I enjoy the relatively unspoilt villages, the countryside and the friendly islanders.
The villages on Amorgos are small enough for the attractive countryside to be within easy walking distance. On larger islands unless you walk for long distances through dusty and sprawling suburbs, you have to rely on buses to reach the countryside. The buses are often overcrowded, and are understandably scheduled for the needs of mountain villagers heading into town to shop, not for tourists wanting a day in the countryside. Although the villages of Amorgos are small, they are large enough for the islanders to be busy with activities other than catering to the needs of tourists. Some of the smaller islands in the Cyclades (such as Iraklia, Schinoussa and Donoussa) have been on the verge of total depopulation. It is pleasant to see them still inhabited, but when an island depends solely on tourism for its existence it lacks the Greekness that a tourist likes to see.
There are two main centres of population on Amorgos, Katapola, Chora and the villages of Katomeria in the south; and Aegiale, Langada, Potamos and Tholaria in the north. Until recently the two halves of Amorgos were like two separate islands in that the easiest way of getting from one end of the island to the other was by boat. That is changing now that the road linking Chora and Aegiale has been improved, and, in 1996, tarmacked.In 1996 I overheard an American who had been in Aegiale twelve years earlier say: "Then the electricity was switched off at night. I hear there's a resort there now. Wow. I'm going there tomorrow. I wonder what it's like?" I did wonder if a foreign tourist who was in England during a power cut might think that power was always cut off at that time of day. I also thought of how little frozen food was available when I first visited Greece in the early 1980s. Years later, even small food shops sold a range of frozen food (and no doubt had a generator to cope with the rare power cuts).
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Kalo Taxidi - Amorgos 1985 - Trying to leave On April 1
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1985 - Trying to leave On April 1
The year is 1985, the year of my first visit to Amorgos. I arrived on the Marianna. Trips on modern Greek ferries are, in good weather, a pleasure. A trip on the Marianna in any weather was an experience, and in bad weather an adventure.
Marianna was the lifeline for the small islands between Naxos and Amorgos: Iraklia, Schinoussa, Koufonissi, and Donoussa; and even for Amorgos itself, for most of the day-to-day needs of the islanders were transported by the Marianna and not by the few large ferries that occasionally called. Even today, the name Marianna conjures up an image of a tossing boat in a stormy sea; and a small cabin down below, the only inside sitting area for passengers, redolent of cats and fish. Marianna (she had the appearance of being a retired Scandinavian trawler) was small by comparison with Piraeus bound ships, even by the standards of 1985 when ferries were far smaller than they are today.
Most of the older supply boats (like the Marianna, and the Kamelia from Paxos) have retired for good - or have perhaps taken up a new career in the third world. What they lacked in speed and comfort they made up for in character, and were always laden with supplies.
Fewer boats called in at the small islands than today. Contact with the other islands and the mainland was infrequent. My first trip on the Marianna gave me an insight into the isolation experienced by the inhabitants of these small islands. In 1985, I reached Amorgos after an eight-hour trip on the Marianna. Particularly memorable were the stops at the smaller islands of Iraklia, Schinoussa, Koufonissi, and Donoussa. I remember the look of glee on the face of one woman islander when she took delivery of a new broom, and a young girl sitting by the harbour avidly poring over a newly delivered newspaper. In 1985 these small islands were less visited than they are today. I have recently seen photographs of Koufonissi in mid season showing a positive crowd of tourists. In 1985, along with the rest of the passengers, I gaped in amazement at the two tourists who landed on one of the small islands. Not a single tourist embarked or disembarked at any of the other small islands. I thought of the small islands as being very primitive; no running water, no electricity; no tourist accommodation; no tavernas, no shops. How would those two manage? My image of the islands was coloured by what I had read in the few guidebooks to the Cyclades that were then available. Inevitably, even the best guidebook is out of date by the time it appears on bookshop shelves. It may be that those two did not have such a hard time as I imagined. By the late 1990s, and probably before, all those small islands were well on the tourist map.
I had few fellow passengers on board the Marianna. Most of my fellow travellers were sacks of oranges and potatoes (these grow on Naxos in abundance). When I reached Amorgos, I was to find few oranges, or indeed any fruit, on sale. A young Israeli couple caught the first boat away from Amorgos when they found that there were no tomatoes on sale [NB today, in 2009, there are no such problems on Amorgos]. Before long, I would be craving for a Naxos orange, big, juicy and melting.
I soon felt that I had been on Amorgos for ages, as I recognised so many of the people that I met when I strolled around; the crew of the Marianna, the regulars at To Mouragio taverna; other tourists.
I planned to leave Amorgos on the first of April. There was a strong wind blowing as I walked round the bay to the harbour for the scheduled 6 a.m. departure of the Marianna. The road round the large bay of Katapola has now been widened; in 1985 the road was fairly narrow, and I had to make a strong effort to plant my feet firmly on the ground to avoid being blown out to sea. I weighed less in those distant days, both body-wise and luggage-wise. In those early innocent days, I assumed that ferries always ran; I had never heard of a ferry being cancelled because of bad weather. The Marianna being such a small tub, she was far more likely to be cancelled than a larger ferry.
The crew of the Marianna, and a handful of passengers, were all in the taverna, To Mouragio, drinking cups of strong Nescafe and passing around the communal can of evap. milk (I did not then know that the main local brand is Nou Nou). The Marianna was moored nearby. Everyone was laughing. Six o’clock came and went. We all carried on supping coffee. "Big wind, no Marianna," said one of the crew. We tourists laughed, for it was April 1st. Half an hour and several coffees later, I realised that there was no joke - the trip was cancelled because of the storms. The Marianna was not leaving that day because of the storm. I went back round the bay to my room. I bumped into my landlady in the kitchen, and gestured to her that the sea was rough and the Marianna not running. “Ochi Marianna,” I said, almost exhausting my entire Greek vocabulary.
The next day the Marianna left, on another windy morning. I suspect that today even a large modern ferry would be unlikely to travel in such weather. The wide bay of Katapola was (relatively speaking) fairly calm. I was sitting on a lifebelt box on the top deck, near the front of the ship. Two German girls who had been staying at the same rooms were the only other passengers up there. As we pulled out of the bay the wind and spray lashed across my face. It was like being hit by the tail of a large fish. I learnt the hard way that in a storm, the bow is the most exposed part of the ship. The sea was rough, really rough, boiling and seething. It was too rough to stand upright. I lurched towards the centre of the deck. It was too windy to risk the stairs down below. The only seats up there were plastic seated metal leg jobs. Untethered, they flew around the deck. I lay down on the deck, with my back against a solid surface, probably the funnel. Not that I felt seasick. By lying flat, I felt that I was less likely to be blown overboard. I dug my fingernails into the gaps between the boards on the deck (if I had let go I would have been a woman overboard) and my feet fended off low flying chairs. More recently, on modern ferries, I have been surprised by the trend of replacing fixed seats with free-standing seats. Where do people sit during a storm? Not everyone likes to be cooped up inside a ship, even during a storm.
The journey was rough until we reached Aegiale. In those days my knowledge of the layout of the Cyclades was not as good as it is now. In 1985, I did not know that the sequence of the journey was Katapola, Aegiale, Donoussa, Koufonissi, Schinoussa, Iraklia, and Naxos. If there was a written timetable anywhere, I had not seen it. All I knew was that Naxos was my intended destination, and the last port of call. I did not know that the crossing was likely to be rough until Koufonissi, after which we would be more or less sheltered in the lee of Naxos.
I thought, should I get off at Aegiale? The only alternative I had to staying on the Marianna was to get off at Aegiale, and catch a larger ferry, the Naxos. The Naxos was due to leave Katapola on the next day or day after I forget which. I could not stay any longer, as I had to get back to Athens to catch my plane. Innocent that I was again, I never imagined that I would one day miss my flight home because of a storm! As the Naxos did not call in at Aegiale, I would have to get myself back to Katapola. In those days, the track from Chora to Aegiale was newly dug, and rough and stony. I had not seen any vehicle on it, so I would have to walk from Aegiale to Katapola. I had walked from Katapola to Aegiale, without luggage and did not fancy doing the journey in the reverse direction with luggage. I realised the problems faced by early travellers to Greece, who did not have the benefit of the internal combustion engine. I decided to stay on board the Marianna. The next hour or so was very rough, then the sea calmed down. I had brought a pot of Total yoghurt with me, and ate a late breakfast. The Marianna had a kitchen for the crew, but no refreshment facilities of any sort for passengers.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1985 - Trying to leave On April 1
The year is 1985, the year of my first visit to Amorgos. I arrived on the Marianna. Trips on modern Greek ferries are, in good weather, a pleasure. A trip on the Marianna in any weather was an experience, and in bad weather an adventure.
Marianna was the lifeline for the small islands between Naxos and Amorgos: Iraklia, Schinoussa, Koufonissi, and Donoussa; and even for Amorgos itself, for most of the day-to-day needs of the islanders were transported by the Marianna and not by the few large ferries that occasionally called. Even today, the name Marianna conjures up an image of a tossing boat in a stormy sea; and a small cabin down below, the only inside sitting area for passengers, redolent of cats and fish. Marianna (she had the appearance of being a retired Scandinavian trawler) was small by comparison with Piraeus bound ships, even by the standards of 1985 when ferries were far smaller than they are today.
Most of the older supply boats (like the Marianna, and the Kamelia from Paxos) have retired for good - or have perhaps taken up a new career in the third world. What they lacked in speed and comfort they made up for in character, and were always laden with supplies.
Fewer boats called in at the small islands than today. Contact with the other islands and the mainland was infrequent. My first trip on the Marianna gave me an insight into the isolation experienced by the inhabitants of these small islands. In 1985, I reached Amorgos after an eight-hour trip on the Marianna. Particularly memorable were the stops at the smaller islands of Iraklia, Schinoussa, Koufonissi, and Donoussa. I remember the look of glee on the face of one woman islander when she took delivery of a new broom, and a young girl sitting by the harbour avidly poring over a newly delivered newspaper. In 1985 these small islands were less visited than they are today. I have recently seen photographs of Koufonissi in mid season showing a positive crowd of tourists. In 1985, along with the rest of the passengers, I gaped in amazement at the two tourists who landed on one of the small islands. Not a single tourist embarked or disembarked at any of the other small islands. I thought of the small islands as being very primitive; no running water, no electricity; no tourist accommodation; no tavernas, no shops. How would those two manage? My image of the islands was coloured by what I had read in the few guidebooks to the Cyclades that were then available. Inevitably, even the best guidebook is out of date by the time it appears on bookshop shelves. It may be that those two did not have such a hard time as I imagined. By the late 1990s, and probably before, all those small islands were well on the tourist map.
I had few fellow passengers on board the Marianna. Most of my fellow travellers were sacks of oranges and potatoes (these grow on Naxos in abundance). When I reached Amorgos, I was to find few oranges, or indeed any fruit, on sale. A young Israeli couple caught the first boat away from Amorgos when they found that there were no tomatoes on sale [NB today, in 2009, there are no such problems on Amorgos]. Before long, I would be craving for a Naxos orange, big, juicy and melting.
I soon felt that I had been on Amorgos for ages, as I recognised so many of the people that I met when I strolled around; the crew of the Marianna, the regulars at To Mouragio taverna; other tourists.
I planned to leave Amorgos on the first of April. There was a strong wind blowing as I walked round the bay to the harbour for the scheduled 6 a.m. departure of the Marianna. The road round the large bay of Katapola has now been widened; in 1985 the road was fairly narrow, and I had to make a strong effort to plant my feet firmly on the ground to avoid being blown out to sea. I weighed less in those distant days, both body-wise and luggage-wise. In those early innocent days, I assumed that ferries always ran; I had never heard of a ferry being cancelled because of bad weather. The Marianna being such a small tub, she was far more likely to be cancelled than a larger ferry.
The crew of the Marianna, and a handful of passengers, were all in the taverna, To Mouragio, drinking cups of strong Nescafe and passing around the communal can of evap. milk (I did not then know that the main local brand is Nou Nou). The Marianna was moored nearby. Everyone was laughing. Six o’clock came and went. We all carried on supping coffee. "Big wind, no Marianna," said one of the crew. We tourists laughed, for it was April 1st. Half an hour and several coffees later, I realised that there was no joke - the trip was cancelled because of the storms. The Marianna was not leaving that day because of the storm. I went back round the bay to my room. I bumped into my landlady in the kitchen, and gestured to her that the sea was rough and the Marianna not running. “Ochi Marianna,” I said, almost exhausting my entire Greek vocabulary.
The next day the Marianna left, on another windy morning. I suspect that today even a large modern ferry would be unlikely to travel in such weather. The wide bay of Katapola was (relatively speaking) fairly calm. I was sitting on a lifebelt box on the top deck, near the front of the ship. Two German girls who had been staying at the same rooms were the only other passengers up there. As we pulled out of the bay the wind and spray lashed across my face. It was like being hit by the tail of a large fish. I learnt the hard way that in a storm, the bow is the most exposed part of the ship. The sea was rough, really rough, boiling and seething. It was too rough to stand upright. I lurched towards the centre of the deck. It was too windy to risk the stairs down below. The only seats up there were plastic seated metal leg jobs. Untethered, they flew around the deck. I lay down on the deck, with my back against a solid surface, probably the funnel. Not that I felt seasick. By lying flat, I felt that I was less likely to be blown overboard. I dug my fingernails into the gaps between the boards on the deck (if I had let go I would have been a woman overboard) and my feet fended off low flying chairs. More recently, on modern ferries, I have been surprised by the trend of replacing fixed seats with free-standing seats. Where do people sit during a storm? Not everyone likes to be cooped up inside a ship, even during a storm.
The journey was rough until we reached Aegiale. In those days my knowledge of the layout of the Cyclades was not as good as it is now. In 1985, I did not know that the sequence of the journey was Katapola, Aegiale, Donoussa, Koufonissi, Schinoussa, Iraklia, and Naxos. If there was a written timetable anywhere, I had not seen it. All I knew was that Naxos was my intended destination, and the last port of call. I did not know that the crossing was likely to be rough until Koufonissi, after which we would be more or less sheltered in the lee of Naxos.
I thought, should I get off at Aegiale? The only alternative I had to staying on the Marianna was to get off at Aegiale, and catch a larger ferry, the Naxos. The Naxos was due to leave Katapola on the next day or day after I forget which. I could not stay any longer, as I had to get back to Athens to catch my plane. Innocent that I was again, I never imagined that I would one day miss my flight home because of a storm! As the Naxos did not call in at Aegiale, I would have to get myself back to Katapola. In those days, the track from Chora to Aegiale was newly dug, and rough and stony. I had not seen any vehicle on it, so I would have to walk from Aegiale to Katapola. I had walked from Katapola to Aegiale, without luggage and did not fancy doing the journey in the reverse direction with luggage. I realised the problems faced by early travellers to Greece, who did not have the benefit of the internal combustion engine. I decided to stay on board the Marianna. The next hour or so was very rough, then the sea calmed down. I had brought a pot of Total yoghurt with me, and ate a late breakfast. The Marianna had a kitchen for the crew, but no refreshment facilities of any sort for passengers.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Friday, 19 August 2011
"Un Village Cycladien Chora d'Amorgos" by Emil Kolodny
"Un Village Cycladien Chora d'Amorgos" by Emil Kolodny and is written in French. the book is packed with information about Amorgos, and especially families in the Chora. The book was unavailable on Amazon when I checked. You may have more success with French book websites, such as Chapitre.
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