No! Day, the Pelopponese, and a Sifnos Thanksgiving

What a whirlwind of activity since the last posting, including an unexpected visit to Northern Virginia for a visit with my dad and family, (because his oncology team advised "get your affairs in order").  For every story to tell, there is too little time to tell it.  Instead, offered here are a few flashbacks with photo supports.  Enjoy!

"Oxi" is Greek for "no".  There is no Halloween or rough equivalent celebrated on Sifnos.  However, the national Oxi Day is celebrated throughout the country on October 28th.  It commemorates the 1940 day when Greek Prime Minister Metaxas said "Oxi", refusing the ultimatum of Greece's accession to Italy by dictator Mussolini, thus launching otherwise neutral Greece into WWII.  The --usually cheerful--parades in Athens and Thessolonika were ruined this year when angry citizens and military marchers turned their heads away in disrespect from the governmental dignitaries in the viewing stands.  On Sifnos, the anger is not so strongly felt, yet resignation and sadness replace it.  These are troubling, concerning, and unstable times for Grecians.  A tiny little parade of school children promenaded the length of the main town square, offering another excuse for the villagers to pause for a social occasion.  

On this day we took advantage of no Greek school and a visiting Cretan performance to soak in a long afternoon of music and dance.  We heard that the event continued into the wee hours of the morning as waves of locals freed themselves to join the gaiety.  Crete and Sifnos share a cultural reciprocation program that has generated heartfelt friendships over time.  As the Cretan musicians faded from hours of performance and too much local moonshine, the Sifniots took over with their famed poetic repartee.

Ancient death mask, encaustic painting on linen, Benaki Museum, Athens

 

Even though this tiny island has only 1,500 residents during these quiet months, the opportunities to join activities abound.  One that has occupied both Karoline's and my time has been our lessons in encaustic painting offered by a local master.  Chryssa is currently feverishly painting examples for an upcoming exhibit at the Greek consulat in London as well as painting four icons that will adorn the blessed bread box in a local monastary chapel.

Chryssa with her youth class

She also teaches adult and youth classes in a monastery cell, while somehow single-handedly raising two active boys. 

Soup baked in public oven

There was no thought of celebrating Thanksgiving since we are firm believers in 'blooming where planted'.  However, interestingly enough, our favorite potters alerted us that it is possible to acquire a turkey for roasting.  This prompted the opportunity to reciprocate goodwill for our overly occupied and productive restaurant owner and potter friends. Until this season, business demands mean they have had no time to break away.  For the chance to experience Thanksgiving they closed shop on a slow Sunday afternoon and celebrated their gratitude with us.  For me this meant three days of focused activity:  1)  buying supplies, harvesting vegetables, and cleaning the house, 2) cooking in advance, and 3) setting table for 16, last minute cooking and entertaining.  While there are turkeys raised on the island, these are reserved a year in advance for their owner's Christmas tables.  Fortunately, our favorite grocer placed a special order from Germany for our frozen one, with thermometer included.  Beets replaced cranberries in an orange-arugula salad. We skipped the sweet potatoes in favor of mashed white ones. A black-eyed pea and greens soup baked in the public oven substituted for stuffing.  And, an apple crumble was a fair exchange for lack of pumpkin for pie.  Most importantly, our friends were thrilled to be relaxing, enjoying the rare occasion of being the ones entertained.  The cigarette break between dinner and dessert on the veranda turned into a loud philosophic debate about the state of the Orthodox church in Greece.

Aeropoli in Mani, the Pelopponese

Barely into the Fall routine of school work for Karoline, book writing for me, handyman projects and manly kafeion gatherings for Gerhard, we found ourselves seizing an opportunity of a car ride through the Pelopponese.  Calm weather, no strikes and functioning ferries meant a chance to reach Athens, rent a car, and drive 600 kilometers in a four day tour of mainland Pelopponese. This is the land of independent spirit that fostered feuding clans, greedy pirates and colorful renegades in bygone days.  Today the region boasts the distinction of breeding the best military officers and most successful politicians in Greece.  Four days did not do the region justice, yet we feel fortunate to have had a taste of this dramatic countryside and colorful people. 

When not tourist season, ghost towns abound in Mani, Pelopponese

Back on Sifnos, we enjoy our local friends, including our neighbor Yannis.  Until this year we have only known him as *that guy who rides his loud tractor at midnight without lights on the car road* after his ouzo hour with buddies.  If we hear his tractor it is a reminder to us that we are staying up too late.  Now, with a bit of Greek in hand, and plenty of body language, we have struck up conversation with him.  In this season, he has the habit of popping by unexpectedly for a coffee on our veranda from which he can keep an eye on his goats grazing just beyond our goat fence.

Yannis and his 44 goats

It has taken weeks of attempted conversation to patch together his story.  We have gleaned that he took the route of many an islander and left Sifnos as a young man to build skills, have adventures, and send money home to his wife and daughter by working as a crew member aboard cruise ships.  He retired early to return to his beloved family and island, now living directly from the land, not once stepping into the local grocery store.  He raises 44 goats, 25 chickens, 4 pigs and a milk cow.  In his orchards he harvests olives, almonds, lemons, oranges, clementines, mandarins and pomegranates.  In his fields he grows barley as animal feed and a variety of vegetables to put on his table.  In exchange for our coffee and accompanying snacks, he drops off bags full of extras from his orchards, hens or vergetable garden.