End of August

 

The month finishes off with feasts and festivals naturally.

Monday 26th

Saints Adrianos and Natalia

Happy name day Natalia mou.

Tuesday 27th August

the fiesta of Agios (Saint) Fanourios.  He's the saint who finds lost items.  I should have made a cake in his honour.  K would have eaten it for breakfast this week.  But I didn't make it.  

Saint Fanourio's cake is made with no dairy or eggs.  The recipe calls for orange juice, olive oil , nuts and raisins.  It's good.  I make one whenever I lose something and call on Fanourio's help to materialise the lost object.  You're supposed to get it blessed and hand it around the neighbourhood.  I never do that though I give away as much as possible to family so we don't eat it all ourselves.

30 August

Fiesta for Alexandros,  Alexandra

23 August marks the end of the services for the 15th August celebrations.  These 2 picturesque little churches had services.  

The one above is on  Daskalio (Teacher's) island at the entrance to Poros harbour.  Little water taxis ply backwards and forwards. 

They're both dedicated to the Virgin Mary.

Both churches attract a lot of people.  Poros still has a fair whack of greek visitors and most will go to one or the other church to light a candle and partake of the breads and offerings.

I haven't been to either in many years.

K's pickled fish.  Greek sousi or sushi as you know it.  

Full Moon Piano Concerto

Held in the grounds of the ancient ruins on the hill opposite us.

I went once.  The chairs were facing the wrong way so we couldn't see the full moon and I find piano music rather boring.

We heard some of it from our balcony.  That was enough. 

Drivers Licence.

I knew my driver's licence expired this year but thought it was not until December . I looked at it the other day and found it expired in January. I've been driving all this time without a valid licence. So today I'm running around gathering papers, seeing doctors and having my photo taken. Then I take all the papers to KEP, Citizens Help Centre here on Poros to get a temporary licence. I can use that till I get a new one from the Dept of Transport. That will take a few months.

How nice to think September is in sight.  September with slightly lower temperatures, maybe a bit of rain.  September with passable roads, free tables in the tavernas but still enough traffic for pleasurable people watching.

  

Poppi Did It

 

A phone call made me cry today.

Poppi's up north rowing in National competitions on Lake Kastoria.  She's just been chosen for the Greek Women's rowing team that will be competing somewhere in the Balkans next month.

I literally cried with happiness.

Go Poppi Go

From Poros champion

         To 'the sky and beyond. There is no limit.'

Ghost Strikes Again????

We had another strange little incident the other day.  K has been pickling sardines and another little fish called 'gavro'. They are one of his favourite meze with a glass of ouzo. 

Ouzo and pickled sardines

 He wanted some hot chilli peppers to put into the marinade.  We usually have a garden full of them.  They come up every year by themselves.  Oddly we discovered there were none this summer.  Another victim of the heatwaves?

But somewhere I had a small jar of these little devils.  They weren't where they were supposed to be and I couldn't find them anywhere.

The next morning, sitting  in the bathroom contemplating the peace and quiet I heard the noise of some thing-s tumbling from the top of a chest of drawers just outside.  Odd.  It definitely wasn't K.  He was still snoring.   No cats, no mice, no wind.

When I went out to investigate I discovered 2 packets of mosquito coils and a bottle of mosquito spray had fallen down.  How?  I hadn't nudged them walking past and they weren't on the edge anyway.

As I picked them up and went to put them back I saw in front of me that jar of dried chilli peppers.  I kid you not.  They had been hidden by that mosquito stuff, stuff that we don't use because we have no mozzies at the moment.

That little jar is hiding behind the blue bottle of mosquito spray

Now, if you remember, we reckon our ghost is Baba Lazaros, the previous owner of this house.  He was known to like his drink... and beat his wife.  The last time he appeared was after a big Easter feast and I bet he's popped up now  to see that K enjoys his pickled fish and ouzo.

K can 'poo-poo' all he wants about our ghost.  He has a boring explanation for all of the goings-on. I would not have found those chillis if the packets in front had not fallen down.  Baba Lazaros loved his wine and his ouzo.  Fresh pickled sardines are a traditional accompaniment to ouzo, along with octopus.    

I had better make sure K lights a candle for him again.  I don't really like things going bump in the night.  Or the morning.

Poros Pictures

Sign on this comfy bench outside a touristy dress shop on the waterfront reads

'For exclusive clients only'

Well, up Your nose with a rubber hose!

Keep your distance peasants.  It's only for the snooty rich bottoms that are cruising on one of the gin palaces tied up opposite.

A more inviting corner

Table and chairs set up outside the butcher's shop in the back street near the Police Station

Spiro and Zoi's Butchers Shop

Poros Police car going up the very narrow backstreet to it's parking spot tucked away in a corner beneath a flight of steps.

Yes, it is one way

Poros Police Station on the left

They've even got a cell!

My Greek Kitchen

                      My Greek kitchen, or kouzina as it's known here. 

Our IKEA kouzina, bought and put together in 2008.

Quite a dramatic time.  K had 2,000 euro in his back pocket and he lost it somewhere in the parking lot.  By the time he realised what had happened it was far too late although he did report it and we searched and searched.

Remember, Jan?

It was someone's lucky day. I hope they needed the money. 

We had his *cousin the carpenter with us and together with the IKEA staff  they designed our kitchen cabinets and we bought it all, on credit card.  Hey ho.

It cost us less than 2,000 euros, back then. 16 years ago, IKEA was still something new and they were cheap.  We bought other furniture and essentials as well that fateful day and had them all trucked to Poros.

At least it was him that lost it and not one of us.  There would have been an eruption of grand proportions. 

The kitchen is in a  fairly decent state except for one cupboard which had a fire inside it.   We have a traditional little gas burner on which we boil greek coffee.  I must have put it away in the cupboard while it was still very hot and it touched the side and slowly smouldered.  Thank goodness it extinguished itself and by the time I discovered it there was a bit of soot and charred wood but nothing major!

* We 'imprisoned' his cousin for a month or so. He was an excellent carpenter and joiner but was wont to lose interest, down tools and wander off leaving half finished work behind him.  So he lived in our spare room till he finished.  He got home cooked meals, I washed and ironed his clothes, he had free  internet and he and K discussed and debated and recalled their childhood long into the night over glasses of wine or raki. 

Along the top of the kitchen cupboards, clay pots, a casserole dish, a slow cooker which doesn't work very well and an old pressure cooker.  They are deemed treasures by some.  We do use the clay pots a few times a year for bread and stews. 

Essentials in this greek kitchen.  They have a permanent place on the bench

- Marmite.  Always no. 1.

- Plastic oil pourer.  I hate it.  But K loves it.  Life is short.  It's not worth niggling over an oil pourer.  I would have preferred a small glass one with a nice olive design on the side, but they both do the same job.

- Olive oil spray.  A new addition.  We always poured our oil.  A spray is a fine mist which barely covers.  However olive oil is very expensive now and a fine mist will often have to suffice.

- Then the vinegar pourer.  At least that's glass.

- And..that little gas burner which burnt our cupboard.  It's used every morning to make a traditional greek coffee

It's a galley kitchen with a high beamed ceiling, flows into the sitting room and the dining room. 

 Dining room -  Big wooden table, handmade by carpenter cousin, with 10 'charmingly' mismatched chairs

On the other side of the bench is a candle, stuck in a brass candlestick.  K is of an age when his classmates are beginning to pop off.  If he hears of a death he will light the candle in memory. 

He also has vivid dreams, which he remembers in great detail.  If any of his dead relatives happen to pop in to pay him a nighttime visit he will light a candle for them the next day too.

Big, very heavy, brass urn, 'gifted' to him by a 'friend'.  On top of the cupboards.  It was once polished and shiny bright.

We have no idea what it was used for but another friend insists it's a baptism font.  It's big, but not that big, not for greek baptisms where the baby is dunked right under, yelling and splashing, and can be anywhere from 6 months to a few years old.

That's our well used kitchen where the grandkids make traditional biscuits, bread and brownies, where dear daughters Elli and Danae have spent backbreaking hours scrubbing dirty oven trays, where I make stuffed tomatoes and boil pigs' heads, but not where K fries fish or cleans offal or boils trotters, stews his greens or prepares  traditional but smelly greek dishes.

Thank goodness there is an outside kitchen for all his cooking with a gas stove, electric oven with a handmade door (one of his treasures), wood fired pizza-style oven, big bbq and a marble sink.

 Photos for Dave from the Northsider blog. http://northsiderdave.blogspot.com

Alas Poor Porky

I got a helluva fright while digging through our big chest freezer the other day.  A plastic bag I picked up suddenly split open and out popped a grinning snout with perky brown ears.  

The head of the pig that was spit roasted back in June.  It was roasted just a tad too much and the skin and ears were not crispy but as tough as leather.   After the visitors left we were more than over-done  with eating pork so into the freezer it went and was soon forgotten.

Oh dear Porky. On the menu once again

I boiled the whole head for an hour.

K and the wild cats licked their lips for days.

The skin and snout were soft and gelatinous.  I cut it all up into thin strips for the cats.  They fought and yowled over it all that night.

  There was a lot of good meat on the skull, tongue and brains included, and it came away easily from the bone. 

K enjoyed some of the meat for lunch.  I did not.  It had a very porky taste and and was, sort of slimy, well gelatinous.

That night I boiled rice, pilafi, for K in the juices that were left in the pot.  He enjoyed that as well for a couple of meals.

Last night I made youvetsi with the leftover meat.  Youvetsi is meat,  stewed in tomatoes with orzo which is a fat rice-like pasta.  There's enough left for a meal on Friday.

Friday because today, Wednesday, is the eve of the 15th August and the big church celebration of The Assumption of the Virgin Mary.  I would say it's the biggest fiesta in the Greek Orthodox church and most of Catholic Europe.

Wednesday K is fasting and Thursday we feast.  

Alas poor Porky.  He fed us well

I don't remember anyone crunching on the eyeballs. Maybe they fell out into the fire.

The skull bones came apart into 4 or 5  pieces and I've put those back in the freezer, into a bag with bones from lamb and chicken carcasses.  When the bag is full I will boil them all up for an hour or so to make bone broth.  The broth is full of nutriments and will add loads of flavour to  more meat dishes.

Nose to tail eating.

I have already turned the trotters into bone broth. The liver is in the freezer in a separate bag. I'd better deal with that next. 

Or K will.

Liver and onions perhaps

Poppi Up a Pole

 

OMG, look what that child is up to now.  My knees were trembling when I saw the photo.  I'm glad I wasn't there to see her.  But it's what you would expect from this girl.  Her father climbs up the masts of yachts regularly.  It's his job.  She's been wanting to follow him up for a long time. I was relieved to learn she was tied onto a safety harness and her father was down below helping her up.

Her mother is an avid bungee jumper so it runs in the family.  They're not afraid of great long water slides, bouncing along on an inner tube behind a speeding boat or diving down into the depths of the sea, snowboarding and if there were any of those horribly steep roller coaster rides here I'm sure she'd be the first on to it. 

 Even diving in the sea is something I hate.  I do not like the unknown in the sea whether it is floating flotsam, eerie wrecks or just a clump of waving weed. Keep me floating on the top and I'm happy 

As for heights, forget it

Here she goes.  

Ye gods and little fishes.  At the top she removed one hand to take a photo.

The text under the photos she sent me was

'It was really fun.  I can't wait for the next time.' 

Summer Fiestas - My Way

The summer months are full of Saints days, fiestas major and minor. Gatherings of friends and family to feast and rejoice with  those named after the particular saint.

25th July 

 One of the days the Greek Orthodox church observes Saint Anne.  The other observance being on 9th December.

There is a little church across the waters dedicated to Saint Anne and our daughter's inlaws look after the church.  It's usually a service in the morning followed by coffee and cakes at the house of the maiden Aunts.  The Aunts are getting on, into their 90's, and care of the church and preparation for the Saint's day has been taken over by others.  This year it wasn't just coffee and cakes at the family home. 

 This year there was an evening service, followed by feasting and dancing on the waterfront to a band playing traditional Greek island music.   Now there is talk of making it an annual summer event as it attracted hundreds of people who danced and revelled till the wee hours.

The church of Saint Anne

Agia Anna, Galatas

With 3 cypress trees growing behind it

26th July

Meanwhile across on Poros, up in the hills, we were getting ready for the annual celebration of Saint Paraskevi  (female saint), protector of the eyes. 

It's a subdued observance.  Especially when you have a sermon from the monk at the Poros monastery telling women they should wear long skirts, have their eyes cast down, and obey their men.  Make-up, short skirts and jeans are devices of the devil.  And more, much more.

Barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen in other words. 

We've heard it all before.

  He's turning many away.  Women wear trousers (men's clothing)  anyway, like me.  I light my candle in remembrance of those who have passed and find a place outside to sit and wait for the sweet bread and cakes at the end.

My three girls.  In skirts.  One borrowed, one blue and one brand new.  

K likes to keep up traditions so he organised a sleep-over for 2 granddaughters and their friend who is named after this Saint.   Paraskevi, but she's known as Evita. A modern version of the name. 

It's no longer mattresses on the floor and pillow fights. I arranged so that they had their own 'suite' and could do their 'own thing' till dawn if they wanted to. 

  

Once upon a time I made the offering of 5 sweet loaves (as in the tale of Jesus turning 5 loaves and fishes into enough to feed the thousands) and a special bread called Prosfora with a Holy stamp on it which is handed out after communion.

It's hot and I've 'been there, done that'.  But the girls decided they would make the Prosfora bread.

 

Bread making.  2 of those girls are rowers.  Boy, did they knead that bread well.  It rose to twice it's usual size.

The finished product.  Not quite right though.  We have a seal which has to be pressed into the middle and it has a whole lot of religious symbols which have to be clear so they know where to place the candles that go into it......or something like that.

I think it's upside down. Hard to tell. 

That darn seal just would not do what it was supposed to do.  First it stuck, then the symbols weren't clear.  Everyone had a go at pushing it down onto the loaf.  We wet the surface, put oil on it, flour.  And at every attempt the dough had to be smoothed out kneaded again.  

We had 2 seals, one of them a very old one from the other grandmother Eleni.  But it was 

 'not any way, José' .

We did our best and took it to church anyway covered in a clean white cloth.  

Along with the bread the girls printed out 2 lists of names, one list to remember our dear departed and the other to ask for good health for  family and friends.  These are read out by the priest, monk, at the end of the service.

 When the service is over the sweet bread brought by the faithful, soft, fragrant and squishy along with sticky cakes are offered around by those celebrating their name day.  And of course there's lots of gossip to be learnt and outfits to be eyed up and down.

An essential is a big bag to carry away lots of sweet bread to have with coffee later at home.  I got plenty.

The church is small so everyone stands, sits or wanders around outside