Bread

 Another church post.

 It's an important part of Ks life. 

  This particular church service takes place on the 23rd September every year to celebrate its consecration. The church, in our old neighbourhood, was built after K and his school friends found an icon when their football fell into a hole on a building site. Many, many years ago.

It's a long story but apparently the woman who owned the land, then living in America, had a dream that the icon would be found there.  When she heard of its discovery, she donated the land and paid for the church to be built.

How did the icon come to be poking out from under a few feet of dirt on a building site?  The only explanation I've ever heard is that it was the site of a much older church which had been demolished.

Anyway, the boys found it.  I know them all, all in their 60s now, and they all tell the same story.

K decided he would have another try at making the Holy Bread which is offered at services like this.  That Holy Bread which has to have a stamp in the middle.  The stamp which never comes out clearly, as it is supposed to.

We did a slightly better job this time.  You can, if you know what to look for, see the stamp outline on the bread in the photo above.

This is how it is supposed to look

There will be a 'next time' I'm sure. 

Photo thanks to Google 

The church of 'Christo' 

Like a lot of churches here it hasn't got much room inside. We perched on a wall at the back. 

You stand or sit where you can.  

Misc...

 Floating around the internet lately

Why is there a 'd' in fridge and not on refrigerator?

The English language.....

A mobile health unit was here in Poros for a few days.

There were eye doctors and teeth doctors and orthopedics and more.  All arranged by the council.  The doctors checked over 454 school children. All free.

Doctors come to the schools for check-ups most years.  My daughter's bad eye sight at age 8 was discovered by a test at her school when we lived in Crete.

They usually don't come in such concentrated form.

Christmas...in October

'Far too early to be thinking about Christmas' most will shout.  Including me.

In the good old US of A you've got something called Halloween and then Thanksgiving, or vice versa and you have to get those darn elections over and done with.

Here it's a few name days and a National holiday and church fiestas.  You know the drill.  I don't have to fill you in on all of those.

And then December.  And a few more family birthdays.  Though October seems to be the most popular month for those in our family.

Anyway.....

It's not till December that I usually start thinking of Christmas.  And presents.  Though K is already pressing me on what we will eat on Christmas day.  The usual!  He cooks Greek and I cook kiwi.

The grandchildren have all grown up and it's not easy finding presents that they might enjoy so last year we started a Secret Santa Christmas draw.  Each of us drew one name and we all bought a present just for that person.

Oh, except for the Christmas stockings.  That's a tradition they all still enjoy even though the oldest is 24.

This year the next wave of grandchildren are going off to the big city to study and by next week there will be only one left on Poros for the winter.  So we had the Secret Santa draw early while most of them are still on the island.

And, as usual, you can't come to Papou Ks house without partaking of food and drink so it was another 'party'.

'Guess who' hiding in her hoody, keeping warm after a few hours of rowing practice.  She wrote the names on slips of paper.

So whose name did you draw Poppi Mou?

An excellent bottle of Marlborough ( NZ) sauvignon blanc for Elli and I and our granddaughters sharing it with us too now.  Darn.  

Thank you Peter and Fernanda who brought two bottles of NZ wine when they visited last month.

K and son in law Yiannis drinking the local plonk

All set up and almost ready to go 

The meat is on the grill, the 'good wine' bottle open

October Church Fiesta

 Agioi (Saints) Kyprianou and Justiniani

In English they are Saints Cyprian(male) and Justina (a virginal female martyr).

I've just been reading up on these two.  They have a long story which I will not relate.  Bits of their skulls and hands and feet are kept as Holy Relics in Monasteries all over the place from Mount Athos here in Greece, Cyprus to Romania.

So ......

Half an hour away, across the strait, down the road, and round the corner is a picturesque blue and white church on a cliff above the sea. It's dedicated to these 2 Saints. The Priest just happens to have been a sailor at the Navy base here when K was one of the officers. 

Papa Makarios is a good man and an ideal village Priest. Twenty years ago he raised money and had the church built and since then he has been gathering basic food stuffs for the poor, supporting parishioners and urging the council to provide facilities for the elderly and a sports arena for the younger generation. 

Today was the celebration of the Saints and the founding of the church.

A man of the people unlike the monks at the monastery here on Poros.

Blue and white with flags flying all the way down the road.  

2 fire trucks slowed down as they passed, alarms flashing, parked further down and their crews came to take part in the procession of the Icons.  The Icons of the Saints, decorated with flowers, are paraded around the church and grounds.

The church inside and out was crowded.  We perched on a wall outside as we often do.  When the tray was passed around for donations they made 500 euros just from this service.  There was a service last night and another this evening.

All the money goes towards feeding and looking after the needy of the village of  Taktikopouli.  Some will go towards the centre for the elderly.  A place they can gather, enjoy some company, entertainment, coffee and meals.

When the liturgy was over and the Priest had had his say, warm and humurous, everyone filed in to receive a small piece of Holy bread.

I have gone inside on occasions but usually get a strange look from whoever is the priest.  I am obviously a foreigner and they know I'm not likely to be a member of the Orthodox church.

I didn't go this time and I should have, along with Poppi.  This priest would have loved to see Ks wife and granddaughter.

His eyes lit up when he saw K, his old Navy Officer.  He hugged him, told everyone around that he was the best officer in the Greek Navy, related a couple of stories about their time together and pressed a bottle of the Holy wine into Ks hands as he left.

We have promised to go again one Sunday soon.

From the church we drove down to the town of Methana.

Methana is under an extinct volcano and smells slightly sulphurous.

    The waterfront was empty  and perfect for a cappuccino 

Coffee and orange juice time with poppi

Me and K

From Methana we went over the hill to a bay on the other side of the peninsular, passing through the village where Ks dear Mama grew up.

He enjoyed telling Poppi about her great grandmother herding sheep for miles every day to a shelter in a cave,  wading into the very rocky sea, full of sharp volcanic stones to catch octopus and gather shellfish, to wash the winter mats and rugs in the sea in spring and travelling by donkey to church fiestas, of which there are many around there.

We finished off the morning eating at one of the fish tavernas at the little harbour of Vathi (Deep).  There were half a dozen  yachts with foreign flags tied up and we were entertained by a couple of catamarans that came and tied up in front of us. Bulgarian or Romanian. It took them a while to sort out the ropes. It was surprisingly busy for a Wednesday in October.

K, who is related to the owner of the restaurant (naturally) chose fresh grilled cod.  But he was the only one who ate fish at this fish taverna.  I had chicken souvlaki and Poppi had bifteki (a grilled hamburger without the bun).

And there were pureed yellow lentils and boiled greens and some cheese for me.

Greek Wedding

Saturday. 

6pm

At the chapel down by the sea at the end of the harbour.

The chapel is dedicated to the Holy Cross.  A picturesque blue and white chapel by the sea at the entrance to Poros Harbour .

K's niece, Vasiliki, married Kyriakos, the son of a friend.  Immediately after the wedding ceremony the baptism of their 2 year old son took place.

The Chapel of the Holy Cross

The end of September and it was hot. Very hot even at 6pm and as you can see there was very little shade.

The wedding ceremony took place outside the church and we all stood, or perched on the sea wall, watched and caught up with relatives we don't often see.

This little girl found a sandbox full of stones and tried to empty it.

Kyriakos and Vasiliki wearing their wedding wreaths.

Kyriakos, his Mum and little Konstantinos waiting for his Mama to arrive and the wedding to begin

The table setting with a small pouch of sugared almonds and an almond cake called 'amigthaloto' a local sweet made from crushed almonds

The reception took place at the Sirocco, the old disco up what seemed 100 steps.  The disco has been closed for years but opens up for large events like this.  

My 3 girls dancing, full of life and not minding the heat.

The music inside was ear splitting and from our table we couldn't see the dancers. So we all went outside where it was a tad quieter and much cooler, with a view of the dance floor.

The DJ played a mix of modern Greek and foreign music. Music for the younger generation but K and I got up and gave it a go too. We had our photo taken on the dance floor by the photographer and then went back to our perch on the wall.

There was a bar outside where all the men gathered. Free drinks.  Whisky is very popular at weddings.

Papous K with 3 of his grandchildren 

It was one of the best weddings we've been to. Vasiliki invited all the extended Greek family, and family from the Netherlands.

The Disco has been closed for many years and there was a general discussion amongst the oldies, like us, that we hadn't been here for at least 30 years. A long time ago in days of yore......

The steps up are a bit challenging nowadays and caution is advised coming down them after a few too many glasses 

I was escorted down by my granddaughter, although I only had one glass of wine. I'm wobbly without any wine at all.

K was escorted down by his daughters, but in a lighthearted way which didn't damage his reputation. 

Wishing them a long and happy life together.

Photo Shots

 

Summer Shots from the Greek island of Poros

Doesn't that water look so inviting

It's Poppi of course with their cocker spaniel Boem (whom I call Rusty. For no particular reason.  I 'do' nicknames)

Time for a free workout on Poros waterfront

Not in the midday sun

The 10 cats that live next door.

Our neighbours are foreign.  They've been renting here for over a year and have adopted all the neighbourhood cats.  Fine.

Except that every few weeks they leave for a week or 10 days.  They obviously leave food for them which lasts a few days and then they all migrate over to us.

I've had enough.  I'll tell them, whenever I see them, that they've got to pay someone to come up and feed them daily.

These cats are allowed inside their house and except Royal treatment.

No way am I having 10 cats inside my house.  Visiting dogs are welcome but not 10 semi-wild cats.  We can't leave doors or windows open because they'll be inside in an instant.  Where we have fly screens they've climbed up them and made holes in the screens.  They've broken a lot of my garden ornaments, dig in my pot plants and won't let us eat in peace outside on the terrace.

Enough.  No more cats!!!

Evil eyes and guardian angels.

Every house has a few blue eyes hanging on the wall, inside the car, protecting us from evil spirits and jealous thoughts

And if that's not enough we have a basket of garlic as well

A pity they don't banish cats as well

Beach Babes

 Do I like sandy beaches? Yes and no. The resort has fine sand which sticks to everything. I sweep it off our floor and brush it off our sheets every morning. 

On the other hand, sand makes my entry and exit from the sea confident, without embarrassing incident. 

Stony beaches are a pain in  the you-know-where. They hurt my feet and send me toppling into the shallows or backwards onto the beach. Or I just wobble, or waddle, not very gracefully, into the sea. 

Sand.

Shallow water that's easy to wade into.

K says it's warm. I say it's cold. It's true, you do feel the cold more as you grow older.

I cool off, swim a bit, paddle a bit, avoid the piranhas and head for shore.

Then I head for the showers on the beach. They're just behind our shelter/kiosk.

I don't like sitting with salt on me and I don't like my towel getting stiff with salt.

I sit in the sun for a while and warm up, retreat to the shade and read, get in the water to cool off. And so it goes on.

It could be boring but a good book and a little wifi saves the day.

Then there's the passing parade.

A rich parade. Thank goodness men in speedos are far and few between but do strut their stuff now and again. What do the Australians call them? 

Budgie smugglers.

It's the older men that wear them with a overhanging gut that are the worst. Don't they ever look in the mirror.

Here in Greece, all over the Med, women wear what they feel comfortable in, whatever their size or age.

Big women in small containers, oldies in bikinis. No one even gives them a second glance.

They stroll up and down, usually in pairs, gossiping as they go, confident that they're gorgeous. 

 I'm a 2 piece person. The bottoms are Bermuda swim shorts. 

The top covers my midriff.

I stroll to the sea and then for a shower. Enough strutting for me. I prefer to watch the sights  rather than provide the show.

Ps We are back home now doing loads of washing in between showers. 

Suddenly it's autumn