Author Archives: zefiart

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About zefiart

Blogger, DIY-er, poodle lover, graphic designer, dog groomer, recycler, artist, wonder woman in my spare time.

see naxos in a day

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Today we drove around to explore Naxos.
That means we got into a car and drove through towns at the speed of light. I tried to take some photos as we drove past things and got photos like this:
I mean, I’m hanging out the window and manage to snap the photo JUST as we pass a telephone pole. I couldn’t have done this if I tried!
The landscape in the interior of Naxos is quite beautiful if you like rocks and bare mountains. Very striking.
That tiny spec on top of that peak is a church. Its a church for the Prophet Elias. 
I’m guessing, but given that his churches are always in spots only eagles can get to, I’d say its a safe bet.
My mom told me the story was that Elias was a fisherman who was the sole survivor of a shipwreck. Apparently when Elias (not yet a prophet, obviously, or he’d have prophesied the wreck and his life would have gone down an entirely different track…) washed up on a beach he swore he would never look at the sea again. So he set off on foot carrying an oar with him. Every place he met another person he’d show them the oar and ask what it was. They would answer “Its an oar of course” so on he’d trudge.
Eventually he’d gone so far from the sea that when he asked a peasant what it was he was carrying the man said “Its a stick of course”. And that’s where the man-soon-to-become-prophet Elias built his church.
 
Anyway, our destination was the Temple of Za (another word for Zeus?) This is the information I found with a quick google search:
Naxos History Many myths in Greece involve Naxos as some point. Zeus, the highest god, was born on Crete, but grew up on Naxos. The people of Naxos used to worship him, and a temple was made to his honour at the mountain Za (Zeus).
When Zeus‘ mistress Semele died before giving birth to their child, Zeus took the embryo and put it in his thigh. When the baby, Dionysus, was born out of Zeus thigh on Naxos, the nymphs Philia, Coronida and Clidi brought him up on the island, which was to be Dionysus favourite island. The god made the island fertile and full of grapevines, forever blessing it.
Now, I don’t know about you, but that is a really wierd story if you ask me! Children born out of men’s thighs…?
The sign pointing the way to the cave in which Zeus was raised said 20 minutes. 
Up hill.
Maybe. If your name is Edmund Hillary.
But for us normal, not so fit and vertigo-suffering people… What clinched it for me is that about 1/4 of the way up the path disappeared and we had to climb over rocks like mountain goats.
I turned back. And I wasn’t alone in that decision.
We did stop in Apiranthos, the town on top of the highest mountain on Naxos I believe. I’d been there before when I was about 12 so I knew the town well. Not.
 
What struck me most is that its so different to Paros. Similar in that its an island of the Cyclades, but quite different in architecture and building materials.
I visied a small grocery which sold all kinds of things: herbs, soaps, baskets, antiques…
Found the finish on these ceramic pots interesting. They’ve managed to create a really gorgeous copper patina on them.
Of course they’re way too big to take home so I settled for a couple of bars of olive oil soap.
That’s the kind of soap my mom used to insist on buying when I was growing up, saying its all natural and good for me. I wanted nice smelling fancy soaps, none of that plain, hard, square mucky green soap.
Now I’ll pay top dollar for that same hard square mucky green soap.
Things do come full circle don’t they? I am turning into my mother.
z

the next best thing

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My grandfather used to say the best thing about Naxos is that you can see Paros from there.

If that’s so, then the second best thing has got to be the Mojito Boys!


These guys are pure eye candy. My cousin Zefi sure knows how to run a business. Mmmm-mmm! She hires these guys to work in her bar and they hang out on the beach serving drinks and giving us more mature ladies something to look at besides the endless sand and sea.

I mean, you could get bored of this view right?

Just miles and miles of sand and blue water.

Am I making you jealous yet?

Today some of us had a long day. We chose to go on a tour of Naxos. It was a comedy of errors. Seriously. We got 3 cars and piled in, only to get to the first destination and find the fan in one was broken, the car overheating and losing water.

And that was only the beginning of the adventure!

This may well be the last Campion reunion.  It was a bit like Lord of the Flies without the brains on rock bit.

Thankfully.

Anyway, we survived – only cause we split up, each group going to do what they wanted to do. I was among the ‘go back home’ group. I went straight to the beach where I found the ‘stay behind’ group.

A cool swim and some relaxing time enjoying the view of the boys beach and I feel like a new woman.

One thing I haven’t managed to do so far on Naxos is catch up with my cousin and godson Anargyros. Pronounced sort of like Anna and gyros as in souvlaki, with a rolling ‘r’ in the middle to confuse matters.

I got his number from Niko, the head Mojito Boy. Niko approached me on the beach where I was sitting with friends, a bit of paper in his hand, handed it to me and said “My wife will be out tonight. Here’s my number.”

It was the best! 

“Yeah look at me! I can still get the spunks!”

Yeah! That’s right! (And the crowd roars)

z

party till the norwegians drop

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I really don’t have time to blog today. I’m expected at the Prokopis Hotel where the Campionites are starting the party with some drinks, then on to a taverna for dinner.

Its like big long holiday here.

Wait. It is one big long holiday.

We partied till 3.30am last night. We outdanced a group of Norwegian teenagers. It was almost like a matter of pride, we just could not let them beat us. We danced and drank and partied till they went home and then we crawled off to our rooms to nurse our aching bones.

And that’s just a taste of the night. I have a ton more photos on FB in my albums.

z

mojitos, sunshine and high school friends

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Today I’m on Naxos with Peter. We took the short ride over from Paros this morning. Naxos is the island right behind Paros, half an hour from the town of Naoussa and 1 hour from the port of Parikia. Being a chicken with rough seas (and they were rough this morning) I always take the big ferries with their stabilizing ‘wings’. Seriously. They have wings. They’re built like sanitary napkins.
But I was talking about how close Naxos and Paros are. My grandfather used to say that the best thing about Naxos is that you can see Paros from here.
Ok, its not Paros, but Ag. Prokopis beach – where my cousin Zefi has her bar – is the best beach ever. 
That’s the Zefi on Naxos. Zefi Mojito as she’s known on FB. Not to be confused with Zefi Famelis, the OTHER Zefi Famelis. Not me.
I am the ORIGINAL Zefi. The others are just cheap immitations. No matter what they say, its not a case of “I’m the youngest Zefi, you’re just old”. We all know they built things to last in the old days.
Not that I’m old! I’m not admitting to anything.
As an aside, Zefi Mojito must have eyes in the back of her head. I went up to the bar to pay my bill after lunch earlier and she was busy. She still managed to notice me and warn her staff that “anyone who takes money from my cousin will be fired.”
We greek women have eyes in the back of our heads.
Anyway, this trip is amazing. I’m attending a high school reunion here for the first time ever. I think is reunion number 3 in Greece. Apparently a lot of people from Campion have stayed in touch and they have mini reunions in London and other places. The first reunion I heard about was the year after I was in Greece last and held on Paros. In Naoussa to be exact. I couldn’t attend… I just couldn’t afford to travel to Greece again.
I didn’t hear anyone offer to have a reunion in Tasmania…
Anyway… I haven’t seen most of these guys since I was in 12-13th grade. I refuse to disclose how long that is… I can’t count that high.
I don’t have any other photos of the Campion High School reunion yet cause so far all we’ve done is sit on the beach, swim and talk. And we all know cameras are forbidden on the beach.
The problem with the modern world is that there are cameras everywhere. Even if I make sure I never post unflattering photos of me on FB (ie no photos where I’m not totally covered) someone somewhere will take a photo and there it’ll be, forever, for the world to see. 
However if anyone from this group takes a photo of me with less than 3 articles of clothing on and publishes it, I’ll be hunting them down. 
You’ve been warned!
It really is amazing to be here again. Three years later. They do say people always return to the scene of the crime, don’t they…
Last time I came, I imported my own friend in the form of Merrill. And we had the best time. This time I’ve come to meet friends from my past. And it really is wonderful to reconnect with them and hear news of others who aren’t here.
This trip is really a trip down memory lane in more ways than one. Last trip was about having fun and getting a tan. This trip is about family first, and friends in an almost coincidental way.
Let me explain, thanks to Zina, Tom, Lisa and FB I’ve been able to connect with Helen in Athens. And when I return to Athens I’ll see Christine as well. Both friends from Campion School. An English school in Athens. You tend to bond in an environment like that, a fish out of water thing.
Today I saw Leslie, one of my closest friends in Campion. She’s the one who introduced me to hamsters. Last time I saw her her daughter was in nappies, now she’s in university. When I return to Paros I’ll see Valerie who I went to junior school with. That’s from 4th grade to 8th grade… She has a house on Paros now. Incredible.
See what I mean? I’m catching up with people I haven’t seen in years.
… I sure hope this doesn’t mean the end is near… you know how your life goes flashing before your eyes? A kind of “this is your life” thing before I meet my bitter end?
Nah. Only the good die young and I’ve been very, very bad. Just ask my mother. I was hell on wheels as a kid and worse as a teenager.
I remember when I was a kid and I’d be at some family do and I’d hear mom say “I haven’t seen him for 20 years!”. I’d fall about like “Twenty years! That’s so long!” Back then a 40 year old was decrepid.
Then one day I realised I’d known people for 20 years. Or 30. Or more. 
No need to go there.
I gotta go. I hear a mojito calling….
z

i hope i grow up to be like my mother

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Tonight my mother put me to shame.

We’d gone into Parikia where they had another another event with music and dancing. This time it was a band and people were welcome to dance.

Naturally my mother was right up front.

I’d gone to meet Petro and a friend, had a drink and a frozen greek yogurt (fat free but yum) and by the time I’d found mom she’d been dancing for about an hour or more.

The woman is incredible. I can only dream to be like her when I’m her age. She’s 82. And the guy she’s dancing with is someone she knew in her childhood. He’s 85.

And just FYI, that wasn’t the end of the dancing. I thought it was and stopped filming. They continued on after I stopped…

Now, tell me you don’t feel a little bit ashamed? I know I do. I got up and had one dance and it almost killed me. Sure, the songs they were playing were actually medley of songs so it goes on forever. And sure, I was wearing croc sandals which kept wanting to come off my feet so I had to dance while gripping them with my toes. But that’s no excuse. My 82 year old mother can out-dance me any day of the week.

z

antique on a greek island

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I’ve been walking through the old town and looking around. So far all I’ve seen are the main ‘streets’ – the old Agora (‘market street’ to all you non-greeks) and some of the bigger side streets with shops.
I’ll soon start exploring all the old streets I explored when I was a kid, during the imposed siesta time. My brother and I would sneak out and explore. I know the streets of the old town like the back of my hand… Oops. When did I get that scratch?
Whenever anyone new would visit I’d meet them at the ferry and walk them to my grandmother’s house. Approximately a 6 minute walk. I’d take them up one narrow cobblestone street, down another, doubling back and winding around till I wore them out. I knew they’d never find their way out again…( insert evil laugh).
We moved back to Greece in 1970, ostensibly cause I got bad asthma living in the Riverina area of NSW (aka the marijuana growing region to everyone who’s watched Underbelly). The doctor said I was allergic to fruit bearing trees and grass. Years later I began to wonder what ‘grass’ he meant.
Whatever, the result was that dad packed us up to move back to Greece and its dry climate. Mom always said that after God created the world he had a pocketful of rocks left over so he tossed them in Greece. Its a rocky land but much greener than you’d think, or than I remember it.
But back to wondering the streets. I’ve been unlucky so far in locating a tip of any sort where I can rummage and find old bits and pieces, but I have located one antique shop which happened to be open when I walked past yesterday.
Inside I found tons of stuff I’d love to take home with me… apparently they do post things all over the world… in case you’re wondering.
These old corner roof tiles are gorgeous. Mom has some dad collected years ago, only dad did what most people did back then – he painted them terracota so they look new. I wonder if I can sandblast the paint off them…
I had no idea what these were so I had to ask – they are the stamp/moulds bakers use when baking ‘arto’ for the church. Arto is a blessed bread handed out at services and it always has a pretty pattern on top. Now I know how they get it!
They had antique coffee grinders… the square more regular looking types and the tall brass ones which look like pepper mills.
I wonder if Wayne would like one of the brass coffee grinders for his morning coffee?
Brass coffee grinders sitting in a dough kneading bowl.
No greek antique shop would be complete without part of an old fishing boat or ceramic urns.
A lot of people put a round slab of marble on top of these and make them into tables. My uncle has one on the verandah outside the big room. I’ll be doing a tour of Souvlia soon – that’s the country house on Paros.
Then I found something for Wayne – these old metal curry combs! Aren’t they cool? They look more like instruments of torture though. When I asked the shop owner what they were she said they were horse brushes….
“But wait” she said, “that’s not a brush. THIS is a brush!” and she held up this:
A wool carding brush.
That has got to be the biggest slicker brush I’ve ever seen in my life!
So, reckon I should get this for Wayne? I could hang it on the wall and hang my necklaces from it! I mean, how unusual is that?!
Hey, he got me a nail gun which he uses, why can’t I buy something for me to use? huh?
Antique greek chests.
 This old coat rack reminds me of some relatives house… not sure who’s but I know I’ve seen them before. Wickedly big hooks huh?
I collect scales. I don’t have one of these though…
 
What about this old dough kneading trough? I can surely use one of these in my house!
My passion of course, is old metal things with rust and patina. Like this old thing from over a heavy iron door.
And more iron – bedheads and grates.
I had no idea what this was either, but its from an old mill – the timber has bits of rock in it which have been worn down. It was used to grind wheat. I guess its an old ‘grindstone’!
Beautiful isn’t it?
The little wooden pouch is what herbs were kept in.
Now these things I’ve fallen in love with. I don’t ever remember seeing them before, at least not in this shape. They’re little icon cubbies – you put an icon and a candle in them in your home.
I want one. Or both.
This I do remember. Mom had one somewhere. Of course it was painted (thanks dad) with anti-rust black. Its an old iron. Unlike the old irons I’ve seen in Australia which are solid iron and were placed on top of hot coats, these irons opened up and you would put hot coals inside them.
I wonder if mom still has hers…
An old press. Not sure what it would have been used for originally.
Antique chips anyone?
 I love these wooden spoons. They’re actual spoons made of wood, not wooden spoons. If that makes sense. They’re not for cooking but for eating.
Some cute three-legged stools.
These were used when spinning yarn. Don’t ask me how. I just photograph the stuff! Notice the wacky coat rack on the  right? I didn’t. Or what looks like some kind of insulator bottom right. Man. Good thing I take photos!
I wonder how much stuff I can fit in my suitcase?
z
The antique shop I took these photos in is called Kamara and you can contact them on kamara.paros@yahoo.gr
But you can’t buy the little icon thingies! Those are MINE!

grandma’s house

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On the way to my grandma’s house.
 This morning mom and I went to my grandmother’s old house to do a quick clean cause Petro is coming tomorrow. He always stays in the old house in town.
This house is where my mother was born and grew up. Its in the old town of Parikia on Paros. I’ve already mentioned that my grandfather was a fisherman and my grandmother was a seamstress. They raised 7 children in this old house.
The house to the four daughters but mom said she was happy to sign her share over so we don’t have a share in the old house. However while my grandparents were alive we spent many years staying there during our summer holidays.
It holds a lot of memories for me.
The narrow cobblestone street I know so well, grandma’s house is the one behind the overgrown vines.
The old house is a typical one in the old town. At least for the struggling classes. It has hugely thick stone walls, a cement floored downstairs room and a timber floored upper storey. Downstairs is one big room which was kitchen, living space, dining room, and bedroom. I’m not sure what the upstairs looked like when mom was a kid, but when I was growing up it was one large room with a dining table in the middle and 4 single beds around it, 2 small rooms, one with a single bed and one with a double bed.
The front door to grandma’s house. So many of the old doors have similar curtains in the windows.
My grandmother would roll over in her grave if she knew I was sharing photos of the house in such a mess, but she’s long gone and it belongs to my aunt now. Besides, the house has been empty since last summer. We can all excuse a bit of a mess.
The downstairs room as seen from the staircase in the back.
There are two ways to get upstairs. An outside staircase made of cement and an inside narrow timber one. Unfortunately the inside one’s been replaced. All that remains of the original is the trapdoor and ceiling. My aunt is nothing if not handy. She’s fixed, tiled, rennovated and updated the house within an inch of its life. Luckily she appreciates the past so she’s not into throwing out the old things.
The narrow steep stairs and the trapdoor. Made for very short people.
At the top of the stairs is the tiny store room which I’ve mentioned before. I used to sleep in the little room the trapdoor opens into and this little storeroom was opposite my bed. When I couldn’t sleep I’d go sit in there, in the breeze from the open window, and look through my grandmother’s old fashion magazines.
The tiny store room. The cement sink and the cupboard underneath with a cute curtain. Love the greek curtains.
Mom tells me this was originally a storeroom. Then when my oldest aunt (Xeni) was being courted, they made it into a small kitchen so they could give her the upstairs part of the house to live in. She didn’t marry any of the young bucks chasing her and the tiny kitchen ended up a store room again.
What’s odd is that the sink in this little room (and the downstairs one for that matter) is cement. I’d never thought about that before.
The ceiling in the store room has limed white beams and bamboo above the old chimney.
A small cupboard in the little store room.
A cupboard over the trapdoor in the room I used to sleep in.
Another cubbyhole cupboard in the wall with a cute curtain door.
Downstairs my aunt has kept things pretty much as my grandmother had them, with the addition of a bathroom and toilet in the tiny store room, a new fridge and some new wardrobes. She sleeps on my grandparent’s old bed at the far end of the room. Its a cast iron bed with brass details.
I like my grandmother’s little bed ‘doily’ to protect the brass.
Naturally there are tons of photos, some in newer frames, some in really interesting old ones.
 

Mom’s family minus one.
 One thing I really really want (well one of the many things) is one of these old door handles. They used to be everywhere but so many people have thrown out the old doors and the handles with them. I keep asking and no one has one for me. 
If only I could find where people throw their old stuff!
This one’s a little cat!
You already know I’m a sucker for old hardware…
Wonder if this one will fit in my suitcase?
This ‘goodmorning’ mirror was a gift to my grandparents for their wedding.
 You gotta love the ingenious wardrobe solution…
The old ‘tapestry’ over the bed, and the old cotton mattress my parents used to sleep on.
None of these things have changed as long as I remember the house.
Like the old worn floorboards which creak badly and which are full of gaps and holes that my brother and I used to use to spy on people downstairs. We used to feed fishing line down the holes sometimes and tickle people sitting on the couch or at the table, making them think there were flies around them.
Ah, the old days when we were young and not so sweet…
Downstairs when you look up you see the underside of the floorboards. The huge beam holding up the roof (or floor depending on which side of it you’re on) used to the mast of an old ship which sank off the coast of Paros.
I love the old house with its old flaking walls and timber that’s almost more paint than timber now.
z

i am greek therefore i dance

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I remember the last time I came to Greece. It was three years ago. It had been eight years since I’d been on Paros. Or in Greece at all.

I remember that it didn’t take long till my greek had come back to me. By the time I’d left here I was prattling on in greek like it was my first language.

… which it is actually.

I was born in Athens and spoke greek before we immigrated to Australia. Mom likes to say I started talking before I was one year old and haven’t stopped since.

So technically, greek is my first language. However, all my formative years were spent in Australia and all my schooling was in english so, in reality, english is my first language. I think, read and write in english, not greek. To me that means english is my real first language.

I don’t speak greek at all in Tasmania but a couple of days into the trip and I’m already starting to not only speak like a local, but to have the inflections and expressions as well.

Funny isn’t it?

I still find it hard to read some things in greek. For some reason the written greek word is so much more formal than the spoken one. Its almost like a different language to me.

Oh and I absolutely cannot understand the news programs. That IS greek to me.

Yesterday I went to the beach just down from the house on Paros, found an umbrella and sat in the shade. I still managed to toast myself though, cause I spent ages in the water. I was even a little cold outside the water so I had to expose myself to some rays to dry off and warm up…

That’s one of the bad things about becoming old. You feel the need to wear a one piece bathing suit. Or others feel the need for you to wear a one piece bathing suit. Whatever. The result is that you’re encased in this elastic double layered tube- cause of course you get the slimming bathers which have that ‘tummy flattening’ inner lining which makes them impossible to get into.. especially when you’re sweaty. Its like trying to draw a drinking straw over a sausage…

Only to discover that ‘tummy flattening’ can only go so far…

But I digress… I was saying that one of the bad things about wearing a one piece bathing suit is that they’re so much harder to dry. After I’ve been in the water twice my towel is so wet I may as well dry myself with sea water.

There was a time when I wore a a postage stamp sized bathing suit which dried in seconds. Now I find I need time in the sun or I get cold before the bathing suit dries. The only solution is to sit in the sun or get back in the water.

I find myself wanting a bikini again.

Oh boy.

Anyway, I was saying that I’d spent about 4 hours on the beach, mostly in the shade and in the water, and I’m already a nice crispy pink. Today I’m avoiding the sun and will go down to the beach around 7pm. I figure the sun won’t be biting so hard by then!

Last night my uncle Giorgo, aunty Flora, aunty Marouso and mom took me with them to Aliki (a small town down the road from here) to see some dance demonstrations. They’ve got a lot of cultural events happening on Paros this year and this was the last day of a 3 day festival in Aliki.

We watched some traditional greek dance clubs strut their stuff on stage. Some were good. One made me want to sleep. Another made me want to slit my wrists.

But 3 out of 5 ain’t bad, as Meatloaf says.

The best in my opinion, were the troup from Santorini who danced the island dances I grew up with and a troup from Pontos. Naturally I forgot my camera but I have some links I found on YouTube which show what I mean.

This is balos, the traditional dance of the Cyclades islands where my parents come from. I grew up watching my family dance this and listening to this music.

http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/OvM-SwMiurk&source=uds

It explains why I love country music so much – its the fiddle! It took me years to figure that one out. D’uh.

It probably also explains my love of rock’n’roll dancing. The rock’n’roll moves the young couple in front is doing are not part of the traditional dance, but the spinning around eachother – that gorgeous mating ritual type of dance – is what I’ve always loved about balos.

The other group I loved was the dancers from Pontos. I’d never seen that before. It was great fun to watch though I did think it looked like a cross between Riverdance and the haka.

Judge for yourselves. You really should see the guys doing the shoulder/foot stomping bit from the front to get the haka effect.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL6RkNN5ZI0

Sorry, can’t embed that one for some reason…

There was also a troup which dressed in the traditional costume most people associate with Greece – the white skirted men with pom poms on their shoes.

What does it say about me that I found a couple of those guys particularly sexy?

Meanwhile I found this photo from 1913. Great photo.

The greeks weren’t the only men who wore skirts. In fact the Scottish still do. But there was something about that full white skirt on slim hips and those white wool tights on a guy with nice legs which just did it for me.

Enjoy the dances anyway!

z

raiding mom’s drawers

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While in Athens I’d gone through drawers, boxes and suitcases. Its been a long time since I lived in our home in Athens and there’s been a lot of movement in that house. My brother and his family lived there a while, then Peter moved back in with mom… you can imagine. Things have been moved, gone through, packed, moved again, sorted and thrown out. 
I’m lucky to find any goodies at all. However I did manage to find some things I’ve wanted for a long time. Like dad’s slide collection. Sure, I have some photos of my childhood on paper, but most of the photos dad took were on slide. I’m taking the slides back to Australia with me.
Hello excess baggage fees…
I’m also taking one of the projectors though I found two. One is a single slide projector and I’m torn over whether to take that or not. The other is a carousel. Both are light and I’m not even sure they’d survive the delicate handling of our airline baggage handlers, but I want at least one. If it doesn’t work I’m not overly concerned. I know a man in Hobart who can fix anything.
One aunt has given me 3 koureloudles (rag rugs) we bought when I went to Egypt with her many years ago. I’d shipped mine to Australia in a chest which was unfortunately put in a container shipping olive oil. One broken bottle and my books and koureloudes transformed into oil sponges. I love the smell of oil oil on a salad, but on rag rugs not so much.
My aunt never used hers so she’s given me hers to replace the ones I lost to the great oil disaster of 1989.
I found tons of old photos. Obviously my brother’s gone through them and taken some he wanted for himself (first come first served) but lucky for me there’s tons he didn’t want. Like the ones of the entire family who came to see us off when we left Greece to immigrate to Australia in 1962. Petro wasn’t born yet then. I plan to enlarge one of those as they’re so tiny I would need a microcope to see the faces.
There’s tons from the 70s too of course and all in between as well. Better make room for more stuff…
While rummaging I found my old baptism dress and shoes. Antiques! And mom’s old sewing basket. Here are a few of the things from that, buttons on their cards…
I have this idea to make a display which will include some of these old sewing items and a photo of my grandmother. Now if I can find one of my grandfather’s net mending needles I’ll be set. I can make one for him as well. I have a great photo of the two of them from the 60s. My mom’s father was a fisherman and in the old days the women made the nets and the men would mend them when they ripped. Grandpa was always mending nets.
Moms’ old pinking shears were still in their box and there were needles in their original packaging.
 
 
Mom said she’d forgotten she had that stuff cause she no longer sews.
I found some old cookbooks… I can’t wait to read about new ways with food. I’ve seen some very old ‘exciting new’ recipes which looked oh so appetizing. And check out the 15 Ways to Get Your Man With Rice… mmm!
 
I even found the manual for the Kenwood mixer I took when I left home!
Note the old kourelou (rag rag) background!
I really do enjoy going through old things!
This morning I went into Parikia early in the morning and walked around before the shops opened. I’m a bit sunburned from my first day on the beach so I was in desperate need of sunscreen and after sun lotion. Plus my eyes are itchy already. I’m allergic to Paros… Soon as I went to the beach I started itching. This happened last time I was here and it turned into conjunctivitis. Hopefully I can avoid that this time. I got some drops from the chemist and bought a cheap pair of sunglasses – 400 UV whatever that means, darker than my prescription sunnies. Hopefully that’ll help. I can’t wear my presciption sunnies and read on the beach so I have to take them off, with these I’ll be able to have them on all the time.
I’ll be like one of the old women on the beach – swimming in my hat and sunglasses…
Oh how the mighty have grown old…
So I’m not on the beach now. I will go later when the sun’s not so strong. 
z


on the way to paros

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This morning we got up early to take the ferry to Paros. Not early enough though, judging by how full the ferry is. I left mom on the dock to line up for the car and fought my way up the stairs to find seats. We never buy allocated seats (or airplane seats as they’re known) cause we prefer to have the freedom to choose where we’d like to sit in the lounge areas or outside on deck.
All very well if you have a choice. Most of the time the ferries are so full you either have to camp on board over night to get a good spot, or get here really early. We didn’t get here early enough. All table seating was taken but I found us a spot sharing a large table with a family. Cool.
I gotta say though, driving to Pireaus with mom this morning was a real eye opener. I mean that literally. I was still half asleep, but mom’s driving had me wide awake in seconds!
The roads were empty at 6.30am on a Sunday so mom was speeding down narrow streets with cars parked on either side, then zooming down the major roads, pointing out the sights as we went. Taking a hand and her eyes off the road and the brake lights of the taxi ahead of us!
Its bad enough that here in Greece the lines on the road are more a suggestion than lane indicators, there’s mom, driving along at 100 kpm looking left and right as she points out this and that, two wheels in one lane and two in another.
I mean, why commit yourself to one lane?
But we made it. The ferry’s set sail for Paros, Naxos, Ios, Santorini. I have my Kindle, I have my netbook which is about to die on me cause I didn’t charge it, I’m about to go get a coffee. 
All is good in the world.

z