A butterfly at our Crete Villa
Sunset from Gerolakos
Cicada songster
Maria's garden
Lefteris our hostMonday, July 27, 2009
More Images of Creta
A butterfly at our Crete Villa Sunset from GerolakosCicada songster
Maria's garden Lefteris our host
Gerolakos Villas - Creta
Gerolakos means old hole or valley in Greek. I asked our host Lefteris why the villas were called “old hole”. He is a very thoughtful man and when asked a question he takes his time to answer it. He runs the family business and in the year 2000 he built the villas on the land and began renting to tourists. They were constructed in an authentic style of the stone houses of the area with the exception of modern electrical works and air conditioning. Lefteris laments that the houses have too much that is not authentic. Gerolakos was in his mother’s family for many generations before his father inherited the land with the marriage to his mother Maria.
It’s the middle of the afternoon and Lefteris has come by to bring us some tomatoes and cucumber from his mother’s garden. We drink a glass of raki, a local liquor made with grapes. The hum of cicada can be heard outside. I ask him if I can take his picture and he poses for me in the exact same way for each of the three pictures I take. There’s a big warm smile in each.
There are many Archeological sites in Crete as the human habitation here is thousands of years old. The Minoans are thought to have lived here as far back as 6900 BC. In 2000 BC the great temple of Knossos was built. The Mycenaean’s from mainland Athens came to Crete and overwhelmed the ancient Minoans after a major volcanic eruption occurred about 1400 BC on the island of Thera (Santorini). It was believed that a tsunami engulfed Crete as a result and destroyed the navy vessels that protected Crete and the surrounding islands from invaders. Seizing the opportunity the mainlanders took over. During the Classical and Hellenistic periods the island grew in population and it was here the origin of Greek mythology began with Zeus, King Minos, Minotaur and a host of others. It also became a combative city state and a haven for pirates. In 69 BC Crete was conquered by the Romans. As part of the Byzantine Empire Christianity spread however it fell into the hands of Iberian Muslims in 824 AD but taken back by the Byzantines in 960 AD and held until 1204 when the Venetians took over for the next 400 years. The Renaissance culture flourished under the Venetians and produced artists and writers most notably the painter El Greco. In 1718 Crete came under the control of the Ottoman Turks for the next 2 centuries. Hostilities festered between Christians and Muslims and Crete was the focus of an intense rebellion during the Greek War of Independence in 1821. While Greece retained its independence Crete did not and it remained under Turkish and at times Egyptian rule. It was not until after WWI and the Treaty of Lausanne in 1923 that Crete became part of Greece. Unfortunately independence from a hostile foreign state was once again to befall the Cretans who valiantly fought against a German invasion in 1941 only to lose. The first encounter the Germans had with a hostile local population the Nazi’s underestimated the fight to take the island and sustained heavy casualties. In response a heavy toll was excised upon the civilian population with mass genocide committed by the Germans. Cretan resistance fighters continued the struggle throughout the occupation.
Leftaris considered my question and said this was always the name of the land because it was shaped like a hole before the olive trees were planted by his father. How long has your family lived in Crete I asked. I don’t know he said but it has been a very long time. Crete in many ways is a series of old valleys replete with rich history and a resilient people.
It’s the middle of the afternoon and Lefteris has come by to bring us some tomatoes and cucumber from his mother’s garden. We drink a glass of raki, a local liquor made with grapes. The hum of cicada can be heard outside. I ask him if I can take his picture and he poses for me in the exact same way for each of the three pictures I take. There’s a big warm smile in each.
There are many Archeological sites in Crete as the human habitation here is thousands of years old. The Minoans are thought to have lived here as far back as 6900 BC. In 2000 BC the great temple of Knossos was built. The Mycenaean’s from mainland Athens came to Crete and overwhelmed the ancient Minoans after a major volcanic eruption occurred about 1400 BC on the island of Thera (Santorini). It was believed that a tsunami engulfed Crete as a result and destroyed the navy vessels that protected Crete and the surrounding islands from invaders. Seizing the opportunity the mainlanders took over. During the Classical and Hellenistic periods the island grew in population and it was here the origin of Greek mythology began with Zeus, King Minos, Minotaur and a host of others. It also became a combative city state and a haven for pirates. In 69 BC Crete was conquered by the Romans. As part of the Byzantine Empire Christianity spread however it fell into the hands of Iberian Muslims in 824 AD but taken back by the Byzantines in 960 AD and held until 1204 when the Venetians took over for the next 400 years. The Renaissance culture flourished under the Venetians and produced artists and writers most notably the painter El Greco. In 1718 Crete came under the control of the Ottoman Turks for the next 2 centuries. Hostilities festered between Christians and Muslims and Crete was the focus of an intense rebellion during the Greek War of Independence in 1821. While Greece retained its independence Crete did not and it remained under Turkish and at times Egyptian rule. It was not until after WWI and the Treaty of Lausanne in 1923 that Crete became part of Greece. Unfortunately independence from a hostile foreign state was once again to befall the Cretans who valiantly fought against a German invasion in 1941 only to lose. The first encounter the Germans had with a hostile local population the Nazi’s underestimated the fight to take the island and sustained heavy casualties. In response a heavy toll was excised upon the civilian population with mass genocide committed by the Germans. Cretan resistance fighters continued the struggle throughout the occupation.
Leftaris considered my question and said this was always the name of the land because it was shaped like a hole before the olive trees were planted by his father. How long has your family lived in Crete I asked. I don’t know he said but it has been a very long time. Crete in many ways is a series of old valleys replete with rich history and a resilient people.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Creta images
The Minoan Palace of Knosses in Crete
The ruins have reconstructed the site to show what the original looked like 4,000 years ago
Nick drew this for the guestbook at Gerokolas Villas
Yannis' Supermarket
Yannis and ScottWe don’t work like this…
Olive orchards are everywhere on Crete; row upon row stretch as far as the eye can see. We have been using cut olive branches for the BBQ. In fact when I first asked Yannis, our local supermarket owner for charcoal not only did he not carry it he didn’t know what it was. The olive tree is a hard wood and when dry is perfect for cooking so why buy charcoal.
We take our little Hyundai (the cheapest car the rental company offered) throw it in reverse and then first gear for the dirt drive out of our villas at Gerolakos to the automatic steel gate reminiscent of Israel. It slowly slides open as I hold the car in first ready to move on to the gravel road. I need a running start with this car to be able to navigate the slope up and then down to the main road. Turning right we pass more olive groves, a backhoe stuck in what appears to be a permanent position on the side of the road and then several goats who wonder around eating everything in sight. The goats seem to know about Greek drivers and do not venture past the shoulder.
A couple hundred meters down the road is where Yannis’ supermarket is among a couple of Tavernas and a few other shops. Stavaremos is about 10 kilometers from the nearest tourist center and consequently the stores are more for the locals here. It seems everywhere we go in Greece, whether it’s in Athens, Hydra or Crete stores are always open so I asked Yannis what his hours were and he said he opens at 730 in the morning and closes at 1030 at night. Work is a way of life for the store owners. Family and friends come and go, some stay to talk or watch TV or play cards or help at the store. Yannis is about 30 years old and is single. He works the entire 15 hour day six or seven days a week depending on how busy it is. His brother, also Nick, or father or mother or sister spots him for an occasional day off. He closes the store only four days of the year.
The supermarket in Greece is not necessarily very big. The definition does not seem to be about size but rather variety. Yannis’ store is about 1500 square feet and offers local fruit and vegetables and has a butcher shop among other grocery and household goods. Yannis’ father is bringing down the meat cleaver on half a carcass slicing off loin chops. Is that lamb I say? No Yannis says its pork. I’ll take four chops and he disappears for awhile to reemerge with the chops wrapped up in paper. The place is packed with all kinds of people talking in Greek, passionately, waving their arms…its common. In fact I don’t think they talk in any other way. I circumvent the store looking for things to eat. Ah…frozen chips. They don’t call them French fries and they are everywhere, believe me when I say that the one thing that is constant in this world we have traveled is the multitude of places that offer chips. They even stick them inside the pita with Gyros here. This is a very fortunate occurrence because chips are an essential part, no, the staple of Nick’s diet. Pork chops and chips…ok we got dinner. Top it off with a bottle of Coca Cola and it’s a complete meal. The Coca Cola is by the way made with cane sugar not corn syrup and it makes a difference. When Nick eats his meat and chips, I have been eating barbequed tomatoes, onions and peppers with meat, some feta cheese and of course washing it all down with Coca Cola.
Nick went to the store the other day and Yannis told him that he had a very nice dad. Later Nick said that he learned from watching me interact with people that I was to him kind of goofy (which he didn’t particularly want to emulate) but that my demeanor invited people to be friendly and open; that I didn’t care so much about being cool as much as being inviting. It does not get much better than that.
When I first came into the store Yannis thought I was Greek…ok so now Nick and I are both Greek. I am not sure what constitutes a Greek look but maybe it has something to do with fitting into the pace and rhythm of this place. The heat, the deep blue sky and ocean and the olive trees brimming in the sound of cicada seem to all work together in casting a spell, a spell that puts me somewhere between relaxed and not wanting to do anything at all.
We take our little Hyundai (the cheapest car the rental company offered) throw it in reverse and then first gear for the dirt drive out of our villas at Gerolakos to the automatic steel gate reminiscent of Israel. It slowly slides open as I hold the car in first ready to move on to the gravel road. I need a running start with this car to be able to navigate the slope up and then down to the main road. Turning right we pass more olive groves, a backhoe stuck in what appears to be a permanent position on the side of the road and then several goats who wonder around eating everything in sight. The goats seem to know about Greek drivers and do not venture past the shoulder.
A couple hundred meters down the road is where Yannis’ supermarket is among a couple of Tavernas and a few other shops. Stavaremos is about 10 kilometers from the nearest tourist center and consequently the stores are more for the locals here. It seems everywhere we go in Greece, whether it’s in Athens, Hydra or Crete stores are always open so I asked Yannis what his hours were and he said he opens at 730 in the morning and closes at 1030 at night. Work is a way of life for the store owners. Family and friends come and go, some stay to talk or watch TV or play cards or help at the store. Yannis is about 30 years old and is single. He works the entire 15 hour day six or seven days a week depending on how busy it is. His brother, also Nick, or father or mother or sister spots him for an occasional day off. He closes the store only four days of the year.
The supermarket in Greece is not necessarily very big. The definition does not seem to be about size but rather variety. Yannis’ store is about 1500 square feet and offers local fruit and vegetables and has a butcher shop among other grocery and household goods. Yannis’ father is bringing down the meat cleaver on half a carcass slicing off loin chops. Is that lamb I say? No Yannis says its pork. I’ll take four chops and he disappears for awhile to reemerge with the chops wrapped up in paper. The place is packed with all kinds of people talking in Greek, passionately, waving their arms…its common. In fact I don’t think they talk in any other way. I circumvent the store looking for things to eat. Ah…frozen chips. They don’t call them French fries and they are everywhere, believe me when I say that the one thing that is constant in this world we have traveled is the multitude of places that offer chips. They even stick them inside the pita with Gyros here. This is a very fortunate occurrence because chips are an essential part, no, the staple of Nick’s diet. Pork chops and chips…ok we got dinner. Top it off with a bottle of Coca Cola and it’s a complete meal. The Coca Cola is by the way made with cane sugar not corn syrup and it makes a difference. When Nick eats his meat and chips, I have been eating barbequed tomatoes, onions and peppers with meat, some feta cheese and of course washing it all down with Coca Cola.
Nick went to the store the other day and Yannis told him that he had a very nice dad. Later Nick said that he learned from watching me interact with people that I was to him kind of goofy (which he didn’t particularly want to emulate) but that my demeanor invited people to be friendly and open; that I didn’t care so much about being cool as much as being inviting. It does not get much better than that.
When I first came into the store Yannis thought I was Greek…ok so now Nick and I are both Greek. I am not sure what constitutes a Greek look but maybe it has something to do with fitting into the pace and rhythm of this place. The heat, the deep blue sky and ocean and the olive trees brimming in the sound of cicada seem to all work together in casting a spell, a spell that puts me somewhere between relaxed and not wanting to do anything at all.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Singing Cicada and Watermelons with Seeds
After the highly socialized environment of Hydra where cafes and shops stay open from early morning to midnight every day, we came to the very rural town of Stavromenos near Rethimnon on the island of Crete. Crete is the largest of the Greek Islands and its size makes it hard to understand the core for me. Heraklion is a large city and Stavremos is a rural village. One thing is for sure there are many creatures that live here.
During the day and night the Cicada cricket makes its shrill song so loud that it’s hard to hear anything else but not impossible. The occasion of a bird twitter or an owl hoot will rise above the Cicada song. The heat here is strong and the ocean deep blue from our little country bungalow. We are surrounded by olive orchard and an array of desert plants and flowers. The house is made with stone and mortar vintage 1800’s similar to the construction in Hydra. It has a timber roof structure and knotty pine ceiling. With electrical outlets and switches buried in the walls I suspect that it might have been built much more recent than the vintage look.
Our host is Lefteris Plutinakis who is probably in his mid thirties of slight build and light complexion. His family owns the farm where we are staying. Advertised as Agra Tourism if you come at the right time they put you to work picking olives or making cheese. “We have no milk to make cheese” said Lefteris. “You can try olive oil…here, and let’s drink to your arrival with this liqueur we make…here” and pours three shot glasses. “If you need anything I go away for two days. My mother she will care but she no speak English very good.”
A watermelon overwhelms a straw basket on the kitchen table. Lefteris runs out to get a business card which depicts the location of the villas to the local taverna and “supermarket”. We arrived via taxi ride prearranged by Lefteris with a local taxi driver. Elias and his brother Michalidas are blue eyed and also light complexioned. They grew in Stavromenos. They each work 12 hour shifts, Elias from 4 PM to 4 AM and Michalidas from 4 AM to 4 PM. It’s a good thing because driving in Creta is even crazier than Israel. A two lane highway is used like a four lane highway with the shoulder for slow traffic and the center divider for passing. We arrived at the villas at midnight having a little trouble hooking up with Elias at the port. Our boat, a kind of floating shopping mall called Superfast arrived in Heraklion at 10 PM.
The villa comes equipped with a swimming pool, more like a large hot tub. I jumped in to the warm water and noticed a couple of bugs floating on top and a frog leaped out. Nick found a lot more including a suicidal Cicada and I got out and came inside where I cut open the watermelon and found that it had seeds like the watermelons of old. It was very sweet but you had to take your time at eating it.
During the day and night the Cicada cricket makes its shrill song so loud that it’s hard to hear anything else but not impossible. The occasion of a bird twitter or an owl hoot will rise above the Cicada song. The heat here is strong and the ocean deep blue from our little country bungalow. We are surrounded by olive orchard and an array of desert plants and flowers. The house is made with stone and mortar vintage 1800’s similar to the construction in Hydra. It has a timber roof structure and knotty pine ceiling. With electrical outlets and switches buried in the walls I suspect that it might have been built much more recent than the vintage look.
Our host is Lefteris Plutinakis who is probably in his mid thirties of slight build and light complexion. His family owns the farm where we are staying. Advertised as Agra Tourism if you come at the right time they put you to work picking olives or making cheese. “We have no milk to make cheese” said Lefteris. “You can try olive oil…here, and let’s drink to your arrival with this liqueur we make…here” and pours three shot glasses. “If you need anything I go away for two days. My mother she will care but she no speak English very good.”
A watermelon overwhelms a straw basket on the kitchen table. Lefteris runs out to get a business card which depicts the location of the villas to the local taverna and “supermarket”. We arrived via taxi ride prearranged by Lefteris with a local taxi driver. Elias and his brother Michalidas are blue eyed and also light complexioned. They grew in Stavromenos. They each work 12 hour shifts, Elias from 4 PM to 4 AM and Michalidas from 4 AM to 4 PM. It’s a good thing because driving in Creta is even crazier than Israel. A two lane highway is used like a four lane highway with the shoulder for slow traffic and the center divider for passing. We arrived at the villas at midnight having a little trouble hooking up with Elias at the port. Our boat, a kind of floating shopping mall called Superfast arrived in Heraklion at 10 PM.
The villa comes equipped with a swimming pool, more like a large hot tub. I jumped in to the warm water and noticed a couple of bugs floating on top and a frog leaped out. Nick found a lot more including a suicidal Cicada and I got out and came inside where I cut open the watermelon and found that it had seeds like the watermelons of old. It was very sweet but you had to take your time at eating it.
Ein Hod Part 2
We were late because it took so long for us to make the stained glass. Hagai and Vik were going to show us around Haifa but as it turned out Vik’s mom was coming by train to visit and they had to pick her up so our time was limited to less than two hours. We had spent the previous evening at the Ein Hod Café where Hagai was waiting tables and Vik, Nick and I had dinner. It was Indian food night at the café and Hagai had prepared a good portion of it. Hagai is one of those people with a high level of energy and efficiency in everything he does. Of the thousands of interviews and personnel hires I have made in my career there is a handful of people you just know intuitively will be a great worker. Hagai is one of those people. This afternoon we went to the restaurant next door to the café and over a spread of Middle Eastern foods, hummus, eggplant, grilled meats, rice, olives, pita, tomatoes and cucumber we picked up the conversation from where we left off the night before.
Joined by two of Vik’s friends late in the evening we were discussing the differences of life in Israel and in the United States. We sat outside in the courtyard where the hot day still lingered but a breeze made the night air cool. Cats and dogs wandered in and out looking for handouts or to lie on the cold tile floor of the café’s courtyard. The mosquitoes were out in force and cigarette smoke danced around our tables. This was without a doubt one of the most laid back settings we experienced in Israel and it was a great change of pace for us. We stayed late that night.
This afternoon the same dogs and cats were hanging out and flies swarmed the food as we sat outside in the shade. Nick looked a little disdained by the number of flies on his chicken but hunger pressed him ahead. Vik recalled growing up in Jerusalem, fearful every day of the threat of a terrorist bomb in the public market or on a bus or in a café. She moved downwind so her cigarette smoke would not blow on us. What were they going to do after graduation, Vik with her master’s in art and Hagai with his bachelor’s in photography? It’s been tough making things work with both of them going to school. The hope was that with their new degrees they could create opportunity to live without going into more debt. They are quickly finding the options are not there and they have little hope of being able to make things work in Israel. Hagai had a better opportunity before he went to school working as a DVD and CD distributor. Vik despite a very responsible job at a museum is not making enough to make ends meet. So they are considering moving out of the country, the UK or US maybe or New Zealand.
It would cost about $300,000 to buy a house in Ein Hod a cost way beyond Vik and Hagai’s foreseeable income. They would have to apply to the community and be accepted to live there even if they could afford it. They both feel their chances for success are better found elsewhere.
They were not the first to say to me that life is difficult in Israel. In fact I heard this quite often in my conversations with Israelis. It was in part explained to me that this is a new country that has grown and continues to grow quickly. Construction seems to be going on everywhere, from highway repairs to new public buildings and private housing developments. All of this seems to stretch the infrastructure and improve it at the same time. Like the US, Israel is constantly pressing the boundaries of success. It is not a laid back country. Even as a tourist you can’t help to see and feel it. In fact if anything it is a country on the edge of new technologies in high tech and bioscience. It could be said that the lack of opportunity for Vik and Hagai is equally common in the US for someone with a degree in art. But unlike the US, art as is life in Israel is also on the edge, underscored by unending fear and uncertainty of impending conflict.
Vik shared with us her Master’s project which is a multimedia art piece borne from her impressions and artistic interpretation of the Lebanon war in 2004. A very personal vision of soldiers with bags tied in a noose around their heads in the woods surrounded by innocent looking dogs, Vik recalled her fears of not knowing where Hagai was as he served in this campaign and amid public complaints regarding soldiers who had no idea what their commanders were planning or doing.
After Vik and Hagai left, Nick and I went out to dinner at Dona Rosa, definitely a non-kosher Argentinean restaurant and afterwards went back to the café to listen to a Spanish guitar player and singer who was joined by several other musicians and a woman singer in a jam session. We spent the next day touring the art galleries and the Dada Museum. For the moment we were taken away from the urgency of Israeli life.
Joined by two of Vik’s friends late in the evening we were discussing the differences of life in Israel and in the United States. We sat outside in the courtyard where the hot day still lingered but a breeze made the night air cool. Cats and dogs wandered in and out looking for handouts or to lie on the cold tile floor of the café’s courtyard. The mosquitoes were out in force and cigarette smoke danced around our tables. This was without a doubt one of the most laid back settings we experienced in Israel and it was a great change of pace for us. We stayed late that night.
This afternoon the same dogs and cats were hanging out and flies swarmed the food as we sat outside in the shade. Nick looked a little disdained by the number of flies on his chicken but hunger pressed him ahead. Vik recalled growing up in Jerusalem, fearful every day of the threat of a terrorist bomb in the public market or on a bus or in a café. She moved downwind so her cigarette smoke would not blow on us. What were they going to do after graduation, Vik with her master’s in art and Hagai with his bachelor’s in photography? It’s been tough making things work with both of them going to school. The hope was that with their new degrees they could create opportunity to live without going into more debt. They are quickly finding the options are not there and they have little hope of being able to make things work in Israel. Hagai had a better opportunity before he went to school working as a DVD and CD distributor. Vik despite a very responsible job at a museum is not making enough to make ends meet. So they are considering moving out of the country, the UK or US maybe or New Zealand.
It would cost about $300,000 to buy a house in Ein Hod a cost way beyond Vik and Hagai’s foreseeable income. They would have to apply to the community and be accepted to live there even if they could afford it. They both feel their chances for success are better found elsewhere.
They were not the first to say to me that life is difficult in Israel. In fact I heard this quite often in my conversations with Israelis. It was in part explained to me that this is a new country that has grown and continues to grow quickly. Construction seems to be going on everywhere, from highway repairs to new public buildings and private housing developments. All of this seems to stretch the infrastructure and improve it at the same time. Like the US, Israel is constantly pressing the boundaries of success. It is not a laid back country. Even as a tourist you can’t help to see and feel it. In fact if anything it is a country on the edge of new technologies in high tech and bioscience. It could be said that the lack of opportunity for Vik and Hagai is equally common in the US for someone with a degree in art. But unlike the US, art as is life in Israel is also on the edge, underscored by unending fear and uncertainty of impending conflict.
Vik shared with us her Master’s project which is a multimedia art piece borne from her impressions and artistic interpretation of the Lebanon war in 2004. A very personal vision of soldiers with bags tied in a noose around their heads in the woods surrounded by innocent looking dogs, Vik recalled her fears of not knowing where Hagai was as he served in this campaign and amid public complaints regarding soldiers who had no idea what their commanders were planning or doing.
After Vik and Hagai left, Nick and I went out to dinner at Dona Rosa, definitely a non-kosher Argentinean restaurant and afterwards went back to the café to listen to a Spanish guitar player and singer who was joined by several other musicians and a woman singer in a jam session. We spent the next day touring the art galleries and the Dada Museum. For the moment we were taken away from the urgency of Israeli life.
In Memory of Celia Ensler
My Dad with his older sister Celia in March 2009Celia passed away at the age of 97 last week
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