April 2024
We just made our fourth visit to Andros, just about a year since the last one and two and half years since we first stepped foot on this special island. This time, upon leaving Paleopolis, the Periptero kafenio’s owner Margarita, referred to the village as ‘your village too, now’….now that we had started working on the land, she meant. This is a real milestone, being seen by a local as being local. This was also the first time we stayed right in Paleopolis, and it won’t be the last, as it makes such a difference not only being convenient, but it also allowed us to begin to feel the rhythm of the land, hear the (great many) birds, the village animals, the church bells, as well as the occasional truck (the birds are far louder!).
Several mornings we sat at the kafenio for coffee and each time we met different people. For example, Rita’s daughter, Effie, and her husband Panayioti who also happened to be the island’s archaeologist or, as he described himself, the caretaker of all the archaeological sites on the island. No fewer than 60 of them, although that includes all pre-1950’s churches. I asked him how he protects all these many sites, scattered as they are all over the island, but he was coy about this; I imagine he wasn’t about to give away his trade secrets. Effie and Panayioti have three sons, including a pair of twins, all just a bit younger than our three. We met one of the twins (or perhaps both of the twins, depending how identical they are) on the days we ordered food, when their grandmother called them over to serve the fully laden food tray. Only one thing was on the menu, the fourtalia, Andros’s traditional chips, egg, sausage and cheese dish, and it was delicious.
One morning at the kafenio, we met a Dutch Columbian Greek fellow, Alexandros, who’d been holidaying on the island since he was 14 years old, since a couple of years ago renting a village house just above the kafenio full time. He was quite impressed we’d purchased land in the village and were going to build, telling us how rare it was for non-locals to buy in and move in; the locals are not exactly particularly keen to sell, and seemingly only advertise properties for sale to show that they are indeed owners of land. He said there are maybe a handful of property owners in the village who have no pre-existing roots on the island and just happened upon it. He was quite interested how we came to find it, a story that is in fact very simple to tell: close to Athens (we like both the city and the access to the rest of Greece and Europe), green and hilly, nice beaches, nice towns representing a variety of styles, albeit not as quaint as on Tinos for example. Nice assortment of villages, including the practical port town, Gavrio; the upscale arhontiko town, Hora; the summer beach town, Batsi; and the end of road town, Korthi. It’s quiet and peaceful, yet made lively with local events and with a solid three month summer high season, which we haven’t even seen and look forward to. This is more or less what we said, with fewer words in half Greek and haf English, and he seemed satisfied. As we also are, increasingly each time we visit.
Walking past the kafenio another morning, we were waved over by Mr Marijana Ballcap, a gregarious village elder who insisted treating us to a tsipouro. The secret to a long healthy life is tsipouro before noon, preferably three shots. The others sitting around agreed, and in fact we heard this from a couple others over the next few days, so clearly it is a well-established fact. We couldn’t resist asking after his ballcap, which boasted a 6” heavily embroidered bright green leaf on its crown; he said it was a gift from his son who had been going to school in Amsterdam (obviously lol). This is the second statement ballcap we saw in Paleopolis, the first being Mr Trump Fan, the retired gentleman pizza joint owner from Philly.
We met the neighbour of our holiday rental, another Dimitri, with whom we had a couple of chats, as he had lived a few years in England and was happy enough to chat with us in English. He pointed out the meaning of my name, starting with the ‘euf’ prefix, which always means ‘’good’. Such an obvious linguistic term, once he mentioned it; ‘ef-thimio’ (souvenir, or good memory; ef-tihos, or good-luck; ef-keria, or good chance; etc.). Then the root itself comes from ‘merriment’ or ‘rejoicing’…so, ‘good rejoicing’, from the ancient Greek xαρμοσύνι. Now, this is very nice, isn’t it? I should try to channel the feeling….
We began and ended the week’s stay with local religious celebrations, the first Saturday being the Γιορτί of the islands’ protector, Παναγία Θεοσκέπαστη, the Panayia who watches over not only Andriots, but all sailors generally as well. A very literal translation, the church carries this name because of its founding story, which begins with the washing ashore of an ancient icon of the Virgin Mary, an artifact that still takes pride of place in the church, and which was paraded around the village that night. Having safely washed ashore in a fierce storm sometime in the 17th century, the locals took this is a sign that she had come especially to protect them, particularly on violent seas, of not trivial significance for an island of seafarers. The islanders duly began to construct a church in her honour, slowly as time and funds allowed. Finally, they stalled, with no financial means to complete the roof overhead. What luck, another fierce storm struck, this time washing ashore a shipload of logs after the vessel sank. Interestingly, the Andriots’ seafaring luck was others’ bad luck, and while it does seem a bit unkind, the story did not dwell on that aspect. More good luck followed, as the island grew in riches, and the thankfulness continued, as I’ve never seen a church so heavily adorned with rich decorations, not remotely humble as most churches in fact are in Greece.
The Παναγία Θεοσκέπαστη celebrations involved some 50 torch bearers, mostly women dressed in white blouses and navy pants, followed by dozens of children who carried more modest (and safer) candle-lit lanterns, and then quite a number of women of all ages dressed in beautiful cream and gold period dresses. The procession was led by the senior marching band (the Philharmonic Orchestra of Andros, no less) made up of adults of all ages (some definitely seniors) wearing very grand uniforms, and included several competent adults carrying fire extinguishers (safety first) and the Virgin Mary’s icon accompanied by church leaders, and finally was tailed by the junior marching band of students in equally fine uniforms. As the parade passed, all of us followed in their step, and this meant hundreds of people. Again, it felt like homecoming week, all the locals joined by weekenders from the mainland, home for the Γιορτί and connection with homeland and friends. The restaurants, oddly empty, were nonetheless all booked up, for the after-procession feasting. This all took hours, ending with traditional dance troupes in front of the church, which we missed not realizing this was yet to come.
We’ve heard about the Andriots’ seafaring tradition, and of their still-today dominance in the shipping industry, but it goes back much further than this. This time we heard from Mr Triantaphyllou the archaeologist that Paleopolis was formed by the purposeful political union of Zagora and Ypsili, which led to its increased strength which enabled it to become not only a cross-roads of the Aegean, but also to sail to Halkidiki, settling that part of the northern mainland. Clearly there are a lot more of the history puzzle pieces to come, but its history is evidenced back to Neolithic times (including Strofila site), through Roman, Byzantine and Venetian eras, to the recent peaking of the ship builders. It’s fascinating to learn a bit more each time we come.
The trip was booked-ended by St Lazarus day, which happened to be on our last day and we only knew of it because Rita served us Lazarus buns with our coffee. This has to be one of my favourite religious treats, as they are little sweet buns shaped in the form of a shrouded man, to celebrate the miracle of Lazarus’ resurrection by Jesus after four days dead. Such a quirky symbol, a cute little dead man who looks like a swaddled baby; well, I guess that in itself is a symbol of the circle of life.
Speaking of Mr. Triantafyllou, that was the main event the week we were there, as he had just arrived to begin two weeks archaeological excavation on our property. Of course, two weeks actually will be about three, as it will first be interrupted by national strike day on 1st May, and then Easter week. In any case, they had achieved a great deal by Saturday, exposing several meters of curved wall dating back to about 400 BC. This is fascinating, but also potentially extremely inconvenient as there is a very real risk it means shifting the design of the house, sigh. Editors note: We heard today that the annual ‘strike’ day of 1st May is being shifted this year as it happens to fall on Holy Wednesday. There you go, the excavations will be delayed still further. We continue to adopt a ‘manana’ attitude, one can only survive this process by being zen. Zen is particularly necessary in the matter of the federal authority’s approval of the setbacks associated with the hydrological assessment of the stream running alongside the property. It is completely unfathomable how this stream, at the bottom of a gorge no less, could possibly ever flood. Are memories so robust that the hydrology engineer embodies a genetic memory of the debris flows that wiped out the town in classical times? That stream is lucky to dribble water into June, increasingly drier with climate change, sadly. The authorities attention to building permits is sadly misemphasized; perhaps their efforts would be better placed to curb the rampant degradation of the entire island of Paros. God forbit Andros ever goes down this road.
