Nearly a year already

A year ago today, we spent our last day in London before flying to Canada for our trip across the country by train. (I blogged about it towards the end of last year in day-by-day style if you want to search or scroll to find the full story.) Hard to believe it’s a year already. In a few weeks, it will be one full year since I was last off the island. To be honest, I’m looking forward to having to go to Rhodes for my 1^st meeting about my biometric residency card, not because I want to travel until things are safer, but just to see some different scenery. The appointment is necessary, before you say anything, and all British residents have to do it, else lose their right to live in Greece. So far, from what I’ve heard, it’s all going reasonably well for us here on Symi, but people on other islands and in other parts of Greece are having a hell of a time since the B-word kicked in. I’m not due to go until the end of April, so restrictions may be different by then, and Rhodes may be safer than it currently is (which, compared to other parts of the world, is still incredibly safe), and, the way things are going with vaccinations, they may well have got to us under 60s by then too, which will help.

Meanwhile, talking of a change of scenery, here are some spring photos from around the island.

Lockdown Deep Red

(Not a new feature film starring Gerrard Butler, apparently.)

If you’re outside Greece, you may not have heard that Rhodes and surrounding islands that fall under its jurisdiction are now in the ‘deep red’ zone. This is because of the increase in cases nationally and, in the case of Rhodes, locally. This means Symi is also in the deep red zone, though there are yet to be any reported cases of you know what on the island. Schools have gone back to online learning. You can only venture two kilometres from your home for shopping or walking and must stay local. Masks are compulsory in the street and in the shops that are allowed to open. At least, that’s the theory. (It seems appropriate today to post some photos of gates and bars.)

Future walks in this clear, but sometimes chilly spring weather will have to be local, so no more wandering to the hinterland, and we will continue to be cautious when we are out for shopping or essentials like the bank and pharmacy. Sadly, not everyone is so good. The other day, I took a walk around the village lanes. I passed very few people at first, but after fifteen minutes of solitude among the ruins, taking paths to nowhere, I unexpectedly bumped into someone in that classic comedy film fashion. We met at a blind corner and took each other by surprise at close quarters, resulting in two exclamations of ‘Oh!’ followed by a shared laugh. Luckily we were both wearing masks over both nose and mouth; otherwise, we would have shared breath at less than two feet from each other. Later, coming down the main village lane past the shops, I saw several more people, none of whom showed any sign of wearing a mask, nor even carrying one.

Okay, so if you’re on the hillside or wandering an open road and there’s no-one about, maybe it’s acceptable to wear your mask beneath your nose, it’s hard to breathe otherwise, and if you wear glasses, it can be dangerous when your lenses steam up. But, in the street, with people coming in and out of the bakery, or in blind alleys when you don’t know who’s around the corner, and certainly inside the supermarkets, well, not wearing a mask there is just plain stupid. It’s certainly disrespectful. ‘But we have no cases on the island,’ some people complain. ‘As far as you know,’ I reply. ‘But we can’t go to Rhodes, so we’re not going to get it.’ Well, you can go to Rhodes with permission for medical reasons, and while you’re there, who’s to know if you pop to a large store or visit family? Huh. Not impressed by those who do. Also, through no-one’s fault, it’s possible the ‘thing’ can come ashore here via the innocent and necessary act of meeting supplies from the boat. A crew member who regularly meets people from Rhodes to Patmos and back could easily pass it on to someone here picking up supplies for their shop. You just don’t know. And let’s not talk about some of the hawkers who have, somehow, been allowed to travel between the islands to sell their wares – they are few and far between, but one is enough.

Anyway, I wasn’t here to be sceptical or moan, and I’m not moaning. I’m just pointing out that if others don’t care about themselves or you, the island’s future trade and tourism, and think every mask is contaminated with a microchip and every vaccine too, well, that’s up to them. It’s also up to the police to police it, and they have been doing that, I hear. By the way, what’s the point of saying there’s a chip in your vaccine when you’ve already got one in your invaluable phone far more powerful than anything you could pass through a syringe? Hey ho! On a positive note, the KEP office asks people over 60 to ring and confirm their details so they can get the first jab, hopefully, this month.

Water

Water is today’s theme for photos. It is not rainwater, but the sea, and here are some photos to show you how calm and clear the sea around Symi can be. It can also be rough, and there are days when you can see the breakers crashing onto the rocks of Nimos, and there are times when the sea floods the harbour. That’s usually when it’s a high tide, a full moon or when the drainage system has clogged up. On those days, you have to take a detour to get from one side of the harbour to the other via the backstreets. There are other days when the tide washes all manner of things up to the bridge, and you are compelled to hold your nose as you pass. On other, calmer days, though, and on most days, we have scenes of calm, where you can see through to the seabed, especially along the shoreline. So, a few shots follow to show you how clear the sea has been of late around Symi shores.

Early Spring on Symi

How about some spring flowers, fresh from Symi and delivered straight to your screen? Well, here you go. These are some of Neil’s photos, as you can tell by the artistic quality. I can also let you into a little secret. He’s started putting together images for next year’s Symi calendar. I know it’s early in the year, but if he doesn’t start now, he’ll end up with thousands to sort through later in the year, and the thing will never get done. Perhaps some of these images will appear on it. I’m sure, if you have any requests for what you’d like to see on next years’ calendar, you could drop him a line through the Symi Dream Facebook page.

Enjoy a view of early spring on Symi.

The countryside within minutes

I took a brief walk early on Monday morning, just down towards Pedi, as far as the football pitch and back again. The nice thing about this route is that I was in the ‘countryside’ within five minutes of leaving home. At least, that’s how it felt. It’s been a while since I smelt dung (lol), and there’s something strangely refreshing about it. It reminds me of being young on the Marsh, where you could often smell the fields from the edge of town. Muck spreading was a particularly fragrant time of year and a smell that still doesn’t bother me.

I came across a menagerie within minutes of leaving home…

Sotiris was opening up and feeding his ‘family’, as he called them. ‘How many have you got?’ I asked, but he only shrugged and laughed. These are the bin cats and others from along the lane, and as you can see, the supermarket is not only popular with shoppers.

Heading down the Pedi road, I branched off down the slope behind what was once Blooms, and within seconds, was treading over rocks on the semi-made road. There are smallholdings and fields, orchards and vegetable patches on either side, plenty of chickens to greet, and that countryside smell, although the road is only a few yards away. The air was fresh, though, and a few birds were rustling the trees, a few goats and sheep tied up or roaming in pens, and a sense of calm. The moon was setting, though the sun was not yet up, which is why the images are grey and dull.

Reaching the football pitch, I decided I’d had enough, a chapter was pressing on my mind, so I turned around and made the steady climb back up to the village via Campos. A simple, short walk of around 40 minutes ambling. Meanwhile, Neil had set off Climbing over rocky mountains (extra points for identifying the operetta that comes from) to Micro Sotiris and back, an eleven-mile hike that took him five and a half hours via the ridge and returning on the road. He (they, as he was with Clare) stopped for photos along the way, and there will be some of them in due course. Meanwhile, back to the desk.