More walks and photos

I felt cold on the balcony yesterday morning. Mind you, it was 4.00 a.m., and there was a wind blowing. The temperature was probably in the high 20s, but I had to put on a t-shirt. We were both out on the road before the dawn, which is happening around six o’clock these days. Neil has this routine of going down the Kali Strata and then back up the road, and then reversing the direction and doing the circuit again the other way, sometimes jogging down. That’s not for me. I did the steps the other morning, and my knee was painful for the rest of the day. When I do three miles up the road and down, which is all slope and not steps, it’s fine. So I will give the ‘Kali’ a rest of a while unless I have to use it.

We are preparing the house for the family visit which starts on Thursday. This has involved removing a bed which isn’t ours from the spare bathroom where the ceiling paint has flaked and dusted off, hoovering the ceiling and floors, washing it down and putting the mattress outside to air while the frame goes up in the mousandra in pieces. We also need to buy three more pillows today; hopefully we can find them in town, otherwise, we’ll have to use cushions, and we don’t have many. Then we need to find another mosquito repellent machine, another fan (we just bought one from the Chinese shop, and on setting three, it’s so fast the thing reversed across the counter), and finding suitable sheets. It will all be done in time for when we meet the Sebeco from Rhodes on Thursday morning. If the blog goes ‘dark’ and I miss days, you will know why.

Meanwhile, the festival is well underway with dance shows and plays, music and talks. There are loads of visitors from Athens and elsewhere, our neighbours are back from France for their three or four weeks, and the island has become the holiday home to many from Italy and Greece, which is nice to see.

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Back from Rhodes

I’m back from Rhodes after my two-day visit for various things. I went over on the Sebeco, the ANES boat that now does several crossings a day. This trip takes about one-hour twenty and, from Symi, you land at the commercial harbour, the one between Kolona and Akandia. If you like, it’s the one where the cruise ships go. (See the photos, and yes, the boat does tend to rock a little when you go over the rough patch in the middle of the crossing. It’s like being on a very large speed boat.) From there it was an easy 20-minute walk around to Mandraki where I had booked a room at the Savoy hotel. It’s a simple place, basic, clean enough, could do with new locks on the doors, and I’d put it somewhere around a three-star. The staff were pleasant enough though looked rather bored, and their breakfast is adequate. It was also cheaper than my usual hotels and right in the heart of things if you have business in the new town.

I took care of my appointments and shopping before heading to Napoleon’s for a moussaka for dinner and then spent some time at the Plaza bar because it’s comfortable, cheap and friendly. On Friday, after a couple of appointments, there was time for a little more shopping, each bout of it followed by a return to the room to drop bags and have another cooling-off shower before heading out again. I finally collected my bags and wandered through Mandraki via the Symi Café to say hello to Irini and catch up on the news, and then wandered into the Old town for lunch. I stopped, again, at Nimmos, a taverna right next to Akandia gate and only 10 minutes’ walk to the Blue Star quay where I was to catch the ferry back. Nimmos Taverna is run by Aris who used to work at Aris taverna in Symi. He now works at his own taverna with his son and a few other cheerful staff, and as always, I was made welcome. I like pausing there because it breaks my walk to Akanida and the boat is not far from your table, so you don’t feel you have to rush, and there’s not so far to go after you’ve eaten. In the past, Aris has offered me a lift to the boat on his bike, but I declined as I don’t do motorbikes any more, and the walk helps digestion after a Caesar salad, or a carbonara.

Back on Symi, I was lucky enough to catch a lift up the hill. I wouldn’t have minded the walk up through Pitini (the most direct path to Horio) with my rucksack, by then heavy with purchases, but it was still in the high 30s and I wold have arrived looking like a drowned rat. Symi is currently hosting the summer festival with a large concert and a headline act last Thursday, other concerts both pop and classical, a play and talks and music this week, another concert last Saturday, and church festivals lined up through August too. There are banners posted around Yialos and Horio, and maybe elsewhere, telling you in Greek and English what is on, what time and, for a nice change, where. We used to rely on the Tannoy system to make the announcement during the day, but now you can see the venue in advance.

And so, back to the work routine for a couple of days, but after Wednesday things may be disrupted for a week as we have some family coming to stay, and I will meet my grandson for the first time. Very excited about that, but wishing the water tank hadn’t sprung another leak (don’t get me started). I am sure we can manage on 500 litres between six of us for a few days as long as we don’t shower for longer than two minutes each, and the drips from the leak are being caught in a bucket so I can use the water on the plants and not waste it. Hey ho, off we go!

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Sorry about this, but I feel I must

I was blathering on yesterday about my driving licence and suggested I would mention why I wanted to change it to a Greek one. Apart from the fact the old one was out of date, and I’ve lived in Greece for 17 years and should have done it ones ago, I want to make myself as securely rooted here as possible because of the great tragedy, circus, con, disaster, pointlessness, etc., of the B word. (Brexit, of course.) You know I am as against the thing as much as any other sane person and, as the horror has worsened, and the few have taken over control of the cuntry and basically bashed it around so much it’s unrecognisable to me as my birthplace, I have turned my back on it as much as I can. I know, some of you will scream ‘Traitor!’ and all that malakies, but actually, no. To see your country fall to right-wing, Conservative bigots with a personal and financial agenda who don’t care about their fellow citizens, and perticularly not about those of them who exercised their right (repeat, their right) to live abroad… Well, to me, that’s traitorous. Anyway, I’m wandering. What was I saying?

Ah, yes. As I sit here and read with horror what your PM is trying to do (i.e., con the unthinking classes into believing we’re involved in a total war, as WWII was, and conning the populace daft enough to fall for it, that what he is doing is the only good thing for the yUK, and all that), I’m over here, helpless. Stripped of my democratic right to a vote in the country of my birth because I exercised a legal right (what next? Stripped of my passport?), and soon to be stripped of my democratic right to vote for anything anywhere in the world, I naturally have to do everything I can to protect myself. That’s what this kind of populism does; it turns people in on themselves to the detriment of the wider world, which is why we see it rise, and so around goes the vicious circle. I have now done all I can do to protect myself after the unthinkable happens. Here, after another random photo, is what I have put in place.

Firstly, I am now civilly partnered with a European passport holder. This was done for reasons other than Brexshit, of course, but it seems to be the most solid of my preparations. I am married under a Greek law inspired by European fairness. I no longer rely on the Greek state for insurances, because I have private health insurance and pension. I pay my taxes in Greece (since 2003) as that is where I have my permanent address. It’s odd how many people assume that because I am British, I pay tax in that cuntry. Why should I? I say. I have not lived there for 17 years. Besides, I can’t pay yUK tax; I don’t have a yUK address. ‘Oh, well I use my parents’ address,’ say some. ‘Well that’s fine, you bend or cheat the system and do what’s convenient for you if that’s what you want to do,’ I reply. ‘For me, I believe I should pay tax in the country in which I live, whether that means paying more, or not knowing how to lessen the tax blow, having no allowances or whatever, and having to pay an accountant to do the returns for me. I also now have a private, early-retirement investment plan, the income from which is taxed here. I am contributing, and am happy to do so. There’s more…

I also hold a residency permit which I have had since 2003, although the current one is dated 2008 when the cards/rules changed and became open-ended. I am thus registered with the authorities as living in Greece since 2003, assuming the paperwork still exists in the bottom drawer of that rusty filing cabinet in the police station which is where I last saw my documents back in 2008. On top of that, I now have a European/Greek driving licence, and an affidavit sworn with the Rhodes notary stating my address which, on Symi, is a hard thing to prove, for me at least. The house contract and phone bill are in Neil’s name because it made sense for the business at the time, and the electricity and water bills are in the landlord’s name – or the name of his late sister to be precise. My mobile bills and bank accounts are in my name and with my address, which helps when proving my address. I can’t think of anything else I can organise to protect myself from the fallout of the hideous B word.

Will there be such a fallout? Who knows? The last Greek Government said we would be safe, but that came with the caveat that they would also do whatever the yUK did. So if Bulls**t Boris throws out all Greeks, Greece will probably throw out all British; that’s the bottom line. Many folks say ‘Of course that won’t happen,’ but the truth is, no-one knows, and that uncertainty ain’t doing no-one no good nowhere. And not helping my grammar either (wink), but it’s five in the morning, and I don’t care. A bit like my cuntry doesn’t seem to care about me and the millions like me, many of whom were denied a vote in the most important referendum of their existence. But I am rambling and boring you now. I just wanted to get this off my chest before I head off to Rhodes for a day and a night. I’ll be back on Monday, but I hope the above has given others in my position some idea of things to put in place to assist you should the crunch come and you have to prove your loyalty to Greece where you want to remain, as I do, for the rest of my life.

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Meanwhile, elsewhere

I’m not here. I am somewhere else and have left a couple of posts for you, though I shall be back by the time the Saturday one pops up. Let’s start yesterday, which is when I am writing this, early in the morning of course, because of the early night/early morning routine brought about by the warm weather. It was 36 in the courtyard yesterday at 4 pm, and not much cooler in the house, so the early mornings are the time to get up and get things done, which is how I like to work anyway. I am having a day off, no long walk, no writing, just a couple of blog posts and then a morning sitting around waiting for the boat and packing a few things into a bag ready for a night at the Savoy. Sadly, not as grand as it sounds, but still, a reasonably priced bed for the night, especially at this time of year here everywhere else in Rhodes new town worth its salt seems to be at least €90.00 or €100,00 plus.

I can’t remember if I told you, but I picked up my Greek driving license the other day. I put in the paperwork in March, and it’s probably been sitting in the KEP office for a couple of months, but I kept forgetting about it. I was surprised it came through at all. My old licence was a paper one (European remake, not the original big green thing), it had my ancient address in Brighton on it from 17 years ago. The name on it was the shortened version of my third name, the name my friends use, and a name that doesn’t appear on my birth certificate, which was needed as proof of who I am when changing the document. Actually, my birth cert does have that half-name on it, but then there’s a second cert with the name expanded to Tobias and no mention of the Toby. Trying to explain that to any kind of authority is a pain, which is why I go by the name that appears first on the thing, James, which is, after all, my real first name. So, with all that going on, the age of the existing document which, apparently, I should have sent back ears ago, and the fact that I don’t have an address as such… You know. I was surprised. But the ladies at the KEP office did a good job in understanding all that, and Lo! There came a plastic, Greek, European card with my photo and signature, and I am legally able to drive again.

What was interesting was that I am no longer allowed to drive long-wheel-based vehicles with trailers. I never knew I could, let alone was allowed to. I am, though, still fine for the standard things like cars and small vans, not that I intend ever to drive again, and I can still drive any size motorbike. I did my stages one and two motorbike test back in London in 1867 or something and used to drive a 500 cc thing around town when I worked there. I always wanted one of those 550 cc machines that couriers drive (or drove, it’s been a long time), but the insurance was too high even then. I’m pleased to say I never had an accident on a bike that was my fault. I got bumped off a couple of times at traffic lights by car drivers not noticing this great lump of metal and flesh three feet in front of their noses, but nothing major. I don’t intend to drive or even get on the back of a motor boke ever again, so I’m not worried, but it’s another form of legal proof of who I am, and there’s a reason I wanted it, which I will explain tomorrow. Meanwhile, I am still elsewhere and by now, should be at my early appointment in Rhodes having shopped yesterday and taken some time off.

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Panoramic insomnia

I am heading off to Rhodes today, just for one night as I have an early appointment on Friday. The Sebeco at 11.45 going over and the Blue Star at 16:00 on Friday coming back. A night at the Savoy (cos it’s cheaper than the other ones), some shopping and hanging out, and that’s that. I was up the road yesterday after four hours’ sleep, and felt a bit panoramic, so here are a couple of shots I took. They should enlarge (but I am not sure) otherwise they are a bit narrow.

And if you were wondering about the lack of sleep, I put it down to heat and mosquitoes, and the general excitement of being semi-retired and not having to get up early. So I get up early. Bed on Wednesday night at 20:30, awake again at 23:00 thinking it’s a bit soon to be getting up for the next day. Asleep again until 01.30 when I finally gave up and got to work. Neil’s suffering the same, but I actually feel surprisingly good on it, though I do drift off after lunch and go to bed very early. Not sure it will be these same in Rhodes as I will have air conditioning – the sound of which will probably keep me awake anyway.

If you don’t hear from me for the next couple of days, or there are only photos, it is because I am away and have much to do before the family arrive next week.

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