I thought that today we’d just have a look at some Symi photos, so here are a few to browse through. You can click one and then go through them that way, you might even be able to run a slideshow, or you can just scroll down. Enjoy.
The last couple of blog posts have been a little bit rantish (a word I just made up) and have been fuelled by the refugee crisis and some people’s reaction to it. So today we are returning to Symi and, in a moment, going for a ramble up a hillside. And talking of rambles:
I should apologise, as I endlessly do, for the typos and mistakes you read in my blogs; there are two reason for this. 1) Although I do read things back, I don’t always see my own mistakes. Here’s something I found: “The reason typos get through isn’t because we’re stupid or careless, it’s because what we’re doing is actually very smart”, explains psychologist Tom Stafford, who studies typos of the University of Sheffield in the UK.” (I like Tom.) “We don’t catch every detail, we’re not like computers or NSA databases,” said Stafford. “Rather, we take in sensory information and combine it with what we expect, and we extract meaning.” (I really like Tom.) The full article is here: http://www.wired.com/2014/08/wuwt-typos/
And, 2) I am so inaccurate at typing, though I do use all five fingers on one hand and three on the other, I’ve never been taught to touch type and I rattle off around 100 words a minute when up to full steam, but my fingers aren’t designed for keyboards so I hit the wrong letters. This gets so bad that I then go to autocorrect and change my most common ones, and so sometimes autocorrect corrects a word incorrectly and I read what should be there not what actually is there. So, sorry about that but really, ‘if thine eyes offend thee, pluck them out’ (which I always thought was extreme advice) and if my typos offend thee, pluck off. Back to our walk.
This was days ago now but, as you read this I am journeying back from Rhodes with mother, all being well, I went out for a ramble on Thursday afternoon as I’d missed my early morning walk/jog. I thought I’d climb up to the top of the ridge and have a look at Panagia Hamon. Three in the afternoon is probably not the best time to go walking when it’s 35 degrees, but I like a good sweat and I had plenty of water, a phone in case of emergencies, and I was wearing a bright orange t-shirt so it would be easy for the air sea rescue to spot me should I need them. Seriously, if you’re going to ramble up hillsides always take precautions and I don’t mean… well, you know what I don’t mean.
Through the village, up to the top and then down the Ag Marina cemetery – Habib and his brother passed me on their moped and asked if I wanted a lift down into the village. I thanked and declined and then wondered how we would all fit on it anyway, and headed for the barking dog. Not only is he bonkers but he also barks a lot. Here, at the big gates, you turn right and follow the arrow, it’s a bit faded now, and then follow the red dots until they run out…
It didn’t take long for me to lose the path and go off piste, but I went carefully and knew roughly were I was heading – for the top of course, it’s easy really. But there’s actually quite a lot of scree on them there hills so you have to be careful. My training came back to me, the lessons learned when 16 and climbing Snowdon with the school: If in doubt, test the rock before you put all your weight on it, go sideways when coming down scree and zigzag rather then head straight down, always expect that every footstep is going to lead to a slide so you’re always prepared, and if there’s a tourist train to the top, take that.
I reached around 300 metres I guess and then decided that, as I’d been climbing hard for around an hour since leaving home, I’d had enough exercise. There are great views from up there, so I stopped to have some water and a look around and then carefully slid my way back down again. If you’re heading up that hill make sure you wear proper boots and, if you can bear it, long trousers. There are lots of dry herb bushes around at the moment and they don’t half scratch. More Photos tomorrow.
Here’s an argument I’m getting seriously fed up with, and I heard it on Symi the other day. Actually it’s not really an argument at all, but an expression of fear, in my opinion at least. The conversation, when talking to a rational person goes something like, ‘You’re doing great work with the refugees, but we really can’t take any more in (our country), we really are full up.’ Less rational folk on Facebook and elsewhere, tend to say, ‘We’re full up,’ and leave it at that, To which I say, ‘I’m glad you had a big lunch now sit back and think about what you are actually saying.’ I’m talking UK here as that’s my country but I am sure it applies to other countries too.
Apparently the United Kingdom of England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland is full up. There is no more room for anyone, particularly not the refugees. Okay, there are parallels between that and the Nativity of course, but let’s not bring religion into it. Let’s look at that statement again. ‘We are full up.’ Actually there are around 63,000,000 people living in Britain at the moment, very roughly speaking, and there are any number of empty homes. If you read the Telegraph then the number is 218,000 and if you look at the pictures in the Mirror, the number is 635,000 empty homes in England alone (2015). Emptyhomes.com says, “The latest Government data on vacant dwellings shows over 610,000 empty homes in England with over 200,000 long-term vacant dwellings (that is homes unoccupied for over six months).” I won’t bore you with further stats and images of the thousands of empty (i.e., not full up) homes in the country, I think you’ve got the message.
Here’s another thing. According to the Daily Mail (and who are we to argue?) there were 5,000,000 British Expats living abroad in 2014, so that’s 5,000,000 spare places in the UK alone. Let me repeat: the country can’t be ‘full up’ because over five million of us are not living there at the moment. Someone can have my place, I’m not planning to return anytime soon – and if I ever do I’m happy to share.
Actually, I looked at a very handy site called Statslife who rather back me up and say, “The British public is obsessed with immigration. The notion of Johnny Foreigner coming over here, taking British jobs and straining public services is now rampant in UK politics. Regardless of what statistics and evidence say, the myth of Britain being ‘swamped’ by immigrants is proving incredibly resilient.” And don’t we know it! We even hear it here on Symi. They go on to point out that around 7 to 8% of the UK population live abroad (In America the figure is 0.8% living abroad, Spain its 3% and Australia it 2.1% as of 2014.) I love the part where, when talking about British expats in Spain, they say: “An ESRC funded survey conducted in 2005 showed that a third of the British immigrants rarely or never meet Spanish people (other than in shops and restaurants), 60% did not speak good Spanish, half do not have residence cards, and over a third are not registered on the town hall register.”
So, British folk moving abroad, or to Spain at least, are not only freeing up space for refuges but don’t even bother to get themselves properly registered, a matter in which refugees have no say. Remember yesterday’s blog and the fingerprints, photos and 17 pieces of paper filled out for each refugee.
As you can tell, the so called argument that Great Britain can’t take any more people is a load of bunkum. I don’t know exactly who the people are who say this, luckily none of my friends have said it, though some may think it, but I wonder if those who do have considered how to make more space in their country? Well, you could choose to not have any more children Mr and Mrs six kids and demanding a bigger council house, that’d help in the long term, and if you’re in politics or somewhere where you can make a difference there are things like, regenerating disused estates, cleaning up empty properties, improving areas so people do want to live in them, there’s plenty of places and space without having to build more – sad to see the world of social housing hasn’t changed since I took my MSc in it and social policy all those years ago.
So, I’ll leave you with the above thoughts and please, don’t let me hear you say that your country can take no more people in need because you are ‘full up.’ No country can ever be ‘full up’ and if you mean the social infrastructure can’t take it, then you need to be electing people who can sort that out. Actually I will leave you with this thought (courtesy of Fastcoxist.com). If everyone lived as densely as they do in Manila, the population of the world could fit in Tunisia. Or, if you like a little more leg room (and sheep), if everyone in the world lived as densely as they do in Manhattan, the population of the world could fit in New Zealand. No, your country is not full up.
Here’s what we did on Saturday morning… We headed down to Yialos to do our regular three hours at the refugee station. That’s all we can do at the moment and many others are doing a lot more hours than we are, but we did take some washing down that we had done during the week, plus three bags of donations people had given us as they left to go home after a holiday. So, pretty nicely ladened down, we wandered down to the old post office.
There we discovered that 100 refugees had left on the Blue Star the previous evening and 50 had just landed and were being taken to the port police station to start their registration process.
Now here’s a thing that will calm all those silly people who are paranoid and think that every refugee is an IS terrorist – in fact those people seem to think that every Muslim is an IS terrorist, and those people really ought to get an education and calm down a little. Would it help if I told you that there were probably more terrorists entering your country quite legitimately today, right now, than there are washing up on Greek shores this month? You see, when a refugee lands in Greece, this is the start of the process: they are fingerprinted and have their photo taken, their details are recorded, their passports are recorded and 17 pieces of paper per refugee are filled out. That’s what each one has to go through – and what our port police and police-police have to do for each of the 50 who arrived on Saturday, and for every single person who arrives here without a visa. Now then, if I was a terrorist and wanted to slip into, say, the UK, without detection would I a) get on a plane with a visa (a real one would be safest) and a passport and pose as a tourist or business person, or b) join a group of strangers walking hundreds of miles across Turkey, risking detection by the Turkish authorities (who may even send me back to Syria as they are now starting to do), then pay thousands to get in a boat and risk sinking and drowning to then face the Greek authorities (fingerprints, photos, 17 forms to fill out) and then walk from Greece to Hungary and face detection and aggravation from the Hungarian authorities and then, hopefully, walk through Austria, Germany and France, and then hang around at Calais hoping to get through and then… I think we can all rest assured that most refugees are not going to blow up your shopping centre, love.
I digress. There will be another of my replies to the current round of racist arguments during the week. But back to Saturday… So, I went with Andy to welcome these new refugees with some fruit, water, milk, biscuits, wet wipes and a smile. I also got to ride in the Manos Fish Taverna pink golf cart which was a bit of a bonus. We gave out the supplies, Andy explained to the refugees what would happen next and how, when they were done there, they would be able to come around to the other side, see the police and then use the Solidarity Symi aid station. We also assured them that a doctor would be over to see them soon. One lady was suffering from very high sugar levels, not having been able to take her insulin. We also cleared up the steps where someone had been sick and then headed back to the OPO (Old post office, where Solidarity Symi has the aid station.)
Back there, Neil had been tidying up with another volunteer and, as things were quiet for a change, we were able to sort donations and do bits and pieces. A lovely lady from Penzance was there and attended to the curtain in the medical room so now the doctors have a decent curtain which opens and closes smoothly – the little things really count! Other people came in with donations and Neil showed them around and showed them the work being done and how their donations are used. Thank you to the ladies who came with bags and also put money in the donation tin. There are very generous people coming on holiday to Symi.
Panos, from Thea Apartments (http://www.symi-thea.gr/index.php/en/ Neil did their photos a few years back) came with two of his guests to bring donations including lots of bags that will be very useful; thank you Cindy and Clive. Later, fabulous lady from Penzance went and bought some colouring books and crayons for children, Neil delivered some to the refugees at the port police and the kids loved them, and I expect the parents liked the fact they were then occupied for a while, and the volunteer doctor went and did his visit. (Diabetic lady’s life was saved thanks to a medical kit bought with donations made to Solidarity Symi.)
So, it was a quiet day for us, but a useful one taking donations and sorting them and afterwards we treated ourselves to lunch at Meraklis and did eventually get home for an evening of films, ‘Camp’ and ‘Into The Woods’ seem a far cry from giving out nappies and biscuits, but that’s kind of how Saturdays are going around here. Now then, I am off to Rhodes tonight to collect mother who arrives on Tuesday, so I’m going to get a couple of blog posts ready in advance and post them up for while I am away. Check in tomorrow for more of my personal opinion, if you can bear it.
Friday late morning and I am thinking of heading out for another afternoon walk later. I need to consider the next chapter in ‘The Saddling’ and a long walk around the hillside is a good way to spend the time contemplating. Thinking thus made me wonder if I’d told you about the walk I took the other day? I checked back a week or so but didn’t see anything so I reckon my refugee rambles had taken over and I’d forgotten to talk about the simple stroll I did. So let’s do that now.
First of all, getting yourself out of the village is not always an easy task. You can head up the main road like we do of an early morning, but that’s a pretty laborious way to go, though the views are fab. Instead, head for the donkey path which you find by crossing behind Ag Stavros and heading to where… Hang on, it’s easy when you know how but no so easy to explain. Best off asking one of the tour operators of they have any of the walking on Symi books, or see if the Olive Tree have a guide. Or ask someone for the donkey track and eventually, after a climb and some scenery, you should find yourself at a gate, and then a lone tree with views of Yialos.
The path separates and there’s now a sign directing you to Panormitis along the upper track or toe Xissos on the lower one. This is the one I followed and along here I saw some black and white birds that my learned friend (Lyndon) later told me were ‘white eared windsheeters’ or ‘white wind chat eaters,’ or even a wheateater of some sort. I dunno, black and white things they were. And my attempt to photograph them led to pictures of rocks with a tiny bird in there somewhere. Don’t even bother looking. (But look here for a list of birds you can find on Symi: http://symifloraandfauna.jigsy.com/symibirdlist )
Further on, past the chapel at Ag Paraskevi and the house just beyond it, you can find a red arrow on the path. Not a crashed jet but a direction. Two in fact. Carry on to Xissos or turn right onto a rough track. Here you need decent shoos, flop-flips won’t cut the greater bustard (didn’t see one of them), you need proper walking boots as some of the time you are walking over rubble. You’re following the old ‘wall’ as it’s marked on the map, and we’ve walked this way before I am sure of it. After some time you reach the top of the hill and join the road. From here you can see over the island to the sea on the western side, and look back to see the bay on the eastern side too. If you snap your head around really fast you can almost see both at once before you fall over and hurt yourself.
I simply followed the road back from here. You get some good views coming this way and see all kinds of folk heading off towards the western side of the island, to Roukouniotis or their farms out on the hills. You end up thinking, ‘Oh there’s… I wonder what he’s heading over this way for?’ and ‘Where’s he off to at this time of day?’ as you amble down the gentle slope back towards the village.
Keep an eye out for goat action on the right and the views to Yialos and Pedi and Turkey on the left as you zig zag down to the upper village where you can either carry on down the road (Starring Sid James and Hattie Jacques) or cut through to Periotisa and make your way down the steps and back into the village. This is what I did as it was coming close to beer O’clock and so I thought I would surprise Neil at work.
That’s a very rough outline of one walk you can do on Symi, it took me under two hours and I know how to get to the path out of the village. It was late afternoon in August so still hot and you should wear a hat really, and take water. I got through about one litre in two hours. But there you go. That’s me on a Saturday morning for you – whether I went out on Friday afternoon is yet to be seen, but I shall no doubt let you know one day. Here are a few more shots of the same walk. Have a good weekend.
