Category Archives: Day to day on Symi

SERENE SOJOURN ON SYMI

SERENE SOJOURN ON SYMI

A treat for you today. Here’s a post by Kim Gould who has lived in Turkey for 30 years. She kindly sent me her description of a visit along with some photos. I’m not able to post all the images as there were so many, but here are some of my favourites. Thank you, Kim, and next time you’re here, drop by and say hello!

 

SERENE SOJOURN ON SYMI

On the upper deck of the ever efficient and punctual Dodecanese Express our voyage to Symi was more of a delight than a trial. In the gold and amber light of early evening we spilled off the ferry into the pretty harbour’s embrace. Just over the hill lies Pedi Bay, the base for our short sojourn. 1 small hotel, a couple of apartments, 2 shops and 2 tavernas are all the tourism allowed. Original buildings, largely fishermen and sponge divers’ houses, each with their own boat slipway, still line the shore. When darkness falls so does the silence – the call of the owl, the lapping of the water and the barely audible Greek music from the taverna the only sounds to break it. The peace here is palpable under skies unsullied by light pollution.

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Modes of public transport amounted to the Symi bus, the taxi boat, and Poseidon for the grand tour around the island. We eagerly made use of all three. The Symi bus dropped us on the dizzying heights of the labyrinthine Chorio, overlooking the harbour, to weave our way through alleyways to the 500 wide stone steps of the Kali Strata. In Symi’s sponge rich heyday the wealthy merchant families built their spectacular villas and mansions along this main thoroughfare. We couldn’t help but wonder how the old and infirm, let alone more agile residents, negotiated these steps – and what made sponges such a valuable commodity? Was there great demand for bathroom sponges or did they have other uses?

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The next time we leapt off the Symi bus half way up the hill was for dinner at the Secret Garden restaurant. There we discovered a sizable enclave of retired ex-pat Brits and some rather mature musicians in mid jam session. For all we knew they could have been ex session musicians from sixties or seventies bands. Certainly their repertoire of rock, blues and country music was very well executed and such an unexpected treat.

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From Pedi the little taxi boat flits from bay to bay all day long. We alighted at St Nicholas where comfy sunbeds on a pristine pebbled beach awaited us under the dappled shade of tamarisk trees. One taverna and a cafe catered to our needs and a friendly sunbed monitor took away our empties. The water was clear and warm and the curious fish nibbled our toes – some had quite a nip!

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Boarding the good ship Poseidon for our round the island trip we were more than a little disconcerted by the number of people piling up the gangplank. Still they kept coming as we, somewhat selfishly, contorted ourselves into all manner of odd positions in an effort to appear wider and hang on to some personal space. But ‘Tardis-like’ Poseidon absorbed them all leaving us with easy access to the endless supply of tea and coffee. What a slick operation Captain Yiannis and his crew run! Three beautiful swim stops before lunch on Sesklia island where picnic tables are set up. Bowls of salad, rice beans and pasta were carried off the boat along with plates, boxes of wine and water. Cables were unravelled and the rotisserie barbecue hooked up to a boat battery. Two bowls of every dish meant everyone was served quickly and helped themselves to unlimited wine. After a superb lunch all was cleared away in the blink of an eye and Captain Yiannis scoured the beach for fly away napkins – not one speck of rubbish remained.

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All too soon it was time to get back on the Dodecanese Express leaving behind an island suffused in rich, vibrant colour – serene, peaceful and fiercely protected from the seedier effects of tourism by a proud and hardworking people.

03 07Photos and Text by Kim Gould – all rights reserved.

The Needling

The Needling

At times, it’s hard to believe this is October. It’s warm enough for me to sit on the balcony in a t-shirt at 4.00 in the morning, the harbour on Friday was not only warm but packed with day-trippers, and the late afternoons have been busy up in the village square. The sea is warm too, or so I’ve been told. I remember one mid-October when I was playing at a cèilidh at was Mandeos (now Scena), the original night was cancelled due to a storm and the replacement night saw me in fingerless gloves and a woollen jumper. We did have a rainy day last Tuesday, complete with kali strata waterfalls but, so far, that’s it for changeable this month. I hope I haven’t jinxed anything by saying that.

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While the good weather persists, I shall persist in my walks up the hill when I can (be bothered), and the rest of the daytime, continue to start work early and plough on through writing the fourth Saddling book, ‘The Needling.’ For those who don’t know, a ‘needing’ is an orphaned newling, and a newling is a newborn lamb. Actually, I’d be surprised if anyone other than me did know that as I only invented the meaning of those words last week. It’s one of the things I like about writing the Saddling series, inventing words and meanings for the local dialect. Some of what I use is real Kentish dialect: An aquabob is an icicle, a Peggy Washdish is a water wagtail, and a bufffle-head is someone daft. (Some of these are still in use; all were in use in 1888.) On top of that I invent my own, like whitebacks and blackbacks for sheep, and spoketale, an unwritten story from the past.

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Also unwritten is the rest of this story. I only started last week, so there’s a long way to go, but all being well, I aim to have ‘The Needling’ out early in the new year. That gives you plenty of time to start the series if you want to, and if you do, you need to start with The Saddling. The books should, by now, be grouped as a series on Amazon, but they are easy to find from my author page. ‘The Needling’ is set in spring at the equinox and will bring the series to a close, drawing together events from the other three books and more, tying up loose ends and, I hope, making sense of the whole story. Looks like I have a busy winter ahead.

[Btw. Links are to Amazon.com which should redirect you to your own country’s store for paperbacks, Kindle and KU.]

The Saddling, full cover design
The Saddling, full cover design

Spam

Spam

I love it when inappropriate spam comes in one directly after the other. ‘Meet a woman for a private date.’ ‘Get a drone as a free gift.’ Two separate emails, neither appropriate for me, or anyone I suspect, and yet they made me smile. I get so many spam message each day that I have a special programme to weed them out, but I do get to read the headlines before I bounce them back or delete them from the server. The programme, and I can recommend it, is called Mailwasher. It lets you check your mail before downloading it to your computer, reducing the risk of bugs. Recently I’ve been getting about 50 per day from one insistent bot who claims to have my password and has recorded my online activity. Unless I send a huge sum to an unidentified source, my online browsing will be made public. Spam-scam, of course, but some people do fall for it. Still, it made me think what fun they could have (if there was a ‘they’) if they had found my recent online browsing history. Then I thought I’d save them the trouble…

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The thing with being a writer is research, it’s one of my favourite parts but then I like everything about creating stories, writing them up, editing them, working with a designer to create the cover, laying them out and then sending them to the great Zon in the cloud (Amazon) and letting people enjoy them, or not – that bit isn’t up to me. But research is also fun, and I do it in a couple of ways. Sometimes I buy and read a book, or go to the shelf and take down one my several reference tomes, and other times, I order a Kindle copy of a book because I want it there and then. Or I use the internet because it’s right there and saves time, though, for specifics, I don’t just take the Wiki-word for it, try and delve into specialist sites. If all else fails, I fall back on asking friends in the know, but, like asking a doctor at a party if she can look at this thing you’ve got, asking friends who are also experts in a field seems like taking advantage at times. So, back to the internet and my recent history. Looking at my research folder in my bookmarks, I find…

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Inside the dark reality of Victorian slums. Sunrise and sunset times. Black white photo beautiful man business. (No idea, to do with a cover I think.) A dictionary of Victorian slang. Hats. (?) 550 alternative words for “said”. Backstage in theatres and music halls. Internet anagram server. Fencing terminology. (As in swords, not barbed wire.) Communication breakdown – the Pirate Omnibus. (No idea.) How to commit the perfect murder. — And there I think we should leave it. Oh, another spam just came in, this one to do with a certain blue pill, so I won’t go into detail.

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Rain ‘n’ stuff

Rain ‘n’ stuff

The news today is from Tuesday when we had the first decent rain of the autumn season. It was on and off all morning and definitely on for a while in the afternoon, and there was more overnight, so I didn’t need to water the plants on Wednesday. As you can see, the Rainbow customers had to come inside to avoid the downpour, but we were out again as soon as possible as it’s not cold, just damp.

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Wednesday dawned brighter and drier, and I was able to get up the hill for a walk and be back by eight, having done some work beforehand. It’s still warm enough to go out in a t-shirt, but I carry a hoodie with me in case. I received the usual cheery waves from various people and exchanged kalimera with several, as you do. Evangelia waved enthusiastically as she drove past, as did several workers of various nationalities going to the building sites, including the water channel engineering project at the bridge by Ag Marina. We’re getting to recognise each other now, but there’s never a chance nor time to stop and chat. Back through the village and more greetings get you set up for the day in a pleasant way and reminds you of what village life is all about.

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And now, back to the next story with the day ahead all mine, apart from some piano playing this afternoon for an hour.

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