A few wintery shots from Neil’s collection today. It’s raining (Tuesday), and although we need shopping, I’m staying in and holding out for a break in the weather when I might make a quick dash to Sotiris’ supermarket. The supermarkets are about the only things open on Symi right now, everything else is ordered to remain closed as Greece has now extended its lockdown to January 7th.
I hope he doesn’t mind, but I found a great post on FB yesterday written by a Symi resident. It succinctly outlines our lockdown rules, and I thought it worth sharing.
Just in case you are feeling sorry for yourself in the UK, this is how the Greek government are dealing with Covid 19. Our lockdown has been extended for a third time, this time until January 7th. All bars, cafes, restaurants and churches remain closed. As do all non-essential shops. Large supermarkets have vast areas cordoned off, for products you cannot buy. You must wear a mask at all times when away from your home. To leave home, you must get permission via SMS from a government number. Also, we have a night-time curfew between 21:00 – 05:00. People may be disappointed but understand it is for the greater good. No complaints from us.
There may be some lightening of restrictions announced at a later date, but that’s how it stands for now. Of course, we’re hoping we may get a Christmas reprieve, at least on the islands where there are no cases, and no travel between prefectures is allowed, but we will have to wait and see. If not, we’re all staying home for Christmas as opposed to ‘driving home for Christmas’, or whatever that song was.
I have a rare photo for you today; Paddington Bear on his way to the bay of St Vasilis. Neil went for a walk there recently, taking the bear with him, and there are other photos from that trip which will be posted in the days to come. We’re still mainly enjoying good walking weather, and people are making the most of it, bears are too.
Also, in today’s images, one of the sea that shows a particular kind of light we enjoy in the winter months. The Turkish hills appear pink, the sky coral, and when it’s calm, the sea is a mix of grey and blue.
During the later parts of the morning and into the afternoon, the sea returns to its usual colour, depending on the cloud, and the sky has a wash of lighter blue. The air is clear, and there is less haze because it’s not as hot, and you are often treated to fine, crystal-clear views across the water. From the right location, you can count the individual wind turbines along the hills by Datca.
Also, on his walks, Neil has been to Nimborio and visited the mosaic and catacombs there, and I’ll put up some shots of those sites in due course. Meanwhile, I’ll leave you with a shot of the church at St Vasilis.
Well, here we are again, back to the usual kind of blogging after our three-week virtual trip abroad. While we were ‘away’, Neil was out and about taking photos, so over the next couple of weeks, you can expect to see a lot of morning images from around the island. I was beavering away on a new book which is now published. I’ve been ordering Christmas presents bit by bit as we’re unable to go to Rhodes to shop, and most shops here are closed too. All items that can be sourced locally have been or will be, so we’re doing what we can for the local economy, such as it is at the moment.
I don’t want to go on about lockdown and all that, but suffice to say, although it’s not that dissimilar to a typical winter on Symi (in that I stay at home a lot, and there’s not much open), the travel restrictions have, and can, cause all manner of problems. A case in point. A few days ago, someone had a fall and needed to go to Rhodes hospital. The doctors arranged all that, and off the patient went. Later, it was discovered that an operation was required, and they would have to stay in Rhodes to wait the 10 days before that op, and then be there for about a week after it. This kind of thing happens, but when you’re on your own (waiting in a hotel), and no-one can visit, you don’t know anyone, and you are injured or unwell, it’s a very isolating, not to say boring, turn of events. A friend was able to go and take emergency supplies like clothes, but only after an interview with the police who at first refused the trip, and an interview with the port authorities who eventually allowed it but on strict conditions. And conditions are very strict here in Greece, although that doesn’t stop some people finding ways around the rules and accidentally finding themselves in ad hoc, masked meetings on the street or at courtyard gates.
But, back to me, me, me and my latest book under my pen name. If you’re interested in what it was like to live rough, as we’d call it now, on the streets of the Victorian East End, or be a refugee in the 1880s, or an immigrant in those times, and if you have a feel for the romantic, you might like to click this link and discover Banyak & Fecks. This can be read as a standalone novel, but it is also a prequel to a series.
Also, while we were reminiscing about Canada, I’ve started working on another model kit, and there will be photos and updates about that over the coming days. I’ve been giving Harry his piano instruction via video calls, a bit of an odd thing, but as he can now speak the language of music, we’re doing well. ‘You want your third on E, thumb under… Bb, D, G, then down a semitone in a sequence… It’s not called nothing, it’s a crotchet rest,’ and so on. He’s got five scales under his belt now, or under his fingers, including Bb and A, and we’re starting on scales of two octaves and working on pieces with right and left-hand chords. Meanwhile, schools are being conducted online, and everyone is getting on with life as best they can.
We’ve had good weather most of the time, and we’re still able to go walking in the mornings without a coat, though we have had some rain. The triumph there is, thanks to Sam and Neil (not Sam Neil, he doesn’t live here) painting the bathroom roof a while ago, we’ve had no water dripping into the bathroom or into the porch. Instead, it’s started to drip through the pointless aircon in the mousandra, through the floorboards and onto the bed. So now, I am heading up to the roof to cover the aircon unit in something to stop that happening next time it rains.
Today, I have given myself the impossible task of choosing one photo per day from the 21-day trip we’ve all virtually just been on. You may have seen some on the posts, but others you won’t have seen. A lot of activities and people have been missed, but with over 1,000 images to choose from, that’s going to happen.
So, to round off the last three weeks travelling and before I return to the more usual Symi blog on Monday, here are 21 images that kind of represent the 21 days of the trip we started before the ‘thing’ took hold, and finished at five minutes before a national lockdown.
See you on Monday!
Waved off by Jenine and Harry.Cafe life, Athens.Being a Greek lad.A morning in Athens.Autograph hunters, London – absolutely fabulous, sweetie.A night at the (phantom of the) opera.Back together after 40 years.Please look after this couple of old duffers trying to follow me.A family photo.Next stop Crewe.Not seen one yet.A night in Jasper.Climb every mountain, ford every stream.I’m not as daft as I look, you know.Vancouver.The next album cover.High flying adored.Homeward bound.Separate tables. (I’m sure that’s Elvis Costello)Masquerade.Just in time.
The end of the line
Holiday Day 21 (March 22nd) Piraeus to home with minutes to spare.
Piraeus
We really are on the very last leg of the journey now, as long as we can get onto the ferry with our pdf copies of our tax information now stored on our phones.
From our shared room to the intimacy of the lift and down to the dining area – where we had to sit at separate tables – the morning started well and, for the first time in days, with no stress. Apart from the nagging concern that our tax docs wouldn’t work, in which case I had the phone number of the British Consulate on speed dial. The ferry was at 15.00, and we booked a welcome pickup for 13.00 because you can board the ferry two hours before sailing. That’s a handy tip for if you ever make the trip from Piraeus to Symi.
The Blue Star leaves Piraeus at 15.00, and its dock is a long way from the harbour gates, about a 45-minute walk, so I’d take a taxi. Where there is a courtesy bus from ferry to gates when you arrive, there isn’t for when you leave. If you take the airport bus, you need the X96 which, last time we did it, cost €5.00 each and took one hour forty-five minutes. It should be slightly less time than that, but roadworks had uncovered a site of archaeological interest, and there was traffic congestion. Happens a lot in Athens as there’s so much history beneath your feet – see the airport museum for an example. The Blue Star for Symi leaves from Gate E1, about as far as you can get from the underground and main streets, but the X96 terminates there, so that’s easy enough.
Anyway, if you arrive early, you can (usually) board early, and that’s handy because some of the ferries, like the Patmos, have dining rooms where you can sit down to lunch before departure and have a leisurely meal as you set sail. The Patmos dining room closes at 16.00 I think and reopens later for dinner, and it’s a grand experience. However, we were on the Chios which only has a canteen, self-service (still nice food though, and lots of it).
Arriving early also gives you time to sort out your cabin and watch the loading going on at the stern; always a comedy show.
That’s for later. Meanwhile, back at the hotel, we had breakfast, hung about, packed and finally said our goodbyes to the helpful staff and wished them well, fully aware that we were their last guests to leave before the hotel shut for… who knew how long.
So, we’d closed London shows, cities, flights, bars and now hotels, it felt like, and with a national lockdown happening at six the next morning, we really did feel we were being chased, and the trap at the end of the game of ‘Mousetrap’ was about to fall.
The boys didn’t care.
Aboard the last mode of transport
Taxi ride to boat, check, exchange paper for tickets, check, find tax details on phone… Find tax details on phone… I’ve found Neil’s so mine can’t be far away… Walk across to boat, show tickets and Neil’s tax details,… fine. Phew… Search for mine… ‘I have them here somewhere…’ They were right there, don’t say I deleted them. ‘Honest, guv, I’ve got them right here. Do you want to see my marriage license?’ Maybe it was my faffing, maybe it was because they were glad to have passengers at all, but, ‘That’s okay, I believe you,’ happened, and I got away with it. Only to find the document 30 seconds later and return to proudly wave my screen in the guy’s face. ‘I wasn’t making it up!’
Checking into your cabin on the Blue Star is a hotel reception kind of experience, and never a hassle as long as you’ve booked in advance. We found ours a deck up and to the front. Not the bow view we’d had on the way out, but a side view and a very nice cabin where the bears were able to watch the ships coming and going.
That done, it was up top to watch the Harold Llyod meets Keystone Cops affair taking place at the loading ramp, where, I decided I would pop back and get my jacket as the weather was, for the first time in days, starting to cloud over and the temperature was dropping. So, back along the passage to the cabin, insert key, green light comes on… nothing happens. Try again… Nothing. Check door number with that written on the key card’s wallet. Correct. Try again, green light, handle moves, nothing. So, you do the whole process again just in case you hadn’t got it right the first or second time and still no joy. Back to reception to apologise (why?) for not being able to get in, and an escort back to the cabin by a man in overalls feeling like I’m suddenly in Prisoner Cell Block H.
This mechanic also went through the process several times before whipping a screwdriver out of nowhere and doing something to the lock before inserting a real key and letting me in. Phew! Back to reception, given another cabin, back to the first one, moved house, bears and all, and all wardrobes checked. New door and lock checked by me and man in overalls (and Paddington), and satisfied, I went back to the stern deck, got halfway there and realised I’d forgotten the jacket I went back for in the first place.
17 hours at sea
The journey down to Symi takes around 17 hours, depending on the route, and we were due to arrive just before five the next morning. During the afternoon, we watched various grey islands go past, rain-spattered from the dull sky, took a turn on the boat deck, played quoits, took tea in the first-class Palm Court Tearoom, played cards with Lord Astor, had a guided tour with Thomas Andrews, counted the lifeboats, and generally filled in time with other fantasies.
We passed between Kea and Kinthos, by Siros, Mykonos and Naxos as the sun set, all the time heading south towards home.
Back to my ‘not being able to sleep while on the move’ habit, I was up during the night to watch other islands pass and see their ports in the darkness.
I can’t remember what this one was, so if anyone recognises it…
Being unable to sleep much, at least I was awake in time, so we didn’t miss our port of call. Actually, when you have a cabin, the receptionist rings you about 30-minutes before you are due to arrive, so in theory, you can’t sleep in. We didn’t and were glugging down coffee by three in the morning, bleary-eyed on the deserted stern deck. Only one café stays open 24/7, usually in the bow which means a long, meandering stagger with two cups of hot coffee. You do your best not to appear drunk as you weave from one side to the next past reception and sleeping passengers, but unless it’s a flat calm, it’s very hard to achieve any kind of dignified result.
Finally, at about 4.45, we rounded Nimos, and the pin-prick lights of Symi came into view. We collected our bags, double-checked the cabin and readied ourselves for departure.
Although there was hardly anyone on the ferry, we still managed to distantly bump into a neighbour of twenty yards away from our house. He had enough luggage for the entire Von Trapp family to escape with, plus a yappy-dog, so we helped him down the steps to the unloading garage, ears splitting with the sound of the sirens when the boat is reversing. I don’t know if you ever saw that remarkable cultural event, ‘Starlight Express’, but if you did, think of the pre-race sequence when warning lights whirled, the barriers steamed into life and ascended from the set, and the siren screamed. It’s as noisy and dramatic as that but with added clunks from somewhere below. The drawbridge was lowered, and there was the sight of home for the first time in three weeks. Well, the sight of a concrete wall and the rockface above, but it was one we knew well.
Waiting to disembark.
The end of the adventure
We’d finally reached home after travelling 13,000 miles in three weeks, which is more than halfway around the circumference of the planet. It didn’t feel like it, but then it didn’t feel like three weeks either. It did feel a little bit like a race to the finish line as the 06.00 lockdown rapidly approached, but, I am pleased to say, we got in just under the wire at 5.55.
So, folks, thank you for coming on the journey with us. I hope it’s kept you entertained through the first three weeks of our lockdown. Let’s face it, without it, I’d have been writing about nothing but the weather for the past three weeks, as that’s about all I’ve seen. There is some Symi news to catch up on though, and we’ll get back to that from Monday next week. Tomorrow, I will post some of my favourite phots from his last journey, possibly our last travelling for some time, years maybe, and after that, the normal Symi Dream blogging service will be resumed.
Mind you, our lockdown here in Greece may be extended beyond 7th, possibly to the 21st, so I might have to think of something else to talk about. Who knows? This could be the end of one adventure and the beginning of another.
