A visit to the port of Yialos. For any but the very rich or very ill, arriving it Symi’s main port of Yialos is a watery affair. Where we have a helipad for emergency, military and occasionally private arrivals by air, and despite rumours both believed and made up that the island is to have an airport, the only way to arrive is by boat. It’s also the best way, if you ask me, but then, the only way I have arrived, so maybe choppering in from your luxury yacht is also enjoyable, but you’re not going to get the same sights.
The houses around the harbour have been described in many guides, novels and articles, and I’ve seen some cringers. Multi-coloured houses nestling… Homesteads jostle like excitable spectators awash with the colours of the Greek flag*… Like eager children rushing down to meet the azure, blue waters of the Aegean Sea…
The writers’ obsession with ‘Greece means blue’ continues into the water and a sea which has also been described as cerulean, cobalt, Capri, and Persian blue in colour. They’ve not seen it on a winter’s day when dark storms and swells keep ‘boats rocking tentatively against the ancient harbour walls where once fishermen and sponge divers plied their time-honoured…’ Oh, do give it a rest.
[* This must have been one of those AI aneurisms, because the Greek flag is only made up of blue and white, and as I was always taught that white was a shade and not a colour, and as there are few ‘blue’ houses, and none in that typical Greek blue-and-white square house design, one has to wonder what this nonsense is all about.]
I plodded off down the Kali Strata yesterday morning early, as always, so I didn’t have to rush in the hope that I would arrive at the dentist dry, rather than in my usual state of dripping wet and ‘sparkling with drops of clear diamante beads that speak of…’ [Shudders.] Said hello to a few people I knew and caught up with some quick news, nodded here, kalimera-ed there, dodging bikinis and pink flesh, and taking a minute to admire the 11.02 from Platia to Nimborio, building up steam at its station… And, after a chat with the dentist and a few laughs about life, slithered into the chair for the final stage of a root canal, which took all of five minutes and hurt not one jot. Back again on Friday for the next one, but at least, after that’s done, I will be able to eat and drink things above and below body temperature without wincing, suffering a headache for half an hour or complaining.
That done and the next visit arranged, it was a case of wandering back towards the bus stop with ten minutes to spare at least before departure, and being captivated by a cab on the way, so taking that instead. Here’s a debate finally settled; it now costs €6.00 to come up from Yialos to Horio by taxi, not, as some around me have been insisting, ‘still only a fiver.’ Still very worth it, if you ask me. It gave me time to reply to the landlord about the water problem his other property was having (no water, been here before), and how yes, the feed tap is on, no our plumber didn’t disconnect it the other day and why would he, and, for the last time, the water supply from the mains starts the day at virtually no pressure but usually perks up after it’s had its coffee, and all water arrangements at these two houses are pretty rubbish, and anyway, when’s the house opposite going to have its own feed and meter and not come through ours? (When the paperwork goes through, and as it’s taken a year with the water company already, probably not very soon.) We gave the poor neighbour a bucket we had filled to water the plants with, so she could at least flush, and together, we examined the Heath Robinson arrangements of pipes and taps, only to discover what we already knew: the water was coming in, but it would take forever to fill the tanks. Just as it took all morning to fill our new one-ton barrel because the lady downstairs had used, in my estimation, around 600 litres of water in two days. (WTF comes to mind.)
Finally home less than one hour after leaving it, the day returned to as near normal as days get around here, and life continued in its sweaty summer way.
The village changed slightly yesterday, because the extra-fine dining establishment, Barra, opened in the village last night. It’s situated where the Jean & Tonic bar used to be, opposite the two new Airbnb’s that used to be a tiny shoe shop and, beside it, George’s family butchery. That’s about all I can tell you about the new restaurant for now, except that it looks very exclusive and from some guest images I’ve seen, very modern.
Right. Now, I must get on.