Day 22 - Fear of The Dark

For some reason, Michael seems to believe that Kalymnos is best shown off in the dark.

Not for the first time, we wait until visibility is at a minimum before risking our necks for a sightseeing Sunday drive along the murderous Kalymnian roads.

If anyone tells you the Greeks drive on the right, they lie. The norm here is to drive smack in the centre of the road, straddling the white line until oncoming vehicles force you to move over. Even then – the right hand side is only customary, never compulsory.

We are almost used to overtaking on corners (usually on a hill), I guess doing it in the pitch black just adds spice. It certainly focuses the mind when it’s too dark for the scenery to take your mind off things.

The West coast of Kalymnos has a lot to offer. Telendos is a beautiful island and Kantouni has a nice beach. But you know what? In the dark, we might as well as be looking at the Clyde at Greenock. During this and three previous visits to the island, Paul has “seen” these wonders perhaps fifty times, but only once in daylight.

Why?

Well, here’s a clue. Today there was a great big parade to celebrate the anniversary of the start of World War 2 (which, for Greeks, began in 1940). Of course, we missed it all because it took place in the morning and no one who lives on this property ever rises before he or she really needs to…

Day 21 - Frightening Explosions on Mountainside

Back in Glasgow, with Guy Fawkes approaching, the odd bored ned is no doubt lobbing a few bangers up your alley. Here, the kids are really bored and do it with proper, actual, real dynamite.

Blowing this stuff is so dangerous that the kids who do it have to go out of town; up the hill above Profitis Church, otherwise someone will die.

Despite such rigorous health and safety, six people did actually die about 20 years ago when a kid tried to light a stick of dynamite, decided it was a dud, and then returned it to the sack of other dynamite sticks whereupon the whole lot went off and blew a hole in the side of the mountain. Six died up there on the hillside. A small church was raised on the mountain top in honour of their memory.

Short memories! The kids are doing it this afternoon, right next to this erected church. The flashes are bright and the booms immense. Paul nearly falls off his chair at the first one. The windows shake, cats scatter and Michael curses. It goes on all afternoon but you don’t get used to it.

Day 20 - Have you heard the latest?

Today, we go for our weekly drive to collect drinking water from the island’s community water-well. We can no longer quench out thirst by pouring a glass of water from the kitchen tap - you can almost walk on the island’s tap water due to its high salt content. Instead, we lug enough empty bottles to collect 45 litres of drinking water for the week.

These visits are a great way to catch up on the gossip, as the locals huddle around the well’s four taps framed in white marble. The power of the local grapevine outranks the power of the BBC in its ability to spread news. If you hung a new item of clothing on your washing line that morning, it would be known across the island by 6pm. If you received a parcel at the post office, it would be known across the island by 3pm. And if you agreed to go on a date with a new admirer, it would be known across the island before you even hung the phone up.

This is not the place to live if you value any form of personal privacy. Nicole’s sister once proclaimed that she had to stop living here because she was sick of her neighbours knowing the precise time of day she burped or farted.

Welcome to Kalymnos, where There’s No Business Like Your Business!

Day 19 - Parallel Universes

Okay – while we’re here in Kalymnos, we are trying to continue what we were doing in Glasgow which is trying to come up with fantastic business ideas – so we’re still working.

With the decoration of the flat still unfinished, we decide to move the office up to the top of the small mountain overlooking the flat. This means that, just as in Glasgow, we have a twenty minute walk to work. Let’s compare and contrast:

THE ROUTE
Glasgow: Our flat in the Garnethill area of the city centre is a 20 minute walk through busy streets to our office off George Square, which is also in the city centre.
Kalymnos: Our flat in the Christoy area of the city centre is a 20 minute walk: 10 minutes through the streets of Pothia until the tar-sealed road turns into a dirt track, the city abruptly ends, and a further ten minutes up a zigzag path takes us to a flat bit of mountainside above Profitis Church.

STREET LIFE
Glasgow: After dodging schoolies and art students in Garnethill, we are entertained by rock buskers and dodge the clipboard-toting trustafarians working for charity. We also need to negotiate our fair share of junkies, cops, and women with umbrellas and Primark bags.
Kalymnos: Sporadic elderly men in cardigans bask on chairs outside their front doors, motionless except for puffing on a fag. Older women wear black smocks to hang washing while younger housewives in pink velour leisure suits scrub the section of street outside their front doors. Further up the hill, there is a goat.

SHOPPING OPPORTUNITIES
Glasgow: Sainsbury, Costa Coffee, Primark, Marks & Spencer, HMV, McDonalds, Orange, Poundland, Sainsbury again…
Kalymnos: Yianni’s Souvlaki place, a sponge workshop with no name, a bakers, some clothes with price tags hanging over the railings of someone’s house (I guess you have to knock), a hairdresser which we know belongs to the sister of the husband of Nicole’s sister. A food shop measuring approx 12’ x 12’ with a sign saying “supermarket” and a guy in a pick-up truck chanting his wares through a megaphone: lettuce, spinach, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers…

TRAFFIC
Glasgow: We hold our noses to cross Hope St and Renfield St, two of Europe’s most polluted streets.
Kalymnos: On the busier streets the regular danger comes from testosterone-saturated youths tearing up three-foot wide lanes on 500cc motorbikes. But once you reach the house with the rusted old chicken coop full of broken old hens and a shabby rooster, there is no more traffic. The road stops. We are in the countryside.

KEYS
Glasgow: Flat front door (2 each) Stair doors (2 each), car, bike, outer office doors (1 each) inner office doors (1 each) actual office room (1 each), mailbox, cupboard, and filing cabinets (4) – TOTAL 20 keys between us.
Kalymnos: We have one key for the flat between us and we generally leave it in the unlocked front door.

THE OFFICE
Glasgow: Our office was 300 square feet and overlooked a Japanese-style Zen Garden. Nice enough but you could only see this from one of the workstations - which Nicole naturally nabbed - and the intended tranquillity of the garden was rather ruined by the faulty extractor fan which made a high-pitched squealing noise for the last four months we were there. Free tea and coffee.
Kalymnos: Some stony acres on a hill top with an old wall which looks like it may be used by goatherds. Views in all directions – you can see over to the sea on the West side of the island and as far South as Nisiros. No free tea and coffee.

At the end of the day, however, work is work and once we get over ourselves, we settle down to some hard brainstorming slog.

But will the 360-views and clement weather prove to be any more inspirational than the noisy Zen Garden and the dodgy Scottish climate? Stay tuned to find out.

Day 18 - Warning - Hurricane Approaches

Several well-wishers from the UK have grudgingly enquired about the superb weather we must now be enjoying having moved to Greece. But let us tell you: it’s not all tanning.

For the last few days, the locals have pulled out their fleeces and fled for cover as winter strikes. Yes: It’s down to 18 degrees! Maria scolds Nicole for recklessly wearing SANDALS instead of shoes.

A storm warning means the harbour is suddenly clear of boats as frightened owners rush their craft to more sheltered moorings. Of course, when the weather breaks, it amounts to two light showers and a bit of a breeze, as you can see.

As the tempest reaches its peak, we are reminded of a typical seaside day out in the middle of the Scottish summer: overcast and warm enough to be outside without a jacket. Quite nice actually.

The whole thing lasts 3 hours and the sun re-appears, although perhaps not as strongly as before. Indeed, the TV weather girl with the heavy make-up informs us that the official temperature is no longer “scorchio” – merely “scorch”.

Day 17 - More is More

The Greek Psyche is strongly concerned with status and shame.


Status is gained by producing large broods of children who become doctors, lawyers and mothers. Shame comes from producing small numbers of children who only become bloggers and quizmasters.


Status comes from owning bulky and expensive objects, preferably made out of mahogany and/or gold. Shame comes from being seen with ANYTHING second-hand.


In fact, there are no second-hand shops on the island and all the time a fiery rubbish dump on the mountain to the East of the town burns day and night, forever fuelled by a procession of perfectly serviceable objects that no one would ever be seen dead with for they bear the unholy taint of being pre-owned.


Status also comes, if you’re in business, from having a big desk. When it comes to desks, the Greek mentality of more is more applies.


A Greek businessman can handle having few customers, receding hair and a tiny little microscopic moped between his legs but without a desk the size of Saturn, he will die.


The minimum size for a Greek businessman’s desk is 2 metres by 1 metre depth. It must support filing trays and an ashtray. There must be a name plate in brass, preferably gold. It must be made from rare hardwoods from unsustainable forests.


It’s not even as if you need to be in a profession that uses a desk. There is a fishmonger’s shop over in Vathi (pictured) with a desk big enough to plan D-Day. All it is used for is to add up his eight daily sales of fish. In seventeen years, when he has sold enough fish to buy a new desk, this one will be burnt at the dump. The circle of life.

Day 16 - Death Bells & Laughter

We are awoken by the bells of the local church. Usually they ring on the hour, every hour, the exact number of rings matching the time of day. But this is different. The bells don’t stop and after an hour we realise they are announcing a death. After two hours of ringing, we presume that the long bearded, dark robed leader of the Greek Orthodox Church, Archbishiop Christodoulos, has died. His illness has filled the T.V news hour ever since we arrived.

However, the bells are for a local man who has passed away, and we are somewhat surprised at the length of time the bells have been ringing. Is this usual for someone local, not in a position of status and importance in either politics or religion? We learn that sometimes a few Euros slipped under the altar can have a marked effect on the efforts of the bell ringer.

In Greece, a burial cannot legally be performed without the presence of the priest. This makes it very difficult for the few small island communities who do not have a local priest. One such community is on the tiny Greek island of Antikythera, with a current population of 44 people. We hear that a tape recording of a priest performing the burial ceremony is used as a legal substitute for the real thing. Understandably, the general concern for the islanders is who will turn the tape recorder on for the last man standing?

We end the day with a surprise visit from Katerina, a cousin in her late 60’s who lives in Darwin, Australia. At five foot two with a booming voice, wide toothy grin, and a cackling laugh, she is a hoot. “Quiet everyone” she yells in her broad Greek/Aussie accent. “I’ve got a beauty of joke to tell ya, you’ll love it!” She commands her elderly mother in her late 80’s to sit down, along with our 93 year old neighbour, and starts:

“What’s a French kiss in Australia?”

“…A kiss down under!”

And we watch her roll about in her seat, gripped with uncontrollable laughter, “Get it? Get it?” she roars.