GREECE 2016 - 12 - HEADING TOWARD THE CRETAN MOUNTAINS

Fountains are scattered all over Crete

 

 

After, exploring the nature in Samaria Gorge and the history in Chania, here I am on my way to Argiroupoli, one of the most recommended villages to dive into Cretan country culture and authentic Greek food. As I drive up and around the mountains that will finally allow me reach my destination, I am still thinking of my new friend Costas, who took me to the airport before I left Athens last week. Little did I know then that he would turn out to be a very wise and intelligent man in terms of his understanding of human condition, politics in the world and Greek existence.

 

Argyroupoli from a distance

 

Since I knew I would return to Athens this week for one day to attend the annual Fulbright celebration at the American embassy, I had asked him before my first departure from Athens, whether he would be interested in driving me around through the 24 hours I would be in Athens. He delightedly accepted. I was already aware that his knowledge of Greek language was not bad at all. Whatever linguistic questions I asked him, he would come up with an answer and when he couldn’t, his limitation was more related to how to explain it to me in English not that he didn’t have the answer in Greek. That is the kind of man I respect to the greatest extent. Humility with his strengths and insight to his weaknesses; this is the key to healthy connection with one another, isn’t it? Had every man had these two qualities, wars would have been very difficult to breed…

"Modern" Argyroupoli through ancient ruins 

The reception at the American Embassy was lovely, acknowledging the success of the current and future awardees as well as targeting the attending funders for more support for the Greek Fulbright activities. I was very impressed with the Greek Fulbright Foundation’s activities!! I learned, first and foremost that Fulbright is the largest exchange organization in the world. The US State Department supports the international travel costs of trainees and scholars and provides minimal stipend for livelihood of the awardees in whichever country they are matched with. However, the costs of domestic travel and accommodation belong to the hosting country’s Fulbright organization, which requires constant fund-raising.

 

Beautiful doors and windows are all around Argyroupoli, too

 

 

Thus, it was partly Greek Fulbright’s success that they have hosted 34 American Fulbright awardees this year and will be sending out 35 Greeks to the USA for various lengths of time anywhere from one semester to 2 years this summer. Another very unique characteristic was that more than half the Greek awardees were accepted to programs such as jazz, classical music, art history, film making, etc totally different than many other countries, which usually go after projects related to almost exclusively business. After all, this is the land that gave birth to many forms of art, philosophy, and democracy among other intellectual creations of mankind. I was proud of these young people.

Brilliant young Fulbright scholarship awardees heading to the USA this summer 

Costas sends a friend of his to take me to the Embassy from my hotel. A very talkative man, Ianni. He wants to practice his English, I, my Greek, he gets it. We start chatting in Greek, but soon we slip into English since his English is much better than my Greek. The trigger for this is an interesting conversation that breaks out once I tell him that my grandparents were part of the catastrophe as Greeks call it when they were sent to Asia Minor when Greeks in Anatolia were sent to Greece. He tells me that was in 1922 as everybody else reports, but I know that my people went to Turkey in 1913.

 

Fig tree growing inside an ancient ruin

 

He corrects me that they cannot be part of catastrophe since the Greeks in Turkey were the victims of catastrophe, which took place in 1922. All of a sudden it is clearer in my mind: In 1922, the make-shift Turkish army of Ataturk had swept out of the Western part of Turkey, the invading Greek army supported by the British and at least some of the Greek population living in Turkey. The local Greeks were lured to the illusion that the Brits could help the native Greeks and the mainland Greek army bring the Byzantine grandeur back to them, which led to a true catastrophe! In official Turkish history, it was taught for over a century that the Greeks were “spilled into the Aegean” and had to be rescued by the British ships in Izmir Bay. The Turkish side reports the departing Greeks had set fire to downtown Izmir not to leave their belongings to Turks. The Greek side claims the Turkish army had set the city on fire to force the Greeks to leave. The only place the Greeks could go was the water, where they found refuge in British ships waiting on stand-by in Izmir Harbor. I doubt all the historical facts of that event have been released even after almost a century.

Roadside shrines come in all shapes and embellishment

Ianni defends that the muslims in Greece didn’t experience any hardship because of the events of that time, it was the Greeks that suffered. Hmmm, we are in a delicate place right now, it is impossible for me, being from Turkey, to convince him that both sides must have suffered and it was very unfortunate that both shores of the water, the Aegean have been cleansed from the rich cultural elements of the past just because of religion, which had never been a problem either in Greece or in Anatolia until the British sewed hatred seeds in communities against one another harvested by immense amounts of fear. He jumps into questioning why can’t Christians practice their religion in Agia Sofia in Constantinopolis? I try to get him to see that it is unfortunate that both churches in Turkey and mosques in Greece are basically empty. He is all about victimization of Greeks throughout the history. “And now nobody likes us. Macedonians want Scopia, Turks want the 12-Islands and Thrace. Look what Europe is doing to us. They all want us to disappear and we will. Soon there will be no Greece!”

In Argyroupoli, you either look through a ruin toward a modern building or through a modern building toward a ruin.. 

I feel for him but my comments on “Greek history and nation are so strong it is impossible to destroy Greece, don’t worry.” Bounce back as if he hasn’t heard a word of it. One last attempt from him is “They want to take away Scopia from us. People who live there are Greeks, they are not Macedonians!” I almost laugh deep inside: He could be one of the extreme right wing guys I saw at the Gold Dawn demonstration two weeks ago in Athens. Furthermore, his rhetoric is so similar to the official Turkish position on Kurdish people until a decade ago “Kurds are actually mountain Turks and they speak a dialect of Turkish, but they don’t know it!” I remember dear Manolis telling me during one of our lunch time discussions “Good thing, there is no minority to mention in Greece, Greek governments would have committed genocide without blinking their eyes”. I hope this is not true.

Beautiful and relatively well preserved old Cretan dwelling 

When I share with Costas that I was appalled with Ianni’s nationalist streak, Costas’ beauty comes out. He tells me almost exactly what I have been thinking about current Greek and Turkish national identities all along. He states that some lunatics in Greece want to bring back the past, they want Constantinople back, and they are in a total victimization mode. I share with him that it is so similar to current nationalistic Turkish identity that is a clash between the imperialist grandeur of the past and the relative unimportance of today. He gets it, his body language tells me that this is his exact sentiment.

 

 

One of the several churches in Argyroupoli

 

We agree that we, on both sides of the water, need to have an open mind and see that there is nothing we need to fight about. In fact, what would Turkish government do if it had the right to govern the 12-islands: install a few mosques on each island just as the Greek government would reconvert Aigia Sofia into a church and open up many additional churches, perhaps convert most of the mosques to churches as well. Otherwise, the food would remain the same, the music, the dances, the expression of self and community would remain the same. We wish everybody could see all the fight in fact is over which religion will dominate. With these thoughts and partly due to poor signage, despite my GPS, I miss my turn several times, but eventually make it to the beautiful village of Argyroupoli. As I usually do, I avoid following the crowds and park my car at the entrance of the lower town and start climbing toward the upper town center. First person I bump into turns out to be a retired Norwegian ophthalmologist, who lives part of the year in this lovely village in a house that is being renovated.

 

 

Tavern Ancient Lappa

 

 

We talk a bit about my work and she gets excited about discussing it with her pediatrician friends in Rethymno. Go figure, small world! I ask her about tavernas that are not frequented by tourists that much. She guides me to ArhiaiLappa named after the ancient city of Lappa, on top of the ruins of which this village is built. As I walk toward the tavern, I see many examples of how the ancient city actually is incorporated into the new village. Some buildings are falling apart, but nobody can touch them other than the government due to archeological site status, some ancient walls make up one side of a contemporary building, on and on… Finally I find a tavern on cross roads and meet a sweet sweet Greek woman named Constantinidi, short D, for tourists I guess. I order a Greek coffee as usual. As she serves other guests, she stops by and we chat in bits and pieces.

 

Gracious tavern owner  Constantinidi

 

As soon as she hears my grandparents are from Chania, she exclaims like an innocent child awarded the long awaited toy “Bravo!” as if I had a choice in it. What is it that even the best of us feels closer to a person when we discover s/he is one of us? Our implicit memories? Our suppressed othering of those not one of us? Knowing without knowing what a person holds if our roots are entangled with one another even in a distant distant past? What is a soul mate? Our mirror image? Someone that thinks, speaks, behaves, and feels more or less like ourselves? Or can soul mates complement and enrich one another with their differences as well as shared values? I still like her, innocence is all over her.

 

 

Another door window set from Argyroupoli

 

She guides me to all the places I should see in the village not knowing I will bump into a volunteer guide! I want to take a picture of her, she is delighted, but she prefers a picture of the two of us. A German tourist is more than happy to help. I give her my card and ask her to write to me so I can send her the picture. She is delighted even more. When I ask to pay, she tells me “It is on me, you come back for lunch”. I leave the payment as tip with an “Efharisto para para poli”. On my way up, I take a side street and greet a man sitting under an umbrella with my usual “Kali mera”. He responds joyfully and we start a chat. His name is Manolis and he tells me he would be happy to show me old Venetian and Roman ruins.

 

Manolis and an ancient (?) amphora he has on display...

 

He is pointing to the narrow alley that goes down to the ravine. I am a bit skeptical, thinking of all the rape stories from the western world… Something inside me says “Give him an innocent chance, perhaps he is after a few euros, who knows.”  The urban brainwashing in me tells me to keep my distance with him, though. Put him ahead of me, stay a yard behind him, and when he touches my arm in a friendly way at times, pull my arm and cut the contact right away. Part of me feels bad for being polite and respectful but somewhat distant to him, but my cortex tells me “better safe than sorry”. First thing he does is to give me a blossom from one of the vines in his yard. That is when I notice a freebag dangling over one of his shoulders, now it is clear that this is a businessman here. Opening whatever is in his backyard that he cannot touch to tourists! He gets it, he respects my personal space except for one time when I almost tumble over a Venetian marble block. At some point, he stops and picks for me two handfuls of purple little plumbs. Despite my polite protests, he insists that I take it and don’t feel shy about it. What can I do except for devouring the most delicious plumbs handed to me.

Where Manolis lives 

He shows me Venetian archways, Roman columns, Venetian untouchable buildings still standing upright, entrance to an underground “fortezza”. I understand only half of what he says, he decided I knew Greek and is bombarding me with information. Who knows if he is telling me the truth, but I scold myself “Trust him Resmiye and just resolve that you hired a guide and a lovely one at that, who has only a handful of teeth, but a sweet smile and who won’t harm you. At some point I ask him “Do you live here?” and regret the question right away. I don’t want him to think I want to go to his house! He says “Here” pointing to a door, I instantaneously stay behind one more time. He brings out a very old camera on foot, shows me how it works and takes a picture of me with the camera. Then he invites me inside, I just peek through the door when he is inside, it is a tiny little shack with all kinds of odds and ends, all over. He pours a shot of raki for me, which I have to refuse, then offers me a cookie with sesame seeds. Although I can’t eat that, either, I take it not to offend him.

Ornamentation of the walls in D's tavern 

He is not surprised when I give him his well-deserved tip. This reminds me of the conversation Costas and I had this morning one more time. It is Costas’ position that Greeks that migrated to America were regarded as “taking what didn’t belong to them very easily”. He even goes too far to say they were known as kleftis, for which one could go to jail. I take it as thieves/stealing. My position on the other hand is that Greeks in Turkey were known as being successful businessmen. I interpret what Manolis did this afternoon as turning a situation that I started by conversing with him into a business opportunity for himself without forcing me into anything. I wonder how Costas would have interpreted this. 

I go to the town center and buy some gifts for my friends in the USA from a lovely young Greek woman. She also has decayed teeth. What happened to the good Greek health care, is it decaying under the austerity measures, too?  I share with her my experience with Manolis and my curious skepticism, we get a good laugh out of it. She tells me he is a good man, but just does this thing with tourists. I tell her to tell Manolis that I had a great time and thank him one more time for me. I am sure they will share it with the entire village for a while, and sure enough, the moment I walk out of her store, she is sharing what I told her with the store owner across hers!

Vegetable garden Manolis walks me through. 

As I am looking for the springs, I come across the cemetery and the old church in it on a hill that dominates the entire valley. It is interesting that all Orthodox cemeteries that I visited both in Turkey and Greece happen to be on top of hills that has a panoramic view. I wonder if they feel the dead deserves space and being closer to the sky than the living. Had I known, the springs would have turned out to be merely a tourist trap, I would have spent more time in the cemetery with the peace of the dead, savoring the mountains all around us diving into deep valleys under the warm breeze filling my lungs with delicious scents of sage, thyme, and who knows what else that grows in this fertile land…

Series of villages scattered between Argyroupoli and Rethymno

 

GREECE 2016 - 11 - CHANIA, THE JEWEL OF CRETE WITH VENETIAN, HELLENIC, OTTOMAN, JEWISH HISTORY

Cathedral of Chania or 3 Martyrs Church from Venetians

Chania! The jewel of Crete from antiquity till today… I find the direction to the old town by following the signs and other tourists. As the religious government of Turkey fuels the civil war going on between the military/police and the Kurdish self-defenders, tourism is deflated all around the coastal line. In Greece on the other hand, you hear numerous languages wherever you turn, tourism is in explosion!  The first impressive structure that I come across is the Cathedral of Chania or 3 Martyrs church, built in Venetian time, turned into a soap factory under Ottoman rule. What is interesting is that the Ottoman Pasha’s child fell into a well and he prayed for Virgin Mary to save him with a promise of returning the church back to the Christian community! The kid lives and here we are able to enjoy a church from Venetian era.

Chania Archeological Museum, the old Monastery of Saint Francis

I recall a very sweet moment in Chania from 2010, when I had had coffee at a kafennia, coffee shops mainly for men in Greece. It was so quiet then with nobody around, in November, except for a few locals. It was in this little square, I recall very clearly. I take a tour around the church to locate that lovely, rustic kafennia, with no success. All shops around both sides of the church are restaurants speaking to tourists. I wonder what happened to the kafennia owner. Did he retire finally seeing that his place needed “modernization”, did he sell his place to somebody else with “better” ideas? One little loss from my experience of this town hurts my heart a little. I wish I could track him down, most likely not this time, having just a few hours to spend in Chania today and tomorrow. I send him my loving kindness thoughts and wish him “na eistai kala filos mou” (with good health my friend).

One of several coin collections at the Archeological Museum in Chania

This church being from the 13^th century has very elaborate ornamentation inside including Italian paintings from the mid-last millennium. The next building is just a few meters down, which looks like a church. Sure enough it does turn out to be the Venetian Monastery of Saint Francis, which is now housing the Archeological Museum of Chania, famous with its coin collections from all over Greece with its city-states to all areas the Greek/Byzantine Empires controlled as far as to Pontus, in the middle of the Black Sea coast in Turkey. I notice Greeks prefer to call the lands on Anatolia “Asia Minor”, perhaps just to mention the geographic location without ownership…

 

For each coin collection there is a map displaying where they have been excavated

 

I bump into a group of adults mixed with lots of school aged children. The guide talks to them both in Greek and Italian. They may be Greek kids going to an Italian school is my resolve. The guide is a very effective teacher using all her typical Greek animations with gestures, mimics, and voice to get her point across! And the kids are very much into it, how lovely. After an hour at the museum, I am back on the street and soon I am in front of the Ottoman mosque on the waterfront, dedicated to Küçük Hassan Pasha, the first Ottoman military governor of Chania. It was the first mosque built in Crete after the Ottoman conquest of Chania in 1649.

 

The handcrafts art exhibition at the Kucuk Hasan Pasa Mosque, now an exhibition hall

 

 

Since I arrived in Chania, I was joyed with the subtle feeling that I would eventually reach the water, meaning the Aegean. In these parts, one has that constant feeling, in a minute or an hour or a day, the water is waiting for him/her. I had that feeling as long as I lived in Izmir until 16 years of age. When I went to Wisconsin as an exchange student, for a while, I lived with this feeling of incompleteness, of something missing. I discovered in a few months what was missing: None of the paths I took in that town, and it was a small one, Waterford, WI, took me to the water, to any water as a matter of fact. In Iowa, at least when I miss being near a body of water, I go to McBride state park, especially in late afternoon, walk along the water, watch the beautiful sunset, and feel as if I am in Izmir by the waterfront watching one of the most beautiful sunsets one can ever watch… I am back to that feeling in Crete and truly, neither Rethymno nor Chania has failed me in my expectation so far!

If one grows up by the water, this is the expectation at the end of each street in town 

I enter the mosque, wondering whether my attire is appropriate or not, but no need to worry. They are also using the remains of Ottomans as museums just like the Turks’ attitude to the Greek churches all over Turkey. Those churches that are used by minimal number of Christians living in Istanbul and Izmir perhaps are open by appointment almost only to their known congregation: I never saw a practicing church open in my 38 years in Turkey. In a way, the ethnic cleansing on both sides of the water (the Aegean), there remained no need for mosques or churches to worship in. The people were gone to distant lands they didn’t know. They had to suffer through discrimination against them, putting up with condescending nicknames such as “gavur” (infidel) or “greek seed” or “turko seed”. I am pleased to see that there is a handcrafts exhibition, which is very becoming to the bare walls of the mosque, the mostly square/rectangular frames creating a sharp contrast with the round domes of the past.

Warehouses converted into museum, café, or exhibition hall in Chania 

I get out of the mosque/museum. To the right is the Venetian dock warehouses, to the left is the Venetian Castillo and across from me is the light house. I head to the right. First I need a cup of coffee, somehow in Crete, I can’t wake up fully without “kafe Hellenica”! I start chatting with my waiter in Greek, he is tolerant and patient with my efforts. Once I place my order, I start enjoying the serene beauty of the water surrounded with hundreds of years of history. Chania’s “harbor” is so much like Fokai in Turkey, an hour north of Izmir on the western coast, one of the reasons why I like Chania better than any town in Crete. It is also where my roots are from. Who knows if we will ever find out where exactly our people came from in or around Chania. My oldest brother is working on information gathering before all the elderly dies away extinguishing any possibility of connection with the land we came from.

Sponge hunter from the Dodekanosis in Chania 

Just in front of the dock warehouse is a boat, on which is a man trimming sponges that he had caught (I assume). I ask him whether I can take a picture of him in Greek. He accepts it with a hand gesture that tells me “Why not, go ahead, I don’t care”. On his face is a smile of subtle pride and pleasure. I ask him what his name is as I take the few steps down to the pier to get closer to him. His name is Alvarodis or something close to that. He asks my name. As I answer him, a young man comes out of the cabin, smiling. We start chatting. I learn that they are from the Twelve Islands archipelago, Kalimnos is their island. Of course the next question is where I am from. I give them the full spiel of living in America, born in Turkey, but with roots from Chania now in fluent Greek since I learned this paragraph really well! Their faces light up, and tell me that their island is right across from Bodrum and that they go to Bodrum often.

Philipo helping his grandparents, who have been fishing for sponges in the Eastern Aegean for several decades

 

I have known that for a long time. Whenever I meet a Greek in Turkey, close to invariably they happen to be from one of the Greek islands spending a day shopping in one of the coastal towns in Turkey. Of course they are half an hour boat ride away from Turkey but hours or days away from mainland Greece. They learn that I am from Izmir, and now a lady comes out of the cabin, too, to let me know she has been to Izmir and loves it there. It never fails, every Turk in the Aegean region has a connection to Greece, be it a brief visit or relationships, and every Turk in Greece seems to have similar connections, too, more often than in Turkey having roots there. Philipo, the young man tells me that this couple is his grandparents. He graduated from the University of Athens with a degree in accounting and will start his private office in October after the tourism season is over. Until then, he is helping his grandparents. We exchange our routine “na eistai kala”s and I leave them with my loving kindness thoughts.

Old and new hand in hand in the use of locals and tourists alike in Chania

 

Last time I was here, the warehouses at the far end of the harbor were vacant and run down. I’d like to see what is going on now. The one to the right became “maritime museum”, good. The one on the left became a café. The one in the middle has some kind of handcrafts exhibition, but more interesting than that is an old man, perhaps in his 80s or 90s sitting at a table and watching live music on TV, which is a classical Turkish art music piece played against an Aigia Sofia church/museum background! The music is so lively and stimulating, I almost want to dance and leave this man with a most unforgettable memory! Unfortunately, I am not that adventurous. Instead I ask him what kind of music that is. He says he doesn’t know and lists for me “It could be “Indian, Greek, Macedonian, Turkish, Bulgari…” He doesn’t know what the background is. Eventually he gets interested in me and asks me where I am from. After he hears my story, he invites me to sit on the second seat in front of his table. His name is Haramboli.

 

Doors and hands of Chania very much like in Rehtymno

 

He asks me the names of my grandparents, meaning their family names. I tell him, that much I know. He says something to the effect of “it rings a bell, but it’s been so many years. Certainly, he wasn’t born when the population exchanges took place, which is known as catastrophe in Greece. I wonder why in Turkey this catastrophic event is known as only “exchange” but in Crete it is defined with what it really was a catastrophe. Another question for social anthropologists to answer. I take leave with warm feelings for this elderly man, perhaps he might help my brothers when they visit Chania in September. After walking on the Light Tower wavebreak to the middle, I complete my tour on the waterfront to the Castillo and end my visit of historic places in Chania. I choose a backstreet restaurant called Tamam, for my late lunch and order a rabbit dish, first time in my life. My waiter is worried that I will be under the sun in a little bit. I don’t worry about it, the table I choose is the only one with a view of the Aegean down the street. I will be comfortable in the company of the sun as long as I can keep the blue shimmering in the harbor before my eyes.

 

The patch of water I can look at from Tamam restaurant

 

I must say, the rabbit dish is my least favorite dish of all foods that I had in Crete so far. Better to leave poor rabbits alone. However, my friend Sofia will tell me that rabbit in fact is one of the staple foods in Crete and she cooks a very tasty rabbit dish. I guess, I will have to try hers before making a final decision. Now is the time to head back to Rethymno to catch another sunset after which I will pick up my rental car to start exploring parts of the northern coast that I could not without a car. Argiropouli, famous with its authentic Cretan country life and cuisine and other small villages will be part of that exploration.

Rethymno sunset is unforgettable every night

 

GREECE - 10 - HISTORY AND SPEAKING HOST'S LANGUAGE

 

An Orthodox Greek church in Sfakia, where a traditional wedding was taking place

 

 

After my energizing but slightly brutal hike yesterday, I will take it easy today. My destination is Chania! Easy to get to on a 1-hr bus ride from Rethymno, easy to get around with lots to see and appreciate in the condensed and beautiful old town as I recall from my brief visit to Chania last time I was in Crete. Bus terminal is a chaos, which is the nature of existence in Greece, more so in Crete just like in Turkey, after all aren’t these the lands that tried to explain the “Original Chaos”?.

 

Sunset from the terrace of my hotel in Rethymno

 

Before coming to Greece this time, I read a bit more about the Greek mythology. It was interesting to recall how chaos in mythological terms led to the creation of Gaia, the mother earth then to Uranus, the sky, and how from this union the titans Rhea and Cronus were created among others. The union of these two then led to the creation of the genealogy of the major Gods in Greek mythology including, Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Apollo, Artemis, Athena, Ares, on and on… I wonder how in the world the peoples of these parts were able to imagine the Big Bang millennia ago. Is it all the wars, occupations, rebellions, and adaptations to survive that they had to go thorough have something to do with this. Who knows, a question to pose to social anthropologists I guess.

 

Lovers against the old town in Rethymno

Even Greeks can’t figure out what bus to get on, we tourists speaking Turkish, English, Italian, French among all other handful of languages I have heard around in the last week, shouldn’t feel bad then. Finally, I am on the right bus, I take the first row seat to appreciate the vistas. Our driver is a dark complexioned, sun-scorched looking sturdy man. Throughout the hour of our co-existence he is either calling somebody or somebody is calling him! I am pleased to notice that I am noticing the tenses of his verbs, he uses mainly past and present tense. I really should keep up with my Greek. As soon as I go back home, I will look into registering for a formal language class at the University. This is but one of my resolutions out of this trip.  

The old hamam (Xamam) in Chania converted into a boutique

 

Once at the leoforio stazi (bus station), I ask the beautiful Cretan youth with large black eyes, framed sharply but elegantly into a doe’s eyes with eye liner (a Turkish expression to define the most beautiful eyes) the direction to the old town. She is somewhat shy but very helpful. I recognize this smile now, on every Greek’s face when I try to speak to them in Greek. I am sure I have an accent and pretty sure make grammatical mistakes. Nevertheless, it is so clear how they value this effort. This has historical roots I suspect, which I recall from my days in Turkey, especially from a time when the world was not so globalized and the borders of national identity was also more sharply defined:

Chania Archeological Museum housed in an old church 

Both Greek and Turkish generations are raised with pride mostly based on what their imperial predecessors/ancestors had “accomplished”. I was also raised with that brain-washing until 18 years of age, when I discovered political economy, evolution of philosophy through millennia, religion and nationalism and their role in contemporary societies… I then fully understood the background of Ottoman’s colonial imperialist occupations just like every empire had done in history. Ottomans considered themselves as the rulers of half the world, made Istanbul the economic, cultural, and artistic center of the then world they could occupy. But when they excluded science from this domination and their sole goal became expansion at all costs just like the ancient Greek empire, they started to decline. For Ottomans; Europe was already into its enlightenment on the basis of scientific developments and reforming their religion, which would translate to Ottoman’s demise by their own choice of confining themselves into Islamic framework.

The mosque on the waterfront in Chania 

Turkish land would have become but a colony for multiple European to-become-imperial powers had it not been for the nationalistic movement Ataturk led totally independent from religious context. It is interesting that this was preceded by the Greeks revolting for their national identity, against the disappearing Ottoman Empire. It would be certainly appropriate for the Western Allies to feed into Greeks’ deep desire to become the Neo-Byzantine Empire again, take back Istanbul and other lands in Asia Minor that naturally inhabited scores of Greek speaking Christian communities, remaining from the Byzantine, Ionnian, Lycian, or Frigian rules.

The light tower and horse carriages for tourists in Chania 

It was a time, though, neither the Ottoman Empire could survive, nor the Byzantine Empire revived! New imperial powers were appearing in the political economical system of the world: America, Britain, Germany, France, and in their fight for redistributing colonial lands, erupted the WWI. That is why even the USA was on the table when it came to sharing the control of parts of Turkey! In the end, Britain became the major imperial power 2 centuries ago. WWII reshaped the world panorama one more time, when the USA became the new imperial power in the world under the banner of pretending to be the saint of democracy.  Hence, English becoming the new language of the world!
 

Cretans always had a rebellious temperament, now supporting French workers on strike!

 

I sense, societies that are pumped with “Be proud, you are the sons and daughters of so and so empire, who ruled half of the world some hundreds or thousands of years ago”, who now has a minimal impact on the contemporary world discourse, culturally, scientifically, artistically, especially economically, face ambiguity when it comes to associate with people of the societies that rule the world panorama nowadays. They are proud of their past, but their governments and societies as a whole have little to show other than the productions of their predecessors from some 6-7000 BC to 1000 years ago.

The entrance to the harbor from the top of the castle where the banner above was hanging

Hence, this subtle, hidden, perhaps impossible to verbalize insecurity before an American or British or German, who tries to speak their language. This perceived or presumed humility may be what brings the once glorious, now (feeling) secondary to equal grounds with a customer from a now developed, neo-imperial society. As we learn each other’s language, we will also be able to learn our cultures much better. I hope and trust that globalization is going to seed into every society the equal understanding of one another in the coming decades…

Part of old town in Chania

 





GREECE 2016 - 9 - SAMARIA GORGE, MUST SEE IN CRETE

Greeks, Turks, Americans, Australians around the table at the Conference

My session at the Social Sciences Conference on Greek Crisis went well. I considered, under the given circumstances of Greece, people would experience significant amount of stress thus all stress related adversities would be on the rise from child neglect if not abuse to alcoholism, domestic violence, and mental illnesses to name a few. My oral paper on childhood adversity and its impact on health was well received and led to lots of discussions. And my hands and bare arms were not covered with blood stain from our early morning black mulberry feast in Micaheli’s village!

Samaria Gorge on Crete

Closing the week professionally, I believe I deserve a day on the Samaria Gorge. Although my back and left foot still are not back to normal, I think I can do it. I make arrangements with a touring company discovering that using public transportation or a car will cut short the enjoyment of a variety of exposures that the touring company will provide since I have only this one day to do and complete my visit to the national park. But there are alternatives according to time one may want to devote to this visit. Samaria Gorge, known as the “Farangas” or “Great Gorge” by locals is the longest walkable gorge in Europe, length in the National Park, 13 km, total walk to reach the beach is 16 km. Last time I was in Crete, I wasn’t able to visit it due to late fall flooding. It is in west Crete, in the White Mountains, starting at Xyloskalo (1227 m. above sea level) on the Omalos Plateau and runs down to the seaside village of Agia Roumeli at the Libyan Sea on the south coast of Crete.

Beautiful wild flower at Omalos rest area before reaching the entrance of the national park

One can take public transportation all the way from anywhere in Crete to Omalos through Chania to close to the northern entrance of the park. Walk the 16 km gorge to Agia Roumeli, spend the evening there enjoying their delicious food and the coastal life. Then, in the morning catch the ferryboat to Hora Sfakion, explore the Sfakia panaroma and network of villages and return to Rethymno in the evening. If you decide to drive, you will have to complete the circle over two days to pick it up or hike back the 16 km and this time uphill!. Thus, the 50 euros spent all travel costs covered was well worth it and since the tour guides hang out with their own fellow guides, you don’t really know that you are on a tour throughout the hike until, you are curious about a shack that looks like a snack bar and you peek through the door into the dark interior, your tour guide appears at your shoulder with a “May I help you?”, to let you know sweetly in a whisper that if is the private sleeping quarter of the ranger sitting at the table with her and her colleagues! Oops, sorry.

We have to respect the sheep herds that block the road from time to time, against the backdrop of White Mountains
 

Our tour guide is a German woman, probably my age, who came to Crete 28 years ago, got married and stayed! Has two sons in schooling or done with it. She does this gorge twice a week in addition to some beach tours and fills her week doing something she loves to do. Husband is estranged now, we gossip about how Cretan men may be a bit difficult, having known a few Cretan men as I was growing up including my close and distant relatives.

Entrance to Samaria National Park

She is fluent in Greek but has an accent I can now clearly differentiate. Our driver is exclusively Greek speaking, gives me chance to use my Greek. When we reach our break stop, we flock into the taverna, to the left is a table loaded with dishes for breakfast. Surely, it turns out to be prepared for the guides and drivers for bringing customers to the taverna as a gift. Exactly the same in Turkey. In fact in larger places, the guides even receive a percentage of the sales, especially in rug stores.
 

The highest point of the gorge against series of peaks we will have to hike down and around
 

The hike starts at the highest point of the gorge obviously. The scenery below stretching all the way to horizon interrupted by several peaks aligned in a three dimensional perspective is stunning, breathtaking, spectacular, I don’t have the adjectives to describe what I am seeing. The high peaks rising in the distance, one veiled with haze shading its green face, the other closer by with brighter colors of dark green to gray where its face is barren. They, together frame the acute angle of the gorge diving deep down toward the earth, vaguely outlining our path that will take us 5-6 hours to cover. I am delighted with the view, not so much with the footing, which consists of various sizes of rocks, stones, pebbles, which sometimes mischievously tumble down under the foot, creating dangerous and hurtful moments both for my hip and foot that are not fully healed. That means, I will have to take greater caution.

Early switchbacks in the gorge are brutal...
 

The Samaria National Park is reported to be exceptionally rich in plant and animal life. It is a good thing that the 450 plant species and the animal habitat are also protected under international law. No wonder our guide tells me not to pick anything when I come across thyme bushes with a delicious and dizzying smell. I follow the rule, but when I get to the village, I ask a villager if it is endaksi to pick thyme: Vevea, sure; Cretans have foraged for whatever edibles they found in the wild around their settlement, even the question is absurd to a villager. I pick a bag of thyme to take to my mother from her motherland Crete, she will love it. As we walk through the gorge, we do come across come wild goats and birds with blue wings that have a call very much like the blue jay’s in America.
 

Oldest olive tree in Crete, according to local rumors, it is 2000 years old

 

Water is plenty, the path is lined with multiple fountains that locals used for centuries, some look like the national park rangers might have built some more in a make-shift but very natural manner. Our guide is inviting us to fill up our bottles with the spring water that springs out of every craves, with my American mind, I am skeptical first, but everybody is doing it, I do as Romans do when in Rome. The water is deliciously cold and tasty. The locals of the gorge, especially the natives of the village of Samaria, after which the gorge is named played a significant role in protecting the allies and partisans during the WWII and Nazis tortured them big time. The villagers were relocated in 1962 when the gorge was declared a national park.

One of many water fountains in the gorge, everybody drinks this water untreated, didn't develop any illness?
 

Of all the break points, old Samaria village site is the most comprehensive one, with multiple standing buildings, renovated and put to use, several for the rangers, into one of which I was caught peeking, not knowing what it was, and fortunately not seeing anything I shouldn’t have in the dark. Everybody takes the opportunity to take a longer rest here since this is almost halfway. I learn that the name “Samaria” is derived from the 14th-century church of Osia Maria (Holy Mary) at the outskirts of the village, down the road.

Samaria settlement half way into the gorge

 

We cross multiple bridges, some actual bridges made by men, some natural made up of stones and rocks fording the little bit of water at the bottom of the canyon in places, some made by men by moving stones and rocks to create a natural-looking bridge. After a while, I grab a tree branch to use as a walking stick regretting not having brought my walking sticks for only one day of hiking in Greece. It serves me well and takes off some of the burden from my back at least.

The fountains in the gorge rearrange the flow of water toward the hiking path

At some point, when I find access to water in the canyon bed, I take off my shoes and rest my feet in the freezing water, which takes me back to the national parks in America, where, I dip my feet into whatever water source I find as often as I can while hiking. It is heaven, no wonder I am an aquarius! I love all juices of life, but water in whatever form, more so…
 

The Iron Gates, the narrowest point in the gorge

 

As we approach the “Iron Gates” (Sideroportes), the narrowest point of the gorge, we start seeing people walking up the gorge. I learn that these are the “lazy way”ers. Doing only the last few kms of the gorge starting in Agia Roumeli, which stretch is pretty flat.  The Iron Gates is indeed an impressive doing of the nature with both walls of the gorge rising up vertically a sheer 350 m above the water bed. Finally, around 3:30 pm, we are at the exit of the national park, 0.5 a km from which is the bus stop where we can assume a seated position until Agia Roumeli, I decide to take the bus, Meki, our guide is already there, she is offered a fresh squeezed orange juice right away by the little kafennia staff, who is also running the bus service, I gather.

Fellow hikers build path markers with natural material just like in America, gratefully guys...


Meki tells the gentleman running the bus service my story. The moment she tells him I grew up in Turkey, he turns to me and asks “Where is your burka” in Greek, also demonstrating with his hands. I am appalled with the condescending gesture and expression on his face; Meki senses the tension as well and tries to make it light by telling him about my living in America, almost apologizing for my Turkish background. He is clearly one of the “manga”s as they call them in Greece, macho, full-of-himself type of self-absorbed and nationalist peasant man.
 

Mule is the main means of transportation through the gorge
 

Although I understand his culture, this is almost Sfakia after all, known by their somewhat roughness, gun oriented culture etc, and his kind exists in every society, I also can choose who will get my business and this man’s mindset is not one that I’d like to associate with nor give my business to. I say good bye to them all and walk the additional 2 km to the beach town. I jump into the Libyan Sea, we are in the Mediterranean now.

My camera can cover only 2/3 of the height of the cliffs of Samaria at Iron gates

I swim for half an hour in the shade of the huge ferryboat that will take us to Loutro, then to Hora Sfakion in 1.5 hours. The best time of the day, dissolving in the cool waters of the Mediterranean, feeling the rejuvenation in my muscles, devouring the lightness the salt water brings to my body, lying in the water face up meditating, feeling the warm, affectionate caress of the late afternoon sun on my face, forgetting about the “manga” and their presence on earth all over the world… Half an hour of journey to the heavens, now I am ready to devour the zucchini flowers stuffed with rice and Cretan spices at the Frangia Tavern. My waiter, perhaps the owner of the tavern is a middle aged stoic man. I want to order the stuffed zucchini flowers (anthus) and a Greek salad.

I can't resist memorializing my visit to Samaria with this picture

He looks at me with an “Are you crazy, woman with this size of yours to order this much food?” look and declares “That is too much! Tzatziki and stuffed flowers is enough”. I crack up to this typical Cretan honesty and straightforwardness and submit with an “Endaxi, efharisto poli”. Yes indeed, it is the best combination. I must say other than the Cretan salad I had had in Rethymno the first night at 10 pm at that, this becomes my best meal in Crete. I learn that in order to enjoy the hortas that I love, I have to come to Crete somewhere between January and March. Then it would be worth to eat fish, too. Especially to eat the sthamnagaki that I had tired in 2011 and loved thoroughly.

 

This is where the shoes and socks come off and scorched feet are dipped into healing freezing waters of the gorge, delicious...

The boat ride is phenomenal. The breeze on my face and skin coupled with the friendly warmth of the evening sun feels so good. Loutro and Hora Sfakion are two southern coast villages, almost serving tourists. I wonder where the natives are other than running the restaurants and hotels. It looks like there is a touristic campaign since all buildings we can see from the boat are white washed and wooden trimming is all painted dark blue, the colors of Greek flag? It looks beautiful, but I am attracted more to the unstructured, natural, free spirited, non-commercialized real, native life while traveling rather than this formatted tourist-attracting presentation of self almost imposed upon Greek localities by commerce.
 

Beer, stuffed zucchini florets and yogurt/cucumber dressing go unbelievably well. 
 

One of such natural life style serendipitously presents itself to us as we cover some road toward inland Sfakia. Costas, our driver picks us up from Hora Sfakion to complete our circle in Rethymno. As we are passing through one of the villages of Sfakia, we notice at least 30-40 cars parked alongside the road. Meki declares “I bet there is a wedding”. Sure enough, the church on the right is packed with women in wedding attire, men either in black suits or in black shirts and pants. It looks somewhat like a scene from the Godfather indeed! Since it is not part of the tour, we get a brief glimpse of the crowd and move on. Too bad I am not driving my own car, what can we do…
 

How can one resist letting a tired and heated body into this lovely Agia Roumeli waters?
 

When we get to Rethymno, all I need is to have an ice cream dinner and go to bed early. As someone on the internet had warned, my thighs and calves are already stiff, little do I know that the next several days I will get out of bed with moans and groans until my muscles warm up to the day’s activities. I am delighted, though, I go to Meli (which means ice cream in Greek), a a patisserie, which makes home-made ice cream of at least twenty different flavors, among other sweets. They do have vanilla with mastika (gum powder from gum tree that grows in the 12 Islands) and pistachio!

Loutro, another lovely village on the western Libyan Sea coast

When I reach my hotel room, my fitbit registers 35,000 steps, my all-time record on fitbit, alas, my brother Mehmet beats me in the next 24 hours! He has done Uludag (Grand Mountain in Turkey) summit at the same time I was doing Samaria Gorge, his report is 43,000 steps, there is no way I can beat him!

Hora Sfakion, entry to the Sfakia land...

Western coves on the Libyan Sea we visited from Agia Roumeli to Hora Sfakion