Winter Solstice, Pathetic Politicians, Greek derivation and a Sonnet to Sinusitis.

The Winter Solstice, or for those of you in the Southern Hemisphere, the Summer Solstice, occurred on Saturday 21^st December at 19.11, Lamia time, to be precise. I guess Lamia was nominated as being an approximate geographic centre of Greece.  At any rate, from now on we can take heart – our days are gradually beginning to lengthen.  

 This posting you’ll be glad to hear, has no travel tittle-tattle; we’ll have a break from breaks.

 First, our news. H is a canny customer and decided paying road tax for two cars was too much, so he surrendered to the tax office the registration plates of one car, effectively taking it off the road. Many have taken the same steps recently to save money.  Imagine, then, our surprise on hearing that Michael Liapis, a well-known politician of the Karamanlis dynasty, had been apprehended for: failing to halt at a stop sign, driving without insurance, and for having false number plates.  Now you would expect such a person to behave with more dignity – but the real irony is that he was Minister of Transport, no less, from 2004 to 2007! He recently declared an annual income of 109, 000 euros, so I guess he could afford the 1,300 euro road tax.  But the fact that he had his trial delayed while he went off on a luxury holiday to Asia was definitely a case of ……now what is that word the Greeks have for it ? ….ah, yes : hubris.

 By the way, another politician, Aleka Papriga, declared an income of 70, 612 euros, but a bank credit of 50 euros. Now I realize that Communists are not greatly into property and wealth, and Aleka has only this year given up her position as General Secretary of the Communist Party, a position she held since 1991. But doesn’t that sound as if either she’s having us on or is an exceptionally poor financial manager?

Next topic: derivations. I’ve always been interested in those terms we use in English which derive from Greek but where the senses generated in the two languages have diverged over time. H is equally interested in things linguistic and these are his findings. Today’s word is sycophant, adj.: a servile flatterer (the more usual sense in English) or a common informer (this one being more in line with what the Greek word conveys) – i.e. a snitch with an agenda!

 The derivation that is suggested is as follows:  In the ancient times, trading rights were carefully restricted and protected. This was true for trading in figs, an important Attican crop. Greeks have apparently always been ready to bend and stretch rules, so under-the-counter fig-trade did take place. The sycophant, then, was the one who rumbled an illicit fig-merchant, whether his claim was substantiated or not.

Finally, as you may know, I pen the odd poem from time to time – whenever something bothers me or touches me, that is, when something gets me or gets to me.

 For the past two weeks, rather than saying I have had sinusitis, I can say that it definitely held me in its relentless grip.  A life-long sufferer – a consultant once told me it was a question of bad design and poor choice of parents – I have not been through such a bad, prolonged bout before. My illness coincided with a period of test preparation I was doing with an ear, nose and throat surgeon. Try saying her specialization – otorhinolaryngology - when suffering from nasal congestion!

So it was inevitable that an opus was produced – it’s not for the faint-hearted and probably best read before ingesting copious quantities of Christmas fare! Anyway, since it is, as it were, right up your street, Aleka, this poem I dedicate to you!

A Sonnet to Sinusitis

The first foreboding symptom is when your throat begins to burn

 Then, like Charlie’s Chocolate Factory, the mucus machines begin to turn

 But when the sinus sluice-gates get inflamed and become plugged

That’s when you know that virus has finally got you slugged.

However you wish to describe them:

Enraged, inflamed or engulfed

Your sinuses front, maxillary and sphenoid

Are well and truly stuffed

You blow your nose with vigour,

Causing cavities to squeak

As the gunge spreads out to fill the space

Left by sputum vented through mouth and beak

It’s  thick, claggy and viscous

And may even be the colour of bile

  But mostly it’s diaphanous

 And absolutely vile.

And when this discharge, effluent, gob descends

 As it does from every cranny and recess,

It is, of course, essential to have

 Hankies within easy access.

You hack and cough to clear your pharynx

Then the virus decides to attack your larynx

 With control no longer over pitch rise and fall

 Your rasping sounds like an obscene phone-call.

So, have a happy festive time –

Avoid the twerking Miley Cyrus-

But most of all make it very clear

You want no virulent virus

 Have fun, drink lots of eggnog and punch

 And have a well-earned rest

And of all these great gifts you receive

Your health will be the best!

                     We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Joyous New Year !

Bad Tourism, Bracelets, Bears and Booze

Autumn in Greece is a lovely season when the sun transforms itself  from white-hot to a much more comfortable,mellow yellow. H and I took ourselves off to a sea-side resort in the south-west, to Prevesa Beach Hotel. We lucked out as we were right next to the stairwell and so our ‘room’ was actually a suite : we had a nicely decorated room and bathroom ….. and a lovely spacious sitting room as well – no complaints from us! 

     

 

  

                      

I remember years ago, while I was orally examining an IELTS candidate from Halkidiki, being surprised to hear her talk about ‘bad tourists’.  How could foreign visitors bringing cash into Greece possibly be bad? She was referring to those who came on pre-paid all-in package tours and who, to her mind, were bad since their cash was channeled almost exclusively into the host hotel rather than spread out across the other catering or retail outlets in the area. Seems to me if the hotel management has shown the initiative and made the effort to offer such packages and attract such tourists in the first place, then they are entitled to as much of that income pie as they wish!  

  Anyway, in her eyes we were there as ‘bad tourists’ – the minute we checked in at reception we were presented with red plastic bracelets to indicate we were guests there on full board.

 At the Pizza Hut in Kuwait, I used to suppose some of the locals could be up for Guinness Book of Records entry for how much food they could pack into the single, smallish bowls each customer could fill from the salad bar. And there was a real art involved in stashing as much in there as you could:

The trick was to fill the base with any ‘loose’ ingredients – rice, kidney beans, sweetcorn,beetroot, etc.. Round the sides of the bowl you next constructed a ‘wall’ of carrot, celery or cucumber slices or batons to hold content nicely in place. This you then fill with potato salad, tsatziki, taramas, etc. -   a nice         sticky layer into which the rest of your selected food could then be wedged – ingenious, huh ? 

 At Prevesa Beach Hotel, piled-high plates were greatly in evidence at breakfast, lunch and dinner  as guests  took full advantage of the generous buffet on offer for every meal. And between meals in the pool areas and in the lounges there were snacks and drinks available as well as an endless supply of ice-cream.  At times watching what some greedy gutsies were downing was tantamount to undergoing   food-aversion therapy.

Despite the fact that  the chefs  were catering for so many people, the quality of food was really good. Being a Brit, I am always keen to sample a cooked breakfast, so each lunchtime I resolved to have only a salad. But each buffet invariably held something to tempt me: memorable were the rabbit stew and the spinach and artichokes with cheese and a creamy bechamel topping – delicious ! Just as well we had the sea and swimming pools  astone’s throw from our room so we could attempt to work off some of these calories by swimming or walking in the beautiful grounds and surrounds.  

 

 

     The sign on the employees’ sitting room door did not, I think, express the fact that management saw personnel as inanimate objects – at any rate, as you can see above, they were a cheery bunch, ever ready to be of service.  My only complaint was that on two occasions  I eagerly went to the basement gym ready to participate in Pilates and traditional Greek dance as advertised, but nothing came of them. They said there was no interest in them, but a little bit of  promotion could well have done the trick. I am an avid brochure reader, but most people were unaware these activities were on offer. 

 

  On our last evening we had sundowners on the terrace overlooking the sea, and learned that management had  a treat in store for us : instead of the usual dinner buffet, they had laid on a barbecue. We had some excellent and plenteous (as ever!) roasted meats, salads and sweets . Thank goodness they had organised  live music as well so we took advantage of that and got some post-prandial exercise into the bargain.

 

                      

Although it was way past her bedtime, this little mite below was having the time of her life, Dad-dancing. She went on for ages, bobbing up and down in time to the music, with her chubby cheeks creased in a wonderful smile.  Actually, proud papa looked as if he was having a pretty good time too. 

 

                    

So sated, in every sense of the word, we left the hotel, travelling north through a warren of tunnels hewn through the mountains. This one is over four kilometres long – a definite feat of engineering but not for those with serious claustrophobia. 

         On the road, we see my favourite sign warning drivers that they are driving through the natural habitat of the bear ( a tunnel constructed just to protect them)  – so what is that symbol of a graceful gazelle doing there ? !

 We by-pass Ioannina and head for Metzovo, a picturesque mountain village. When you see how some of the village houses appear to hover over the crevasse below, you realize that this place is not for those who suffer from vertigo to make their home. I shudder to think how one gets about on these roads during the inevitable winter freeze.

                              

 

                                      

  

                     

 Our goal there is to visit the Katogi Averoff winery surrounded by beautiful houses in the traditional style, nestling in mountains which are part of the Pindos range.   A son of Metzovon, Evangelos Averoff was a well-known politician. Initially, in an effort to boost the finances of his home area,   in the late 1950s, he brought the first Cabernet Sauvignon grapes to Greece. Breaking new ground, both literally and metaphorically, he blended these grapes with traditional Greek strains to produce his famous Katogi red.  We may have arrived in shorts and T-s but we are here to stock up our cellar with winter reds. A particular favourite of H’s is Ktima Averoff, a rich red of mainly Cabernet Sauvignon grapes.  The sales-lady suggests we try a new blend, Augustos, which uses some grapes from the Peloponnese area. 

 

         Who are we to argue?   We’re planning to have a warming winter – cheers !

Highland Haj 3 : Highland highways, waterways and watering holes.

I did say there was more to come on Tarbert, Argyll and, though it has taken a wee while, here we are. Many of you will be familiar with the Mull of Kintyre, thanks to the eponymous song made famous by Sir Paul McCartney and Wings in 1977.  Paul has had a long association with the area since 1966 when he bought High Park farm near Campbeltown. 

People usually enthuse about the natural beauty of the area, so I was surprised when an Edinburgh teaching colleague, on learning I was from near Tarbert, pulled a face. Probing further, I learned her unusual reaction was informed by years of classroom experience teaching Geography. She asked me to imagine what it was like trying to get teenage boys to draw maps of a peninsula greatly resembling the male member. I still stand by the beauty of the landscape, but have never been able to see it with the same eyes! 

One morning, out for a stroll, I came upon this event: a massive trailer being slowly towed along the road, complete with police escort. The strange thing was that the trailer, though fully extended, was….quite empty! The friendly traffic-controlling ‘bobby’ explained all. This was a dry-run to see if the trailer could safely manage our windy roads while hauling a wind-turbine component. And we have a happy ending: Katy MacBrayne of the Argyll and Bute Council Development and Infrastructure Services confirmed that the blade had been successfully transported from the RAF base in Machrihanish to Salachary, north of Kilmartin, to the Carraig Gheal Wind Farm – good name, that!

                                                    

    

We had a special evening treat - attending a film show in the Screen Machine, Britain’s only mobile cinema. This large vehicle serves the Highlands and islands of Scotland, bringing the latest films to remote areas.

 While we waited for the screening to begin, I was intrigued to see that the early birds were young lads, intent on getting front-row seats.  I got chatting with the lady seated next to me.  Turned out she knew my Auntie Katie, a family stalwart who had never married because, according to her:     

      ‘the desirable was not available, and the available was not desirable’  - just LOVE that! 

 She was very well known as she ran the local sweetie-shop, where youngsters regularly came for their barley sugars, chocolate misshapes, lollipops, gob-stoppers and sherbet sookers – tongue-searingly sharp sherbet retrieved from its cardboard cylinder by sucking on a liquorice tube. We laughed as we fondly remembered how Auntie Katie refused to let the children spend all their money at once. I guess she more or less had a monopoly on their pocket money anyway – they would always come to her. 

 What this lady and my aunt had in common was their membership of the same church, the Free Church of Scotland. This ultra-conservative church, of Calvinistic nature, allows no music to be played during the service. It holds the fourth commandment, ‘Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy’, as the central tenet of its faith. Consequently it has opposed ferries operating on a Sunday, obstructed children from using play parks and definitely frowned on doctors going out to care for the sick. I remember as children we were not allowed out to play when this church service was being held.

 Devout members, ‘Wee Frees’ as they are known, will go to great lengths to avoid any activity which may be construed as ‘working’ on that day. I clearly recall Auntie Katie, every Saturday, scrubbing her floors, cooking her meals, and even boiling water for her tea, kept hot in a flask … all to keep her Sabbath holy.

 That night the film being shown was ‘The Angel’s Share’. This was a light-hearted tale of down-at-heel Glaswegian lads trying to make a fast buck by siphoning off seriously expensive whisky from distillery vats. But truth to tell I felt a little discomfort. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy the film - it really was quite entertaining. Nor was it anything to do with the venue - the air-conditioned, 80-seater was beautifully comfortable. My discomfort stemmed from the fact that the director was Ken Loach and, in keeping with his vernacular style, every second word was a four-letter one rhyming with ‘luck’ ….and there was me sitting next to a Wee Free, feeling her every wince!

                

We had a wonderful experience when we had a sail on the Waverley, the last seagoing, passenger paddle steamer in the world.  Named after Sir Walter Scott’s first novel, she is one fine old lady. Built in 1946, she regularly plied the Firth of Clyde until 1973 when she was bought by the Paddle Steamer Preservation Society. A public appeal raised funds, enabling the PSPS to arrange major refurbishing and ultimately organize Waverley Excursions. 

 Her operators claim she is one of the most photographed ships in the world. Certainly as she arrived at Tarbert Pier it was with a stylish elegance, the sound of the water swishing against her paddle blades like that of the starched lace petticoats of a grand dame. Though she took a bit of buffeting in choppy seas, in wind and rain, she took it like the trooper she is and we enjoyed a unique, smooth cruise.

Next to the P.S.Waverley, we see another vessel – the Oyster 70 Alba Venturer– which was just coming in to anchor, before rounding the Mull of Kintyre and going on to the island of Gigha. It operates under the aegis of the Ocean Youth Trust Scotland, a youth work charity which offers residential voyages for young Scots between the ages of 12 to 25, usually without any prior sailing experience. Operating from March through to November, their fleet of three sailing ships offers sail-training. Along with that experience, crew members attain personal development through facing physical, mental and emotional challenges. So the smiling faces that greeted us from the deck were among the thousand young people lucky enough to be selected annually for this maritime adventure.

        

The final focus of this posting is our visit to the imposing Stonefield Castle Hotel. Set in 60 acres of woodland, on a promontory north of Tarbert, it enjoys glorious views of Loch Fyne and boasts magnificently massive rhododendron bushes.  Here as a student I spent a summer holiday, washing dishes in the back kitchen while guests dined off fine china and on gourmet food. Naturally I wanted to be on the other side of the serving table, so invited the ladies of our party there for afternoon tea. 

Seven-year-old Neve was delighted to be included in the group and she had, on her own initiative, designed and completed a lady’s behavioural analysis to check if she was worthy of such designation. Ladies, according to her ‘survey’, do not clip their brothers’ ears, nor do they shout! My great-niece- and she is great! – thoroughly enjoyed the high tea she is displaying here: shrimp cocktail on brown bread, lettuce and dressing, game chips, oatcake, fruit scone with cream and raspberry jam - mmm!

          

   

    

 

                      

But today, as all you guisers know, we celebrate Hallowe’en and now Neve, the lady, turns into a blade-wielding, plundering pirate.

                                                                  Be afraid, be very afraid!