The snow low on the foothills around Kalamitsi Alexandrou
I was not sure what
to do on Christmas day. I didn’t think it was a day to drop in,
uninvited, to friends and I expected to spend it quietly at home ( A small room above a cafeteria in the village square.) - I
know now that any Greek families would have been delighted for me to
call, evincing the famous ‘filoxenia’ once again.
There was not much evidence of Christmas in the local area. One house in Georgioupolis had a tree up but that was about it.
In the event I
was invited to spend Christmas day at the house of a retired English
couple, Dorothy and Arthur, who hailed from Yorkshire. They had moved
to Crete some years before, spent their first couple of years in a
rented house in Georgioupolis, but now had their own house, in a
village some seven hairpin bends above Kalamitsi. At this time there were very few non Greeks living in the area in the winter. Their house was warm and cosy with a log burning stove. I had not realised how cold it could get in Crete in winter - especially living in an apartment built for the summer.
Yes, we do get snow - but not every year
I was woken in the
early hours by the church bells. The midnight service appeared to be
at four thirty a.m. I did not get up.
At about eleven
Arthur came with his car to collect me. “It’s a good job you’re
not Greek,” he announced.
“Why?” I was
rather puzzled by this remark.
“Old Chrystalia
in the village will not ride in the front of the car with me, even if
Dorothy is with us. She thinks I might ‘take advantage’ of her.”
He laughed.
“She should be so
lucky. How old is she?” I asked him.
Arthur thought for
a moment, “She must be seventy five if she’s a day.” We both
chuckled at her fears though, I suppose, to her they were real
enough.
For the first
time since leaving England I ate the traditional English Sunday lunch of
roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, followed by Christmas pudding and
mince pies, all washed down with Arthur’s home made wine. Dorothy
was a very good cook and Arthur appreciated it. They had settled well
into village life, owning chickens, rabbits, and two sheep.
Dorothy spent her
time embroidering and knitting, while Arthur was with the animals, or
working in the garden. They enjoyed a large circle of Greek friends
and had a fund of stories to tell of their life on Crete.
Although the
Greeks do not make much of Christmas, a number of name days fall,
during this season. I was invited to the lake, where I had been working in the summer, on Christmas Day
evening for the name day celebration of Manolis, Maria’s husband.
There I discovered
an elderly German couple; they had arrived the day before looking for
rooms at the lake and had, of course, been invited to join in the
festivities. I found myself sitting between the German man, who was
about eighty years of age, and Manolis’ Father, who was in his
seventies. As they could not speak each others language, I found
myself in the unenviable position of having to try to translate as
best I could. Both having served in the war and Manolis’ father
still suffering from a limp, caused by an injury during the conflict,
this was a delicate situation which called for a certain amount of
tact. While the
Cretans are fairly friendly to the younger generation of German
tourist there is often still resentment between the older
generations, the shadow of war and invasion is never very far away. I
was relieved when it was time to leave the table and I was able to
join with the rest of the company.
Athena decided
that it would be a good evening to teach me some Cretan dancing and,
amongst much counting of steps, and great hilarity, the evening
passed very happily.
Christmas Day, I
discovered, was the name day for Sifis-Joseph, Manolis-Emmanuel,
Christos, Eugenia, Chrysoula and several others, so there was a fair
bit of celebrating going on over the Island and I heard the sound of
gunshots well into the night.
The children were waiting eagerly for New Year's day "Agios Vassilis" as this is the day they receive their presents.
