At some point today, or yesterday, I found myself saying in answer to when will I come back, "perhaps never", and then later, to someone else when will you leave Naxos, and I said "perhaps never", and I was completely sincere each time. The decision making mills would appear to be grinding awfully fine, or not at all.
It's a much nicer place sober. And it's real, not some drink sodden fantasy.
Met up with Stuart and Christos and Kurt (from Denmark, via Paris) on the road to Apiranthos, and we walked from Aghia Marina, above Danakos, along the East side of Zas (no vultures) and on down and up and round, but mostly more or less due south to the Chimaros Tower. I had a nice dip in a surprisingly chilly reservoir - Christos and Kurt were very shocked - and then climbed the tower. It's no more restored than it was the last time I climbed it. Then I had a long late lunch with Eleni, she'd fried fresh fish from Moutsouna, and made very nice chips, and the beetroot that Manolis had given her the day before. Then we both had a sleep (my walk was quite strenuous) and then went down and had a coffee and chat with Angelos, who's a musician who has a lovely house in Ano Potamia, married to Monica, a German and a flautist. She sounded rather good, but didn't join us.
I got the impression Angelos and Monica were a bit confused. Why were we here? Who or what was I? Eleni was very stoned, and possibly making no more sense to Angelos than she does to me. I just smiled seraphically and said nothing. I even started meditating at one point - I got the very strong feeling Angelos was too. Not Eleni. She said the other day, she doesn't go inside. I asked her if she was afraid, but I think she said, quite honestly and openly, her inside is all outside - in her pictures and sculpture and poems, and it clearly all is an expression of something very deep, from her sub/un conscious. Perhaps that's what all artists are doing - exploring or coming to terms with their inside, by manifesting it on the page, or in some physical object.
The conversation was very pleasant and interesting but I can't tell you what was being talked about as it was all in Greek. Then finally managed to extract Eleni and dropped her back at Moni about 9.30 and drove back to Hora.
Eleni was very funny with Angelos. Very polite and respectful, hardly any malaccas, treated him like a guru or a teacher, which he very strongly came over as. A room full of musical instruments, none of which he played for us, sadly. He looked very Indian, long dark coiled hair, a sort of dhoti and pajama trousers (I meant to ask him who his tailor was), but definitely Greek, although I think Eleni said he was from a place in Turkey where many Greeks still live. She also said there are no Turks in Greece - after the Ottomans took over, all the Greeks just stayed in or went to Turkey and carried on just as if the Ottomans were the Byzantines, which they were of course, quite consciously. So Istanbul is their version of Stin Polis - to the City, which is what the Byzantines called the city (and of which Constantinople is just a sort of distortion or pun - it has always been The City). Health warning - Italian tomatoes.
Decided I'd get some cig papers and tobacco from one of the kiosks on the Paralleia, and have an ice cream at Marco's (only he's Nico and he's forgotten my name too). Ended up having 3 eSa's (Greek 0% beer, very nice) and a seafood linguini. So then I asked for my ice cream - "Oh no we don't have any ice cream, it's too early in the season". Doh. Nico bought me a beer. He now works for Ammos - doesn't like to stay with the same restaurant too long and they all love him apparently, because he's the best. And he is, very smart, lots of language, smooth and charming and friendly, bit of a sleazeball, but he knows it and hams it up. And a very nice man. Which he also said I was, at some length. Which was nice too.
And so to bed. It's now 20 past midnight. Another lovely day.
Lunch with Lou and Mike tomorrow, then stay the night with Stuart and fix his book. Eleni and I will go and see Lee maybe on Wednesday evening.
It's a much nicer place sober. And it's real, not some drink sodden fantasy.
Met up with Stuart and Christos and Kurt (from Denmark, via Paris) on the road to Apiranthos, and we walked from Aghia Marina, above Danakos, along the East side of Zas (no vultures) and on down and up and round, but mostly more or less due south to the Chimaros Tower. I had a nice dip in a surprisingly chilly reservoir - Christos and Kurt were very shocked - and then climbed the tower. It's no more restored than it was the last time I climbed it. Then I had a long late lunch with Eleni, she'd fried fresh fish from Moutsouna, and made very nice chips, and the beetroot that Manolis had given her the day before. Then we both had a sleep (my walk was quite strenuous) and then went down and had a coffee and chat with Angelos, who's a musician who has a lovely house in Ano Potamia, married to Monica, a German and a flautist. She sounded rather good, but didn't join us.
I got the impression Angelos and Monica were a bit confused. Why were we here? Who or what was I? Eleni was very stoned, and possibly making no more sense to Angelos than she does to me. I just smiled seraphically and said nothing. I even started meditating at one point - I got the very strong feeling Angelos was too. Not Eleni. She said the other day, she doesn't go inside. I asked her if she was afraid, but I think she said, quite honestly and openly, her inside is all outside - in her pictures and sculpture and poems, and it clearly all is an expression of something very deep, from her sub/un conscious. Perhaps that's what all artists are doing - exploring or coming to terms with their inside, by manifesting it on the page, or in some physical object.
The conversation was very pleasant and interesting but I can't tell you what was being talked about as it was all in Greek. Then finally managed to extract Eleni and dropped her back at Moni about 9.30 and drove back to Hora.
Eleni was very funny with Angelos. Very polite and respectful, hardly any malaccas, treated him like a guru or a teacher, which he very strongly came over as. A room full of musical instruments, none of which he played for us, sadly. He looked very Indian, long dark coiled hair, a sort of dhoti and pajama trousers (I meant to ask him who his tailor was), but definitely Greek, although I think Eleni said he was from a place in Turkey where many Greeks still live. She also said there are no Turks in Greece - after the Ottomans took over, all the Greeks just stayed in or went to Turkey and carried on just as if the Ottomans were the Byzantines, which they were of course, quite consciously. So Istanbul is their version of Stin Polis - to the City, which is what the Byzantines called the city (and of which Constantinople is just a sort of distortion or pun - it has always been The City). Health warning - Italian tomatoes.
Decided I'd get some cig papers and tobacco from one of the kiosks on the Paralleia, and have an ice cream at Marco's (only he's Nico and he's forgotten my name too). Ended up having 3 eSa's (Greek 0% beer, very nice) and a seafood linguini. So then I asked for my ice cream - "Oh no we don't have any ice cream, it's too early in the season". Doh. Nico bought me a beer. He now works for Ammos - doesn't like to stay with the same restaurant too long and they all love him apparently, because he's the best. And he is, very smart, lots of language, smooth and charming and friendly, bit of a sleazeball, but he knows it and hams it up. And a very nice man. Which he also said I was, at some length. Which was nice too.
And so to bed. It's now 20 past midnight. Another lovely day.
Lunch with Lou and Mike tomorrow, then stay the night with Stuart and fix his book. Eleni and I will go and see Lee maybe on Wednesday evening.
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