Spetses.
I don’t know
how I ended up here. But now it all makes perfect sense.
Back in Athens,
June and July dragged on -
by the sweltering heat of the day, and the stale air-conditioned cool of my
nights. I steadily anticipated, day by day, the announcement of new coronavirus
cases in Greece as the country opened up, with restrictions, to tourism.
Due to various
obligations and June cancellations (covid restrictions), so far summer has been
spent in Athens. Cautiously watching. Will there be a sudden coronavirus spike?
Nervous anticipation. Will there be another lockdown? Impatiently
waiting. Will I ever make it to the sea this summer?
However, last
week, an unexpected granting of time off found me scrambling to book a
last-minute escape to the seaside. After a day of online searching and
desperate calls to all our usual, favorite places I found that everything was booked. We preferred
to stay on the mainland and avoid ferries, but… One last frantic search turned
up a good opportunity on the nearby island of Spetses. But it took some
convincing…
-Spetses?! I’ve
been there a million times!
-
So? That was literally decades ago…
- We’ll have to
get on a ferry! We’ll have to wear masks!
-So,
we’ll wear masks then…
-The beaches
are filled with rocks and prickly sea urchins!
-So?
We’ll wear water shoes…
And 24 hours
later, I won the battle as we sat on the flyingcat ferry, masked up, in
socially-distanced seating. And in only two hours, we walked off the ferry, removed
our masks and found ourselves in another world… So close to Athens but it felt
like we had arrived on another planet. Sea, sun, horse-drawn carriages
clip-clopping down the street, beautiful historic buildings… Ah, Spetses,
it’s been too long.
I walked past
harbor, past the statue of Bouboulina – she is Greece’s heroine of the 1821 War
of Independence from the Ottomans, and was a commander of her own fleet.
The mother of
seven children, Bouboulina was married (and widowed) twice – to sea captains
and was left with a sizeable fortune. She used it to fund the construction of
her warship, the Agamemnon, armed with 18 canons. Bouboulina also funded
the purchase and shipment of arms and ammunition for the revolution. Twelve
days before the revolution officially began, Bouboulina raised her own flag on
the Agamemnon, and in early April 1821, the island of Spetses was the first
naval force to enter the uprising. Fleets from nearby islands joined Bouboulina
to create over 300 vessels which played a prominent role in the Greek War of
Independence. Historians argue that
without Bouboulina’s naval power, Greece might not have won independence
from the Ottomans.
Our seafront
accommodation was perfect. An oasis. Exactly what we needed. The first night we
sat on the large veranda, looking at the sea, listening to the waves, the cool
air on our skin. Bliss.
And by day two, the world seemed a million miles away. Athens? Work? Coronavirus?
Increasing tensions in the Aegean? We were cycling through streets shaded
by pine forests, whooshing along the seafront; swimming in shady coves, napping
by the shore under the shade of pines… Ahh, finally. This.
-I wish we
could stay here all summer.
-Yeah,
why haven’t we been coming here more often all these years?
And then his phone
rang. It was duty calling, literally.
Tensions in the
Aegean between Turkey and Greece were heating up. So much so that time off for military
staff was revoked and he was ordered to return…
Hours later, I
stood at the port, the late afternoon light fading, watching him board the
ferry back to Athens. Walking towards the house alone, I passed Bouboulina’s
statue again. Her left hand at her brow, her gaze over the sea is constant,
her right hand rests on the pistol at her waist, tucked into her belt. Locals
say her gaze alternates - during the day it’s stern and brave but at night it becomes
troubled and concerned.
I spent the
rest of the evening on the terrace overlooking the sea, staring at the distant
mountains on the mainland, the horizon. The wind had picked up, the boats
moored in the bay bobbed and swayed, and the sound of crashing waves filled my
restless night.
***
A morning swim
provided a respite from the early news of the day: situation unchanged,
advisories from both sides issued and counter-issued… It seemed surreal, the
country on alert, but here a sense of normalcy prevailed. Beach-goers on bicycles, tourists buzzing by on mopeds, families with happy kids trotting
past on horse-drawn carriages.
Walking through
town, I came across the home of Bouboulina. The mansion, over 300 years old, is
now a museum, open to the public (visitors must follow new covid rules). After disinfecting my hands with sanitizer at
the entrance, and putting on my mask, I wandered through the rooms where
Bouboulina once lived, and stood on her front balcony where a bullet to the
forehead struck and killed her in 1825 – the shooter was never identified.
 | |||
| Bouboulina's house |
 |
| Plaque at entrance, a quote by historian Filimon: "Before her, the coward is shamed and the gallant retreat." |
Walking home
that evening, past the large square by the port, Bouboulina stood silent and
serious, her ever-watchful gaze surveying the seafront. Parents sat on benches
and stood in clusters as kids criss-crossed the square on bicycles and
scooters, the sound of their carefree laughter carried on the wind.
Checking my
phone for updates, there was news about Germany playing a role as mediator in
an effort to diffuse the situation, news of forest fires near Corinth and other
regions of Greece.
I spent the
second evening sitting on the terrace overlooking the sea, a greyish smoke
cloud visible in the distance, as firefighters battled the forest fires across
the way in the Corinth area and as people there evacuated their homes. The winds
had intensified, I looked below at the crashing waves and decided against a
late afternoon swim.
I fell asleep
with the windows open… the sound of the whipping wind carrying the smell of
burning across the sea, into my bedroom.
***
During the next
few days, the winds died down, the firefighters managed to get the blaze under
control. By the end of the week, the situation in the Aegean seemed to de-escalate
as EU leaders, the US ambassador to Greece, and the US State Dept issued
statements and for the time being, Turkey’s seismic research vessel Oruc
Reis never left its port, near Antalya. Greece remains vigilant.
However, the
exchange of heated statements continued on Friday, as the Turkish government showcased
the conversion of Istanbul’s Hagia Sophia* into a mosque, amidst controversy
and opposition from UNESCO and the international community. Islamic prayers were
held at Hagia Sophia on Friday, which were attended by Turkish President Recep Erdogan.
I spent the day
alternating between reading and writing on the shady terrace, gazing at the sea, swimming, sitting
on the shore with the searing sun on my back. Checking my phone for updates, avoiding
the TV news…
***
The next day,
the sea was calm when I left Bouboulina’s island. As I walked to the port, I passed her statue for
the last time, and paused to read the message on the base:
ΜΠΟΥΜΠΟΥΛΙΝΑ – 1821– ΘΕΛΕΙ ΑΡΕΤΗΝ ΚΑΙ ΤΟΛΜΗΝ Η ΕΛΕΥΘΕΡΙΑ /
Bouboulina
– 1821 – Freedom requires virtue and bravery
The kapetanissa
stared out to sea, shading her eyes; one hand on her pistol, at the ready.
*A UNESCO Word Heritage site, Hagia Sophia was built by
Emperor Justinian I in 537, and has stood as a symbol of the Eastern Orthodox
Church for centuries. After Constantinople fell to the Ottomans in 1453, it was
converted into a mosque. For the past 85 years, since 1935, Hagia Sophia had operated
as a museum.
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