Reflections on the Windows of Greece

         The critical referendum vote in Greece is upon us, Greek TV is filled with frantic people shouting Yes! (Nai) and No! (Ohi).  But I'm convinced this beautiful country will survive and the resilient Greek people will prevail.  We've just come back from a month traveling around the country, and everywhere the people are as welcoming as ever, the landscape just as heartbreakingly beautiful and the food, beaches and olive trees as magnificent as ever.  So don't hesitate to go there!  We go as a family every year.

         Thinking about Greece reminded me of this blog post from three years ago, about how I'm always admiring and photographing the windows that reflect the beauty and art of the Greek people, who have suffered so many disasters in the past and have pulled through and rebuilt their unique country every time. 

         As I’ve mentioned before, when I’m traveling in Greece, I find myself often photographing windows. (In Paris it’s doors and in Nicaragua, it’s chairs!)

         Greek windows, with their pristine white lace or cut-work curtains and the inevitable pot of basil in the window, are so carefully composed and so indicative of the creativity of the homemaker within, that I think you can call them found art.

         The pot of basil, by the way, is not just for cooking.  It’s considered a holy plant, and brings good luck, so every home must have one.

         At the recent Grecian Festival in the Cathedral of Saint Spyridon, our church in Worcester, MA,  I sold out of the packets of note cards of my Greek windows.  Guess I’d better print some more.

Here are eleven of the designs and a little about where I found them.

          The window on the left, on the green island of Skopelos in the northeast, demonstrates the beautiful cutwork of the handmade curtains. The reflection shows the arched window of a church (?) next door. 

         The window on the right, of a shop in the mountains of Crete, displays the colorful local embroidery and the classic caned Greek chair found everywhere throughout the country.

         Both these windows are in the charming Hotel Kastro, in the walled city in Yannina, Greece, which looks exactly as it did when the Turks ruled the country.  Now the mosques have been turned into museums, but the city still has the exotic beauty that seduced Lord Byron when he came to visit Ali Pasha and marvel at his riches.  The window on the left shows the Greek tendency to train climbing vines everywhere.  In the photo on the right, I was remembering something my friend, award-winning photographer Mari Seder, once told me--sometimes the shadows are the most important part of the photograph.

         On the left, a window in a popular taverna on the island of Hydra echoes the blue and white of the Greek flag.  The miniature sailing boat in the window speaks of the seafaring history of the island.          The  window on the right belongs to a humble restaurant on Mykonos, tucked far, far away from the areas thronged with tourists.  The food is magnificent and so is the view.  If I could remember the name of the restaurant I wouldn't tell.  Its patrons want to keep it unspoiled.  (Here's a hint. The beach far below is called Agios Sostis.)

        The window on the left is in a very rustic eco-resort--Milia-- high in the mountains of Crete.  The views far down the mountain are to die for.  On the right, in the unique town of Pirgi, on the island of Chios, the curtain in the window echoes the geometric designs scratched into the plaster of the exterior walls on all the buildings.

         On the left, outside a taverna on Crete, is what I call the mermaid window, although it may have started life as a door before it was boarded up and turned into illustrations for the story of the Gorgona--the giant mermaid who was the sister of Alexander the Great before he cursed her.  (If you want to know the whole story of the mermaid, read it in my book "The Secret Life of Greek Cats.")

         The window on the right is in an ancient church in the beautiful town of Pirgi on the island of Chios.  Originally I posted this photo in a blog post called "The Scraped Walls of Pirgi, Chios".  I said the angel-like figure over the window was a representation of the Holy Spirit, but I was wrong.  A sharp-eyed and much better-informed reader named Matthew Kalamidas wrote: "Lastly, the angel in the wall painting is actually a six-winged seraphim. In Greek, an exapterygo. Besides the six wings, the words beside it are 'Holy, Holy, Holy Lord', which is an abbreviated form of the never-ending prayer."

That's one of the great things about writing blog posts -- you learn so much.

Found Art: Greek Windows

As I’ve mentioned before, when I’m traveling in Greece, I find myself often photographing windows. (In Paris it’s doors and in Nicaragua, it’s chairs!)

Greek windows, with their pristine white lace or cut-work curtains and the inevitable pot of basil in the window, are so carefully composed and so indicative of the creativity of the homemaker within, that I think you can call them found art.

The pot of basil, by the way, is not just for cooking.  It’s considered a holy plant, and brings good luck, so every home must have one.

At the recent Grecian Festival in the Cathedral of Saint Spyridon, our church in Worcester, MA,  I sold out of the packets of note cards of my Greek windows.  Guess I’d better print some more.

Here are eleven of the designs and a little about where I found them.

The window on the left, on the green island of Skopelos in the northeast, demonstrates the beautiful cutwork of the handmade curtains. The reflection shows the arched window of a church (?) next door. 

The window on the right, of a shop in the mountains of Crete, displays the colorful local embroidery and the classic caned Greek chair found everywhere throughout the country.

Both these windows are in the charming Hotel Kastro, in the walled city in Yannina, Greece, which looks exactly as it did when the Turks ruled the country.  Now the mosques have been turned into museums, but the city still has the exotic beauty that seduced Lord Byron when he came to visit Ali Pasha and marvel at his riches.  The window on the left shows the Greek tendency to train climbing vines everywhere.  In the photo on the right, I was remembering something my friend, award-winning photographer Mari Seder, once told me--sometimes the shadows are the most important part of the photograph.

On the left, a window in a popular taverna on the island of Hydra, echoes the blue and white of the Greek flag.  The miniature sailing boat in the window speaks of the seafaring history of the island.  The  window on the right belongs to a humble restaurant on Mykonos, tucked far, far away from the areas thronged with tourists.  The food is magnificent and so is the view.  If I could remember the name of the restaurant I wouldn't tell.  Its patrons want to keep it unspoiled.  (Here's a hint. The beach far below is called Agios Sostis.)

The window on the left is in a very rustic eco-resort--Milia-- high in the mountains of Crete.  The views far down the mountain are to die for.  On the right, in the unique town of Pirgi, on the island of Chios, the curtain in the window echoes the geometric designs scratched into the plaster of the exterior walls on all the buildings.

On the left, outside a taverna on Crete, is what I call the mermaid window, although it may have started life as a door before it was boarded up and turned into illustrations for the story of the Gorgona--the giant mermaid who was the sister of Alexander the Great before he cursed her.  (If you want to know the whole story of the mermaid, read it in my book "The Secret Life of Greek Cats.")

The window on the right is in an ancient church in the beautiful town of Pirgi on the island of Chios.  Originally I posted this photo in a blog post called "The Scraped Walls of Pirgi, Chios".  I said the angel-like figure over the window was a representation of the Holy Spirit, but I was wrong.  A sharp-eyed and much better-informed reader named Matthew Kalamidas wrote: "Lastly, the angel in the wall painting is actually a six-winged seraphim. In Greek, an exapterygo. Besides the six wings, the words beside it are 'Holy, Holy, Holy Lord', which is an abbreviated form of the never-ending prayer."

That's one of the great things about writing blog posts -- you learn so much.

Cat Book Christmas Plug

Since there are only about 15 shopping days left until Christmas, I thought I’d post a shameless plug for my photo book “The Secret Life of Greek Cats”—the perfect ten-dollar (plus postage)  gift for all the cat fans or Grecophiles on your list.

Featuring eighteen separate stories about a flock of felines whom I photographed in various parts of Greece, it’s much more than just another book of cat photos.  It’s also an introduction to the country of Greece and its heroes, myths, traditions, cuisine and holidays—told through the perspective of the country’s clever cats like Michaela the Monastery Cat, Bijou the Easter Cat and Antigone the Wedding Cat.

“The Secret Life of Greek Cats” isn’t just for children.  People seem to buy it as often for their adult friends, who love the humor in the cats’ tales, as for their children who may be studying Greek myths and culture.

Below I’m introducing two of my favorite felines from “The Secret Life of Greek Cats”: Vasili, who longs to be a sailor and knows exactly what to say to a mermaid, and Dionysos, the barstool cat from Paros who  is exhausted from all the music and dancing every night  but is proud to be named for the Greek god of wine.

If you would like to buy a copy of “The Secret Life of Greek Cats”,  you can find it on Amazon or just click on the book cover at right to preview it and order a copy from my web site (www.GreekCats.com.)  If you’re interested in multiple copies—say for a Greek church festival or a carload of cat lovers—contact me at JoanPGage@yahoo.com to learn about multiple copy discounts.

                                                                     VASILI THE SAILOR

Vasili is a tawny tabby cat who longs for the day he’ll hop on a boat and sail away to see the world beyond the harbor of Hydra. Daily he watches them come and go: huge cruise ships with crowds of tourists, ferryboats chugging from island to island, streamlined yachts and tiny fishing boats that sail out before dawn.

More than anything, Vasili would like to become a ship’s cat aboard a vessel with high masts and billowing sails.  He would climb up the rigging to sit just above the blue-and-white Greek flag.  From there he would be the first to see dolphins, flying fish, whales, sea monsters, even mermaids.  If he sees the giant mermaid called the Gorgona, Vasili knows exactly what to say.

According to legend, the Greek king Alexander the Great (who conquered most of the ancient world by the time he died in 323 BC)  wanted to live forever, so he killed the dragon who guarded the water of immortality.  Exhausted, Alexander brought the magic water home and fell asleep.  His sister saw the water and took a swallow.  Then she poured the rest on the plants! When Alexander the Great woke up, he got so mad at his sister that he cursed her, turning her into Gorgona, a giant mermaid with a double tail who can lift a ship in one hand.

Whenever Gorgona sees a passing ship, she calls out “What news of Alexander the Great?”  If a foolish sailor tells her the truth—Alexander’s  long dead--the mermaid becomes so angry that she stirs up towering waves to wreck the ship and drown the crew. So every Greek sailor knows to tell the Gorgona: “Alexander the Great lives and reigns!”  

Hearing that, the giant mermaid will smile and perfumed winds fill the sails, speeding Vasili’s ship on to exotic places far beyond the horizon. 

                                    DIONYSOS,  THE BAR STOOL CAT

If Dionysos looks tired, it’s because he was up late last night partying with the college students who like to stay at the inexpensive hotel on Paros where he lives.  It’s not that he drinks wine, or ouzo, or raki or tsipouro (those last two are moonshine made from the leftover grape skins.)  Cats are much too sensible to do that.  But Dionysos likes to join in with the fun and dancing and the music of the clarinet and the bouzouki when the kefi (high spirits) begins to rise.

He likes to watch the dancers, all holding hands in a line, dance the tsamiko or “handkerchief dance” as the leader, holding tight to the handkerchief, leaps and bounds and even does flips.  (Dionysos is careful to stay on top of his bar stool, to avoid any unfortunate accident to his tail.) The zeibekiko or eagle dance is performed by two people, face to face, circling and moving as if in a trance.  Sometimes a dancer will even pick up a table in his teeth to show how strong he is!  

If the dancers and the music are outstanding, the onlookers express their admiration and kefi by shouting “Opa!”  Or hissing.  They may throw money for the musicians on the floor.  In the old days, people would sometimes show their kefi by smashing plates on the floor.  Dionysos is glad that it’s now illegal, because the noise was very hard on his nerves.

Dionysos knows that he’s named for the ancient Greek god of wine, and that, since the very earliest times, this god was celebrated with dancing, music and drinking.  Dionysos the cat would never take part in the misbehavior he has seen from his barstool in the wee hours of the night, but he does like to think of himself as a party animal.