Greece is Going to the Cats

Five years ago I published a book called "The Secret Life of Greek Cats" based on feline photographs I'd taken over the years, which told about Greek history, myths, traditions and superstitions from the point of view of the cats who are so much a part of the Greek landscape.  As I wrote in the book: "Everywhere you go in Greece you will find a cat...Cats are the punctuation in Greek life...During their catnaps they dream of the days when they were worshipped by the ancient Egyptians and didn't have to rely on the kindness of strangers for food." (The book is still available--for $10-- on Amazon or  by clicking on the book cover to the right.)

Many of the cats in the book were photographed on the island of Hydra, including Vasili, the cat on the cover, who dreamed of jumping on one of the boats in the harbor of Hydra and sailing away to see the world.

On a recent trip back to the island of Hydra, I was curious to see if the economic crisis in Greece had affected the island's feline population.  The harbor cats were there, as numerous as always.  They were gathered to greet the tourists, patiently waiting under the taverna tables for handouts, and agilely avoiding being trampled by the donkeys in the harbor, who are the only form of transportation on the island.

Every time I'd comment that the Hydra cats seemed thinner than before, daughter Eleni would point out a fat cat who clearly enjoyed a regular meal schedule.  (Some of the Greek islands, including Crete, have  organizations which collect contributions to help with the spaying and care of the island's feral cat population.  As far as I know, Hydra does not.)

On many Greek islands the cats have become so numerous and so popular that they are now featured on touristic items like carrier bags.

The  best fed and happiest cats on the island are, of course,  house pets and store cats.

The harbor cats have a harder life, but they regularly greet the fishing boats as they come in in the morning, hoping for scraps when fish are cleaned.  They also keep an eye on the private boats anchored in the harbor-- to the point of mastering tightrope walking, if it will win a tasty bite.

Even the wildest of the feral cats, when the sun begins to set, have to stop a moment and wonder at the beauty of their island, and take a moment to wish for good hunting and a full stomach tomorrow.

Amalia Does Hydra, Greece

When you return to places where you were happy in the past, you want them to be unchanged.  I've been visiting and photographing the island of Hydra, Greece, for 45 years, and love that it remains the same, with its patient donkeys (no vehicles on the winding, stair-step streets) and dozens of cats waiting for handouts in the tavernas

Visiting it now with granddaughter Amalia, only 22 months old,  made it all better--seeing her delight in everything.

The donkeys were still waiting to take our bags up the hill.

and to deliver them to our hotel, the Bratsera, which used to be a  sponge factory.

The cobbled streets were still filled with art and cats.

This taverna window with its ship and beautiful curtains has never changed over the years.

We had lunch in a nearby taverna, the "Dry Olive Tree" (Xsera Elia) where Amalia  discovered the joy of Greek tomatoes

As well as the only-in-Greece fish the Barbounia (red mullet)

In the Bratsera pool she played with her Nemo characters

Walking along the harbor, some shops had closed but Loulaki was still there.

Amalia got an ice cream on the harbor.

And passed the old sailors watching the ships come in.

The next day we took a boat to a beach called the Four Seasons, where the changing booth said it all.

We chose lunch from the taverna's menu.

Amalia took a nap after lunch.

That night we walked to our favorite sunset bar, the Hydronetta, 

where we saw several tourists leap from the wall to the sea far, far, below.

Then we continued along the water to the next little town, Kameni, where 

we had a wonderful meal of seafood before Amalia fell asleep.

Scenes from a Greek Wedding.

We came to Greece for the wedding of our niece (more like daughter) Efrosini Eleftheria Nikolaides (Efro for short) to Sy Anthony Suire, who is more Cajun than Greek, although he learned the Greek dances overnight.  The service, on June 30, overlooked the ocean at the tiny church of Agios Aimilianos and then the reception was at the Hinitsa Bay Hotel in Porto Heli.

It was a fairy tale wedding--think "Mama Mia" only better (and not quite so many steps to get up to the church.)  Here are some scenes from a very Greek wedding.

   At the Hinitsa Bay they started setting up the tables in the afternoon.

Guests walk up to the church.

There were 35 decorated steps to the church.

Here comes the bride.

The priest leads the bride and groom to the altar...

...which was outside because the church is so small.

The service begins.

Everyone's smiling, including the mother of the bride, Eleni Nikolaides, (in royal blue.)

When the sponsor has put on their crowns and the priest leads the couple around the altar in the Dance of Isaiah, everyone throws rice, because then they're really married.

Beauties posing after the ceremony.

while two guys wait outside the church.

Back at the hotel the buffet awaited, complete with ice sculptures.

The tables were decorated in blue and white, with starfishes, beads and flowers.

The newlyweds admire the cake.

Their first dance set off fireworks.

The bride leads the Greek line dance.

The groom shows off his new Greek dance steps.

Even the littlest guests danced.

And a very good time was had by all!

Congratulations, Fro and Sy!

The Changing Role of Fathers Through the Decades

In 1911, when my mother was born, the father was a god-like figure who occasionally came down from Mount Olympus to offer criticism, praise and advice.

(My mother is on the far right in the back row. In addition to the seven girls in the family, there were two older boys.   My grandmother, Anna Truan Dobson is holding her ninth and last baby, who was born when Anna was 49 and her hair had turned completely white.  The father, Frederick Fee Dobson, was a Presbyterian minister in Oswego, Kansas.)

In the 1940's, when I was born, the father would come home from work and sit in his favorite chair with his scotch on the rocks and read his newspapers, and he was not to be disturbed until dinner time when he presided over the dinner table.

In the 1970's, when my kids were born, the father was more hands on, but not to the point where he ever changed diapers, took a kid to the park, or knew the names of his children's friends or teachers.

But our granddaughter Amalia, born in 2011, has the benefit of the current breed of father, who is hands-on from the moment of birth.  He changes diapers and makes breakfast and gives baths and Amalia knows a father is also for :

Going down the slide together and

Dancing on the patio together and

Looking for fish and dolphins together and

Feeding giraffes together and

Holding you up in the water and

Playing horsey and

Admiring your artwork and

Walking to the park together and

Singing in the park together.

And grandfathers, whether or not they changed diapers in their younger days, are for telling you a story every day, even if they have to do it by phone or by Skype.

Happy Father's Day, Emilio and Nick!