For other enduring posts see: A Word A Week Photo Challenge: Endurance
I’ve been back in the’Du for about six weeks now and, shamefully, have hardly posted anything on the blog. I thought I had the discipline down…perhaps not. It seems that it a required tradition that after I return from Greece, I go through re-entry displacement for a while. I know its coming, but I never know in what form until I try and settle back in everyday life. By re-entry displacement I’m referring to a feeling of non-belonging anywhere really which, accompanied by other issues unforeseen, leads to life in a hazy funk for a while and an abandoned blog. (Who wants to read about hazy funks!).
I remember two years ago going through a similar period after I returned from Greece to the Philippines. Oh the rain! It rained nonstop for weeks straight and I don’t mean English drizzle. It pounded down relentlessly, the streets flooded, people were forced out of their homes, but on the 21st floor of a Manila high rise apartment, I just felt trapped and bored. Back in Kathmandu, I was hoping to return to a rainy season that was mainly over. Was I ever wrong! It has rained heavily every day for weeks (mostly at night) and, this time, with flooding and fatal mudslides. For hillside villages in rural areas, it has been devastating. For us, of course, its just meant lots of mud, mildew on everything, drowned plants, and a soggy background to a series of work and health challenges which have been slowly coming under control.
As the malaise lifts I remember why we came here, and the reality that we now have only ten short months to appreciate where we are and enjoy Nepal for what it is – warts ‘n all. Normal service will resume shortly…..
Every summer for about the last ten years, I’ve tried to retrace steps to the other side of the island where we usually don’t visit very often. The reason is that getting back is difficult because there’s no bus to take you back and its usually too hot or too dark to walk both ways in August.
This year we worked out the logistics with motorbikes and Latham and set off early evening to find an old abandoned house that I remember from years back, Hara. It’s distinctive gate has its name written above in rusting letters, “Xara” (Hara) meaning “joy” in Greek. I hadn’t seen it for about fifteen years and remembered little except that distinctive gate. I did recall though that it had an intact roof and locked doors and windows, which wasn’t the case when we visited this time.
The roof had collapsed in many places, some rooms were filled with broken rafters and tiles, but a few still remained recognizable as their original function. We wandered around, exploring the nooks and crannies of what was once someone’s home. The house once belonged to the poet sisters Mary and Irene Botassi, and Irene’s husband Herman, after they retired from living in Switzerland. As far as I can figure, the house has been abandoned for over fifty years. It was both fascinating and sad to see it slowly crumble.
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Greek architecture is full of arches – especially churches. Here’s my collection of wonderful doors, windows, ceilings and bell towers from my recent trip:
Looking down from a hike on a hazy day. I loved the silhouette of the birds on the wire. They almost look drawn on against the washed out colours of the sea and sky.
Fire is a serious hazard on a island covered with pine trees in the hot, dry summer. And Spetses has had its share of massive, destructive fires in the last fifteen years.
The message προσοχe κίνδυνος πυρκαγιάς στο δάσος means “Warning. Danger of Forest Fires.” The signs, posted all over the island, are a reminder that human carelessness is a major cause of forest fires. However, not many signs remain. Most are fallen, rusted beyond recognition or — ironically — burned in one of the many forest fires over recent years. On a recent hike, we spotted this rare example of one that is still in relatively good condition. To add to the neglect, this sign is peppered with bullet holes. I’m guessing this is not as a statement of dissent from pyromaniacs, just winter hunters carelessly using them as target practice. Not very a respectful gesture towards an important environmental message. As we finally watch the baby pines regrow after the great fire of 2000, which destroyed 2/3’s of the trees on the island, perhaps its time to get some new signs up?

A potter operating a manual stone wheel in Pottery Square, Bhaktapur, Nepal. Everything is handmade there. You can see the whole medieval pottery process in action. See here for the original post.
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