Mathraki Seeps Into My Soul and Time for a Little Introspection
Storm Cassandra was merely toying with us yesterday. She had been watching and waiting for an opportune time to make her presence felt. Last night she decided to hit us with the full force of her might by blasting gales across the bay. From the beach house, I could hear the waves crashing onto the shore. On the out-breath, the sea dragged hauls of clattering pebbles back into the murky depths. I was woken periodically from dreams of being engulfed by torrents of water, a weird sense of Deja Vu that tapped into my childhood nightmares.
I was born by the sea and spent my formative years sailing on my father’s boat. I also have many memories of sailing by ferry across the English Channel from Dover to Calais. For years as a child, I had a recurring nightmare of my sister, still a babe in arms slipping through the railings of the ship into the sea. It’s a nightmare that has never left me, though it no longer wakes me from my sleep. My mother had told me that as a child I nearly drowned. Just like the haul of pebbles, I was dragged out to sea, helpless against the might of the swell. As it happened, I was rescued by boys from the private school who had been taking an early morning swim. On the command of their schoolmaster to “Save that child!” I was dragged spluttering from the shallows. I have no memory of this incident but without a doubt, it lays dormant inside my brain waiting to be triggered. Having an over-active imagination doesn’t help!
When I received the phone call from Kerkyra Lines to say that the Evdokia had been cancelled, it was with much relief. I’d barely scratched the surface of Mathraki and Storm Cassandra was going to burn herself out soon enough. The forecast looks better for tomorrow. It was at that point that I decided to add an extra two nights to my stay – one forced by the boat cancellation and the other from choice.
To truly feel the essence of a place, you need to have walked its paths, smelt the air and seen how the light plays off the landscape at different times of the day. The storms and temperamental weather that seemed to have followed me during this trip haven’t been a negative thing. I’ve loved watching the changing weather patterns with the dramatic skies and exhilarating thunderstorms. I could never predict what would come next. This morning I walked out onto the terrace to an overcast sky and a rainbow. The early morning sun was doing its damnedest to burn through the remainder of the storm clouds.
The wind was still very much present and like a projector, propelled the clouds across the sky creating different images in rapid succession. There is a smell in the air of rain-sodden earth amplified by the warmth of the rising sun, sprinkled with the essence of seaweed. I wish I could bottle it. It’s all part of nature’s forces to bring forth new life from the land. God knows the islands have suffered from such a dry summer. Who’d begrudge them the rain? Not me.
I’d lost track of the time watching this spectacle until Anna arrived with the golf cart to take me to Al Fresco. Breakfast time! Anna drove us up the narrow track that zigzagged its way through the forests of pine and cypress. Once at Al Fresco, I made my way to the table on the deck, set back and sheltered from the wind. Oceane brings me the menu and Ksenia’s freshly baked banana bread. Its sweet and doughy aroma makes my mouth water as I take it from the basket and slather it with the homemade fig jam. I choose the breakfast quesadilla filled with eggs, cheese and peppers (delicious!) and is accompanied by Earl Grey tea.
The breakfast (and especially the banana bread) is in a class of its own but what I really looked forward to were the conversations with my hosts. Oceane and Anna told me of their plans to spend the winter season in the Alps to hone their skills in the hospitality industry. Can you imagine the wonderful opportunities open to them to work and study in Europe wherever they choose? They work hard and they will both go far. Ksenia’s stories of overcoming adversity and personal challenges are just mind-blowing – she’s truly one of a kind. I can see how together with Chris they’ve managed to create this amazing little haven with standards that you’d expect in a top-class hotel, let alone on a little island that doesn’t even have a shop!
Ksenia tells me that this evening’s culinary journey will take me to France! A treat I will look forward to very much!
After breakfast, I opt to walk back down to the beach house, taking a diversion down to the Old Port of Kontrakas on the Western side of the island. The wind that has prevented the ferries from sailing today is at full pelt but should provide an ‘invigorating’ walk.
The descent in parts is steep and through gaps in the swathes of green, I catch fleeting vistas of the intriguing little islet of Trachea. It’s hard to imagine snorkelling around its shores on a day like this. Othonoi is just a faint silhouette in the haze.
I arrived at the top of the path that led down to the old port. I knew it would be a steep walk but it wasn’t the walk back that was at the forefront of my mind. Halfway down the descent, I turned a corner on the track to the vision of the open sea smashing onto the cluster of rocks littered along the coastline. Who on earth thought that it was a good idea to locate a port here? It looks like a pretty treacherous location to me.
Here comes that weird feeling again. A mixture of vertigo and just a strange something that I can’t quite put my finger on – an overwhelming sense of ominousness. As I moved further down the track, I got the sense that the mouth of the sea was waiting to swallow me. It is hard to see from the photographs how high the waves were but it was enough to set me on edge plus the residue of last night’s dream is still ever present. As much as I love the sea and crave its presence when away from it, I don’t for one moment underestimate its power. After watching it for a while I make the climb back up onto higher ground.
Halfway up or down the road from the port to Al Fresco (depending on which direction you are travelling) is a crossroads with signs pointing to various villages such as Katsouratika, Kompatika, Benatika and Kalatzikatika. I guess that like Othonoi, these villages are named after the families that settled there and names that may be seen across the other Diapontian islands and beyond, originating from Epirus.
During my stay in the Diapontia, I’ve been intrigued to find traditional settlements amongst the modern villas that seem to have been built in recent years. Unfortunately during my stay on Mathraki, I don’t think I’ll get the opportunity to discover any of the old villages. As in the times past, the older generation still prefer to live up in the hills, the fear of invasion written into their DNA. I took one of the roads and see where it leads. I stumble across a stone cottage or two, one which looks straight out of the fairytale book of Hansel and Gretel. It lies in a little clearing surrounded by overgrown olive trees. Rampant weeds have made their way between the gaps of the faded pale blue shutters, a sign that the building has lain dormant for some time.
Along the wayside are old stone paths leading up to – I don’t know where. I like to think that it leads to a whole village of ‘gingerbread’ houses. That is how I like to imagine it anyway.
Pink! Love that this colour adorns the church and many of the dwellings! It gives the place a feeling of warmth even on a dull day like today.
The rain is back. Although I have my waterproof coat with me, the combination of the wind and the chill it brings with it doesn’t make for a pleasant walk. It’s time to make the rest of the descent and head back to the haven of the beach house.
The weather has put me in a reflective mood. I think that it’s the effects of the storm and the dreams and the solitude. Holed up in my room on the sprawling, comfortable mattress with my laptop on my – er lap, I take the opportunity to begin writing this post. The curtains to the French doors are wide open, giving me a view from the bed down to the beach so I can check the next phase of the weather – whatever that decides to be
**************
The afternoon went by in a flash, random words thrown down onto the laptop. I feel I have some semblance of a blog post though it took a direction that I didn’t expect. Mathraki in Autumn would make the perfect place for a writer’s retreat – I must mention that to Chris when I see him. Before I knew it, it was time for Anna to collect me for dinner – another one that I’d really been looking forward to.
The rain has stopped but there is an eerie feeling in the air. I don’t think that Cassandra has finished with us yet. Up in the eagles nest at Al Fresco, again a table is prepared for me on the deck. Ouzo to start – I’m a creature of habit! Ksenia brings out a wonderful French-inspired meal of chicken cooked in white wine! This is bloody good – top-class! Another winner Ksenia!
During dinner, the sky began to change. If it felt eerie before, it is even more so now. Even through the surrounding olive grove, I can see that the sky has turned lilac. Before a storm, the sky often takes on a weird hue, often yellow but right now it is at the top end of the rainbow spectrum almost verging on purple. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it. Somewhere in the distance, there are a few rumbles of thunder. Ksenia and I both sense that something is about to erupt and decide that it’s best that I beat a hasty retreat back to the beach house.
The thunder didn’t really materialise into anything. No large claps overhead. The faint rumbles drifted away into nothing. The lightning on the other hand was relentless. Not forked lightning – just bright flashes that lit up the underside of the clouds giving them the appearance of bioluminescent jellyfish.
For several hours, I watched the sky light up over Albania. The flashes seemed to synchronise with the rolling waves crashing onto the shore. As the lilac sky turned to indigo, the storm reached a crescendo. This was Cassandra’s finale and what a way to go!