Othonoi – Teacher, Saviour and Soul Soother

During my extended stay on Othonoi, I began to fall into some kind of routine. I woke whenever my body clock felt the desire to rise. Usually about 0730. I’d have a cup of tea on my balcony overlooking the sea towards the place where the Ionian Sea joined the Adriatic. Most mornings I’d have another interesting chat with Tonia, an absolute mine of information. One day she confirmed my suspicions that there were no children on the island. At first I’d assumed that the playground and basketball court were associated with a nearby school. Tonia told me the play equipment was for visitors during the season and the school closed decades ago. Children of Othoniots receive their education in Corfu – or elsewhere. This I found incredibly sad. Every community needs children. I wondered how many grandparents had been separated from their grandchildren due to economic and educational forces. I also wondered what kind of future lay ahead for the sustainability of the island. I’d read with interest that the Greek government had just announced a new raft of tax incentives to encourage families to have more children. Greece has a declining population and new generations are needed to work and keep the economy growing. However, it seems the impact is more polarised and immediate on small islands such as Othonoi.

Most mornings I’d take a stroll down to Susy’s Minimarket for breakfast – usually Greek yoghurt with fruit and honey, a chocolate croissant and a pot of tea. The old guys having their morning coffee, always bade me a “Kalimera” as I joined them at a nearby table.

Apart from this tiny hive of activity, I could walk the length of the road behind the beach and not bump into another soul. Occasionally the soldiers would be doing some community activity. One day it would be strimming the grass around the monument to the submariners of the Proteas. On Sunday at sunrise and sunset, the flag was lowered and raised to the sound of what I think was a pre-recorded military trumpet.

On Wednesday, the day I’d originally planned to leave, the small boat Vamos arrived from Agios Stefanos. Vamos will only sail when the weather is fair but apart from delivering goods to the small Diapontian Islands, it also offers the chance for visitors to visit for an hour or so. On this particular day, three people arrived and asked me for directions to the cafe and beach. I fell into conversation with a Scottish couple who were staying in Sun Sea View, the same place I’d stayed several weeks earlier. We exchanged thoughts and recommendations about the place.

It is also possible to do a short trip on the Evdokia which sails from Corfu Town. Practically it would only be worth it to visit one Diapontia to another. The Evdokia has slight quirks in her schedule which any day tripper needs to be aware of. She sails every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday – alternate days to the Vamos. On a Thursday she sails Corfu-Erikousa-Othonoi-Mathraki. During summer she may retrace her steps back. On Tuesday and Friday, she sails Corfu-Erikousa-Mathraki-Othonoi-Mathraki-Erikousa-Corfu – though check on the Kerkyra Lines website for seasonal changes. If you time it correctly, you may get the chance to spend an hour or two on a beach or at a cafe, really barely enough time to get a flavour of the place, maybe a tiny morsel. Now in early October her schedules has been streamlined before she goes into dry dock for maintenance.

On days when I felt a little energetic, I’d take one of the roads that lead up out of Ammos, desperate to discover other traditional settlements. Unfortunately, they were too far up in the hills to reach on foot. I did discover a cluster of accommodations about a fifteen-minute walk above Ammos in addition to the ones behind the beach. Othonoi was the one island that didn’t bring up any search results on Booking.com. This may not be necessary as many of the visitors are Greeks or Greek Americans visiting their home island. They know the hoteliers and who to contact when they want to stay.

One morning as I left Calypso, I looked towards the high peak of Imerovigli and could see something white glinting in the early morning sun. Zooming in on my camera I could see that it was a small chapel or an even smaller monument. Google Maps told me that it was the Shrine of Agia Barbara so I set my sights on this for today’s ‘stroll’. I walked along the back of the beach until I came to the last road leading out of the village. The asphalt road was steep but manageable. Once into the climb, the road began to snake around hairpin bends. I’d lost sight of the shrine as I was now directly under it. At every turn in the road, I expected to see it appear in front of me, but it took a while further to reach it.

Along the way, I passed ancient stone paths, shortcuts through olive groves leading to those all-elusive villages. In the distance, I could hear the constant thrumming of a chainsaw. It’s the time of year to begin stockpiling a good supply of firewood for winter.

Eventually, I reached my destination. The shrine was small and similar in appearance to the roadside family shrines seen along many of Greece’s roads. It stood on the edge of a sheer drop and I struggled to inch much closer to it. A bench next to it offered the perfect viewing point but there was not a cat in hell’s chance that I would sit on it.

So who was Saint Barbara (Varvara)? She was the daughter of a wealthy man named Dioscorus. He was Pagan. A non-believer. She was born in Asia Minor and brought up in Lebanon during the time of Emporer Maximium. She grew up to be a beautiful and intelligent woman, a prized asset to her father who had planned to marry her off to a Persian prince. At 16 years of age, Barbara converted to Christianity. When her father found out he was furious and scared for her life she fled the family home. She was found hiding in the nearby wheat fields and was captured and imprisoned in a tower and tortured. The tower was set alight and burned to the ground but Barbara miraculously survived the inferno. Dioscorus was so enraged that he murdered her with his own hands. At that moment a bolt of lightning struck Dioscorus and killed him instantly. Saint Barbara is the patron saint of fire.

How or why this shrine has been erected in her name here on a cliff edge on Othonoi, I’ve no idea but thanks to its position on the mountain road, it has brought me up here to this amazing view. From here I can see Erikousa, Mathraki and the Northern coastline of Corfu. In the near distance from furthest to nearest is the main port of Othonoi, the pebble beach of Agia Triada, the harbour arm and jetty for cargo ferries and the sand beach of Ammos.

The wind has picked up today. From this vantage point, I could see the wind gusts blowing across the surface of the sea from the North towards Corfu. This has brought with it a slight chill in the air. I had already begun to feel the temperature change, especially in the evenings. The old men in the cafe had started wrapping up in long-sleeved sweatshirts and in some cases, coats. To me the daytime temperatures still felt like a British summer, but not right now halfway up the mountainside.

I took the walk back down at a leisurely pace, turning it into a bit of a nature hunt as I stopped to inspect the flowers along the way. Clusters of violet heather, bright yellow broom and lime green myrtle. One shrub that I saw in abundance had me convinced that it was a genus of mastic. Well I’ve been the the Chios Mastic Museum twice don’t you know! I took a leaf and squeezed it between my fingers and it had that pungent aroma that only comes from mastic. It’s not the type that’s used for mastic resin production (there are many different genera), but this evergreen shrub provides edible fruit which becomes ripe when it turns black. There is an abundance of Salvia known as Greek sage used to make mountain tea, a yucky hot tincture said to be a cure-all. Mr Pericles had bunches of it drying on the dashboard of his car. Amongst all the evergreen shrubs are the dying embers of thistle and other species of scrub but the island will remain green no matter what season comes.

In my previous posts, I mentioned some of the challenges that come with travelling out of season but also as a solo traveller. There are moments when molehills can feel like mountains and there are definitely times when people irritate me (Oh the joys of being an introvert!). On the flip side of that, there are also moments of complete euphoria that strike out of the blue and course through every sinew of my very being. Had I been a religious person I’d think that this was like being touched by God. I don’t believe in God but there is certainly a force that transcends the things that I can see with my eyes and touch with my hands. There is an emotion that wells up inside me that at times is so powerful it could make me weep. It’s an amalgamation of several things. The first essential ingredient is the solitude that solo travel brings. As much as I enjoy travelling with my husband, another person brings distraction and thought clutter. Alone I can absorb myself into the surroundings and the experiences without having to give consideration to anyone else. I like to sit and reflect upon things and this is truly a solo pursuit. This ‘selfishness’ for want of a better word is a rare privilege and as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t come with any feelings of guilt. At 65, mother of 4 and grandmother to many more I’ve earned my stripes.

The second element is to have the freedom to travel as and when I like. Although I have an idea of my direction of travel, the itinerary is made up as I go along. I prefer a fully flexible itinerary that can be changed at the drop of a hat. Lingering a little longer whenever I choose (ferry connections and weather permitting). To be able to travel without having to think too far ahead, about the next ferry connection or the flight home enables me to be in the moment – as hard as that may be at times.

I struggle to fully articulate what the third ingredient is because it is an external force completely out of my control. It could be an interaction with a kindly local. A brief connection that transcends any language barriers. It could be a small or large kindness shown to me when so very often in the real world I can feel invisible – the scourge and also the blessing of being an older woman. Sometimes it’s a breathtaking view or arriving at a place that I never thought I’d reach. There is also something to be said about being fully immersed in nature with its healing and calming powers. There is no better way to boost your mental wellbeing.

Whenever these feelings of awe and wonder occur, I like to take time to acknowledge them, to feel them and to appreciate them because it’s impossible to tell when the next one will happen. They are rare and special moments in life.

My afternoons were usually spent on the beach immersing myself in the turquoise waters. Almost every day I had the beach to myself. The odd person that did come down for a swim didn’t stay for very long. No matter where I wander on the island I just can’t draw my eyes away from Mount Imerovigli.

The solution to procuring meals and the lack of card payment facilities were solved by purchasing toasted sandwiches from the very well-stocked Susy Minimarket. Susi would make sandwiches filled with whatever I wanted. I usually went for prosciutto freshly sliced on their slicing machine, tomatoes and feta. Until the day they ran out of tomatoes because the boat was cancelled. Card payments were accepted here and with Susy’s sandwiches and an assortment of things from her supermarket shelves, I didn’t go hungry. Occasionally I’d forgo breakfast and rock up at lunchtime for a sandwich and an ouzo, though all food supplies had to be purchased before two o’clock when they closed especially when the weather began to take a turn.

And turn it did. The day before I was due to move onto Mathraki, strong winds meant that the Evdokia didn’t sail – hence no tomatoes in the mini market. If the Evdokia doesn’t sail one day, she will make up for it as soon as the seas have calmed. And just like that, my two days on Othonoi that became five, then became six!

Most evenings were spent sitting on my balcony watching the sunset behind the promontory at the end of the bay. Clothes that had been handwashed after my visit to the beach were brought inside from the humid evening air to fully dry. Sometimes I’d have a little tipple of ouzo from a small bottle that I’d been carrying with me since Corfu. I watched the sky turn from yellow to gold to russet, indigo and then ink black – the full gamut of rainbow hues. The stars began to appear with almost every recognisable constellation on view and just the chirping of the cicadas to be heard.

Tonia had told me that Evdokia who should have arrived on Tuesday would definitely be leaving the following day. There is ‘only’ this little window of opportunity to leave the island because the winds were about to change direction. The Northly wind that had been us for the last few days and had brought the slight drop in temperatures was now going to flip direction and come from the South. Although the wind would be warmer, there is a storm brewing and it was likely to cause more disruptions.

Even though there is the likelihood that I may have to stay on Mathraki longer than I’d planned, it didn’t once cross my mind to skip it and head straight back to Corfu. The Diapontians were part of my plan for this trip so all three I will see! I will leave how long I stay in the lap of the Gods.

Tonia had arranged for her brother to take me to the port the following morning. She has been the perfect host and so generous with her time telling me all about island life. I really couldn’t have asked for anything more.

The port was the busiest that I’d seen it. There were many Greek visitors leaving for journeys back home to Athens and beyond. A gentleman and his wife were waiting with a large cage draped in a cloth. The man lifted the cloth and started a conversation with his African Grey called Ronnie. He told me about Ronnie’s extensive repertoire but he didn’t perform any for me. He was anxious about the strange environment. Other Greeks with strong American twangs were hanging on to Othonoi until the end but had come to say goodbye to friends. Others were waiting desperately for new supplies – not just foodstuffs but all kinds of household goods and construction materials.

The Evdokia could be seen edging towards us in the distance. Once the chaos of unloading was completed I was able to board. My ticket was scanned and there was no problem using the ticket from the previous day. It had only cost 2.40€ anyway. I’m sad to leave Othonoi. The longer you stay in a place the more it gets under your skin.

Calypso sent the North wind to push us towards the next destination as she had done for Odysseus. Farewell Othonoi. ❤️