On the Edge of the Aegean

Greece has always held a fascination for me.  Edith Hamilton's Mythology was incredibly alive for me back in 9th grade.  Gods and goddesses, legions of soldiers, super heroes, Athenians against Spartans against Trojans...all running around in the Aegean.  Finally I am here.  As I gaze across the the lapis blue waters of the sea, all I can think about are the Greeks who plied these waters 3,000 years ago.



I have come to stay with some friends from Canada who have rented a hillside villa on the island of Hydra.  The home is all stone, I am in the guest "cottage" that overlooks the harbor, which while never wildly active, never seems to sleep either.  The roosters start the day around 3am, followed by the church bells at 6:30 which peel for 30 seconds, long enough to be sure you are awake.  And if you should fall back asleep they peel again at some irregular hour.  Then the sun's rays pierce though the eastern window and begin to bake me...thus, I am finally awake.  Stumbling to the window I take in the vista of the harbor where its wharf is coming alive as the donkeys and mules are being led to their quayside stations to await the portages of the day.  There are only two gas vehicles on the island...the garbage truck and the water truck.  There are no wells on the island so all fresh water has to be floated in on a modestly large tanker and unloaded, daily.  Trash is driven down the coast about a mile and burned.  The church owns the water tanker and thus has ensured its financial stability as everyone on the island counts on the tanker showing up each day...along with the boats laden with bottled water for the restaurants and home tables.

The waters surrounding the island are crystal clear...a deep tourquoise at the shore quickly turning to that wonderfully rich blue of the Greek flag.  At first the water feels cold but then I realize it is just that I haven't been in the ocean in a long time.  Once I dive in the water encases me in a refreshing bath of blue.  I dive in over and over...never quite diving the same as the college divers I have been photographing for many years now...but nonetheless, I pretend to be as good.  An Albanian youth dives off the rock cliff next to the cove some 20 meters up.  (He insisted it was 80 meters, but I have been around too many 10m platforms to be persuaded).  There are families trying to make themselves comfortable on the rocky beach or the big slab platform of rock hewn out of local marble.  Marble...marble is everywhere.  The quay is marble, the paths are marble, the steps are marble...with absolutely no texture to stabilize my shoes or flip-flops the stairs are treacherous.  The donkey feet clip clop across the marble quay on their way to their stations awaiting goods from boats or calls from homes to bring suitcases to the next ferry from Pireas.  Ferries and tour boats tie up on the wharf continuously all day.  The water taxi zips in and out of the harbor day and night shuttling people up and down the coast to harbors and resorts spotting the shore.