Margaretha Western – Greek Island Gods: Ios

9403 White on Blue
9403 White on Blue

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We crossed by ferry to IOS island, known as the party island.

Well known as the island where the great poet Homer is believed to have died, Ios is the place where beauty and culture do not seem the most important. Party people from all around the world descend in loud-mouthed hordes, ready to drink their way into Bacchanalian memories. Here too, whitewashed houses with blue shutters and doors, were set along steep narrow lanes. Walking along, we frequently entered small squares that habitually were lined with gorgeous churches and chapels. Rows and rows of bells high above the roof structure, silhouetted against the tight ballooning sky. Inside, elaborately gilded statues almost disappeared under the weight of jewelery. Gold chains, some hung with diamond-set pendants, glistened. Gifts or bribes to the gods in payment for wishes prayed-for or granted.


 
The island has many great beaches with crystal clear water lapping the long stretches of golden sand. Restaurants and cafes project decks seawards. Grapevines and scarlet bougainvillea shields clients against the fierce sun. Comfortable daybeds entice, surrounded by filmy white veils, enhancing the exotic atmosphere.

The ferry had been packed with mainly young people, including a group of drunken and unwashed, Australian young men. They passed bottles of vodka around and were hardly able to walk off the ferry.

Our hotel was tucked-into the side of a hill, overlooking Ios Beach. Underneath our terrace, sheep, bells around their necks, desperately scavenged for some food on the parched ground without a blade of grass. They were locked within an enclosure, but a cinnamon-coloured donkey was luckier and wandered around where it pleased, plucking off flowers and greenery along its wandering route.

At sunset we descended to the beach and found the drunken Ozzies, drunker still. Some had passed out and lay unconscious on the beach while young attractive American girls draped themselves all over them, squealing and giggling.

The locals said that the Australian youths were getting worse every year.

Once back, we had a swim in the large pool and a cooling shower before we went to bed. Above the shower a strange-looking arrangement with umbrella spokes, worked very efficiently in keeping the water from flooding the room.

Great for a boat or motor home that doesn't have space for a normal shower cubicle, I thought.

From our terrace, we looked through arches towards the beach. We jumped back quickly when we spotted gigantic spider webs woven right across the openings. A large black spider squatted menacingly in the centre. We threw sticks and other things at the 3-metres wide web, trying to remove it from its close position to our bedroom, but the web just bounced back undamaged!

You aren't allowed to put toilet paper in the WCs in many places in Europe, and Greece is one of them, as they have no modern sewerage systems in many small places or old cities, let alone on these rocky islands. We found the open baskets, that contained the used toilet paper, totally repulsive and unhygienic. The smells were foul too.

I understand that each house has a pit where the liquid slowly drains away. Often, the smell is terrible when you get close to a café or someone‘s residence. It would be rather hard of course, to drill pipes through the lava rocks.

Once we had gone to bed, a cow bellowed mournfully all night and no matter how I tried to encourage my friend into a new career as a Cow-whisperer, she flatly refused to oblige. The soft tinkling of bells on the animals necks finally lulled us to sleep.

Our breakfast was great with home-made, very thick and creamy yoghurt. I had oodles of clear honey on mine, it was delicious!

We had the impression that the Greeks don't like house pets. Packs of wild, starving and noisy cats and mangy dogs that were slightly better fed, roamed the streets. Of course, I couldn't eat anything, without feeding them also. It was just as well that I didn't live here. I would be named the eccentric cat-lady otherwise.

My friend isn't as soft-hearted as I am and kept telling me that these starving creatures, covered in sores and fleas, were "bred to this life". I am afraid I can't agree with that.

Next morning we took a bus to the other side of the island with a charming small fishing village. Sitting in a beach cafe, we ate massive pancakes filled with icecream and fruit. They cost NZ$16 per pancake. We met an expat Kiwi who had lived here for over nine years while working in the restaurant. He said that getting a job was very difficult. The islands were poor and most income was derived from tourism. While this was fine in high-season, he was forced to go back to Athens on the mainland during the rest of the year to earn his keep. But he liked the relaxed atmosphere and the hot weather.

The hotel owner, Marcos, annoyed us as he kept boasting how successful he was because he had fathered two sons! Not once did he mention his only daughter or the fact that his wife had something to do with it! Men are extreme chauvinists in many southern European countries. This one had married an English woman who lived most of the year in Athens, as the children needed to go to good schools. She kept the books and was the brains behind the venture, looking after rental properties in Athens also, but he played the "big boss".

She told me that his five years in Britain, had knocked most of the chauvinist edges off him, but she did not hear him yell abuse at the female staff before she arrived from Athens! The hotel was good and had a lovely pool, set within arches dripping with lush falls of bougainvillea. We were pleased, to find a library of used books for swapping and exchanged the ones we had read.

Ios, like most isles here, is rather barren. Tall craggy rocks soared upwards, piercing the aquamarine sky with their sharp ridges. We had dinner in a different restaurant right on the beach. Kebabs, Greek Salad and pasta, E9.50. for two (NZ$19) plus wine. We enjoyed our dinner, lying on our side, resting on one elbow, like the Romans, on cream, deep cushioned sofas. Transparent filmy material floated around us from the top, very romantic and decadent.