I sit watching a tiny spider, one we’d call a money-spider walk in circles around the base of the bedside lamp. Its repetitious moves intrigue me. I can see my breath in the air as I peer and look for meaning in its movements. Something to give it away. Like a life in review with unknown pleasures knocking at the door, the spider moves in circles ignoring their call. I worry each time it makes a turn on what I think is the corner of the circle, but really a circle has no corner to turn. The spider continues round and round, feeling itself making distance. I have been the spider this year. Round and round, decisions and ideas have swirled. It’s been a year of fragments; joy, mistakes, rejection and practice. Lots of practice. All experiences to learn from. I mean this is the best sense. I keep getting given these chances and I am not sure I’m making the most of them. Am I good enough, can I learn? Can I grow, be kinder, find comfort in my own skin? Can I stop worrying if I need to be comfortable at all? How much of the past leads us to where we find ourselves now?
I was born in Winter but even after all these years I struggle to have an affinity to its low level daylight and gloom. What is winter but a cold season that flanks the end of the year, signalling closures, celebrations and offering up new beginnings? All of these musing seem to find a natural home in the in-between days after Christmas and before a new year.
A Greek island in winter is a strange place, kind of charming and oppressive at the same time. Syros in no way is a small island – its resident population doesn’t fluctuate as summer turns to winter. Most of the shops, businesses and trade are open all year. So it isn’t ‘empty’ in any sense of the word. But it is audibly quieter; less traffic, a lower hum of living. Even the church bells sound louder against billowing wind and sheer nothingness. A hazed sunlight hits the water and the hills glisten with emerald green clove – the island’s soft beauty stands out against the grey. Even the sheep bells seem close.
In the rain people huddle in a couple of the harbour cafés instead of the dozens to choose from in high season. The stores are open, selling everything you’d anticipate with a Christmas anywhere in the world. Santa hats, tinsel, the universal offering of Wham’s last Christmas boomed out from speakers. (I have also heard a Greek language version of this – pretty special). None of this surprised me as the commercialism of Christmas has no geographical boundaries. But what was nice to see is that most places only put up all the Christmas lights and trees a week before the 25th. Most families will exchange gifts as tradition dictates on New Year’s Eve when Agios Vassilis (St Basil) takes on the gift bearing role akin to Santa Claus – therefore the shops don’t go into a horrid boxing day sale scenario on the 26th, as if to mockingly declare the worthlessness of all your hard-earned presents. Things seem to take on a gentler pace here. The children go round singing carols, Kalanda and playing the triangle. I’m not sure if you give them money to say thanks or to get them to scarper! But I do love the traditional winter holiday biscuits like Melomakarona – honey and nut Christmas cookies, we were given a batch from our neighbours which were yum. The bakeries are full of Kourabies, icing sugar laden biscuit treats. I have baked a few cakes and cookies; almond and orange cookies, chocolate and ginger ones too. G has been baking bread. The things you do to keep yourself entertained and fed!
Random things about winter in Greece I have learnt in a couple of weeks: it’s pretty cold, nowhere near as cold as the UK. Even when the temperatures seem warm, a high 14 or 15, the nights will be cold, but the stars are amazing. So I’m completely forsaking any kind of style over warmth at all times. Jumpers and fleece leggings are a daily uniform. Going for long walks seems to help you feel warmer despite being outside. Showers are swift and functional, no lolling in a cold bathroom. My woolly hat is a godsend and the hot water bottle has taken on a holy status in a tiny house without central heating. So I’ve learnt inventive ways to stay warm –the silent disco dance-a-thon is a winner – my current fave is Spotify playlist of 90s dance music and the Bohemian Rhapsody soundtrack. I don’t think G actually ever dances (he’s a punk!) but I have witnessed him mopping the floor energetically with headphones on. I like to think he’s rocking out to “I want to break free!”
The fact that the only gift we gave each other for Christmas were fleecelined bedsocks says a lot! Talk about romantic. But why give presents when we have everything we need right now. Also, we had a stash of Terry’s chocolate oranges – what more do you need? Actually, a few things, wine…roast potatoes, cheese and the homemade fig chutney I made back in July – a perfect festive accompaniment.
It’s just got dark here on New Year’s Eve and the hours circle in, closing one year into a slow reflection. There’s plenty news this year I am sure we’d all like to confine to the pages of history, start afresh kinder and positive. The traditions of a pomegranate smashed on the doorway and the slice of new year Vasilopita with its coin can offer luck– but is luck enough?
Time flashes by in the stillness of night. It is a thief. Life is in fragments, fractured slivers – but what makes us human is that there is joy to be found in the darkest of places. Whether by luck or fate or hard work, or all three, do what makes you happy in 2019 and shine some light out into the world.