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This is obviously the third part of the second part and the first part. But in this post there is a big [[➕]]! Because as I was browsing through Instagram to choose some last pictures from Ikaria to show you, I looked again at a picture I had added in PART 1 and I realised that it wasn’t just one random holiday snaphot. More pictures followed and all of them belonged to a story – a story written in a blog!
But first things first. Take a look at my last 50 selected grams from Ikaria and then scroll down to read my English translation of Virginia’s «Sobre una mujer sola en una playa». As you will see in the end, I have reasons to cherish very strong personal feelings about it. But far besides that, what matters more is that I find her adventure and more importantly the way she describes her adventure the best to this moment, most edgy and wonderfully dramatic example of the attitude I’ve spoken about in Part 2:
«Enjoy and respect. This is the new DIY generation who are not looking for ready-made things but for the true experience, for whatever that takes.»
……………………..⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Note: I have displayed the pictures randomly and democratically all same size. None of them (including the ones inside the Virginia’s story) have been downloaded but embedded into this post directly from the source. All rights reserved by the respective owners © 2012-2017
«Sobre una mujer sola en una playa»
(About a woman alone on a beach)
«Later that evening, we were sitting there and I could hear a church bell from the Orthodox church around the corner. My ear followed the sound there and back, there and back, my eye trailing the distance to the church in the dark. I asked my aunt if she was awake. She stirred in her chair and said yes, she was. I said, how did you make it so long. She asked what I meant. I said, there are so many years. How can you be alone so long. She said she didn’t know.»
[Jesse Ball, How to Make a Fire and Why]
«Last year with Adrián we decided to take a trip. He asked me where I wanted to go, and I told him that for some time I had in my thoughts the island of Ikaría. He wondered why. I do not know, I told him. He asked me again: what is there? Nothing, I said. It is an island where there is nothing. He told me, that’s an answer.»
«He asked me again: what is there? Nothing, I said. It is an island where there is nothing. He told me, that’s an answer.»
«There was a turning point in the trip and it was the day of the monopati. By then I already had severely infected soles of the feet. I think about the precise moment, a few days before, in which the blisters that almost completely covered the metatarsals broke and I still get goosebumps. I remember it with my head but I also remember it more with my body, it was a burning like I had never felt before, I felt it break, tear. And if walking most of the day with a heavy backpack on my back, sleeping little and feeding mainly on the figs and grapes that we found on the way, it was already difficult, every step I took with the blisters open and beginning to become infected was a torture.»
«There was a turning point in the trip and it was the day of the monopati.»
«We spent the night in a forest on the outskirts of Raches and the next morning we started walking very early. In the course of the day we had to descend an altitude of nine hundred meters extended along twenty kilometers by mountain road and reach the coastal town of Karkinagri, at the south-western end of the island. We had no choice. Between Raches and Karkinagri there was absolutely nothing, no food, no water, no shelter, no firm terrain to camp, only a narrow monopati that descended sinuously and abruptly down the mountain.»
«The first challenge was to find the mentioned monopati. The map of Ikaría that we had pointed out as villages what we, upon arriving, discovered that they were only scattered houses, many of them abandoned (one night we camped inside one, it was the night that I really thought I was going to die, that until then everything had arrived, but that is another story).»
«After walking for a few hours we arrived at what we hoped would be a town, where we expected to replenish our water and ask for directions for the rest of the way, but all we found was a half-demolished farm in which a very old man milked a goat. He approached us with the wooden bucket full of warm, steaming, perfumed milk. The milk had a pregnant smell, cloying, a bit repulsive. I was dying to try it, I felt that my body was asking for it while the man told us that in his youth he had been a sailor and had been in Buenos Aires. French fries, he said in Spanish. His dogs barked at us with fury. We asked him about the monopati and he indicated where to go.»
«Later we heard voices and followed them and in the middle of the forest we found a neat land with an orchard and a house made of a container. Under a tree a group of men and women talked and worked. We asked them about the monopati and as Greeks as they were, they invited to come in, unconditional hospitality is practiced even in the depths of the forest, especially there (if a Greek refuses philoxenia to a stranger in the middle of the forest and there is no one to witness it, do the Erynias overwhelm him?). They served us a strong and delicious coffee (we had not had coffee for days, we had not done many things for days, like bathing) and they invited us with figs from their garden dried in the sun.»
«The owner of the house, about forty or forty-five years old, had grown tired of life in Athens and had exchanged it for that rectangle of land on which he lived most of the year, growing his own food and reading the classics, receiving friends during the summer. He was a serious man, serene, a man who spoke slowly, beautifully. The beautiful Greeks are truly beautiful, slender and proud, with marked features and deep wrinkles of expression. Beside him, Adrian, with his blond curls and his upturned nose and his reckless speech, looked like a teenager.»
«We continue advancing and at the highest point of the mountain, in the middle of a thorny forest, an enchanted forest, the most beautiful I saw, we found a tiny church and sitting at the door a shaggy man, the caretaker. Hour after hour and day after day he would sit there, alone, in silence. We asked him about the monopati. He showed us the way. He himself is walking up and down on it every several weeks to get provisions from the town. We were reassured by this concrete reference that the monopati existed and it was not far away.»
«Finally we found it and the descent was slow and difficult. My feet were in deplorable condition, I felt the stockings alternately wet and stiff, as blood and pus sprouted and dried. We walked slower and slower, and Adrian became impatient. He advanced alone and he waited for me later, feeling solicitous and confused. We got lost several times. The monopati at times became so narrow that it was easy to mistake it with openings that appeared naturally among the vegetation. Several times we took the wrong direction. We opened and closed gates. We climbed trees and stones. We crossed a dry river in a valley.»
«It had been a difficult day for two people who knew little of each other, who began to glimpse with a mixture of rejection and compassion into the miseries of the other and to remember their own miseries, those that one tends to forget when there is no witness around, when conveniences and routines camouflage them a bit.»
«Around four in the afternoon we arrived at the town. We hated it immediately. Ikaría does not receive too many tourists, but the few that were there were there. We ate something quickly and decided to continue on our way and spend the night in [Manganitis], a nearby town. We resumed the march in silence. It had been a difficult day for two people who knew little of each other, who began to glimpse with a mixture of rejection and compassion into the miseries of the other and to remember their own miseries, those that one tends to forget when there is no witness around, when conveniences and routines camouflage them a bit.»
«We arrived at [Manganitis] at sunset, and the place was a dream. A tiny village, quiet, no more than fifteen houses. A warm tavern in the shade of a vine. A bay of white stones, turquoise waters. A small church and a cemetery near the edge of the sea (where we would spend the night, sleeping in one of the mausoleums between candles and coffins, but that’s another story). A group of men and women swam naked. Adrian also undressed and got into the water. I sat on the still warm stones of the shore and soaked my feet. The salt water washed my blood and the pain worsened first and then it started to ease up a bit. The group of bathers left and the beach was deserted.»
«It was almost dark when a woman in her fifties appeared. Adrian had swum away, and we seemed to be alone on that silent beach at the end of the world. She took off her clothes and got into the water. She swam for a long time and then came back to the shore and wrapped herself in a towel and stayed there, looking at the water until it was completely dark. Then she got dressed, took her things and left.»
«All this preamble is to say that last night I thought about that woman. Many times, I think about that woman, and last night was one of those times. I was in bed and was cold (because the days are warm and sunny, but still cool at night) and I began to rub my arms and legs with my hands to warm me up. And I do not know why that gesture made me suddenly feel very aware that I am alone. That I brought myself to this bed in the house of strangers in a city in another hemisphere and I am responsible for giving me heat, I am both the injured foot and the salty sea that heals, the woman alone and the woman alone who looks at the woman alone.»
** «Monopati» («μονοπάτι» in Greek) = footpath, a more or less narrow trail usually across nature or rural land.
*** There is a slight confusion with placenames. To all evidence the final scene of the story takes place in «Trapalou» instead of «Manganitis» which is a relatively large village located much further to the east.
Was it I the other woman alone? The woman alone who was looked at by another woman alone in that cut-off place and moment? Yes, perhaps it was I. I turned fifty last year. And as often as always I like to swim in remote, quiet places at dusk. Thank you Virginia. All Virginias of this world, thank you!!!
So long and take care
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Now, don’t think I have betrayed Flickr but as it goes, from the side of Ikaria at least, sometimes the pictures fail in edge, spontaneity and personal touch. It’s no wonder my friends lately don’t add pictures from Flickr in their comments on my posts. They seem to prefer Instagram and I think they are right. Flickr is fine for the large picture and it’s jaw-dropping what you can sometimes see in there, but for the small picture, the snapshot, the ephemeral, subjective thing, Instagram, coming with all its smart filters and tricks, seems to win the game. No wonder (again) why it’s so popular with the under 30s. And these under 30s are the ones who flock together and liven up Ikaria in the summer. Are you guessing it already? You guessed right. Forget the introduction. This article is not really about photography. It’s about these under 30s. Cheers to their generation! All the spirit I love and cherish, they got it! And certainly a lot more!
Go, go, go, young travelers to Ikaria in the age of crisis!
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Note: None of the 100 pictures seen below have been downloaded but embedded into this post directly from the source. All rights reserved by the respective owners © 2012-2017
Πριν λίγες μέρες με αφορμή ένα ποστ δικό μου στο facebook όπου διατύπωνα κάποιες σκέψεις σχετικά με την αναπάντεχη, πολύ μεγάλη δημοφιλία που είχε μια φωτογραφία που τράβηξα αμέσως μόλις την ανέβασα στο Φλικρ, προσκλήθηκα εδώ από τη σεβαστή οικοδέσποινα για να γράψω, αν ήθελα, περισσότερα για το θέμα, δηλαδή τη «μαγεία των μικρών μυστηριωδών πραγμάτων», όπως ήταν ο τίτλος του ποστ μου στο FB. Μου ζήτησε επίσης να βάλω μαζί και μια προπέρσινη φωτογραφία ενός κοινού μανιταριού που αναφέρω στο ποστ, η οποία κι αυτή, τότε που την ανέβασα, γνώρισε την ίδια σχεδόν στιγμιαία δημοφιλία, μάλλον για παρόμοιους, αν και περισσότερο κατανοητούς σε μένα λόγους. Ξέρω ότι υπάρχουν εκατομμύρια μανιταρόφιλοι στον κόσμο και ότι ανάμεσά τους υπάρχουν άνθρωποι που δεν τα βλέπουν μόνο ως φαγητό, αλλά και σαν μαγικά φυτά τόσο από άποψη μορφής, όσο και για τον τρόπο που φύονται -ξαφνικά, κρυφά, ανέλπιστα- λες κι ανήκουν σε μια άλλη διάσταση, σε έναν άλλο τύπο ανάπτυξης της ζωής, πολύ διαφορετικό από των δέντρων, των θάμνων, των λουλουδιών, κτλ. Αντίθετα ωστόσο, δεν έχω ακούσει ποτέ τίποτα για «προϊστορικούς πετρόφιλους», πόσο μάλλον όταν η φωτογραφία δεν εικονίζει κάποιο μεγαλόπρεπο ντολμέν ή μενίρ (οπότε η δημοφιλία θα ήταν κάπως δικαιολογημένη), αλλά δυο πετραδάκια που από μακριά αν τα δεις, δεν διαφέρουν από βότσαλα.
«Η λέξη «αστροπελέκι» και σπανιότερα «αστροπελέκιο» ή «αστροπέλεκο» ή «αστροπέλεκας» σημαίνει τον κεραυνό, και ειδικότερα το βλήμα του κεραυνού, που το φαντάζονται σαν πέτρινο τσεκούρι. Είναι δηλαδή, όπως δείχνει η ετυμολογία του, «ο πέλεκυς της αστραπής». Η λέξη ήταν σε χρήση κατά τον μεσαίωνα και μόνο στον Ερωτόκριτο, απ’ όσο γνωρίζω, βρίσκεται η περίφραση «πέτρα τς αστραπής», ενώ μια άλλη περίφραση είναι «του θεού το βόλι».
Όπως έχω επισημάνει και αλλού, ο λαός ξεχωρίζει το φαινόμενο της αστραπής, όπως έκαναν και οι αρχαίοι Έλληνες και οι Ρωμαίοι, σε τρία: την αστραπή, το αστροπελέκι και το μπουμπουνητό, δηλαδή την αστραπή, τον κεραυνό και τη βροντή. Το βλήμα του κεραυνού πιστεύουν ότι πέφτει στη γη ως άμορφος λίθος, και ότι ωριμάζει, δηλαδή παίρνει το σχήμα του, όταν μείνει σαράντα μέρες χωμένος μέσα στη γη.»
«Τότε αποκτά θαυμαστές δυνάμεις και γι’ αυτό το λόγο όσοι βρίσκουν τέτοια πέτρα την έχουν για φυλαχτό, καθώς πιστεύουν ότι φέρνει ευτυχία στον κάτοχό της, ότι λύνει τα μάγια και προστατεύει από κάθε κακό. Κεραύνιοι λίθοι πιστεύουν ότι είναι οι προϊστορικοί πέτρινοι πέλεκεις ή αιχμές βελών της λίθινης εποχής που βρίσκονται σε αφθονία στην Ελλάδα, ενώ μερικές φορές εκλαμβάνονται ως «αστροπελέκια» και τεμάχια χαλαζία (quartz).
Η δοξασία αυτή είναι πάρα πολύ αρχαία. Οι αρχαίοι Έλληνες θεωρούσαν την αστραπή ως πηγή γέννησης και υπέθεταν ότι αυτή παράγει τα μανιτάρια «τρούφες» και τα μαργαριτάρια. Ονόμαζαν τα αστροπελέκια «κεραύνιους λίθους» και ως τέτοιους θεωρούσαν τους προϊστορικούς λίθινους πέλεκεις ή και τους αερόλιθους. Σε αυτούς απέδιδαν τις ίδιες θαυμαστές δυνάμεις που τους αποδίδει και σήμερα ο λαός, και τους χρησιμοποιούσαν σε καθαρμούς ή τους είχαν για φυλαχτά.»
«Αυτά τα φυλαχτά πίστευαν ότι προστατεύουν επίσης από τους κεραυνούς, όπως συνάγεται από κάποιες οδηγίες που διασώθηκαν για την κατασκευή τους, ενώ στους Βυζαντινούς χρόνους τα θεωρούσαν πολύτιμα.
Κάποιοι αρχαίοι συγγραφείς επίσης παρομοίαζαν τους κεραύνιους λίθους με τσεκούρια. Φαίνεται απ’ αυτό ότι ως τέτοιους κυρίως θεωρούσαν τους προϊστορικούς λίθινους πέλεκεις.
Οι Γερμανοί επίσης ονομάζουν τους κεραύνιους λίθους «Donneraxt» (πέλεκυς της βροντής), ενώ στα πιο αρχαία χρόνια θεωρούσαν τον πέλεκυ ως σύμβολο του κεραυνού και όπλο του θεού της βροντής Thunar (Thôrr). Είναι πολύ κοινές στους Γερμανούς αυτές οι δοξασίες, έτσι ώστε, εκτός από τη λέξη Donneraxt, είναι σε χρήση κι άλλες που δηλώνουν τους κεραύνιους λίθους, όπως «Donnerstein» (λίθος βροντής), «Donnerkeil» (σφήνα βροντής) και πλήθος άλλες.
Αλλά και άλλοι λαοί της Ευρώπης, της Ασίας και της Αφρικής τιμούν τους λίθους που πιστεύουν ότι προέρχονται από τους κεραυνούς. Ως τέτοιους, εκτός από τους προϊστορικούς πέλεκεις και τα βέλη, θεωρούν και τους αερόλιθους και τα απολιθωμένα οστά προϊστορικών καλαμαριών («βελεμνίτες») τους οποίους έχουν συνδέσει με πλήθος δεισιδαιμονιών.»
Φίλη μου Ελένη, δεν έχω να προσθέσω άλλο παρά να ξαναπώ με άλλα λόγια εκείνο που έγραψα στο facebook. Τα αστροπελέκια «δεν ανήκουν σ’ αυτόν τον κόσμο». Είναι λείψανα του τρόπου ζωής της λεγόμενης «Λίθινης Εποχής» που είναι πολύ δύσκολο να κατανοήσουμε όχι μόνο εμείς, αλλά όπως φαίνεται, αφότου διαδόθηκε και επικράτησε η χρήση των μετάλλων, ξεχάστηκε και έγινε ακατανόητος ακόμα και στους αρχαίους. Είναι «αντικείμενα από άλλη διάσταση», τέτοια που ακόμα και σήμερα, παρόλες τις αδιαμφισβήτητες επιστημονικές εξηγήσεις, συνεχίζουν να εξάπτουν την φαντασία, να δημιουργούν απορίες και να κάνουν το νου μας να ταξιδεύει.
Όσον αφορά τώρα την Ικαρία, είναι πασίγνωστη και αξιοσημείωτη η αφθονία τους. Πάρα πολλά βλέπει κανείς να εκτίθενται στις αρχαιολογικές και λαογραφικές συλλογές του νησιού, αλλά και στα σπίτια ακόμα υπάρχουν πολλά. Οι παλιοί Καριώτες τα ανακάλυπταν στα πιο απίθανα σημεία στα βουνά, σε μέρη που δύσκολα μπορεί κανείς να φανταστεί ότι ζούσαν άλλοτε άνθρωποι. Τα μάζευαν και τα φύλαγαν ως μαγικά αντικείμενα, αλλά και σήμερα ακόμα τα τιμούν και τα επιδεικνύουν με σεβασμό, ως ιστορικά αντικείμενα που δηλώνουν το πόσο αρχαία είναι η παρουσία του ανθρώπου στον τόπο μας.
Και θα τελειώσω την αναφορά στα αστροπελέκια της Ικαρίας, Ελένη, με το δικό σου σχόλιο κάτω από τη φωτογραφία στο Φλικρ:
«(τα αστροπελέκια) είναι από μια εποχή που το νησί ήταν καλυμένο με δάση και αυτές οι πέτρες (οι μεγάλες στρογγυλές πέτρες που ονομάζουμε «λούρους») ήταν ακόμα χωμένες βαθιά μέσα στη γη«.
Κεραύνια Εποχή, στ’ αλήθεια, θα ήταν εκείνη!
1) Τα νεώτερα αρχαιολογικά δεδομένα για τα λίθινα εργαλεία που ονομάζουμε «αστροπελέκια» μπορεί κανείς να διαβάσει στο «Αρχαιολογία Online» στο άρθρο: Προϊστορικές τεχνικές και μέθοδοι κατεργασίας του λίθου (Μέρος A´)
2) Για την αρχαία ιστορία και αρχαιολογία της Ικαρίας βλέπε το βιβλίο «Αρχαία Ικαρία» του καθηγητή Α. Παπαλά.
Dear readers💗As things are at my work I sometimes have to stay for hours at nerve-racking standbys. To relax tension the trick is always to turn my mind to Ikaria and then to look for something interesting to blog about my island. In most cases things don’t fall in as I wish. Inspiration is a bird in flight, but sometimes there are exceptions.😋Last week during one of those standbys I mentionned above, and while I was surfing fruitlessly in Flickr, I looked for new stuff from friends and a wonderful new set of 29 pictures from Ikaria appeared in front of my eyes: «A Day at an Exhibition» – «Hard hiking, wild swimming and admiring rocks scuptured by nature in Cape Papas, Ikaria». What a brilliant title, description and of course, visual content!These pictures were taken by my friend Angelos, amateur photographer and leading member of the Ikarian hiking club, on a day of March while he and his friends were trying to find a trail through «a jungle of rocks sculptured by nature» (sic) to connect the remote village of Karkinagri with the even remoter westernmost tip of Ikaria and the historical, spectacular lighthouse which stands on it.... ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ...As you could see in this great map above, the trail was found! Therefore, I think we should expect to see more shots from this colorful and naturally artistic, wild coast of Ikaria very soon. But for the time being, these are the best I have seen. I am letting you enjoy them! Move your mouse over the thumbnails to read a few words written by the author about each picture. They are very expressive and enlightening!..
Côte de Naufragés Sauvés
Thank you very much, Angelos!💗
Sunday, March 26, 2017
I don’t expect this long article to become too popular. It’s just that several modern-day Ikarians show a lot of interest in knowing as much as they can about the more recent history of the island and they are usually very disappointed. Compared with other islands of the Aegean Sea, there is so little to say about Ikaria! No glorious battles, no illustrious rulers, no forts and fleets, no trading towns, no towers, cathedrals and famous monasteries; only mossy stonewalls and old thrifty houses scattered in the ravines, the valleys and the forests in the hills.
Neverthelss, there were some short descriptions of the life in the island during the Obscurity («Αφάνεια») as we like to call in Ikaria the first hard centuries of the Ottoman occupation. These were written by the very few European travelers who touched at our rough, inhospitable shores, often by chance or accident. In Pr A.J. Papalas’ book «Ancient Icaria» I found a reference to one of these documents, which, although brief and trivial, capticated my imagination. It is by Charles Perry, a wealthy medical doctor from England who travelled in the Levant from 1739 to 1742. After visiting Egypt, Perry sailed from Alexandria to Athens. On his way across the Aegean he visited and described the islands of Cos and Patmos. But after that island, as he was heading for Mykonos, his ship was caught in a storm and was forced to drop anchor in Ikaria.
I liked Perry’s account. Reading his one and a half page about his accidental visit to Ikaria, I felt the genuine puzzlement of a man of the Century of Lights for the unwelcoming, extremely mountainous environment of the island and his also genuine astonishment (and contempt) for the attitude and the way of life of its inhabitants. But, most of all, I liked his account for a more personal reason: through the eyes of the good old British doctor, I saw some places of western Ikaria which I know very well, such as Karkinagri, Agios Isidoros and Langada, looking as uncanny and wild, as if we were talking about a remote, unfriendly rock in the middle of the South Pacific!
«We spent three days in Patmos, not disagreeably; and the fourth in the morning we set sail for Myconos; but the wind, which was otherwise pretty favorable, grew slack, next to a calm; so that it was with much-ado, with what wind we had, and the help of our oars, that we reached the west end of Nicaria in two days. We much lamented our hard fate, that we should thus long want a wind at such a favourable (for it) crisis of the year, it being near the Autumnal Equinox.
However, that night, about an hour after sunset, even whilst we were reproaching the malice of our stars, a fine gale sprang up. We failed not to embrace it immediately, and we went driving on, Jehu-like, with our sails full of wind and our hearts full of joy: But alas! How frail and transitory are human hopes and happiness, especially upon the sea? Within an hour after, the wind turned against us, and blew a storm; so that we were forced to change our course, and to seek shelter under a rock at the west end of Nicaria, which we did not attain, however, without much difficulty and danger.»
«Here we lay wind-bound four nights, and above three days; during which irksome interval we amused ourselves in the best manner we could with fishing: But after we had spent two days without other recreation than fishing, that sport grew dull and tedious; and whilst we were looking out for some sport and divertissement, kind Providence (of its grace and favour) sent us the glad tidings that about a mile off, on the side of a high rocky mountain, there was a spring of excellent water, which was resorted to by great number of partridges. Upon this intelligence, (which we got the third day of our detention there) we immediately got ready arms and ammunition of all sorts, as well for the belly as the barrel -such as bread, butter, cheese, salt, pepper, wine, glasses, etc. We marched on directly, (flushed with the hopes of new game) with uncommon ardour, or rather avidity; and we were well recompensed our pains; for we passed that day very agreeably.
The mountain (though in general very steep) admits a sort of level in that place; and the spring of water issues out of a rock, in a very convenient and delightful spot, where nature or chance has formed a sort of grot, large enough to receive and accommodate a dozen or 15 persons. This natural grot (if we may so call it) is covered over, and secured against the weather, by a large flat stone of about 24 feet in diameter: This rests upon and is supported by other stones on all sides, except to the eastward; where, being open, it presents to view a sort of alcove. Here we passed the whole day (which but for that retreat would have been tedious) very agreeably -reclining upon the bed of our grot, with the water trilling along close by us, whilst our partisans upon the hunt for partridges, wild goats, and the like, of which they brought us in good store.»
«There are some few inhabitants on this island, but those almost naked and savage, seldom seeing or conversing with any of the human species, except those of their own isle. The second day after we put in there, we sent out some of the mariners a shooting for us, who pursuing their game to the north side of the mountain, met with some of the natives. These were so affrighted at sight of strangers, that they fled from them with precipitation; but our people calling after them, and telling them they had brought them bread and corn, they at last prevailed on them to stop, and come to a party with them. These poor wretches, being at length persuaded of our good intentions, came to see us aboard our vessel, and afterwards brought us good store of grapes and meat. We were really at a loss to guess where they found those things; for the whole island, so far as we could see of it, is the most miserable, barren rock that ever was seen.
The 4th day, towards noon, the wind changing in our favour, we set sail for Myconos, which is 40 miles distant from the westernmost point of Nicaria. This (as it is to be supposed) is a run of about 7 hours, with a good brisk gale…»
Pages 484-486 from Charles Perry’s book, «A View of the Levant», which I have arbitrarily named «Wind bound in Nicaria», can be found in Google books
Modern books about the history of Ikaria:
Comments on this article are very welcome!