'In Sfakiá: Passing Time in the Wilds of Crete', by Peter Trudgill.
'In Sfakiá: Passing Time in the Wilds of Crete', by Peter Trudgill. Published by Lycabettus Press, Athens, 2008, price €16.00 (£13.95)
Please excuse my little foibles for using "ph" for the Greek letter "phi", instead of the author's preferred "f". The title of this book is NOT In Sphakiá, but it would have been had I had my way! SJ.
Tens of thousands of people visit the area of Sphakiá each year, most of them following the well-trodden path from the mountain plateau of Omalos, to the coastal village of Aghia Roumelli. Having completed their own personal odyssey down the Samarian gorge, the majority will then grab a beer, before a boat and a bus take them to the resort from whence they came. As the boat ploughs eastwards, most will be too tired, following their recent exertions, to take in the rugged and unforgiving landscape lying to the north. A few oohhs and aahhs are usually spared for the picture-postcard village of Loutró, and some may even disembark to while-away a couple of hours between ferries or, perhaps, spend a day or two here. As the boat docks, all too briefly, at this beautiful natural harbour, those interested in walking (and let's face it, that should be practically everybody on board!), may look and wonder at the steep footpath which would take them up to the revolutionary capital of Sphakiá - Anopolis - or the coastal paths taking the more intrepid westwards back to Aghia Roumelli, or eastwards towards the "Village of the Sphakians", 'Chora Sphakion' (hereafter: The Village). All which the eyes can behold on the journey: the coastline, the mountains, the gorges, the villages - most of which are invisible from the sea, so imagination may be necessary too! - make up a region called Sphakiá. I'd like to believe that most would have some sort of interest in an area to which the might of the Venetian and Ottoman empires granted practical autonomy, due to the ferocity of its inhabitants, and a landscape which could never be truly conquered. If that interest has been awoken, or indeed if Sphakiá is already in your heart, you can not, and will not do better than read 'In Sfakiá', by Peter Trudgill.
Ghosts of the past are brought back to life with fluency and verve, by a man who has spent the past quarter of a century -or so - visiting one of the most extraordinary areas on the planet. This is an utterly charming book, and an important work; chronicling, as it does, the last few hundred years' of this area's struggle against would-be oppressors. The mixture of historical information and modern ambience is simply perfect, as the author glides effortlessly from past to contemporary Sphakiá and back. I love this area and, for the far too fleeting time it took to read this book, I was there, walking its heights, feeling its warmth, gazing over azure seas; waking up and smelling the thyme. Our author is joined on the first of his journeys, by his best friend, Neil, and later by his wife, Jean (Peter and Jean are betrothed during the course of the book!). Years roll by, with Peter and Jean spending as much time as possible in The Village (Peter’s job as a university professor, allows for long breaks and occasional sabbaticals), with Neil able to join the pair every so often. Peter’s bouncing narrative is buoyed by these two: Neil being a driver par-excellence and keen amateur ornithologist; Jean a fine swimmer, keen botanist, snail catcher (surely the easiest of the hunting disciplines!) and cat-lover. Peter - and Jean - make an effort to learn Greek, and are rewarded (as all will be) for those efforts. But it's the locals who bring out the true colours of the area. You'll get to know and love Andreas, "Barbayannis", Manoussas, Damoulis (a man partially responsible for creating the footpath from The Village to Sweetwater beach), Stelios (of course!), as well as the other Villagers who make up this special place; their truly Cretan sense of philoxenia (hospitality), and that special warmth which most Greeks possess but the Sphakians appear to have in abundance.
Stories are told of The Village during the collective memories of its locals; its struggles and heroism during the war years; its special place in the hearts of New Zealanders who fought a rear-guard battle to stave off the Nazis in 1941, at nearby Komitades; the evacuation of allied forces from The Village itself; the battle and aftermath of which is superbly realised in the chapter entitled 'From the Bay' (though, just how the allies lost the 'Battle of Crete', may always remain an Enigma!). The Village is the centre of attraction throughout, but this is not just a homage to a small but beautifully formed seaside town, but a far wider look at the whole area of Sphakiá. Frangokastello is visited with its eponymous Venetian castle; its history of revolution, dreams of freedom and inevitable death. This is where the ghosts of battles past are supposed to appear each year. "Drossoulites" (dew shades), as these apparitions are known, are probably caused by atmospheric conditions, though they are traditionally believed to be "ghosts", beginning to appear in May, to commemorate the battle between Chatzimichaelis Dalianis' ill-fated revolution against the Ottoman Turks. The author also takes us on trips to: Anopolis, Kallikratis, Aradhena, Asfendou, Imbros. Loutro, Krapi, Komitades etc., sharing with us his memories and the history of these places. That Sphakiá is "still the home of radicalism and revolution" is indubitable, but we can perhaps add a propensity for exaggeration, as a shepherd in Kallikratis describes the then Prime Minister of Great Britain, thus: "Thatsser - Fassist!" (!!!). As time passes, Peter and Jean even manage to learn some of the little-white-lies, of which the Sphakians are so fond, to enable them to get out of eating yet another course at a meal when their stomachs are fit to explode! "I couldn't I'm afraid, I've been having one or two stomach problems recently", or "No, sorry, but I'm taking some pills at the moment and I have to be careful what I eat" That this happens at the house of Cretan emigrant, Katina, in Cleveland, USA, in no way diminishes the value of this lesson, well learned, in a taverna in the back streets of The Village. Cretan hospitality is quite legendary, so be prepared!
Change happens. However immutable Crete's landscape may appear, it ain't! One can now drive on a tarmaced road all the way from Askyphou to Argyroupolis - via Asfendou, Kallikratis and Asi Gonia - should one wish (I know, I walked this route in one particularly exhausting day, four years ago), making this area far more accessible than it was when our author describes it. These changes make Sphakiá no less appealing, but it's wonderful to take a step back into the past, when the inaccessibility of this region remained relatively untouched for millennia, and in 31 years of travelling to Crete, my feelings for the island remain precisely as they were in 1977. Bali, east of Rethymnon. is described as "a very small fishing village" (those were the days, my friend!). One can still traverse the deep gorge at Aradhena, if one wishes, but unless, like Peter, one has an aversion to looking down from great heights (I now know two people with this particular affliction!), nowadays, the slatted bridge is an easier way to cross that particular gorge and visit this "ghost village". Explanations as to why Aradhena has been abandoned since 1948, are contained within, and are a sad indictment of the old ways of this fierce region. Which brings me to my only criticism of the book (and if truth be told, it may only prove that I can be a little pedantic!). I'd have dearly liked to have known the precise years each trip took place. True, in the epilogue we are told that the years in question are between 1982 and 1991, and I know they are, in fact, ongoing. However, the lack of specific dates within, led me to start guessing or searching for my deer-stalker's hat, looking for clues, which all led to the fact that there is the occasional anachronism. A few days after scrambling through the bridgeless gorge to reach Aradhena, Peter reads to an article in the newspaper 'Ta Sfakiá' about that village's history. "More than 40 years" had passed since the village was abandoned, so we're in the late '80s early '90s? The aforementioned bridge crossing the Aradhena gorge was built in 1986, so there' a little confusion here, which is entirely understandable given the frequency and length of his visits; they must, in the memory, all roll into one.
It is difficult to categorise this book. "Travelogue", just wouldn't do it justice, though it is partly that. It's also partly anthropological (the chapter 'Under the Tamarisk Tree' is among the best studies on social behaviour I have ever read!), partly historical, partly topographical, partly autobiographical and wholly absorbing! This is not only an important book, it's essential reading, and exquisitely entertaining too! There are sections on practically everything that may interest people: birdwatching, walking (The Village to Loutro, via Sweetwater beach and the Aradhena gorge are both conquered, the latter in a somewhat alarming manner!), name-days, Cretan dancing, festivals...you name it! Peter Trudgill is a fine writer with a clever and witty turn of phrase; a keen eye for the ironic (I particularly like the concept of a Villager asking a taxi driver for the favour of a lift!), and a superb sense for the historic. His previous publications - and there have been many - have dealt with sociolinguistics and dialects, and his penchant for the etymological derivation of Greek words is wonderful and absorbing; as are his finely-tuned observations of body language and behaviour. A number of books are cited, but the most important and widely-quoted of these is the 171 year old 'Travels in Crete' by Robert Pashley., which just goes to prove: "Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose" ("The more things change the more they stay the same"), quite literally! The publisher, 'Lycabettus Press' is one whom I have had dealings with for many years. Books such as Tom Stone's 'Greek Handbook' (sadly, out of print), hold legendary status with the staff at 'The Hellenic Bookservice', and Tim Salmon's magnificent study of the migratory Vlach shepherds of Northern Greece's Epirus region, 'The Unwritten Places', is one of my favourite books (The chapter 'Heading South Again', in 'In Sfakiá', very much reminded me of Tim's book). Well done Lycabettus Press, and very well done indeed, Peter!
Stelios Jackson (7/9/08) |
