Safe Return Doubtful

I expected a quiet day today, a chance to catch up on a bit of reading and a few other bits of administration. In the end, it was anything but quiet.

This village, Ambelakiotissa, more than most, suits a walking circuit, set as it is over a height difference of about 100 metres, and sprawled, if such a small place can do that, over quite an area.

To begin with we walked up to the monastery. it wasn’t long until Roja picked up his usual entourage. The dogs here wear bells, and are hunters, though most belong to no household in particular, and, though fed, roam the streets.

The clear morning got gradually cloudier as the day went on, but was a sensible temperature of the early teens.

The monastery was founded in 1456, and is on the tourist trail more than many others because of the relics it holds; for example the icon of the Virgin Mary, a 1735 embroidered epitaph, the work of Mariora who was a renowned artisan from Constantinople, and the forearm of St Polycarp of Smyrna. The latter interested me most. Was it mummified? Or skeletal. It certainly appealed to my interests.

We soon met a young monk, who told me there were four of them there throughout the year. They get a lot of visitors on Saturdays, but few in the rest of the week. They have a dormitory building for visitors who stay for purposes of meditation or retreat, which I was shown round.

On meeting monks, it’s noticeable how deep the conversation gets so quickly. Their questions are probing, and need careful thought before answering. In my experience so far, they stay away from faith, concentrating more on delving into one’s character. Such quandaries posed by someone from another walk of life most likely would be ignored, or provoke a humorous retort, but the costume and setting give a more serious air. In this case I was asked whether, as I was retired, I was content with all my accomplishments in life. Where was I going, not north south east west, but what I am driven by, and why.

In attempting answers I tried not to seem focused solely on Polycarp’s arm, and paid polite attention to the buildings and the various icons, and asked what I thought were appropriate questions at the right times, though much less profound than his.

But the monk was strangely silent when it came to the arm. Saint Polycarp, who lived between the years 69 and 155, was bishop of Smyma in Turkey, and is the patron saint of Nafpaktos. He is also patron saint of Earaches and Dysentery. Useful to know should you suffer from either. His arm, mummified and embossed in gold, was found in Constantinople in 1455, already 1300 years old, and brought to the monastery for safe-keeping when Constantinople fell in 1479. And here it has remained. The picture is from the internet, rather than one of my own..

After the 40 minute distraction Roja and I continued our circuit down the hill to the west side of the village, then below to its nethermost reaches.

Set on a spectacular projection with a perspective across the Kakkavou Gorge is Theo’s house (below). As I passed I shouted a greeting, to which he responded and we soon got chatting. He has built the house completely by himself over the last ten years, and is almost finished. Work has been slow, as he only retired from work as an electronic engineer two years ago, before then of course, time was limited. It is in effect, an off-grid house, with all the electricity coming from solar, the water from the surrounding hills, and the heating from wood. The stone used for building is local also.

Theo was a campervan person twenty years ago, and his next project, due to start in spring, will be to convert his Toyota Hilux to a camper. He was keen to see mine, so I met him back at the van later in the afternoon. Theo is one of about 30 of the village’s permanent residents, though the official number is around 100. The biggest problem the villages in the area have are the roads. Three years ago a rainstorm washed the road to Ano Chora out. Ambelakiotissa was in effect, cut off for more than two weeks, and it has still not been resealed. The village and its monastery would attract far more visitors if the road was improved. Although I’m quite happy about that, from the point of view of local businesses, and retaining young people in the area, it is a major concern.

As temperatures in Nafpaktos and Patras hit the 40s this last summer, it is easy to see why their inhabitants want a second home here, with its mid-twenties in the day, and cool nights.

Theo invited me for dinner at the Tavern, and we were well looked after, with pork steaks cooked on the open fire. It was a busy night with half the population in at least, playing cards, watching sport on TV or just conversing. It was a fitting end to an enjoyable day.