Kamares Port Road
It would be wrong to suggest that returning is not pleasurable. Quite clearly, it is. The first descent from the ferry ramps, drive down the docks and the port’s road past waterside tavernas and familiar shops is a bundle of heightened sensitivities, darting eyes, joy at a warm greeting, concern about not greeting someone who will feel snubbed, shock to find something has changed – the supermarket has a new shop front, the ticket agency has moved. And after this has been negotiated, there will be the positive distribution of largesse which is expected of the foreigner/tourist. Even our Greek ‘friends’ see part of the benefit to welcoming strangers is the investment they make in the local economy. Although we haven’t really been tourists for nearly ten years, we are still seen as a wealth to be enticed in to the restaurant, the shop. And we are English. We will be rich! Money will not be the problem it is to Greeks. We feel a strong, moral imperative to eat at least once at each of the port’s restaurants. Our Greek island friends feel exactly the same impulse. We would certainly be snubbing a business by not using it at all. Kamares Port Road
Our friend, Spyros, buys his Television from one electrical shop and his fridge from another quite deliberately. You never know when you will need the support of one of these people, he reasons. May be it will be in something totally unrelated like a land boundary dispute or community permission to build but, in such a small world, one day you assuredly will need them on your side. Rule number one: avoid making enemies. Rule number two: do everything you can to make it look to the people you don’t like that you do. This is just politics on a small island scale but coming from the anonymous bustle of an English urban conurbation, we always take a long time to adjust.
Kamares Port Road
As we drive along the beach road to our house – 400 or so metres long – and slide back the huge iron gate, we are psychologically downsizing our expectations, our aspirations.And yet this is changing. The car goes into the garage and begins to disgorge the multitude of items deemed necessary for six months in Greece. This year it included a large, flat screened television, a wireless laptop, a sewing machine, 200 bottles of French and Italian wine, a cheese mountain of parmigiano reggiano, digital SLRs, camcorders, a library of books and magazines. This is supplemented by three huge boxes containing gardening equipment, sausage making equipment (Don’t ask!), six months’ supply of our favourite Breakfast and Assam tea and Colombian coffee, mouthwash and toothpaste which we can’t source here all despatched a week before by Parcel Force from Huddersfield.
Kamares Port Road
These imports should not be seen as a rejection of Greek style or taste or culture. We are not trying to recreate our English lifestyle in the sun. We have found that, when we are out of our native milieu, these small things help us to assimilate everything else around us more comfortably. We have not settled in Greece on some endurance course but because we love the style and culture around us but we have found that there are some things from England that we cannot do without. Apart from material things like Assam tea and bottles of Barolo, it is UK news and politics and Greek news and politics I crave. I am a news junkie. I have to know. I am restricted by my weak Greek. The only way I was able to slake this thirst was through a short wave band radio and the BBC World Service and, in tourist season, day old copies of The Times. Now the digital age is coming to our Greek island. For the past fifteen years I have lived on the net in England either in my job, for my job or at home. In addition, satellite television has provided endless news and political analysis to my heart’s content. I communicate by creating and maintaining websites, Blogs, through email and text messages by mobile phone. Now all of these things are available on the island. The only thing that is different is the experience I am describing.
Kamares Port Road



















Our favourite in the 'Budget' days as poor young teachers was the
Usually, on the way out, we would arrive at 4.00 am at Hellenikon Airport and pray that our luggage would appear within the next hour and a half on one of the carousels. Just to keep us on our toes, they would switch carousels without telling us and the herd of dog tired travellers would roam from one end of the Hall to another. When it did finally appear through the trap door, we would race through the Customs Gates and out to the first Piraeus-bound bus.




