Some say, a country is shaped by its land and nature; others say people make all the difference. I testify to both truths in awe.
From as far back as one cares to look, Greece has taken countless forms upon herself. Be it through earthly powers, natural events of eminent consequences, to ground shaking fierce and benevolent births of civilisations and their between epic unions or polemics, Greece stands today as beautiful - in the old sense- and diverse as always.
It seemed like scraping the green off the surrounding hilltops when the aircraft aligned itself with the tiny runway of Skiathos airport, and we all felt as carried into a miniature dollhouse patio as fast as Alice in wonderland. Warmth and light couldn't have been more generous that morning. The scent of freshly bloomed May in the air and Mr. George’s, our transport man’s smile freshly spread across his cheeks, forced a childlike short-haul-jetlagged glee on everyone without exception.
There weren’t too many of us, about ten pale-skinned westerners, some by birth, others by lack of real sun exposure; all keen to experience Greece in a snapshot. Most of us for the first time.
First, second or even third impressions of such group of people were of curious consequence to the tourism market of the region. Not least, because they happened to be the best sample of the Irish press and media, but also because they took travelling very personally, both as a right and a duty.
What I very soon came to know during the course of the trip, was that the Irish, apart from liking their drink, having faith in family values and knowing a good deal when they saw one, they also tended to make up their own minds and of course speak of them more often than not. A recipe for success on a press trip, and or you know what else…
Treading nicely on our itinerary, we pencilled some free time for our first afternoon so people could rest and wander around the amazingly kept gardens and beautiful beach of Esperides Hotel. Not many came back without pictures of themselves in front of heavily fruited lemon trees and blossoming bougainvilleas.
A nice meal in town was at hand in the evening, with best served meze with a twist and ample quantities of local arrack--- to meet the Irish demand. Spirits were high as journos lost themselves laughing while pointing at emptied bottoms of Greek coffee cups predicting the future…
The following morning, all bodies in decent full swim costume, were positioned in time for our visit to the famous Evangelistria Monastery of Skiathos. Mr. Plomaritis, the honourable full-of-life Mayor of Skiathos, cancelled his morning appointments and joined us for the trip enriching with local stories the every turn of the way. He then passed us on to father Angelo, the 3rd grandchild of general Kolokotronis, who welcomed us with a talk on how 400 generals and high ranking officers sworn an oath against the ottoman empire in 1807 and then designed and raised the first Greek blue and white flag. We then proceeded on a tour of the renovated halls of the Monastery buildings, were rebels used to sleep, feast and prepare for battle. The halls also host a unique archive of the Balkan wars provided by the Potamianos family. Once we were done with walking and talking, father Angelo ordered a table to be set with homemade treats such as cheese, olives and greens any Greek salad enthusiast would have envied. Raki, wine and special jam, all homemade, made their way onto our palette and rucksacks as journey rations.
Soon after, we were heading for Koukounaries beach. The sun had risen vehemently, and people in sync made for the water in a roar. From the sublime beach chairs to the ridiculous skiing banana, the beach came alive with Irish humours evaporating under Skiathian sun. Nobody really noticed a silver haired local, who in his benevolent calm voice approached us in curiosity. Before being properly introduced, we all found ourselves onto his speedboat and around his house overlooking the bay where his most graceful wife had prepared an impromptu reception for us, plus a birthday cake with a character for one of the journalists. Andreas’ and Fleur’s hospitality couldn’t have been more typical of the people of Skiathos, or more unforgettable by those travel professionals tired of pre-cut promotional charades and empty smiles.
Our final day on the island was mostly spent on ‘Thymios’, a well built 77year old fishing boat sailed by captain Nikos, his son Yiannis. The two between them knew the island like the back of their hand and took us to coves, caves and beaches accessible only by sea, where everything seemed to fade in shades of blue. The film crew didn’t stop filming and everyone had a ball jumping into the water when close to land. First-timers in Greek waters, all had comments about how clean, clear and pleasantly safe and salty it was.
With some of us still salted from our last dive, the race to catch the flight to our next destination was signalled by a packing frenzy. Finally, all checked in and strapped on the sits of the incredible little Olympic Airlines convertiplane, destined for Santorini via Athens.
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