Assessing the Project
I had previously been able to imagine Takis at a certain beachside
tavern, for being a foodie he’d often spoken about this particular restaurant down
by the sea not far from the house. He’d told me that at the Argo meals were made from seasonal
produce and that if you let the chef know what you wanted the day before he’d
have it ready for you the next day. He’d talked of the spaghetti marinara made
with local lobster, and of the fresh prawns served a la Greka, as well as the newly caught fried calamari. He’d raved
about the sweetest moussaka made with
eggplants from the owner’s garden, and also their imam baildi (slowly cooked-eggplants with onions, garlic and
tomatoes), and then the local cheeses and wines or, if you preferred, Mithos (a
Greek beer). If there is a paradise it did appear this taverna in Greece was a
reflection of it for Takis.
‘When you say
the house is in a bad state, just how bad is it?’ A Taverna in Lemos
Takis had said little about the house, even when he came back from that notable holiday. And when he got the idea of turning the house into a hotel he was cautious about telling me too much about the scope of the project or the house. After I’d asked him a few times about the condition of the house he told me it was pretty bad, explaining...
It all started with a watermelon
The house is in a shocking state, but I didn’t know
how bad it was till I saw it. Zoe and Costa only live in two rooms on the
ground floor – a bedroom and the kitchen. You can’t use the top floor at all
now, because the roof leaks. Something should be done.’
‘Well, there’s a hole in the roof, and even parts of the middle floor get wet when it rains. One sister was sleeping up there and was OK, but my cousin was in another room and she had to move out into a hotel because there was a summer storm, and the water came pouring onto her bed from the floor above.’
But then came even more shocking news.
‘Probably about thirty or more by now.’
I took a deep shaky breath.
‘You see the house is on a land title called exathieretou, meaning that everything is passed on to the children and by them to their children. You see, Papous had nine children and since then these have had children. This is the way property is usually passed on in Greece.’
However, I needed to put any misgivings aside for I had pledged that my first job, when assessing whether we should take on this assignment, was to measure the rooms and do a photographic survey inside and out.
‘So
out I went, through the now open back door and onto the terrace. Here I took
photos of the terrace’s huge uneven stone paving slabs. Then, going out onto
the rough pasture that was the garden, I stood near an old stone shed and
looked back towards the house. I took some more pictures. I could now see that,
though the house had a strong square shape, there was little symmetry about the
placing of the windows. Perhaps the three floors had been built at different
times. Also there was an obvious later addition on one side. As a consequence
the house looked less classically proportioned than some of the others in the
street. Its exterior mouldings were less defined and its shutters were plainer.
One might say that these differences added character, but there was no getting
away from the fact that, with its stained stucco and broken shutters, it looked
very run down. I shook my head. This was more than a ‘Grand Design’ in waiting.’
I took photos and measurements but the house was not an encouraging sight.
‘We
retreated, closing and re-barring the balcony doors, and in order to feel more
secure we clambered downstairs to stand again on the ground floor. However, we’d
glimpsed that view, and now, excitedly, we discussed the wonderful living space
that top area could be if restored. '
This
had once been a family home. Could it be that again?
‘On the
other hand, as I wandered around, I was interested by the evidence of this
having been a working home for a large family. Behind the house were two ruins,
one of them revealing an old, very large, brick oven. The chimney of the oven
appeared to be still intact, though a tree was growing up through the roof of
the room next door, and most of the outer walls of the structure had tumbled
down.
I could
imagine what the house could look like clean, gleaming and loved. But could we
bring it back to that state? Before we arrived, my imagination had been filled
with images from magazines. I’d pictured a house rustically decorated in
country-colours. I could even imagine a Mediterranean terrace outside, and a
garden filled with paved paths and olive trees. But now I’d seen the reality,
and I was not an incurable romantic. It would take a lot of money, time and
effort to bring off that kind of restoration.’
Books to interest those visiting Greece for the first time
Charmain Clift’s, Mermaid Singing
(Indianapolis, 1956), tells of
living with her husband, another Australian writer, and her children on the
island of Kalimnos in Greece, with a sponge diving community.
Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek, translated by Carl Wildman (Faber and Faber Ltd.,1961). In some ways this book shocked me, but it did prepare me for what it might be like to live in a small very tightly organised Greek community.
Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek, translated by Carl Wildman (Faber and Faber Ltd.,1961). In some ways this book shocked me, but it did prepare me for what it might be like to live in a small very tightly organised Greek community.
Vanishing
Greece (Conran Octopus, 1991). This is a photographic
essay on Greece by Clay Perry introduced by Patrick Leigh Fermor who, like Clay
Perry, had conducted a passionate love affair with Greece over many years.
Elizabeth Boleman-Herring, another philhellene, has written the text. All three
are aware that by the end of the twentieth century the landscape and the
traditional way of life may have changed irrevocably.
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