I feel like I need to explain my comments about Verga. Today its a posh part of town, by virtue of its proximity to the beaches and soaring mountain views. Its great real estate. That unknown hillside that my house is on, is only unknown to me and likely loved by the locals. It still looks to me like grazing fields for sheep and goats. Certainly uninspiring and lacks in any historical significance.
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| The Taygetos Mountains |
Now the Taygetos Mountains, well, you don't need a history lesson from me. Whenever I drive thru them I recall ancient history, of course, but also history that is within reach of my relatives. My grandparents hiding in the mountain caves from the Nazis. My mother, a very young girl, sleeping with a pistol under her pillow fearing the Italians will come and take her hens. She hide out there for weeks in her stone kalivi (καλύβη), shack, on the property called St Nicholas. See what I mean? Important stuff here. Verga, not so much. Kinda boring.
There is nothing boring however about my history with the Taygetos and experiencing something for the first time! Your first time far away from home. Your first time you shoot a rifle. Your first time hitch hiking. Your first kiss. Your first attempt to skinny dip. It's thrilling, exciting and ultimately you want to do it again!
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| Driving the Taygetos |
Well the first time I experienced the Taygetos Mountain, I was 9. Travelling with my family to Greece, for the first time. I was asleep in the car my father bought, an old green Simca, that took more water than gas. When we reached the village house, it was dark and they put me to bed. I woke up the next morning in a strange house, that was cool and had a sweet smell. I walked across the floor in my bare feet to the shutter doors that lead to a small balcony and when I opened and step out into the sunlight, I gasped. Never in all of my 9 years have I ever seen anything so magnificent. My first experience of being surrounded by mountains! It was for me like being in a fairy tale.
I took my breakfast in a tree that morning, chamomile tea and a hard boiled egg from the hens on the property. I pretended I was a naritha (νεράιδα), a woodland fairy, that lived in the mountains. My brothers thought I was ridiculous. Especially when I cried at the suggestion of spending the day at the beach. I just wanted to go for yet another hike and pick wild berries and torture mindiria, the native small lizard. Please, their tails grow back.
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| The renovated, not restored village house |
Oh I came out of my dream world eventually that summer. My brothers and I had a grand time. I learned to shoot a rifle and how to make a cicada a pet. I tolerated the beaches in Kalamata because that's what you do in the summer on vacation, apparently. The mountains and I, however, imprinted on each other over those three months. And when it was time to go back to Toronto, my heart was broken. My dad, to placate me, a rare moment, promised he'd send me back.
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| Looking for the stream |
Well, dad did send me back, 6 years later, by myself. Another first. And when I took the local bus up the mountain to the village house it was like Christmas to me. I got off the bus a stop early, at Artemisia and attempted to walk the rest of the way to Pyges. Nothing had changed. Except I was older, a young teenager, and I was schlepping luggage up a mountain! I must have looked like an idiot tourist, actually I was an idiot tourist. Luckily, a very friendly young man took pity on me and offered me a ride. Danger. No, only in Toronto. Turns out he was an American Greek film maker and was heading to Pyges to visit an old family friend. So I hitched a ride. Another first.
His name was Anesti. (Remember him, Xanthipi? LOL.) He was dreamy. And well, he and I shared some fun moments. What happens on the Taygetos stays on the Taygetos ;)
So 10 years ago or so, when dad said, that he was going to build a house in Verga, I was uninterested. Kinda put off. We have a house, the village house on the Mountain. That is our spot, my spot! Nothing can compare. Nothing will ever compare.
This Verga house has some stiff competition.
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