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| Agamemnon |
The last week of July. we boarder the Greek passenger ship "Agamemnon" in Venice and sailed southwards towards my beautiful island, Cephalonia. The sea was calm and sparkling during the day and "wine-dark" at dusk. The Captain, officers and the staff of the ship were excellent professionals and the service and food were exceptional. We met some very interesting people on board, including Dr Gerolimatos and his family, who a few years later would become my children's paediatrician. We stopped at Corfu, where a few passengers disembarked and sailed for Cephalonia. We arrive at Sami late in the evening and as we were approaching the island a fragrance of fresh herbs filled the air. My Mother said it was a combination of thyme and marjoram, a herb indigenous to Cephalonia called "sapsiho".
My aunt, uncles and cousins were all there to welcome us, as we hadn't seen each other for eight years, since the end of World War II and the Italian and German occupation. We drove to our house in Argostoli, dined on a terrace overlooking the garden, and talked and chatted endlessly while sipping Robola. Then my cousins and I sat until the early morning hours reminiscing about our childhood and exchanged news about friends and events.
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| Argostoli 1953 |
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| St George's Castle Argostoli Thanking Alamy Stock Photo |
During the following days, I rediscovered Argostoli. Built amphitheatrically on a hillside which slopes down to the sea, it is a significant port. In late July 1953, it had several imposing public buildings constructed during the Venetian and British periods. Most of the houses were built in Neo-Classical style painted in pastel, blues, yellows, ochres and pinks and their blooming with bougainvillaea and jasmines. There were several old and newer churches with their typical Ionian-styled belfries. The main streets were broad and tree-lined, while cobblestoned alleys led to the upper town. Argostoli was a jewel of a town, edged with unspoilt sandy beaches, like Platy Yialos Makris Yialos, Fanari and Lassi.
We went on excursions with friends to Lixuri, Assos. Phiscardo, Livathos, Lourdas, Scala and Poros. We admired the beauty and adversity of the landscape, like Mount Aenos, which is the second highest mountain on a Greek island, with the famous Cephalonian fir tree forest, interesting hamlets perched on hillsides, small fishing villages and lovely gardens everywhere.
We swam in the cool waters of the Ionian Sea and sailed around the South and East coasts of the island discovered small coves and pebbled beaches that no roads led to.
I met with old friends, who lived in Argostoli or came over for the summer holidays and we remembered our childhood with nostalgia, despite the hard years of the Italian and German occupation. I suddenly realized how wonderful it would be to live permanently on this idyllic island among good friends and loved ones. It was a very happy period indeed.
Suddenly, early one dawn we were awakened by a very strong earthquake. I quickly ran up to my parents room. My mother was already in her dressing gown but my father insisted that he needed a couple of hours more sleep. Sowe left him and went downstairs to make a cup of coffee, where we met my cousin Aliki. I learned, then, that Cephalonia lies next to a major tectonic fault where the European and the Aegean plates meet, and it is, therefore, prone to an earthquake every second or third year. Feeling reassured we continued with our daily schedule.
On the same day, my cousin Ioanna arrived from Athens with her two beautiful teenage daughters. It was lovely seeing them again, so we started organizing picnics and excursions around the island. One particular would be a full day picnic on mount Aenos, like the ones organized during the pre-war years. The whole family would go there in style with tables, chairs, chaises-longues, blankets and table cloths. We would go in five to six cars with baskets full of gourmet food and drink, medical kits, and a portable gramophone for music. The whole mountain would be ours!
The next morning, as we were preparing to go swimming at Plati Yialos, a much stronger earthquake shook the island. Again we mastered our courage and erased all unpleasant thoughts. We went swimming and diving with friends and relaxed on the beach to tan as fashion demanded.
Information started coming in from various sources about several deaths and injuries caused by the recent earthquake. We had no idea at the time that also Zante and Ithaka were also affected and that houses collapsed killing and injuring people. It was simply awful. We felt, num, confused and concerned. We slept out in the garden that night. Information trickled in from the villages that peculiar signs and indications were being witnessed such as wells that were full of water to the brim had suddenly emptied and that flocks of birds were gathering in flights preparing to migrate.
The next day an earthquake rocked the island to such an extent that hospital patients, institution invalids and prison inmates were promptly evacuated to makeshift outdoor facilities.
We decided that we should spend the night in a park right next to our house. So we each took a folding chair, a small blanket, some water and installed ourselves under a walnut tree. Most of our neighbours were also, there. Further down a group of people were singing "cantathes", popular songs of the Ionian Islands, and the nostalgic verses of a sailor singing: "n'avlepa tin Kefallonia ke to oreo Zante" (If I could only see Cephalonia and the beautiful Zante), which were extremely touching due to the circumstances, but also so soothing and appealing that I was soon lulled into a deep sleep, despite my very uncomfortable folding chair.
The next morning we all rushed to the house for a quick shower and packed a few clothes. My mother and cousins shooed us all away, including the maid, and prepared an enormous breakfast which we enjoyed under the shade of the old walnut tree. We tried to find out more about the earthquake victims, but unfortunately, we did not get any information. We did not know what to expect, how to react, how to help. We heard touching accounts about the sick and the old. Being so feeble and fragile it seemed unfair that they should go through this inconvenience and anxiety. On the other hand, young children, fortunately, considered it an exciting novelty and adventure, a twenty-four-hour picnic in the park.
What happened next was beyond description. At first, we felt a hollow rumbling under our feet that crescendoed into a roar. The earth shook and thudded and rolled violently. We could not stand upright as we were jolted and pushed and thrown backwards and forward and down with spite and fury. I had flashing incongruous thoughts "Was this doomsday?" I felt like an ice cube in a shaker.
I crawled, with great difficulty next to my parents. Was this going to last forever? Then there were thundering sounds of houses collapsing all over. And the dust. Clouds of dust at the beginning that thickened into a fog that smelt of sulphur and stung our eyes to tears. We could hardly see a metre around. The London smog in 1952 must have been something like this. Suddenly the earth stopped trembling and there was utter silence about five minutes. We felt numb, hurt and exhausted. Then we started calling out to each other frantically. Fortunately, the whole family, our neighbours and friends were all safe and sound.
This tragedy happened on the 12th of August, 1953.
Later we went to see our house, which, like all others was reduced to rubble, except for the Southern wall and the basement. Were not allowed to enter before 48 hours elapsed because of the aftershocks.
Sowe went to the square by the seaside called Metelas. On the way, we saw the extent of the destruction the town was flattened to ruins. We had to climb over heaps of rubble and debris and there were deep cracks and crevices running all the way down to the sea that we had to avoid. Also, the trunks of many trees were split in two.
We managed to carry our suitcases and only three folding chairs. When we arrived at Metelas we spread the blankets under a tree and the older members of the family sat on the chairs. Our main concern was water as the town water supply had been damaged by the earthquake. So my father, my cousin Aliki and I went seeking for water. We walked towards a small taverna called "Kyani Acti" the blue coast, which was spared because it was a wooden construction built on stilts on the sea. My father knew the owner who kindly provided us with two bottles of water. Then went to see my father's elder sister Ourania, who lived nearby. We found her in good health, sitting next to her ruined house with her son and his family. She was anxious but courageous like most Cephalonians. She was a wonderful old lady, full of humour and spunk, and I sincerely hoped I would resemble her one day.
We slept uneasily under the pine trees on Metelas square, that night because of the earth heaving and groaning with the aftershocks. The next day, we were informed that the earthquake measured 7.2 degrees of the Richter scale, lasted 50 seconds, and left Cephalonia and Zante levelled to the ground and Ithaka and Lefkada partly damaged. The tragedy was that there were 600 killed and 1.200 injured.
We stayed for five more days in Cephalonia and then my parents and I left for Athens. One of my father's young colleagues Alecos Cocalis met us and invited us to his beautiful home in Kifissia to meet his mother, brothers and sisters-in-law.
Please visit the islands whenever you can. They have much to offer and will make your holiday a great success.
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| Fiscardo Bay |
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| Assos Village |
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