CLEAN MONDAY

Kites Near the Parthenon

Clean Monday is the first of Lent in the Greek Orthodox Church, seven weeks before Easter.   Lent actually begins the previous Sunday evening at a service called Forgiveness Vespers, where all the members of the congregation ask one another for forgiveness.

It is the first day of a long period of fasting from meat, eggs, dairy products and fish, during which, we should try to cleanse our minds and souls and improve our character.  We should not lie, nor should we be arrogant nor jealous nor angry nor lazy nor greedy not lustful.  It is a period of catharsis, in a way, but unfortunately, we can't all achieve these high goals.  For instance, I fast, only, the first week of Lent and during Holy Week and I really do try to improve my character, usually unsuccessfully.

Clean Monday is a public holiday in Greece and Cyprus.  To celebrate the day, people go on picnics, where they fly kites and enjoy delicious lenten food, such as shellfish, molluscs, and fish roes, pulses, vegetables, salads and a wonderful, crispy bread called lagana.

Taramasalata, Olives and Lagana 

Laganas

  

GREECE (Contitued)

On my post, GREECE, dated 4th August 2018. I had written:

The Old Family House in Kefalari

 Hotel Pentelikon Kefalari (next door to the Old Family House) 

"My parents were in Pakistan, where my father worked, and as they would not be returning to Greece until June 1960, we decided to christen our youngest son Yiannis in May 1959.  It was a lovely service at the church of the Transfiguration of the Saviour, at Kefalari, Kifissia and our dear friend, Eftyhia Mela was the godmother.  To celebrate the happy event, we held a small party for our family and friends".

Our life continued in the same pattern as described in the previous post.   Parents with young children are usually blissfully happy, although burdened with anxieties and a deep, happy fatigue.

Our boys grew up in leaps and bounds and it was delightful to watch them develop day by day.  Spiro spoke articulately and loved playing with his cousins and friends, while Yiannis took his first staggering steps, trying to follow the crowd and jabbered in a language that only we could understand.

Financially, we were broke and we both worked very hard to make ends meet.  Aleco made great efforts to sell more goods for the companies he represented and I economised as much as possible, endeavouring not to make it too obvious.

When people from the companies we represented visited Greece,  Aleco took them to clients all over Greece, to discuss, solve problems and sell more goods and machinery.  We often entertained both the company people and our best clients at home.  I can admit, now, without arrogance, that my culinary efforts had considerably improved and therefore our dinner parties were usually successful.

We loved spending time with old friends from Pakistan, like Susanne and Milto Zouros, Aspa and George Magnis and other couples we met like Eva and Walter Backes, Eileen and Nicos Melissaropoulos and Eddie and Tasso Kotsis and their family.  Later, we became very friendly with Mary and George Xenakis, when they returned home from Egypt with their daughter and son.  I remember Spiro telling us, then, in a very serious manner, that he was very happy as he had a new friend called Aris Xenakis.  We were deeply touched by our two-year-old son's candour.

During winter, when it snowed, I dressed our boys in thick coats, mufflers, caps and boots and we went walking in the snow.   Usually, my sister-in-law Dolly and her precious children came with us. We had a wonderful time making snowmen and throwing snowballs at each other, always returning home for a steaming cup of cocoa.

My father retired from Ralli Bros in June 1960, as planned.  To my delight, my parents returned to Greece and stayed with us until they bought a spacious apartment at Palaio Phaliron, a beautiful Athenian suburb by the sea.   On Sundays, they usually invited over for lunch and as we drove down Syngrou Avenue, at the first glimpse of the sea the boys would start singing: Na i thalassa mas Na i thalassa mas (there is our sea).

I must mention an incident that happened when Yiannis was two years old.  It was late November, and he woke up about six in the morning, lisping excitedly: "Honi honi" instead of hioni which is Greek for snow and which he hadn't seen since he was one and a half.  Like all proud, doting parents we considered that was simply brilliant!

A Traditional Villa in Kifissia

       

GREECE - 1958

In my post, Kampala, Uganda, East Africa, I had written:

"When Spiros Steven was six months old, to our great delight, I was pregnant again!   We continued our life in Kampala for four months, when we were, suddenly informed that we were being transferred by the company to Arusha, Tanganyika as Tanzania was called then.  Aleco was furious and after profound and very serious thought and contemplation, we decided that enough was enough so Aleco bravely resigned from Ralli Bros and we left for Greece.

So once again we packed our belongings, sold our FIAT Cinquecento, bid tearful (on my part) farewells to our cook Odiambo and his family, to Philip and Shiela Samoylis and to all our new friends in Uganda and left by a BOAC flight for Athens.  It was the 29th of May 1958.

We were offered special treatment on the plane, due to Spiros Steven and my condition.  The flight attendants helped me to prepare our baby's meals and tried to make our journey as pleasant as possible.  It took us nine long hours to reach Ellinikon, with a stop at Khartum which was extremely hot.

The Old Family House in Kifissia

Aleco's brothers Pericles and Nico were there to meet us and drove us to the family house in Kifissia where we were warmly welcomed by my Mother-in-law, Dolly and Cleo and our adorable nieces and nephews.

Aleco immediately started looking for a job.  Milto Zouros, an old friend from India, had started working as a commission agent and asked Aleco to join him as a partner.

It was very difficult in the beginning because even though we lived in a lovely house, in a fashionable Athenian suburb, we were very poor as we had no steady, monthly income and we had already bought a FIAT Cinquecento, which was an essential tool for Aleco's work as a commercial agent.

My parents came on home leave from Pakistan and stayed at Kosti's Hotel in Kefalari, which was near our house.  They were ecstatic with their grandson and the expectation of another grandchild in the not so distant future.  It was wonderful seeing them again and learning all the news about our dear friends in Karachi, it was just like old times.

On our baby son's first birthday, on the 17th July, he was christened Spiros as the priest did not allow us to give him a second name and my sister-in-law Cleo was the godmother.  To celebrate the happy event we held a small garden party for our family and friends, which apparently was a great success and lasted until the early morning hours.

Our life continued in Greece with financial difficulties and great pleasures.  Spiros was growing by leaps and bounds.  He suddenly started walking, he conversed in basic sentences and was a very sweet and handsome young fellow!  He thoroughly enjoyed his cousins and other children's company.  I just adored him and I couldn't imagen loving any other child more than him!

My parent home leave was coming to an end so they left for Karachi, in early October 1958.  On the 12th of October, our son Yiannis was born.  He was a lovely, ash-blond baby and the moment I saw him I just adored him.  I realized then that parental love is not shared among children, it is doubled or tripled or quadrupled.

It was a busy, exhausting but extremely happy period of my life. 

 

A Child's Painting of Beautiful Flowers

    

KAMPALA, UGANDA, EAST AFRICA

In my post "Mombasa Kenya, East Africa" I had written:

"After we had settled down beautifully un Mombasa, started a family and made many new friends we were suddenly informed that we were going to transferred to Kampala, Uganda."

So in early January 1958, we packed our belongings and with our five-month-old Spiros-Steven, our cook Odiambo and his wife and his baby daughter, Jumma, we left by train for Kampala.  Passing through the incredible East African countryside we stopped at Nairobi, Nakuru, Eldoret and Jinja we finally arrived at our destination.

Jack Alexandroff and his charming wife, Jane Ralli,  were there to meet us.  We went to their beautiful home, where we stayed over the night.  The next day Aleco and Jack went on tour while Jane, Spiros and I had all the house to ourselves.  Jane and I got on very well together, as we had very much in common.  We were both of Greek parentage, with a British background and she was expecting a baby in six months.  When the men came back from their tour, Aleco, Spiros Steven and I with Odiambo and his family settled down in one of the new Ralli Bros flats in Naguru Hill.  It was a four apartment building, in a large blooming garden.  We had friendly neighbours a very pleasant Greek couple with two children, who lived in the flat above ours, and two bachelors in the other two apartments.

Kasubi Tomb

Buganda Court of Justice

A small summary of the history of Kampala.  The city was the capital of the Buganda Kingdom, from which period several buildings still survive, including the Kasubi Tombs, built in 1881, the Lubiri Palace, the Buganda Parliament and the Buganda Court of Justice.

In1894, the British established Uganda as a Protectorate and in 1905 it was declared as a British Colony.   The country was liberated in 1962.  In 1978 the absurdly ridiculous dictator Idi Amin Dada expelled all Asian and Jewish residents and declared war against Tanzania, which invaded Uganda, causing severe damages to many of Kampala's buildings.  The city has been rebuilt with new, luxurious hotels, educational institutions, hospitals, banks and very trendy shopping malls.

Kampala is a beautiful city and it is called the city of the seven hills.  As it is built on the Equator is has a climate without seasons and due to the elevation, it has a mild temperature during the day, although one needs a blanket at night.  Uganda is a landlocked country however Kampala is built close to lake Victoria, the second largest lake in the world.  Also, the river Nile has its sources nearby, therefore it is a town with lush vegetation and beautiful parks and gardens.

Kampala and Entebbe  are the two largest cities of Uganda and lie 37 km apart.  Entebbe, after which the international airport is named, is built on lake Victoria, while Kampala is 10 km inland, so the residents of each town enjoy the lake swimming, fishing and water skiing.

Unlike Mombasa, Kampala had a very large Greek community, so we were, often, invited to their hospitable homes.  A dear old friend from Pakistan, Philip Samoylis and his lovely wife were transferred from Alexandria, Egypt to Kampala due to the Suez Canal crisis.  We were very pleased to see them, but we also made many new friends of various nationalities.

I often invited our friends with their babies to play with Spiros Steven.  It was lovely seeing him grow up to be such an adorable, cheerful toddler, all smiles and dimples.

We also went swimming in lake Victoria.  It was enormous and the waters were clear but I ever quite got over the peculiar feeling of stepping on the soft silt that oozed right through one's toes. compared with the firm sand of the sea.

We went to the "pictures" (cinema) and watched films like "The King and I" directed by Walter Lang with Deborah Kerr and Yul Brunner and the "Bridge on the River Kwai" directed by David Lean, with William Holden and Alec Guinness.  Both films were great hits and had excellent critiques.

When Spiros Steven was six months old, to our great delight I was pregnant again.   We continued our life in Kampala for four months more, when we were suddenly informed that were being transferred by the company to Arusha, Tanganika or Tanzania as it is now called.

Aleco was furious and after profound and very serious thought and contemplation we decided that enough was enough, so he bravely resigned from Ralli Bros and we left for Greece. 

A Beautiful Public Garden Kampala

      

A Lovely Garden at a Private Home, Kampala

MOMBASA, KENYA, EAST AFRICA.

Mombasa 1572 by Georg Braun and Franz Hogenberg

In my post "Home Leave 1956" of the 6th April 1956, I had mentioned that our leave was coming to an end and that we should not be returning to Karachi, which we loved, but to Mombasa, Kenya, where we had been transferred by Ralli Brothers.

Here is a short account of Kenyan history.   The territory that is now known as Kenya, was inhabited since the beginning of the Early Paleolithic Age.  The Portuguese and Arab presence in Mombasa dates from the Middle Ages to the Early Modern Period, but European exploration of the interior of the country began, only, during the 19th century.

The British established the East African Protectorate of Kenya in 1895  and from 1920 it is known the British Colony of Kenya.  The Independent Republic of Kenya was formed in 1964.

In early September 1956, we bid tearful (on my part) farewells to our family and friends in Athens and boarded a BOAC aircraft for Kenya. The 1950s and the 1960s were later known as the "golden ages of flying", so we enjoyed, large comfortable seats with ample leg space and fabulous gourmet meals.

After 10 -12 hours, we arrived at Eastleigh Airport, near Nairobi.  My first impression was the colour of the runway, which consisted of compact murram, the red East African soil.

We were warmly welcomed by old friends, an English couple, we had known from Pakistan, who were now, with Ralli Brothers East Africa.   We had a wonderful day with them, fondly reminiscing events and situations that we had shared in the not so distant past.

The next day, we boarded a British East African plane that took us to our destination, Mombasa.  It is actually built on a coral island,  inclosed in a gulf, on the Indian Ocean, and is, therefore, an important port.

Mr D.G, Sevastopoulos and his charming wife Betty, were there to meet us and took us over to their house for a huge breakfast and, then, to a lovely small bungalow, on Mbuyuni Road, which the company provided for us, fully furnished, with a cook and bearer.

Our little Fiat 500, which we had bought the previous summer from Turin, was shipped over and we were delighted to have it with us as we considered it a member of the family.

The garden was quite large with beautiful tropical trees and shrubs, but the earth was just a layer of red East African soil covering a coral substructure.  This was a great challenge for my husband Aleco, who had the prospects of a keen gardener.

He first cleared the area with a shovel, getting rid of the weeds, loose rocks and roots.  He bought dark soil enriched with fertiliser, a thick layer of which was spread all over the murram,  He raked the soil and levelled it, making a slope away from the house.  He then sowed "Kikuyu warm-season grass seed" in a crisscross pattern all over and covered them all over with extra soil to protect them from the birds.  Aleco sprinkled the seeds with water, 2-3 times a day, for the first 10 days.  So very soon, we had a lush, green lawn which became our pride and joy.  It was an enormously difficult but a gratifying task which was greatly admired.

After the first day in our new home, I woke up to the sounds of strange birds, which I had never heard before in Europe or Asia.  There were melodic whistles, rather than twitters, while others were like continuous, staccato metallic coughs.

Arab Town

Malindi Beach

We loved Mombasa, a beautiful city with a medieval Arab town and lovely white sandy beaches, like Malindi beach which we visited every Sunday.  As a coral reef protects the shore from the sharks, we went under-water fishing and caught white snappers, kingfish and stingrays that are very tasty either poached or grilled. 

Once we went in a glass-bottomed boat to catch a glimpse of marine life such as various kinds of multicoloured tropical fish, coral, sea urchins and starfish.

We made life long friends with people of various nationalities.  We had friends over for lunch and dinner, went to tremendous parties and as Mombasa was a busy port we were often invited aboard luxurious ships for cocktails and excellent food.

The Sevastopulos had two elder sons who were at school in England and a seven-year-old daughter called Marigo, a clever child with a terrific sense of humour.  I wish to thank them for their support, especially Betty who helped me settling down.  We went shopping together and she introduced me to many interesting women and gave me subtle advice about the house.

As Aleco and Mr Sevastopulo were both from the island of Chios, he showed us a book by Philip Argentis who had written about the history and displayed the family trees of twelve families from Chios.

D.G. Sevastopulo, besides being the manager of Ralli Brothers in Mombasa, was also a famous entomologist, specialising in moths and butterflies.  He is the author of many books on this subject like "Interspecific Competition of Butterflies" and the "Genetics of East African Lepidoptera".

I am embarrassed with my fading memory trying to remember the name of a Greek couple, who had a chic boutique in Mombasa. We were very friendly and they had made a few very elegant dresses for me.  Shame on me.

To our great joy, I was pregnant very soon after our arrival in Mombasa.  I had an easy and very happy pregnancy and I had learned Dr Benjamin Spock's "Baby and Child Care" by heart.

Our son, Spiros Steven was born in the Mombasa European Hospital, on the 17th July.  He was a beautiful baby and he certainly changed our lives. I had a feeling of great satisfaction and utter bliss and we both adored this tiny creature of ours.

My mother had come over for the great occasion, from Karachi where my father still worked.  She stayed for a month with us and her help and advice were invaluable.

I had never thought about this before, but after Spiro was born, I realized how very much parents love their children. I had never before understood the strength of parental love and it was quite overwhelming.  It made me think of my parents who were always loving, supporting and were always there when I needed help.  I sincerely hoped that I should, also, be a good mother.

Our baby was growing with leaps and bounds, all smiles and dimples.  He soon started crawling and climbing on sofas and armchairs all day long. So we had to run after him to prevent accidents. By the end of each day, I was so exhausted that I would suddenly collapse and fall fast asleep right next to him.  We were blissfully happy and we could not imagine life without Spiro-Steven.  He was all smiles and gurgles, splashed in his bath, enjoyed his meals but for the first three months, he cried painfully in the evenings.  So we put him in his carrycot and went for a drive in the Cinquecento, which calmed him down and lulled him happily to sleep.

I met many women with small babies and we were amazed by the delight they felt in each others company, these tiny social entities!

At Chrismas, Spiro was five months old.  So we bought a Christmas tree and decorated it with baubles and garlands and especially for him, flashing lights.  Our cook Odiambo and I prepared a traditional Christmas meal with pumpkin soup, turkey, stuffing and glazed ham with all the trimmings and obviously, Christmas pudding with rum custard and cream.         

   

         

KARACHI 1954

My parents and I arrived in Karachi, at the end of December 1953, with the MS BATORY, a luxury ocean liner of the Polish Merchant Marine, which was then on the India line, after a wonderful voyage.  There to meet us were our dear friends, Cleo and George Issigonis, Fanny and Nikos Maratos, Nora and Doelf Widmer and Aleco Cocalis, after an extremely eventful home leave.

The next day I went to the Belgian Embassy where I worked as a junior secretary, since 1952.  It was wonderful to see my colleagues again, also the Ambassador Mr Vanderstickelen and his charming wife and the Secretary, Mr Andre Sellier.  It was fascinating to work in an embassy, as we were informed, daily, of the political, economic, cultural and social events of the country including the opinions and comments of experts and connoisseurs.  Events and "gossip" we lavishly offered to us on a plate!

In an older post, "KARACHI AGAIN", I had mentioned that the population in the city was bulging to millions, mainly due to the refugees.  The city was growing monstrously, in all directions due to the orgy of construction that was taking place, and it concludes: "But fortunately Karachi is still adorned with beautiful parks and traditional old buildings".  Let me give a few more details of these wonderful constructions.  During the 19th and early 20th centuries, the British adorned Karachi with the "essence of the Raj" i.e. beautiful parks and buildings in Classical, Victorian ad even Veneto-Gothic Architecture, that are now considered National Heritage Monuments.

Frier Hall

Sind  Club

Holy Trinity Church

Empress Bazaar

Hilal Park Karachi

Besides being the country's economic hub, Karachi was slowly becoming a cosmopolitan and entertainment centre.  Gourmet restaurants and night clubs were opening, to cope with the growing number of residents and tourists.  There were numerous bars and a very good racecourse and the finest golden beaches on the Arabian Sea.

Hawk's Bay Beach

Being the capital of a new country, Karachi's social life was very intense.   Receptions and dinner parties and dances were taking place in hotels, embassies and private homes and they were everyday events. Also, many charity balls, galas and bazaars were organised in aid of the refugees, the homeless and the sick and poor.

I started going out with Aleco Cocalis on a daily basis.  He proposed to me of New Year's Eve and I accepted.  We were married at the Holy Trinity Church on the 8th June 1954 and we literally, lived happily ever after.

We moved to one of the office flats that were provided for us by Ralli Brothers, the company for which Aleco worked.  It had a huge terrace with a wonderful view, that acquired a magical ambience, after sunset, due to the starlit sky and the bright city lights. 

Starlit Sky

The Bright City Lights

We rented and shared a hut with our friends Nora and Doelf Widmer, in Hawk's Bay, one of the lovely sandy beaches near Karachi.  So we spent the weekends there, swimming and resting by the sea.  It was a lovely period of our life, we felt happy and very much in love.

It was almost ten years since World War II had ended, and even younger couples could afford to entertain in a slightly more extravagant way.  The conventional grapefruit was no longer in fashion.   Appetizers like prawn cocktails, souffles, crepes and quiches were in to stay.    I was extremely lucky because my mother gave me her cook when I got married.  Hussein was a marvel.  He could prepare the most fabulous Greek, French and English dishes and desserts.  I shall never forget the intricate caramel baskets he used to prepare filled with luscious tropical fruit salads or ice cream. 

Moussaka

Duck a l' Orange

Christmas Pudding

Caramel Basket Filled with Fruit and Ice Cream

    

1953 PART VI - END OF OUR HOME LEAVE

Our 1953 home leave was the most memorable ever.  To recapitulate, my parents and I arrived in England on the 21st of June, 1953.  The next day the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II took place.  We watched the ceremony on television, the first major event that was ever televised by the BBC, with millions of spectators from the United Kingdom and abroad.   Coronation London was festive and residents very proud of their new, young Queen.  Obviously, the whole Commonwealth was rejoicing!

We stayed in London for about a month.  Then, we went for three days in Paris, for me the most beautiful and fascinating city in the world, the city of light.  Venice was next,  a unique city built on the sea, a scene of history, fairy tales and dreams, with very interesting food.

From there we sailed for my beautiful island of Cephalonia, where we discovered the beauty of the landscape.  Small coves and lovely beaches, high mountains, small villages perched of green hillsides and Argostoli, a gem of a town, with neo-classical houses painted in light pastel colours and of course the "wine-dark" Ionian sea.

Suddenly, in mid-August, a monster earthquake, measuring 7.2 of the Richter scale levelled the whole of Cephalonia and Zante, leaving Ithaka and Lefkada partly damaged.

After the earthquake, we stayed in Argostoli for five more days and then we left for Athens.  Athens in 1953 was a beautiful city, the roads lined with orange trees, and the centre of the city decorated with elegant late 19th century and early 20th century houses.

We also spent a week at Loutraki, a fashionable spa and met with old and new friends and had a wonderful time.   Our home leave was coming to an end and we had to return to Karachi.    So we left Greece in November 1953, boarded a Greek ship and sailed from Piraeus to Suez, via Beirut.  The weather was wonderful, the ship modern and the officers and staff were excellent professionals.

Our first port of call was Beirut, which was amphitheatrically built on the slopes of Mount Lebanon.   In 1953, the centre of Beirut was densely built, the boulevards congested with traffic.  The fashionable part of the city was full of trendy restaurants and fashionable boutiques.  Driving up the slopes we came across the famous "yellow houses" that were built during the French Mandate period, surrounded by gardens.   Apparently, a few years later, major European urban planners, like Constantinos Doxiades, Lebret IRFRED's team and others were commissioned to remodel the centre of the city and the infrastructure.

We sailed for Suez and there we boarded MS BATORY, a luxurious ocean liner of the Polish Merchant Marine, which was then on the Indian Line.  There we met Mr Borg, a friend of my parents.  It was a wonderful journey, with calm seas and top-rate service and food.

An Old Drawing of Aden

We stopped at Aden, that is situated at the north coast of the homonymous gulf and is an important port.  While trying to find out data about Aden, I read it was referred to as "Eudaemon" which is Greek for blissful, abundant in "Periplus of the Eritrean Sea" written in Greek by an unknown author.   Also, until the 3rd century AD, it was one of the termini of the spice road of Arabia.  During the middle ages, Aden was under Yemeni, Ethiopian and Arab control.  It attracted many merchants from Egypt, India and China who had excellent relations with the port authorities.  Being a coveted possession, as it was the only bunkering port in the East, Aden was later conquered by the Portuguese and the Ottoman Turks.  In the middle of the 19th century, the East Indian Company sent marines to defend the territory and prevent attacks from pirates against the Brittish Shipping Company from and to India.   Thus, it became a British Protectorate and was considered part of British India.  In 1937, it became the Colony of Aden, a British crown colony. 

In 1953, Aden was a bustling, small city and a free port.  My mother and I bought scent and cosmetics and my father bought stamps.  Then we boarded MS BATORY and sailed for Karachi. 




         

Poppies in a Vase by Vincent Van Gogh 

1953 THE EARTHQUAKES IN CEPHALONIA

       

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.

Argostoli 1953 

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.

Fiscardo Bay

Assos Village