Watching the Olives Grow

by Stavros Allanopolis

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  Using a crane fitted to the lorry, they hoist the telegraph pole up off the back of the lorry and load it straight into the hole; all the way to the bottom of the two metre bore. That’s it; simple!

  The accuracy of the drilled hole is such that the leeway is so slight and it is a perfect fit and needs no cement etc. It is rock solid.

  It fits just like a tight glove, and all the engineer does is sweep the soil and dust particles into the small gap at the entrance to the hole. If that isn’t amazing enough, then consider that from start to finish the process takes no longer than 30 minutes per pole; fully fitted!

  Then that lorry and the team depart to make way for another lorry.

  It is equipped with the telegraph pole fittings, and another team to climb the poles and connect the cable from one pole to another, and in turn connect the cabling to the main grid transformer sited on the large ‘twin tower’ poles nearby.

  The ‘spider man’ atop the pole, is secured only by a sling, and sings as he works. He also enjoys posing for photos as he is perched precariously in his sling attached to the pole!

  Amazingly, these engineers take just under an hour to put the fittings on to the poles and then to connect the cabling.

  So, just 90 minutes later, the installation job was complete, and the ‘sound of silence’ returned, and I returned to my ‘Watching’ and my silent reverie.

  ‘Watching The Olives Grow’ is hard work but can only be achieved when there is peace and quiet, and the perfect accompaniment is a glass of Ouzo to focus the mind!

  After a period of silent contemplation whilst going about my job of ‘Watching’, I had a leisurely lunch with Valerie, sitting under the shade of the Gazebo.

  We were just generally enjoying the peace and quiet as we ate, and together we marvelled at the way in which the garden is growing. We had Penne Pasta with a pesto sauce of red and green peppers and some prawns, accompanied by a glass of chilled rosé wine. We had all the time in the world; no hurry.

  As we sat there, comfortable in our own silence, I realised that we were still living the ‘Dream’ that we planned in the ‘Exit the UK Plan’ and I was thinking what to do with my afternoon. This is my Friday afternoon in ‘Paradise’ today.

  Author’s Note: The ‘Exit The UK Plan’ is explained in detail in Stavros’ book ‘It Started With An Ouzo’ and explains why and how they came to live permanently in Greece. After lunch, I walked up the hill to the village of Riglia to photograph the ancient threshing circles that we had come across during our New Year’s Day walk along the tracks behind Riglia. You may remember that Rod gave me his pen and ink drawing of the front gate of Meerkat Manor for my birthday, so I wanted to give him something related to his house in return. I had decided to take a photo of one of the circles of stones nearest to his house in order that I could frame it and give it to him as a present for his forthcoming birthday.

  Photo: Ancient Threshing Circle.

  I got a good shot of the one that Rod can see from his bedroom terrace, then made my way back down the hill and back to Meerkat Manor.

  As I strolled along the tracks, I came across the shell of a Marginated Tortoise.

  Photo: Tortoise Shell.

  The framework of the Tortoise’s shell itself was whole and intact, but pieces of it were missing and the bare bone of the shell was revealed. It measured just over 24cm (four lengths of my camera’s lens cap). The shell pieces were still the original colour, but the bare bone was bleached brilliant white by the years spent in the sun since it had died, whenever that was. Whilst fascinating to see and photograph, it was never the less quite a sad sight, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it died. I decided to take it home with me to place it in the garden, so I picked it up and I continued my walk.

  Nearby, I experienced yet another sad sight as I came across the near complete shell of a Marginated Dwarf Tortoise. Although tiny, it is not a baby, but a species in its own right. Its shell was in much better condition than the larger shell I was carrying, and the markings were quite exquisite. I decided to photograph it, and to get the size into perspective, I placed my camera lens cover alongside it.

  The lens cover is just 6cm across! It’s such a shame that two animals, so beautiful in life, should have died. However, they still retain their beauty in their sad demise.

  Photo: Shell Of Dwarf Tortoise.

  I decided that I would take both shells home with me, clean them and varnish them, and put them side by side somewhere in the garden where both Valerie and I would be able to appreciate their beauty, so I put the tiny shell in my pocket and continued with my stroll.

  On the journey home, I came across several other threshing circles nestling in the hillside. All of them were in terrific condition, and you can see the full circle of stones still intact even after hundreds of years. Inside several of the circles, there were cacti growing. Most of them looked quite grey and wizened, and were quite warped and stooped; like some pre-historic monsters frozen in a time warp. The sun had also bleached the trunks of the cacti. They looked very old and dead or dying, but in fact, upon closer inspection, they were alive and still growing and producing ‘prickly pears’ on some of their branches. It’s hard to guess their age, but it’s safe to assume that they have been there many, many, many years. I marvelled at the sight of them all. Determined to live and grow despite having little or no soil to sustain their roots.

  I stood there on the hillside and listened; the ‘silence’ was deafening! Just the buzzing of the bees and other insects as they continued their never ending quest for food. For a while, I stood and looked down to the sea and the village in the distance and yet again marvelled at the view; the brilliance of the colours and the contrast between the turquoise sea and the green of the Olive trees and the grey of the stone houses. I was in no rush this Friday afternoon, nor, for that matter, any afternoon, but decided to return home. Photographs taken; mission accomplished.

  After I had uploaded the photos, as it was early evening, I went up to the terrace and sat in my usual place, with my usual glass of Ouzo, to resume my job of ‘Watching’, and as I sipped my drink, I began to reflect upon the typical Friday afternoons and evenings that I had spent in ‘another life’ back in the UK. As I looked out towards the sea, I was thinking what a great afternoon I had passed here in ‘Paradise’, and I started to compare it to a typical Friday afternoon when I was living in the UK.

  I remembered how I used to travel home after work (either by train or car), and compared it with my Friday afternoon and early evening today living here in The Mani; in the ‘Paradise’ that is Meerkat Manor.

  Let me describe to you a typical Friday afternoon an early evening for me in the UK.

  If I was returning home by car, I would be gravitating to one of the motorways to link up with the M25 and then to connect to the M1 and travel North to junction 11. We lived five miles off the junction 11 on the M1. Traffic would be heavy, congested and slow. Up ahead of me, cars’ brake and stop lights would be blinking on and off as far as my eyes could see.

  I would experience hours of the same modus operandi; driving at maybe 10mph then stop; engage neutral and wait for it to start again. Then to re-engage first gear and speed up to 10mph again, only to stop again some 100 metres further on. On and on, and on, it used to go like this for miles and miles at a time!

  Once home, it would be straight to the kitchen drinks cupboard for a large glass of whisky, which I would inevitably gulp down and then refill it. Then, remembering that Valerie was already at home and somewhere in the apartment, I would call out,

  “Hi! I’m home! Do you want a drink?”

  If I was travelling home by train, the journey was only 27 miles to the North of London, and my proper starting point should have been St. Pancras, to the East of my office, as it was the correct station to get my train home. However, I would always travel to the South before heading to the North, in order to get a seat on the train! So, it was South by tube to Blackfriar
s to catch the North-bound train home.

  Even when there were the scheduled eight carriages, it could be difficult to get a seat at Blackfriars, and impossible to secure one by the time it reached St. Pancras, just three stops later. Think what it was like when there were only four carriages, as was often the case!

  At least, if I got on the train, and if I got a seat, and if there were no disruptions, then the journey would usually be on time; six stops and one hour in duration. When there was any sort of disruption, the rail operator would restrict the number of trains per hour, and reduce the number of carriages. On these occasions the loudspeaker announcement to those waiting on the platforms always ended with “for your convenience” which always generated ‘Passenger Rage’ as literally hundreds scrambled just to get on the train offering standing room only! When this happened, if I was already on the train and had a seat, I had to protect myself from others wanting to trample all over me as they squeezed into non-existent standing spaces in the corridors and the aisles between the seats! Pushing and shoving and swearing!

  Forget about a restful and relaxing journey home after a hard day’s work (maybe reading the evening paper or a book), this was about survival and trying to stop people sitting in your lap!

  Again, if this had been the travel option, once home, it would be straight to the kitchen drinks cupboard for a large glass of whisky, which I would inevitably gulp down and then refill it. Then, remembering that Valerie was already at home and somewhere in the apartment, I would call out;

  “Hi! I’m home! Do you want a drink?”

  That was ‘light years’ ago, and this is now, and now as I sit here on the terrace, gently sipping my glass of Ouzo, I can make the comparison; one life to another.

  Absolutely no regrets!

  Here in this part of The Mani we have no trains, yet alone packed trains! There is a train service from Kalamata to Patras and it is only ever two carriages in length, and travels very slowly on a single rail system (six hours travel by rail compared to only four by car!). Moreover, there are always plenty of seats on the two times per day service!

  Authors Note: During an update in August 2013, the Author comments that one of the first ‘cuts’ of the ‘austerity measures plan’ was to axe this rails network in 2011 to save money.

  Our nearest big town is Kalamata which is 45 – 55 minutes’ journey time by car, or 75 minutes by public coach. The roads are narrow and climb up and over three mountain ranges during the journey and, despite the narrow roads, the journey time is very predictable. In all the years we have driven the road, either as visitors, or now as Residents, we usually complete the journey within just five minutes either way of the predicted 45 – 55 minutes’ journey time.

  In fact, I can only recall just two times when there was a variance. First when a herd of goats refused to move from their chosen place; in the middle of the road where they had decided to have their Siesta! That delay was just 8 minutes. The second time was when we came across a car that had caught fire and we were delayed whilst we waited to get the road clear enough to pass by and leave the owners waiting for a water tanker to arrive to put the fire out! That delay was a very lengthy 20 minutes! Further, we can often journey to or from Kalamata and remark to each other,

  “Golly we only passed three cars on the whole of the journey – in either direction!”

  Going further afield, the motorway from Kalamata to Athens is almost finished. The 85% that is finished already is a pure pleasure to drive; miles and miles of empty road. It is easy to drive at a steady 120kph speed, and with no braking until the toll booths! The exception is holiday weekends when it seems that the whole of the Athens population is on the road and, when they return to the city, there can be gridlock. Thank goodness we don’t live in Athens!

  The bottom line of travel here in The Mani Region is no packed trains, and no traffic jams on motorways or roads. This means that you can leave work early just to get home, or plan to go away for a long weekend, without experiencing the misery of the packed trains and congested motorways. Above all, you can actually enjoy your journey, and be confident or your arrival time at your destination, and you will arrive on time and quite relaxed.

  Also, this predictability means that everybody is able to travel at ‘normal’ times, as opposed to the ‘crack of dawn’ or ‘through the night’ to try and avoid the congestion.

  Nowadays, for me, travelling in either direction from my job is a ‘breeze’ every day of the week; just up and down the steps to and from the terrace! Therefore, it means that I am now able to sip and enjoy my drink upon arrival and not gulp it down by way of desperation to recover from the stress of the travelling!

  All in all, it is not surprising then that when I listen to the traffic news bulletins on UK’s Radio 2 in the morning that I smile when I hear phrases like:

  “Seven-mile tail back on the M25, ” or, “Severe congestion likely to take three hours to clear away,” or, “Severe disruption to train services for at least four hours,” or, “Traffic is at a standstill,” or, “Suggest you avoid this area at all costs,” or, “The knock-on effect is that delays will last for at least two hours.”

  So, as I sit here making the comparison in my mind’s eye, I have decided that even if I had been returning this afternoon from Kalamata, as opposed to walking down the steps from the ‘Watching’ terrace, I know that I would have been able to calculate the time it would take, and know that I would arrive home on time. I also know that I would be relaxed and able to enjoy my weekend from the very minute I walked through the front door!

  Comparisons made, I decided to concentrate on my plan for tomorrow. What was I going to do? I decided to decide about tomorrow morning tomorrow when I got up!

  In the event, I woke up the following morning to more ‘noise’ which was coming from Greek workmen nearby. As the air is so clear, sound travels a long distance. These workmen were working on a house at least three hundred metres distant and it sounded like a tremendous argument was going on.

  As I listened, I knew it wasn’t an argument, but a display of the Greek ‘screaming’ culture! It is one of the first things a first-time visitor to Greece notices. What, to the untrained ear, appears to be an argument could in fact be a simple everyday discussion.

  It’s not that they are deaf, but all Greeks simply have to make sure they are being heard, even, as in this case, when working alongside each other!

  These ‘screaming’ builders were probably discussing last night’s football game, or deciding who was going to go into the village to fetch the morning coffee! I soon tuned them out and started once more on my daily routine, including my visit to the Austrian Bakery.

  On my way back to the house from the Austrian Bakery, I decided that I would varnish the tortoises’ shells and use some of the pieces to make them look like a head and legs, and sit them side by side on display somewhere in the garden.

  I wanted any visitor to share the beauty of the pattern on their shells; exquisitely preserved.

  Photo: Tortoises On Display.

  By now, as the summer draws to a close, the days get shorter in terms of daylight.

  The first sign is that the sun rises later in the morning and takes longer to come around to the front of the house. It was whilst I was sitting on the downstairs terrace, eating my breakfast and waiting for the sun to come around, that I made my decision to have another rock in the garden.

  As I was looking around the garden, I realised that I couldn’t see the two big rocks that I had imported last year and given to Valerie as a Wedding Anniversary present. I had given her ‘rocks’ but not ‘rocks’ as in diamonds – get it?

  So, after breakfast, I set off to drive up into the mountains in search of a suitable rock. I planned to site it somewhere in front of the lower terrace.

  I chose that location in order that, whenever I sat there, I could marvel at their rugged beauty and age. It didn’t take me long to find one; well, in fact two! I photographed them, in orde
r to show Valerie.

  I drove to see my friend Takis, and arranged with him for his brother Giannis to drive me up to the location in one of his lorries that has an on-board crane. He used the crane to lift the rocks and load them into the lorry, and then we set off for Meerkat Manor. When we got to Meerkat Manor, we discovered that this lorry was too big to access the track alongside the wall at the front of the garden where we planned to lift the rocks over and into position. So, we set off back to Takis’ yard to load the rocks onto a smaller lorry that could get the required access.

  Takis owns a haulage company, a construction company, the local Olive press and the local petrol station. Well, that is the businesses that I know of! Giannis went off to ‘switch’ lorries, and I waited at the petrol station. Whilst I was sitting having a glass of iced water, a customer arrived. Takis’ wife filled the car with petrol, and I earned my keep. I decided to wash and clean the windscreens of the car. I felt like one of those guys you see at the traffic lights! In fact the lady who drove the car must have thought I was too, because after I had finished, she offered to pay me! I declined, but in hindsight maybe I should have taken the money! Anyway, everybody had a good laugh at the situation, as Takis explained to the woman,

  “He doesn’t work here. He is only here for the rocks!”

  Giannis returned soon after with the smaller lorry and proceeded to hoist the rocks off the larger lorry and load them onto the smaller one. We then set off to Meerkat Manor and this time, as expected, we managed to drive the smaller lorry between the Olives trees in front of the house and right up alongside the wall.

  He parked adjacent to the spot I had selected to site the rocks and started the process of tying the webbing straps around the rocks to lift them out of the back of the lorry and over the wall. This lorry was much smaller and so was the crane, so the unloading process was quite a slow as Giannis manoeuvred the rocks centimetre by centimetre over the wall and lowered them into position. The rocks weigh around a ton each and the crane was ‘creaking’ under the weight of each one!