Πηγή: The Guardian
Polly Samson
The
author of a new novel inspired by the heady days of Leonard Cohen and his
bohemian set longs to return to the island of vivid colours and stories.
Τhe last time I left
Hydra – was it really only two months ago? – I was careful not to forget to
throw some coins into the harbour from the ferry. It’s a superstition I picked
up from Didy Cameron, one of the real-life characters in my novel, A Theatre
for Dreamers, who believed it would ensure her return. Except one day she
didn’t have a coin to hand and, as her granddaughter Alice told me, she never
made it back to the island. The morning after I threw my coins and we left
Hydra, the Greek government closed all the country’s schools. In the UK,
however, my daughter was returning to school after study leave. If I was still
on the island, we’d be slowly emerging from lockdown into the sunshine of a
spotless Greek island.
On
Hydra, the cockerels crow all through the night. The morning has many bells.
Though the island is only 10 miles long and most of it is uninhabitable, there
are more than 300 churches, most with bells, none of them beautifully rung.
After a while you learn to sleep through it.
As
we descend via steps into Hydra port, the island’s only town, the scent of white
flowers is almost overpowering. Cato, the little street cat who has adopted us,
jumps off the wall opposite the supermarket and follows us on through the
square, where oranges are ripening on the trees around mounted busts of the
island’s great painters.
I’ll
be barefoot. In the rainier parts of the year these streets and staircases
cascade with water from the mountains, which makes the stones very smooth and
too slippery for sandals. Although its name might imply water, Hydra is dry but
for a handful of sweet wells, and most of the houses still have working
cisterns for collecting rainwater, though it’s not essential for drinking these
days. Because I have spent so much time immersed in the island of 1960 – the
year that the dramas of my novel unfold – it is always a surprise to me that
water runs out of taps and there is mains electricity.
The
monastery at the port will clang its doleful half-hours all through the day and
the cats will doze in the sun among the pigeons. There will be kittens at the
marble monument to Admiral Kountouriotis and his lion, with its surprisingly
human ears and the face of Bertrand Russell – whenever this observation by
novelist and Hydra resident George Johnston floats into my head it makes me
chuckle….
Διαβάστε περισσότερα εδώ: www.theguardian.com/travel/2020/may/23/hydra-the-greek-island-for-dreamers
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