Stolen Snap
After months reconnecting with Greece,
the unspoiled parts, my friend is back in Barkers Creek.
We were walking from the sea into the hills
past an isolated house, a donkey outside,
two men on the porch. We passed through their gate,
asking how to find our way. They made us sit with them.
The younger, talkative one, must have been 70,
went to the kitchen, returning with salted cucumber,
bread, homemade goatıs cheese, spirits also homemade.
Eight children between them these brothers had had,
we stayed unclear about the fate of their wives.
We said our thanks and farewells; the younger brother
led us on to the road, pointing out the uphill donkey path.
Steep and rocky, it took us high above their house
past ancient stone walls by fragrant wild herbs.
One of the brothers could still be seen checking
how we climbed, till at last we disappeared
into the blessed stillness and warmth.
Another time, in Kardamili, south of Kalamata,
a lovely village by the sea - great walking country -
hills, gorges, lost villages - behind,
we got to know an English couple
(he the Greek born writer, Alexis ... )
who shared some terrific long walks.
One night the four of us, invited
to a fine family Greek dinner, relishing
our sense of connecting with tradition,
found ourselves viewing the Eurovision song contest,
yet another famous victory for Greece.
Our next stop was Ithaca where much rain fell.
I began my own Eurovision song,
entitled "It's raining in Ithaki"
(rhymes handily with souvlaki)
- yes I know, a sure winner...ı
Max Richards, Melbourne, 22 June 2005
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