on the approaches to the Village of Neo Chorio and the Akamas Peninsula, this a perfect place for Harry and Sheila to gain inspiration for their painting and writing.
Once we had settled here I soon came
to learn that the heart of this island lies in its people, and the inherent and
overwhelming hospitality they displayed was nowhere more prevalent than in the
more remote villages of the region.
Theodoulous
Neo Khorio was one such village and
the inhabitants truly took us to their hearts. From the moment we arrived - two
complete strangers and foreigners at that - they made us welcome, including us
in all aspects of family and village life. Over the years we have danced at their
weddings and wept at their funerals.So
complete was the integration that, some ten years after we came to live amongst
them, they baptised us in the former little monastery of Ayios Minas on the
edge of the Akamas wilderness. Harry was given the name Charalambous and I was
named Aphrodite. The legendary Baths of Aphrodite are only few minutes away and
several women and girls in the village bear her name.
From the very beginning our
neighbours tried to teach us the skills we would need to survive in an environment
so totally different from the one we had just left. Harry generally did pretty
well in all things practical, but some of my more spectacular efforts have
become folklore around here. I suppose it will all be lost in history as the
older generation continue to pass on, but for a while I was the source of much
merriment and thigh-slapping mirth as I struggled with things like learning to
ride a donkey (after all we did have two of the things) and trying to milk a
goat, which I had to catch first.
As for the tasks traditionally
performed by women in the village, they were appalled at my lack of knowledge
in the culinary world. The first time I had a go at making loukmades they fell about with such shrieks of laughter I thought
some of them might choke. When Easter came round I didn't even know what flaounes were, never mind how to make
them, and as for things like cleaning octopus or killing a cockerel, rabbit or
pigeon for dinner- well don't even go there.
The villagers' sense of fun was
infectious and they were extraordinarily quick-witted. When my first book
appeared in print they were all so proud of me, never mind that nobody
understood a word of English. It was passed around from hand to hand at the
coffee shop and examined thoroughly. Harry's painting of Theodolous with his
donkeys had been used for the front cover. He was very proud of this and
boasted loudly that he was on the front.
‘So what,' said Theodosis, a drawing
of whom appeared somewhere in the text. Harry had depicted him standing with my
baby donkey (which, predictably, had been given the name Sheila by some of his
colleagues).
He opened the book at this page and
said ‘I'm in here.'
Somewhat cheekily I said in Greek, ‘That's
right, Theodosis is the one with the hat on.'
His reply was instantaneous.‘Yes and the donkey's name is Sheila.'
Don't forget you can send emails or leave comments on the website
