Gold Magazine June - July 2013, Issue 27 | Page 100
Maybe it’s just
because of
the magic
the last
word
Greeks, Turks and the Aegean
By Peter Economides
I’m a Greek. But don‘t ask me why our
Easter sometimes coincides with everyone
else’s and sometimes it doesn’t. Maybe the
Church gets it but I don’t.
Despite my theological ignorance, I am
touched by the beauty of Easter in Greece.
And this year’s was more beautiful than
ever.
On Good Friday this year (the day the
Greeks refer to as “Big Friday”) I set sail
from Bodrum on White Wings, a thoroughly modern and luxurious 140 ft take
on a traditional Turkish gulet. An incredibly seaworthy wooden beauty designed
to cope superbly well with the Aegean.
On board were Çem, Ali, Peter and crew.
Friends. Kindred spirits.
We headed up to Patmos. If you’ve been
there then will understand its spiritual
magnetism. It’s the place where St John is
believed to have received the visions which
he recorded in the Book of Revelations.
Many islands have their Chora. But the
Chora of Patmos is something breathtaking
to the spirit.
We docked early and headed up the
hill. A couple of Turks and a Greek. Good
Friday in Patmos was a revelation. To this
Greek. And to his Turkish friends. Greek
or Turkish, Christian or Muslim, anyone
would be touched by the simple beauty and
spiritual complexity of what we witnessed
in the little square in the shadow of the
monastery. And the image of the little boy
tugging at the gilded sleeve of his bearded,
singing priest father resplendent in the
trappings of the Greek Orthodox Church
will remain etched in my mind forever.
We celebrated the Resurrection in Amorgos the next night. With fireworks, gunfire
Sailing around the
Greek islands is a
revelation
and, I swear, a few sticks of dynamite,
followed by a traditional meal of stuffed
goat and a traditional soup which I have
found inedible since my childhood. From
Amorgos we went on to Koufounisia (what
beaches!), Schinoussa, Ios, Santorini, Folegandros, Milos, Sifnos, Serifos, Kythnos
and Tzia, docking in Athens where I am
now writing this piece.
Sailing is a joy. But sailing around the
Greek islands is a revelation. And I think
of this introduction I recently wrote for a
recipe book called Cooking on the Boat written by Lale and Çem Ape:
At anchor off a Greek island. Or somewhere off the Turkish coast.
A warm late afternoon. The sea gently
lapping against the sides of the boat.
The outline of an ancient temple on the
hillside. A fisherman’s caique cutting across
the horizon. Great friends. Lively conversation. A glass of ouzo. Or raki.
That’s magic.
This planet is full of magic, but much as
I have travelled I have not found anywhere
like the Aegean. It’s a gentle place, an embracing place. A place of warmth. A place
where life is lived with love.