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Hydra becoming

Laurel Lindstr?m

Author

发布日期: 2024年10月2日

Shimmering hot, the warm air and sunshine wrap themselves around us cosy and comforting. From our little nest at thehotel Kirki we’ve been walking a lot, despite the heat. We see that much is new here, renewed, refreshed. Some serious money is in evidence at Mandraki, the little port up the coast from Hydra port. It began a few years ago with the development of a snazzy resort: serried banks of sun loungers and parasols, a bar playing loud obnoxious music and a boat to ferry the tourists from port to port. Now the little Mandraki taverna on the path from town has had a serious makeover. Glamour has come to Mandraki and you no longer weave your way through the taverna’s tables to reach the beach?

Lefteraki’s taverna boasts white suited chefs and wait staff, a new feeble-friendly walkway down to the beach bypasses the taverna’s tables. Snazzy loungers and umbrellas paired with little tables extend across an expanse of fresh grey gravel. Gone are the bees. The ancient metal boiler where they lived within its ample curves is now a decorative feature, complete with antique lifesaver ring. The food in Lefteraki’s is very good, a chic version of traditional Greek food enhanced with a variety of seafood exotica. Saganaki, in theory a slab of fried flour-dusted feta is at Lefteraki’s a sort of crispy blini. Served with a sweet jam, it is tasty but unexpected.

Staying in the port instead of out at Kamini has given us the chance to meet ?and observe some interesting people. In the hotel Kirki or ambling out in the port, we’ve chatted with Serbians who believe Nato invaded Ukraine, Armenians and Poles who believe Ukraine is still part of Russia. Yes, really. We spent a delightful half-evening with a brace of American ladies whose political opinions we never got to, swamped as our conversation was in all that we share, our curiosity and the joy of being engaged in the world around us.

The patience of the Hydriots who make these marvellous dynamics possible is impressive. After many months of annoying and often stingy tourists they are still so kind, patient and able to drift beyond the obnoxiousness of many. We sit in the harbour bars eating ice-cream or drinking Ouzo and we people-watch. Yacht people are the most entertaining. Clear winners in the people-watching stakes, they strut like pigeons and waft excesses of aftershave and perfume, leaving coughing nobodies like us choking in their wake. The yacht people ooze sublime pleasure in the opportunity for demonstrable wealth. They are like children waving their bags of sweets around, but refusing to share. Their crews ooze sublime pleasure in being paid a lot of money to have a working holiday and admire the often gorgeous ondeck views.

When Leonard Cohen, Charmian Clift and George Johnson were here in the sixties, the yacht people and tourists were just beginning to come to Hydra. Back then it was a four hour ferry from Piraeus followed to exciting conclusion into the harbour in a much smaller boat, often over choppy seas. The slow visitor invasion began following the setting of a successful film, Boy On The Dolphin, here. The film starred Sophia Loren in her first movie. She was 18 years old. Once discovered Hydra was still cheap to live in, so artists came, poets and writers too, mostly living on funds from family and relatives. The majority, those whose names we can’t remember, spent their time drinking, eating and having sex, as opportunity provided. Not much creative work was produced, except by those whose art mattered more than fleshly delights. It’s all in Peel Me A Lotus, Charmian Clift’s account of nine months of her life with her growing family here on the island. She talks about the growing number of visitors, the derelict houses crawling back into the ground, the cats, the beauty, the whitewash and blue, and of course the sea. And nothing much has really changed. All that she describes is much as it is now. It’s just a matter of amplitude. Back then Hydriots could observe and quantify their visitors; today Hydra in high season is bursting at the seams, the visitors faceless and anonymous. Yet Hydra’s people are mostly kind and patient, generous and willing to share the grace of this magical place. For this we thank them.