June 2022

It seems summer is here: people are swimming again, and work on seaside coffee shops and restaurants continues in a general sprucing-up process. And there also seems to be a welcome return of tourism, as three cruise ships have already been in the port, and there are quite a few foreign camper vans and the like on the roads. Greece really needs tourism to keep on going, of course, but Covid is still very much around, and I wonder about the result of the greater relaxation of pandemic restrictions. Time will tell, as it usually does.

Gardens are a veritable picture at this time of the year, and in the last couple of days the jacaranda trees have started to bloom in all their purple glory. One of my favourite flowering trees: in a perfect world I would follow their progress down the east coast of Australia and would also attend the Grafton Jacaranda Festival, which will take place over ten days this year, starting in late October. In Melbourne, December is the month.

It will come as no surprise to learn that one of my favourite Australian paintings is Under the Jacaranda, painted by R. Godfrey Rivers in 1903. The tree in question is absolutely enormous, and there is a decorous tea party going on in its shade. Much information is to be gleaned, predictably, from Google entries: it appears that the first jacaranda in Australia was planted in 1864. Along with many other people, I thought that the jacaranda was/is Australian, but in fact its origins lie in South America.

Kalamata celebrates late spring and early summer with an annual flower show, during which a profusion of plants is on display in the city’s biggest park: the public can wander and admire at will, and also buy whatever they fancy. The week culminates in a parade, and this year my elder granddaughter took part. She goes to calisthenics/ rhythmic exercises, and was there with her group of little girls aged 5-6, and all wearing spangly purple leotards, and twirling their hula hoops. Well, they were trying to twirl them, with varying degrees of success. There were not too many boys about, something strange to relate in Greek society, although there were some in the student bands, which thumped and piped and blew with great alacrity.

But against the background of such lighter moments, the war in Ukraine grinds on. I am very thankful that I was born in a country that has no borders! In the meantime it is well-nigh impossible to understand the mindset of a person like Putin. Then again, did a 21-year-old Russian soldier deserve to be made a scapegoat? I don’t think so, but all I can do is squeak via computer, so see The Pity of War on the Eureka Street website: www.eurekastreet.com.au

My mother said we should never talk about politics, but of course I do: times have changed. This may have been the rule during my Australian youth, but I have been present at many a Greek screaming match about politics; sometimes I wonder if the natives have any other topic of conversation, for they seem to imbibe a passion for politics along with their mothers’ milk. But I’m still cautious, so I’ll content myself with saying that I am glad there has been a change of government in Australia, and am keeping my fingers crossed for the new people in power, especially for the new members, the independents. I’m especially glad to know that the Sri Lankan family can now go Home to Bilo after four years of suspense, injustice, and ill-treatment. The people of Biloela and the members of the group who lobbied tirelessly for justice to prevail must be congratulated. Fingers crossed for the future, and for the granting of permanent visas.

Good news on the family front. My elder grandsons, now aged 16 and 14, have just had their final school reports for the year. 20 is the top mark, and each has a string of 20s.They scored one 19 each, and the elder one got 18 for Ancient Greek, which most people agree is a devil of a subject. I know when my eldest son had to start learning it, I had thoughts of learning along with him. A quick look at the textbook made me change my mind. I’ve just discovered that an English friend of mine started French at 5, Latin at 7 and Ancient Greek at 9. At a time when I was happily reading X number of books, one after the other, by Enid Blyton.

As I write, the Platinum Jubilee celebrations are about to start. No matter what you think of the Queen, Empire, Commonwealth etc, you have to admit her dedication to duty has been unswerving. 70 years. When I was a little girl I once said to my mother that I would like to be the Queen. ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ she said. When I asked her to explain herself, she said, ‘Just imagine what it would be like to have to smile and be nice to everyone you met every day, no matter how you were feeling. You might have got out of the wrong side of the bed, but you’d still have to be pleasant.’ Food for thought. Much later, I thought my mother-in-law’s life was just as programmed as the Queen’s, but at least Yiayia could rant and rave when the mood took her, which was quite often, as it happened.

Nobody ever gave Yiayia a party, though, despite the fact that she, too, worked hard for at least 70 years. I hope the Queen is able to enjoy at least parts of her extended celebrations.