Some Assistance, Please

Jeff–Saturday

 

Today, I’m looking for a little help
figuring out where in Greece to set my next Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis novel.  It will be number 13, so I guess it could be a venue with a decidedly unlucky reputation.

 

However, don’t bother to suggest Ikaria, because that’s where I’ve set my just completed #12, slated for a 2022 release.  Besides, times have changed Ikaria’s luck for the better.

 

I suspect than when most hear “Ikaria” they think “Icarus,” which is perfectly understandable, as that’s where Icarus ended up when he disobeyed his father, Daedalus, and flew too close to the sun on his waxen wings. According to one legend, he perished on the rocks just off Ikaria’s, southern shore.

 

Ikaria and Icarus together again on a graffiti island wall

Others may know of Ikaria because, in 2012, The New York Times labeled it, “The island where people forget to die.”  On Ikaria extreme longevity is common, with one in three residents living into their nineties, and an unusually large proportion achieving centenarian status.  That’s why Ikaria is now considered one of the world’s five blue zones; places where people live longest and are healthiest.  The other four being Okinawa, Japan; Sardinia, Italy; Nicoya, Costa Rica; and Loma Linda, California.

 

Ikaria sits in the northwestern Aegean, approximately 130 air miles west of Athens and 30 miles from Turkey.  It resembles an elongated version of the American state of New Jersey turned on its side, though less than one-tenth the size of the state of Rhode Island, and a population of just 8,500. From the sea, it resembles an overturned ship, and from the sky an island sliced by a jagged mountain spine into a fertile three-quarters to the north, and a rocky one-quarter to the south.

 

Reputedly inhabited since 7,000 BCE, Ikaria’s rugged mountainous terrain, lack of decent ports, brutal winds, and reputation as the poorest island in the Aegean, discouraged virtually all but pirates and conquerors from paying it much mind.  And when they did, it was in raids for booty, slaves, and women, often slaughtering those inhabitants they didn’t spirit away. 

 

The pirate terror raging across the Aegean grew so horrific, that in the 16th Century virtually all of Ikaria fled to the mountains, and for eighty years lived within ingeniously camouflaged stone homes, concealed among secret villages.  To this day, Ikariots remember that time as their “century of obscurity.”

 

That past stands in testament to the determination of Ikariots to individually endure for however long, whatever it takes to survive.  Indeed, in 1829, when Greece obtained its independence from the Ottoman Empire, Ikaria remained under Ottoman rule.  Not until 1912, when Ikariots tossed out the Turks, did it join modern Greece—following five proud months as the independent country of the Free State of Ikaria, complete with its own flag, anthem, and postage stamps.

 

But joining Greece did little to change longstanding Ikariot skepticism toward outside help, and for much of the twentieth century, the Greek government gave little more than sporadic assistance to the island, while using it as a place of banishment for thousands of political dissidents.

 

Following the starvation years of World War II and four more years of civil war between nationalists and communists, the government banished 13,000 communists to Ikaria as a place of containment for those with unwelcome political views, and with that came the nickname it still bears of “Red Rock.”  But the government’s plan did not turn out quite as it intended. 

 

Many of those banished were educated, including doctors, lawyers, teachers, and creative types.  The government forbid them from living with locals, and their movements were restricted, but with so many needing places to stay, and the government offering little assistance in the way of food and shelter for the exiles, they ended up living in virtually every unoccupied house on the island. Many of those homes were in desperate need of repair, so the exiles fixed them up. Over time, locals came to regard them as welcome guests, not criminals, and the island became a sanctuary for dissident thinking.

 

Today, tourism drives Ikaria’s economy, fueled by its international reputation as one of the world's five Blue Zones, dedicated friends of the island, and a laid-back attitude appealing to the young.

 

As to whether the rigorous daily exercise demanded by life on a mountainous island, a diet of fresh home raised food and homemade strong wine, the mildly radioactive hot springs, the island’s politics, or a combination thereof accounts for its longevity, I leave for the professionals to decide. But my favorite explanation for it all is drawn from what many cite as the Ikarian Motto:

 

“If it doesn’t get done today, it will get done tomorrow.”

 

Ah, the stress-free life.  There is lot more to be said about Ikaria, its people, environment, history, and intrigues, but for now I’d appreciate a little help on selecting the location for #13.

 

Any suggestions?

 

Thanks and stay safe.

 

–Jeff