It's the Best of Times...

Early June or mid-September, that is the question. Whether it is nobler for the mind and body to be on Mykonos then or not.  Ah, perchance to dream, but never to sleep.

Okay, have I messed up enough famous lines yet? If not, I could do a riff on a statistic Yrsa mentioned in her blog post on Wednesday that might be the seminal reason for why so many tourists love all that coming to Greece entails.  Yes, the statistic is that Greece ranks #1 in the world for sex.

But none of that has anything to do with this piece.  I’m talking about seasons not sessions.  June and September are my absolute favorite times.  Why? It’s simple.  Things are within your control during those months. 

The island’s not inundated by the tourists of July or overwhelmed by the hordes of August.  It’s a different, softer island. There’s still a lot to do, but there are also places in which to do absolutely nothing…if you want it that way. 

For example last night at around one in the morning I passed through this tiny square at the very heart of the old town’s Little Venice jumping nightlife area.  In season I’ve more than once come across statisticians working on their figures in that spot, but now you can sit and contemplate the classics with barely another soul passing by.  That’s not to say there isn’t action.  Just of a different sort.

For example, here are photos taken earlier in the evening just off the old town’s central shopping street of Matogianni on a much smaller street running just behind, and parallel to, the harbor.  The ambiance of the lane reminds many of Paris (or at least the Paris of fond memories), and it draws the international ex pat community most evenings with its peppering of tiny cafes and champagne bars. 

Tonight was special.  Three good friends were performing: Canadian fine artist Brian Piccini, American fine artist and musician Ken Richards, and Ken’s wife, American songstress extraordinaire Donna Harris.  They’re a guaranteed draw for any bar that hosts them. And not just any crowd, but a sophisticated, music loving one [Ed. Note: Those are not buzz words for “old folks adverse to statistics.”]. 

Donna Harris, Ken Richards, Brian Piccini at Notorious

Nights like that always remind me of the old days.  But perhaps I should look upon it more as a reminder that on Mykonos you can schedule your holidays to summon up precisely the sort of holidays you desire.  Wild action crowds: August.  Calm times amid whatever action you desire: June and September.  In between: July.  And then there is October when the locals return to sanity and the weather generally cooperates by carrying summer and warm seas on into November.

But how would I know about such things?  These days all I do is sit in my garret writing as the world passes me by. 

Pause for the distinct sobbing sounds of sympathizing readers.

I think I’ll just have to force myself to get out there and engage in more research.  But wait, I’ve finished that book, the one coming out in September that deals with precisely what its title promises, MYKONOS AFTER MIDNIGHT.

AHA!  I know.  I must get out there and fact check. One can’t be too careful.

By the way, on the way back from CrimeFest in Bristol UK we connected into Athens through Brussels. This was just about the last thing I saw on the ground when departing the rest of the EU for Greece.

And this was one of the first things I saw after landing on Mykonos. 

Any questions about why tourists come to flock here and forget? Yes, flock. 

Jeff—Saturday

What's Afoot in Athens?

Mega Athena by Aids-3D

I don’t want to talk about the societal disaster playing out across Greece in front of the world.

Instead, how about God bless The New York Times?  No, I didn’t get the review.  I just happened to come across a story this week (by Rachel Donadio) on how the financial crisis in Greece has inspired its artists and given burst to a “volcano” of creative energy.  Crisis can do that.  It also gives a lot of people a lot of free time. 

Sadly, buried in the article is the admission by an Athens’ gallery owner that “people are buying less and less.”  In a twisted way perhaps that’s encouraging, for it means even Greeks with disposable income are changing spending habits in recognition of what is upon them.  But, I fear artists and galleries that depend upon a Greek clientele will find suffering for one’s art more the rule than the exception.  

I have many friends on Mykonos who are outstanding, accomplished artists, and though I haven’t pressed them for particulars, I’m relatively confident that non-Greeks are now their primary market.  How could it be otherwise? 

Here is a sample of some of their work.

Ken Richards:

Brian Piccini:

Richard James North:

Monika Derpapas:

Greece is a boundless source of inspiration for the arts and so no one should be surprised that much of what’s new is good, or at least interesting.  Nor, in light of the graffiti that plagues Athens, should it shock that one of those highlighted in The Times article is a thirty-year-old British graffiti artist (and former Bristol dentist) who goes simply by the name Bleeps.  Fittingly, his work is in an area of Athens that reminds me of how NYC’s East Village once was.

Here’s a bit of Bleeps’ street art:

Where is it all headed?  That will depend upon a lot of things, much of which is outside the artists’ control.  Perhaps it’s summed up best by what is written on the placard held by the woman in my fourth posted work by Bleeps:  “I dream of love, I long for a customer.” 

May the customers come, and beauty somehow find its way through so much of life today that is not.

Jeff—Saturday

How to Survive a Tourist Summer.

Just wanted to get your attention.  Belly dancing has absolutely nothing to do with today’s blog—though the lady in the photo is a true friend of mine.

I was intending to write a piece on the beauty of Greece’s Cycladic islands, but after Leighton’s captivating pictorial essay earlier this week on Brazil’s pristine Baia da Ilha Grande I decided to wait for another day before attempting to convince anyone that “virginal” and “Greek islands” belong together in the same sentence.   A task not attempted with a straight face in many, many years.

Which brings me around to the subject I’ve chosen to address instead: straight faces.

He wants us to go back to where?

Now, I’m not talking about the kind put on by TV talking heads pontificating on subjects of which they know little and care about even less, or politicians whenever their lips are moving, I mean the faces of everyday common folk doing what they must to make their living off of tourism.

Singer-Artist Ken Richards

Imagine the stress of dealing face-to-face, 24/7, six months a year, with the many ilk, shapes, and demands of international tourism when virtually 100% of your income is dependant on making people happy.  Add to that mix the occasional thorny visitors who act as if they walked on water to get to the island and insist on being venerated as such even when their fly (or gender equivalent) is down.  Make that especially so on such occasions.  It is enough to drive one mad.

As proof I submit the following two photographs, one of a Mykonian at the beginning of the season, another at the end.

I rest my case.  Sort of, for I have more exhibits to present.  I want to show you the variety of expressions relied upon by Mykonians to make it through nearly twenty-hour days, seven times each week.

Some are pretty good at hiding their thoughts.

Others are not.

Some see life through rosé-colored glasses.

Others chose to view it from another planet.

Some grin at it all.

Others do just the opposite.

There are those who tune out and those who tune in, both to the same end.

There are the sophisticated who seem to remain above it all.  And those who lose it to laughter.

There are some who can legitimately claim not to understand.

And others in blinders making them oblivious to what’s going on about them.

But of all the faces, the ones I enjoy the most are found on those who cope the best and remain above it all.

Yes, the young children of the island, for in their innocence they have no need for guile.  Or work.  Ahhhhhh, to memories of days long gone.

Jeff—Saturday