Memories of the Good Old Days on Mykonos

Jeff–Saturday

Last week I posted an article I'd written for Mykonos Confidential Magazine offering my take on what's happening on Mykonos today. Since then, I've received requests for my reflections on how the island has changed since I first started going there.  Rather than reinventing the wheel––or attempting to retrieve admittedly hazy memories of those nearly 40 years past ribald halcyon days, I thought the most accurate way to present my recollections is through my contemporaneous jottings on that very subject as presented in the Summer 2015 issue of Mykonos Confidential. 

So, come join me in this journey back from the future. 

In early May, 2015 I was in Athens’ Venizelos International Airport waiting for a flight to Mykonos when I ran across an old friend, the late Petros Bourovilis.   He was the publisher of an annual summer magazine chronicling the past, present, and future of Mykonos. If it’s glitzy or serious, historical or questioning, spicy or fun, and runs to the heart of what makes Mykonos tick, there’s a good chance it’s made it into the stories, features, and photographs of Mykonos Confidential.

Gracious as he was, Petros asked if I was working on a new book.  I said yes, and he pointed out that I’d started writing my first book on Mykonos at about the same time as he started out with Mykonos Confidential. Then he said it’s been ten years for us both, and asked if I would like to write a piece for the magazine on how much the island had changed in a decade. 

I asked if I could write under an assumed name. We compromised on him picking the title. For those of you who may be interested here is my, “The Island of the Rising Sun” from the Summer 2015 issue of Mykonos Confidential:

We have entered a different world.  We no longer exist as we once did.  We are separate and apart.  We are imagination and fantasy, dreams and aspirations, a place in the sun unlike any other, fulfilling the great expectations of our planet’s buyers and sellers.

We are Mykonos ten years later.

I first came to Mykonos more than thirty years ago, and for the past ten have lived here longer each year than any other place on earth.  I’m not suggesting that shared decade entitles me to any credit or blame for what’s transpired, any more than does the tin (not a misspelling) anniversary of Mykonos Confidential charge my colleagues there. We’re just observers, each having chronicled in our own way events over those ten years that loom so dramatic in hindsight, but passed inconsequentially at the time—much as an unprotected beach slowly vanishes under the relentless pressure of gentle waves or the encroaching hands of determined appropriating man.  

Ten years ago I began work on the book that changed my life. I’d given up my position as a name partner in my own New York City law firm to live among my Mykoniate friends and write about the island’s people, culture and politics.  I titled that book Murder in Mykonos (Mystirio sti Mykono in Greek from Aikaterini Lalaouni Editions) having settled on a mystery format as the best vehicle for exploring how a tourist island society might respond to a threat to its newfound economic glory.

 

This was how I described old Mykonos town back then:

“Mykonos was famous for tantalizing tourists with brightly lit shops, colorful restaurants, roaring bars, and freewheeling dance clubs, but this still was a town where people raised families and shared strong traditions. Down the less traveled lanes, children played their games oblivious to the occasional tourists squeezing through their four-, five-, or maybe six-foot-wide playgrounds. Pairs of grandmothers, all in black, did duty watching the children. They’d sit on stoops in front of their houses or, if a shop occupied the street level, on brightly painted wooden balconies outside their second-floor homes; balconies with gates guarding pets, pots of geraniums, draping bougainvillea, and—if rented to tourists—clothes left to dry.”

I don’t think I could say that today, as every nook and cranny seems converted into a profit center.  Much the same is happening at the island’s beaches.  That’s not to say there’s anything wrong with that, for Mykonians have the right to decide their own fate.  Yes, admittedly I don’t agree with all that’s happened, but one thing I do agree with is that there is no place in Greece that’s done it with better style, taste, and appreciation of its past, as is reflected in the annals of Mykonos Confidential, a publication I’ve been honored to contribute to over those years.

One experience stands out in my mind. The world’s best photographer, Yiannis Dimotsis, was scouting for a place to take my photo for a story and settled upon a church next to the sea, but he wanted me up on the roof.  Artists.  So, there we are when a quintessential black clad ya-ya spots us up there and starts screaming at us to come down.

Unflappable Yianni smiled at her, “It’s okay keria, we’re from Mykonos Confidential.”

With that her shouting stopped, she nodded, and continued on her way.

Another fan of Mykonos Confidential.  Just like me.

––Jeff

 

Jeff's upcoming events

 

 

 

Mykonos Comes to Life

 

Jeff–Saturday

 

The past couple of weeks have not been particularly kind to Mykonos. I’m not just talking about the weather—which is now heading back to the sunny seventies (Fahrenheit; low 20s Celsius).

 

I’m referring to the rash of media attention it’s received from the Greek and international press. None of that should come as a surprise because fame attracts attention, and Mykonos’ fame as the world’s Number One celebrity draw and Mediterranean party island screams out for attention of every imaginable sort.

 

It’s even made the front page of the business section of The New York Times, with the headline “Mykonos, a Sinister Side To a Luxury Building Boom.” The story line reminds me of a book I wrote a few years back, titled, “The Mykonos Mob” (published in trade paperback as “Island of Secrets.”) – and of another I wrote five years before that, “Mykonos After Midnight.”

 

 

But I’ve no interest in getting into any of that today—or the optimism I sense among many Greeks at the results of this past Sunday’s Parliamentary elections.  I’ll leave those topics for another time…perhaps after Greece’s concluding round of Parliamentary elections set for June 25^th. Instead, I’m offering up a selection of photos taken this week largely around old Mykonos town… plus some shots of (for now) deserted beaches. It’s meant to give you a sense of what things are like before the season begins in earnest.

 

So, here we go…welcome to the place I call home.

 

On the harbor-front old town beach

In the old harbor

On the new path from the Windmills to Little Venice

Little Venice

The Windmills as seen from Little Venice

Tourist Fashion Shop

Discerning Tourist Shop

Supermarket Wine Section

Yes, you saw correctly... 19,900€/$21,000

 A far better value

View of the new harbor

View of the True Mykonos Spirit that keeps me coming back

Something Different This Year

 

Jeff–Saturday

I thought of posting my modern take on the classic Auld Lang Syne poem by Robert Burns, as I do annually each New Year’s, but putting it up this year in these times, seemed too melancholy.

Next, I thought of posting details on this coming Tuesday’s (January 5^th) re-release of the first book (MURDER IN MYKONOS) in my Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis series, and urge you all to buy it (here) but that seemed far too mercantile.

So, I settled on sharing a list I received on New Year’s Day from European Union (updated version) friends describing twelve things to consider as we close the door on one of the most horrible years of our lifetime. 

 
1.     The dumbest thing I ever bought was a 2020 planner.

2.     I was so bored I called Jake from State Farm just to talk to someone.  He asked me what I was wearing.

3.     2019:  Stay away from negative people.  2020:  Stay away from positive people.

4.     The world has turned upside down.  Old folks are sneaking out of the house and their kids are yelling at them to stay indoors!

5.     This morning I saw a neighbor talking to her dog.  It was obvious she thought her dog understood her.  I came into my house and told my cat.  We laughed a lot.

6.     Every few days try your jeans on just to make sure they fit.  Pajamas will have you believe all is well in the kingdom.

7.     Does anyone know if we can take showers yet or should we just keep washing our hands?

8.    This virus has done what no woman has been able to do.  Cancel sports, shut down all bars and keep men at home!

9.     I never thought the comment, “I wouldn’t touch him/her with a 6-foot pole”, would become a national policy, but here we are!

10.   I need to practice social-distancing from the refrigerator.

11.   I hope the weather is good tomorrow for my trip to the backyard.  I’m getting tired of the living room.

12.   Never in a million years could I have imagined I would go up to a bank teller wearing a mask and ask for money.

Here's looking at you, kids.  May we all have a happy, healthy, productive, and reuniting 2021.

––Jeff

"Exciting News for Jeff Siger Fans," courtesy of Deadly Pleasures Mystery Magazine

Jeff–Saturday

 

We at Murder is Everywhere have an unofficial understanding among ourselves not to engage in Blatant Self-Promotion (BSP) unless we have a new book coming out. The driving principle behind that is nothing is more boring than authors incessantly plugging their books. I believe in that, and as the Covid pandemic delayed publication of my latest Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis novel (#11, A DEADLY TWIST) from April 2020 to April 6, 2021, I’ve been generally silent on the BSP front for close to two years. (N.B., there is a “P” included in that disclaimer.)

 

Yet, I’d come around to believing my fans deserve an explanation of what I’ve been doing since the publication of my last Kaldis book (The Mykonos Mob (in hardcover), Island of Secrets (in paperback)). Initially, I planned on running a promotional piece announcing the January 6, 2021 re-release of my first Kaldis novel, MURDER IN MYKONOS.  It features a brilliant new cover theme for the entire series and a blush-inducing introduction by that icon of mystery writing, Thomas Perry. 

 

But then some other exciting news occurred, and my dilemma became when best to announce it and what to say.

 

I wanted to wait until the crazy election news cycle settled down, but obviously that isn’t happening anytime soon. As for what to say, believe it or not I have a tough time with BSP.  Casual Self Promotion yes, and of course, I’m a big fan of BOPP—acronymically speaking [see below for a translation, if you prefer truth to your imagination].

 

But then came along the inimitable George Easter, publisher of our mystery world’s legendary Deadly Pleasures Mystery Magazine (DPMM), and shepherd of the much-coveted Barry Awards, with an article appearing on December 14^th in DPMM Online titled, “Exciting News For Jeff Siger Fans.”   

 

Everything I could conceive of saying was done for me in that much appreciated article.  It includes (a) an announcement of my film deal, (b) my background, (c) a description of the Kaldis series, (d) a list of all my books, (e) Tom Perry’s introduction to the re-release of Murder in Mykonos (with its new cover), and (f) a terrific review of A DEADLY TWIST!

 

The article begins with this description of my newly inked film deal:

 

VIEWPARK is a virtual studio with a global reach and mandate to produce and distribute quality curated, provocative, self-aware and entertaining content.  VIEWPARK has optioned Jeffrey Siger’s Andreas Kaldis book series for screen adaptation and plans to go into production in 2021, filming on location in Greece, and partnered with Dorian Productions to produce the series.

VIEWPARK is excited to bring the Inspector Kaldis series to the screen. Siger’s police thrillers are first-rate page turners set against the backdrop of some of the most scenic places in the world.  His characters are rich and entertaining and the thoroughly researched procedural dramas are the perfect source material for series adaptation.

Next, George Easter offered this as part of his personal take on the series.

 

For me, one of the aspects of Jeff’s novels that I enjoy the most is his creation of intriguing and ruthless villains who are very challenging to overcome. Another is his beautiful depiction of the Greek settings and islands he uses. It’s a cliché to equate a setting to a character, but in this case, the cliché is true.

Each novel treats some aspect of Greek life or a problem facing Greece (for example, corruption, insolvency, immigration, or conservation vs. development). For instance, the 2018 title, AN AEGEAN APRIL, was probably the first mystery fiction novel to deal seriously with the flood of refugees (and the attendant problem of people trafficking) into the Greek Isles from the troubles in Syria and surrounding areas. It was very timely and informative.

 

 If you haven’t read Jeff yet, you need to do so. You’ll thank me.

 

Can you see me blushing yet?

 

If not, read this excerpt from Tom Perry’s introduction to Murder in Mykonos and you’ll undoubtedly know that I am.

 

The brilliant careers of the fictional Greek police detective Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis and the writer Jeffrey Siger both began in 2009 with Murder in Mykonos. Since then their adventures have continued, and now include nine more novels written in the succeeding decade.

 

Murder in Mykonos did not come and go quietly, as most debuts do. The book was soon the number-one bestselling English language book in Greece, and by2012 was recommended in Fodor’s Greek Islands Guide as a pleasurable literary introduction to the island. In the United States the book quickly earned Siger a collection of rave reviews and, with later books, led to a place of respect among American and European mystery and thriller writers. The New York Times Book Review has called him “Greece’s thriller novelist of record.”

…

 

I’ve observed that one of the things that matters most about a writer is originality. If any writer is to be remembered after he’s gone, it will be for the things he presented in his work that would never have existed without him. Jeffrey Siger has, paradoxically, rediscovered one of the oldest regions and found it fertile ground for ten pieces of first-rate, original fiction. But it all started with Murder in Mykonos. Enjoy your trip.

 

DPMM concludes with this very first review of A DEADLY TWIST, and I’m beyond honored to say it’s earned an A- rating.

 

A DEADLY TWIST
by Jeffrey Siger
Sourcebooks, $26.99, April 6, 2021
Rating: A-
[Reviewed by George Easter]

Jeff Siger’s latest Andreas Kaldis mystery takes us to the relatively untouched Greek island of Naxos, where investigative journalist Nikoletta Elia has disappeared while researching two stories – one about a mysterious hit man who has chosen her to write about his life story; and two, a routine piece on the expanded tourism vs. nature preservation debate going on among Naxos inhabitants. Did someone kidnap Nikoletta because she uncovered something that put her life in danger?

 

When the body of an unidentified male is found at the base of a cliff where Nikoletta was last seen, Kaldis sends his chief deputy, Yianni, to investigate, using the reporter’s notebooks as guides to his search. Yianni survives a near fatal automobile accident, when the car he and a fellow policewoman are in, is forced of a mountainous road. Kaldis and a coterie of associates, including his wife, rush to the island to continue what Yianni started, while his deputy recuperates.

 

The following investigation leads Kaldis and his cohorts into dangerous territory to discover some long-time secrets of illegal activity on Naxos, protected by very powerful people in Greece.

Reading a novel in this series is always a treat. There is so much to like: great characters,
and intriguing story line and a wonderful setting. Enjoy.

 

Before I fall into a swoon from all this excitement, I think I’ll take a brisk walk out into the snow…but WAIT, I can’t.  There’s a new book to finish, and that standalone I’ve been working on, and….

 

Thus ends BSP for 2020.  Blatant Other People Promotion (aka BOPP) will be coming soon, for I have project in mind on that score. But that’s a subject for another post.

 

Stay safe, and please do celebrate sanely over the holidays.

 

–Jeff

BOUCHERCON HIATUS: My September 11, 2001

We’re still at Bouchercon, doing all the things that make hanging out with friends and fans worthwhile, but I’ll leave the telling of those tales to others.  After all, “What happens in St. Louis stays in St. Louis.”  Though I must admit, Dan, I'm having a really hard time not saying at least something about Ysra bringing that sheep's head into the hotel bar.

Today’s post was written at the request of a New York City-based newspaper to be part of its 9/11 10th year commemorative issue.  I was asked to talk about where I was that Tuesday morning.  Here is what I wrote. 

I like it over here by the United Nations.  Beekman Place is different from other New York City streets; it’s more like a quiet, residential private road in an elegant European city.  My walk to my office is down First Avenue overlooking the East River and alongside the gardens and flags of the UN.  It gives me a few daily moments of serenity and escape from the often out of control state of my life as a lawyer here.

I need this walk today.  The sky is so blue and clear, except for the few smoke-like clouds on the downtown horizon.  I’m up by the UN General Assembly Building when I call my friend Panos to find out how his date went last night.  He’s frantic and says he can’t talk.  He’s waiting for his mother to call him from Greece.  I ask if everything is OK.  He says she’ll be worried when she hears that his office was struck by a plane.  I must have misunderstood him.  He works in the World Trade Center.  He says his office building is burning and he has to get off the phone.

Those are not clouds on the horizon, it’s smoke.

I tell him to get out of the building.  He says it’s not necessary.  He’s okay.  His date kept him out late and he’s still at home.  He’ll go to work in the afternoon, after the fire is out.  He hangs up.

How could a plane have hit the World Trade Center on a day as clear as this one?  Something must have happened to the pilot.  I hear sirens everywhere and move a little faster toward my office.  By the time I get upstairs everyone is looking out the windows on the south side of our building.  It has an unobstructed view of the Towers.  Now they’re both burning.  I’m told a second plane hit the second Tower.  We all know what that means—even before learning about the Pentagon.  Someone tells me a plane hit Pittsburgh, my hometown.  I can’t believe what I’m hearing.  I call my daughter, she lives in Greenwich Village.  She’s frightened.  We all are.  I tell her to keep calm. My son is in Cincinnati, I’m sure he’s safe but I can’t reach him.

We’re all glued to the big screen TV in my law firm’s main conference room.  The first tower begins to fall and we turn en masse from the television to look out our windows as it crumbles to the ground before our eyes.  It’s surreal, it can’t be happening.  But it happens again.  Not a word is said while we watch the second tower fall.   We are at war.  But with whom?

My mind can’t fix on what all this means.  I focus on a rumor that there’s an imminent biological anthrax attack and race to the pharmacy for enough antibiotic for my daughter.  That’s something I can do.  Again, I think, my son is in Cincinnati.  He’s safe there.

When I moved to NYC in 1969 my first job was blocks away from the Trade Center site.  The Towers were in the midst of construction and I saw them every morning across the Brooklyn Bridge as I’d head to work.  In August 1974 I watched Philippe Petit do his high wire walk between them, and three years later glimpsed at mountain climber George Willig scale one in the wind.  Even after moving my office uptown they were always in view from my window.  They spanned my career as a lawyer in NYC.  I can’t believe they’re gone.

 

The City is in shock.  Lines of thousands of refugees from downtown are trekking up Third Avenue toward home or simply to somewhere other than where they were.  No one is talking.  The smell is everywhere, acrid and bitter.  There seems to be grey dust on the shoes of every cop and will be for days.

I stop at a restaurant halfway between my office and home.  It’s Greek and run by a friend.   It’s the only place I can think of to go.  There is no one at home and I can’t get downtown to my daughter.  She’s fine.  Panos comes in.   I try making a joke about his date from last night.  I say he should marry her, she saved his life.  It’s not that funny.

A half dozen or so young men and women of about the age I was when I started working in NYC are sitting quietly at a table along the front windows.  A cell phone rings—one of the few that must be working—and one of the women answers.  She’s a dark haired girl.  She listens, shuts her phone and starts sobbing.  She says something to the others; they hug each other and cry.

Damnit.

It’s after midnight by the time I head home.  My cell phone rings on the way.  It’s a friend from Capri in Italy.  He’s been trying to reach me all day to see if I’m okay.  I hang up and continue home.  I’m tearing.  Friendship like his is what life’s all about.  Family and friends are what matter.

A week later I drive to my farm, get in my pickup and head to Pittsburgh to visit my brother and sister-in-law.  I decide not to go back to NYC but drive south, toward the Outer Banks of North Carolina.  I’ve never been there before, but it just seems the place to be.  I have to drive by Washington, DC to get there.  It’s only when I see the first sign for DC that I realize I’ve made an unconscious pilgrimage past the three sites of the 9/11 massacre—NYC, Western PA, DC.

 

Duck, NC is chilly in the off-season and the ocean is wild.  I lock myself in a hotel room overlooking the sea and complete my first novel.  I’m driven to make something good come out of all of this bad.  A week later I drive back to NYC.  I’m on the Jersey Turnpike heading north and close to the City, but I can’t tell where it begins.  Its southern landmark is gone.  This world is insane.

A few years later I give up my life in NYC and move to the Aegean island of Mykonos to pursue my dream of writing mysteries exploring the heart and soul of Greece.   There is no reason to wait any longer.  Is there?

Jeff—Saturday

A Twisted Tale from the Piano Bar

In case you ever wondered about the risks run to one’s mental state of spending virtually every waking hour during a six-month frenzied tourist season chatting up customers from behind the bar of a La Cage aux Folles-style cabaret, this story is for you.  It comes straight from Jody Duncan who, together with Nikos Hristodulakis, owns Montparnasse Piano Bar on the Aegean Greek island of Mykonos.  Jody’s tale is not for the politically correct.  In fact, to call it “warped” or “nuts” would be far too kind.  You are hereby warned to put aside any notions of common human decency for the maestro of the sicko genre has a story to tell.  Take it away, my friend…and while you’re at it do so as far away from me as possible, s’il vous plait.

A Twisted Tale:

Thank you for that thoughtful introduction.  Okay, I admit that this story involves my devilish mind at work but one of our waiters from back around the turn of the century put me up to it.  The Piano Bar and Malcolm were a match made in show tune heaven.  We featured Broadway and West End tunes and Malcolm loved the shows.

One night during a lull in the action Malcolm was standing by the bar lamenting on the state of Broadway musical theater.  “Stop with the complaining already,” I said.  “Let’s put our heads together and come up with a better idea.”   And sure enough, in a matter of minutes we hit upon an extravaganza that could change Broadway forever: a musical based on the life of the Schappell twins, born Lori and Dori.

For those of you who do not know, they are sisters conjoined at the head and facing in different directions.  Before you pickup those pitchforks and start coming after me at the bar let me give you a bit of background on the twins.  They were born in 1961 in Reading, Pennsylvania.  When a court determined that their parents were unable to care for them they were placed in a home for the severely mentally disabled, though neither had that disability, and remained there until twenty-four when freed through the efforts of the wife of the then governor of Pennsylvania.

The sisters went on to college and Dori, who always wanted to be a country western singer, legally changed her name to Reba to honor her idol, Reba McIntyre.  In 1997 the new Reba won the L.A. music award for best new country artist.  Reba also designed specialized equipment for persons with disabilities, including her own wheelchair, and was a trophy-winning bowler.  She now prefers to be called George and was introduced as such in 2007 when the sisters participated in the grand opening of  “Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Odditorium” in New York City’s Times Square.

Lori, the more outspoken of the sisters, works part time in a hospital laundry…but takes time off to attend her sister’s concerts.  They are advocates for what the handicapped can achieve and are widely interviewed.

Yes, the Schappell sisters are extraordinary people, persons to genuinely admire, but I promise you neither Malcolm nor I had any of that in mind while we flirted with songs for our musical masterpiece—and eternal damnation for the effort.

Here’s just a sampling of our proposed repertoire: 

You Go to My Head (“And you linger like a haunting refrain, and I find you spinning round in my brain.”). 

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You (“You’re just too good to be true…You’d be like Heaven to touch.”). 

Miss Celie’s Blues (Sister), from the film The Color Purple (“Sister, you've been on my mind, sister, we're two of a kind, so, sister, I'm keepin' my eye on you.”). 

Together (“Wherever we go, whatever we do, we're gonna go through it together.”). 

I’m sure you get the idea, and by now are eying those pitchforks.  But don’t you agree that sometimes the devil just won’t let you let go of whatever crazy idea’s got a hold of you?  And the devil had me this time.  Again.

The more Malcolm and I bantered back and forth the more we cried out in wicked, perverted joy over this evil, musical stroke of genius.   Then I came up with the number for the finale destined to win us a Tony: You'll Never Walk Alone!

Or perhaps the show should close with George’s performance (as Reba) singing Fear of Being Alone over the credits of the comedy Stuck on You starring Matt Damon and Greg Kinnear as conjoined twins?

Why do I sense I should just stop right here and get on to this month’s recipe for one of our world famous cocktails?  I guess because you deserve a bit of good taste after enduring such a large dose of the other.

Here’s our Double Espresso Martini, guaranteed to both slap you in the face and make you turn the other cheek.  In a cocktail shaker half filled with ice, add 1 ½ ounces vodka, ½ ounce espresso coffee liqueur, ¼ ounce creme de cocoa, ½ ounce Kahlua coffee liqueur, one shot espresso, one splash of simple syrup, and shake very well.  Strain into a chilled martini glass and garnish with a cinnamon stick.

Enjoy! 

Thank you, Jody.  I think.

P.S.  Dan asked me to apologize on his behalf for not posting yesterday but due to a worldwide problem with "Blogger" he could not sign in to upload his piece.  As a reward for his effort he has the joy of seeing his name associated with this tale.

Jeff—Saturday