Arrival in Greece: a national strike and feta at source

The day we entered Greece it seemed the financial and political crisis afflicting the country had reached a new crescendo. A national strike was on, Athens was leading CNN international news with images of students, workers, police and teargas intercut with political press conference shots where the president expressed his desire to force austerity measures through by forming a unity government. Meanwhile Greece’s credit rating was downgraded to CCC, the lowest in the world.

What did the Greeks think of all this? They had been through a year of harsh cuts, and were now facing more, while their country was being forced to borrow money at an impossibly unachievable 50% interest rate. Well, it was hard to understand exactly what the good people of Ioannina in Greece’s north-western corner of Epirus thought of this. Greek is a fairly impenetrable language to an English speaker/reader, and this pretty lakeside town seemed mainly catered to domestic tourism and English was rarely to be seen or spoken. Fine by us, and our stupid fault for being monolingual. Seeing as I struggled to remember the four-syllable words for please and thank you, delving into a discussion about politics wasn’t on the cards.

What we could see was every TV in every shop tuned in to the Athens street scenes, and even worldweary older men of the kind you normally see taking coffee or tea together in Med countries/on London’s Green Lanes with slow animated motions, had faces impassively concentrated on screen.

This is hardly the most dramatic event in Greece’s packed history. Ioannina had flowered as a commercial and intellectual centre of the Ottoman Empire. alone the last 100 years have seen the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the Balkan Wars and joining of Greece, a population exchange with Turkey which saw the departure of thousands of Turks, occupation by the Germans in WWII and the expulsion of its millennia-old Jewish community in 1944. This was followed by a vicious civil war. And then democracy, European Union integration, affluence… against its historical chart, 21^st century boom and bust economics seems a mere ripple. Nevertheless being the focus of world attention for the wrong reason is disappointing and even mortifying for a proud nation.

Milly leading me up the garden path into the monastery

In Ioannina there is an island in the middle of the lake with several monasteries – apparently Ioannina Island is Europe’s only inhabited island in a lake, population 250-500 depending on your source. my 20 month old daughter led me into the Philothropian Monastery. Sprinting up the path away from where we’d sat for a rest she continued through a small entrance way and I was obliged to follow into a courtyard where she squealed with delight and ran deeper into the garden . I had assumed it was deserted but saw washing and a stove and some shoes outside a door, and some well-kept potplants. I tried to grab her and depart, but heard a gruff noise and then an unkempt middle-aged man with a rough face, lanky hair and no chance of a smile approached us holding up a key and indicating across the courtyard. I smiled politely, picked up Milly and once again, obliged to follow. He unlocked the door to a stone chapel. Every surface, wall through to sloping ceilings, was covered in deep, rich Byzantine paintings of saints, important family and pre-Christian scholars such as Aristotle(this was not my perceptive instant recognition, I found this out later) picked out in gold.

We went, me leading hastily through the anteroom and then into another, me gripping on to Milly and our host following behind. In the semi-darkness Milly’s breath was fast and shallow and she clutched me tightly. I was equally besotted by the visuals and a little bit terrified that there was a small chance we would be ensnared in the annals of a dark church with secret rooms.

I later read that the Monastery was founded in the 13^th century and the paintings were created around 1542. They were in superb condition, possibly restored at some point. Supposedly the building had been a ‘secret school’ where the Greek language, culture and Christian learnings were kept alive in secret by the clergy under the Ottoman Empire. However more recent scholars have said ‘secret schools’ are a myth, and that Greek education was legitimate under the Turks. No doubt the clergy had a role in fostering Hellenic traditions and values with more self-determination than if left to the occupiers, who had more pressing concerns of their own.

My glances at the frescoes were fleeting, I was grateful when we reached the last room. I turned to our host smiled graciously and said thank you and we returned to the entrance and broad daylight.

saganaki - fried kefalograviera cheese

For our first night in Greece it had to be country salad (Greek Salad) and a few other mezedes plates at a lakeside restaurant. Where better to eat Greek Salad than in Epirus, the province we are staying in and the source of feta cheese? It has EU protection and must be made with sheep’s milk or sheep and goats milk. Smooth, creamy, tangy, and like a salty kiss on the juicy tomatoes.  We also ate another local cheese in saganaki style (fried), called Kefalograviera. More of a stronger, aged flavour than haloumi, very tasty, quite rich. 

first Greek salad

On the way home the town had filled with noisy, friendly teenagers heading for cafes – an upbeat antidote to the political worries of older people.

Best food moment: Greek salad served with half a block of Epirus feta cheese