Videos on Athens, Greece

The Farmer's Republic

Skorpios has a sting in its tale

One of the sandy beaches

The island of Skorpios lies off the coast of Lefkada in the Ionian Sea.  A serene, green oasis surrounded by the bluest of waters, the island was recently purchased by a Russian billionaire and was once the holiday home of Greek shipping tycoon Aristotle Onassis.

It appears to be a little bit of heaven on earth but its story is not one of perfect happiness.....

Great wealth, as we all know, is no guarantee of contentment and Skorpios has seen its share of  struggle, grief,  loss and heartbreak.

'Ari' Onassis bought the island for around $10,000 in 1962.  In those days it wasn't the manicured retreat we see today complete with helicopter pad, sandy beaches, grassy lawns and several houses.

Then, the island was nearly barren and Onassis forested it by importing nearly 200 varieties of trees. There was no natural water supply so he had to buy a small neighbouring islet to provide Skorpios with water.  Reportedly, he also had to ship sand in from Salamis island near Athens to create enough beaches to give easy access to the sea.

Callas and Onassis on Skorpios

The island became a holiday retreat for two of Onassis greatest loves- opera star Maria Callas and Jackie Kennedy.  Callas was said to be heartbroken when Onassis broke up their relationship to marry the former US First Lady  in October, 1968.  (Callas never recovered from the separation and died a lonely death in Paris a few years later.)





The island was Jackie's favourite place. She often spoke of how much she loved the colour of the Ionian Sea and the fragrant flowers that grew everywhere. It became a sanctuary where she could fully relax and not worry about who might be watching her. Even so, Jackie and Aristo, as she called him, never really lived under the same roof for any length of time and their marriage was allegedly a turbulent one.

Ari and Jackie's wedding on Skorpios

Patrol Boat

Imported sand!

 After Onassis' death, the island passed to his daughter, Christina, and then on to her daughter, Athina Roussel.  Both Onassis' son and daughter died tragically young and never really spent much time on Skorpios. They are buried there, though, alongside their father in the family mausoleum.






Athina grew up out of Greece and has shown little interest in her mother and grandfather's country.  Recently, she sold Skorpios to Ekaterina Rybolovleva, daughter of Russian billionaire Dmitry Rybolovlev.

This would not have sat at all well with Onassis, who stated in his will that the island should remain in the family as long as they could afford to cover its maintenance expenses. According to the will, if his descendants could not cover the upkeep costs, the island should be donated either to Olympic Airways or to the Greek state.

It is currently not a friendly place to visit as patrol boats circle the island twenty four hours a day warning visitors to keep their distance.  To underscore this point, signs are posted on the shoreline at very regular intervals.

Keep Out!

 It's hard not to wonder if the Rybolovlev family will have better luck with their island than the Onassis family.  Certainly, the legality of its sale is being debated in Greek parliament and there could be serious repercussions if the sale is pronounced illegal.

24 year old Rybolovleva is said to have paid around £100 million to obtain a one hundred year lease of the island.  How much time she actually spends there remains to be seen.

 

Onassis certainly visited as much as he could,  and he still casts a long shadow on this island idyll.  Much of the interest this tiny piece of Greece generates is due to the myth surrounding his legacy.  It seems fitting, then, that a statue of 'Greece's Last Tycoon' stands in the town of Nidri on the island of Lefkada, forever staring out across the bay at the place that brought him both immense joy and sadness.


Perhaps the bad luck that dogged the Onassis family will not shadow the Rybolovlevs.  But there is already evidence that Skorpios has not lost its sting and its tempestuous history could continue on.  Apart from questions from the Greek state over the legality of sale, Rybolovleva's ownership of the island was challenged by her mother, Elena, as part of an ongoing divorce case involving her parents.

Rybolovelva at the 'Pink House' on Skorpios

Aristotle's Lyceum

If Homer was correct in writing that “the souls of the dead come to the Meadow of Asphodel where the phantoms of those whose work is done abide" then surely Aristotle’s approving spirit must be roaming here among the asphodel in the grounds of his lyceum.

Founded by Aristotle in 335 BC., the lyceum was known as a Peripatetic School (from the Greek word peripatos, which means stroll) as it is believed that Aristotle liked to stroll through the school’s tree filled groves discussing philosophy and the principles of mathematics and rhetoric with his students.

 

This inspiring site was excavated by archaeologist Effie Lygouri in 1996 and first opened to the public in June 2014.  The idea is to integrate the Lyceum into Athens every day life as part park, part historical reminder of the city’s glorious past.

As this is the remains of a peripatetic school it is especially meaningful to have created a natural looking landscape, and as I entered from Rigilis Street one of the first things I noticed were tall grasses rustling gently in the breeze and the sound of birdsong. Even the sound of traffic on nearby Vasilissis Sophias Avenue became a distant hum as I got closer to the excavations. 

 

Aristotle was himself a student of Plato and, although he was Plato's most promising pupil he held opposing views on several fundamental philosophical issues. These beliefs led him to found his own school and it was here in this incredibly significant spot that he developed and taught his own method of inductive and deductive reasoning, observing the workings of the world around him and then reasoning from the particular to a knowledge of essences and universal laws. 

 

The Lyceum was a school of unprecedented organized scientific inquiry and, In a sense, the first major centre to put forward the modern scientific method. It was from here, too, that Aristotle wrote extensively on a wide range of subjects including politics, metaphysics, ethics and logic.

  

It wasn’t all intellectual pursuits for the fourth century BC scholar, however. Athleticism was highly valued and there are the remains of baths, a gymnasium and a palaestrae where students would box, wrestle and compete in the no holds barred pankrateion.

It seems as if history has almost come full circle here....with its well-tended walkways lined with sweet smelling thyme, rosemary and lavender Aristotle’s Lyceum is once again a spot for walking, an oases of calm, a setting for reflection, and still- perhaps most importantly- a place for learning.

Take the Beach Train with the Athens Metro!

 How many years has it been since an advertisement captured your attention and fired your imagination? Can you recall a time when an ad campaign seized massive notice and people would hum a jingle or quote a catch phrase or line? Perhaps not, because those days are long gone and our world now moves like a speeding train flashing split second images across our consciousness.

Jaded and over stimulated by a plethora of images, facts and data, it is amazingly refreshing to feel truly wowed by anything any more.  But these 'Outside Project' ads  on Athens Metro system take you back to those 'Wonder Years' when a commercial still packed a punch.

The Newtons Laboratory have created a stop and stare, in your face (or in this case, at your feet) all out, can't be missed experience.  Taking Greece's beautiful sea into a hot, sweaty commuter train is pure genius.  You can't help but admire the creativity that's gone into their creation and then wonder at the technical expertise of the very real looking sand and sea that laps against the sides of the carriage.

There are footprints in the sand at water's edge and a few seashells lay scattered here and there.  Sitting in the carriage, I wondered how my fellow passengers were reacting to the images- were some annoyed by them, longing for a holiday they couldn't afford?  Were some of the foreigners heading to the airport saddened by them, thinking they would miss the Greek seas and beaches?  There must have been a few that were smiling inwardly, secure in the knowledge their holiday on a much loved island was booked.

The outside of these beach trains is much more pedestrian but still cheery. Images of surfers, beach bunnies and fun in the sun cover the entire length of the train.  As I watched my train speed out of the station, it dawned on me that this wonderful campaign has a fatal flaw- it is so eye catching and interesting, you completely fail to notice the product it is promoting. I was brought down to earth with a bump when I learned that, as it turns out, all this innovative campaign is for....a lottery scratch card!

My Little Pony

Sometime in the late seventies my mother bought a Pony. And no, it wasn’t one of the hoofed varieties but a shiny red, made -in -Greece quasi jeep with a really odd gear stick and a Singer sewing machine of an engine.

Although sceptical at first when faced with this odd looking vehicle, I have to admit it proved to be one of my mother’s best buys ever and one that we would all come to love and respect.

The Pony was the perfect transport for island life (my mother had a house on Skiathos) and could boldly go where practically no car had gone before. But it was not quite so ideal for long distance journeys and maybe deciding to drive three of us from Greece to England in it was a tad overly optimistic on our part.

We progressed through Italy with little difficulty- as long as we slowed down to let almost every single HGV or lorry overtake us safely we were just fine.  We quickly saw that failure to reduce speed produced a strange ear popping skid towards the hard shoulder, so after a few near misses we metaphorically doffed our caps to the 'big boys' and slowed to snails pace. 

In France we encountered a new challenge, discovering that a 2 stroke 600cc engine simply couldn’t propel the car forward when faced with a steep incline and a strong headwind. This test of the Pony's horsepower occurred on an auto route and I remember we just had to pull over and wait for the wind to die down before attempting to reach the top of the hill!

Headwinds notwithstanding, we slowly but surely made it all the way to the UK. Arriving somewhat triumphantly at Dover, we were greeted by an incredulous customs officer who wasn’t quite sure if he was witnessing a trio of eccentrics driving a golf cart or the latest in some unknown form of home made technology. I remember that he called at least four of his colleagues to gape at the spectacle, though, before waving us past a gathering crowd of onlookers.

As my mother had some paintings that she wanted to bring to Greece still in store in England we duly packed them into the back of our stalwart little Pony. There seemed to be room for some household items so my mother added those too. Noticing that the suspension appeared to be holding up under the strain, she bought a stone fountain and chucked that in as well.

Praying that we would have good tailwinds and that we wouldn’t meet too many headwinds, we set off back for Greece. It might have been foolhardy to trust in the overloaded Pony’s brakes and suspension by traveling down the Grand Corniche into Monaco but we survived the test and then probably considerably diluted the high aesthetic of luxury vehicles usually parked on the streets of Monte Carlo for a few happy days. Our Little Pony had turned into a real pack horse and we could only sing its praises.

The Pony did ten years or so of sterling service for us, and was then sold on Skiathos to a friend who managed to drive it off a cliff. Both he and the Pony survived (happily) and the car was dragged back up onto the road, fixed, and put back into circulation!

First generation Pony-Citroën like ours were made until 1983 but Pony cars disappeared altogether in 1992 after the National Motor Company of Greece (Namco) suspended production of their second generation Super Pony.

What a surprise, then, to see that these amazing cars are trotting back to the production line.  The 2014 new generation of Pony should be great news for anyone who wants an economical, sturdy vehicle….ride, Pony, ride!

If you are interested in learning a bit more about these Greek made vehicles, try visiting this web site: The Best From Greece

Technopolis Industrial Museum

The buildings and gasometers of Technopolis at Gazi fascinate me. Over the last thirteen years their hulking grey exteriors and mysterious almost sculptural interiors have made the perfect space for hosting exhibitions, fairs and concerts and now the city of Athens has launched its first industrial museum here too.

The museum has been finely set up and you acquire some real knowledge of the history and technology behind the gasworks while strolling through the thirteen buildings of the old plant.

Coal gas first came to Athens in 1857 when a French consortium undertook the task of lighting the city's streets and squares.

 In 1938 the gasworks administration passed from French hands to Athens Municipality and the originally small plant continued to grow, adding gasometers, steam boilers, steam engines, purification units and several other buildings to it's approximately thirty acre site.

There are some lovely mementos on show from the gasworks administrative history, including this early photocopier that looks as if it belongs to the Jetsons!

The plant provided energy to the city until going out of operation permanently in 1984. Luckily, these wonderful buildings were preserved and the first cultural events were hosted in the newly named Technopolis (meaning Art City) premises in 1999.

N.B.  Apart from the museum exhibits, all sorts of events now take place in Technopolis so it's well worth looking at their web site's programme of upcoming events There are quarterly Meet Market fairs that sell handicrafts and second hand items, hip hop festivals, tai chi and capoheira seminars, bicycle festivals and a whole lot more.
 

What's needed? A Shot in the Arm!

 The Greek National Health system (IKA) is sick. It is badly in need of some intensive care and it's flickering pulse is fading fast.

This is not news to anyone who lives in Greece or reads Greek news but I, like most people who are not brought into personal contact with the reality of the situation, would read the ever worsening statistics and think "oh how sad" before moving on with my busy life.

My attitude changed this week when two incidents within two days brought me face to face with the realities of medicine in 2013 Greece.

On Monday, a friend was admitted into Evangelismos Hospital (see photos taken in AHEPA at Evangelismos, fifth floor) and as she wanted a couple of friendly faces to accompany her to her angiography, I volunteered.

Expecting the worst, and having heard tales of horror surrounding the general disintegration of care at Evangelismos (Athens biggest hospital complex with beds for 1,100 patients) I was surprised to see that in one respect, state provided Greek medical care hasn't changed at all. The doctors (grossly overworked and underpaid) continue to be generally wonderful. They are highly trained, caring professionals who are trying to do their job against almost unbeatable odds. Due to the crisis entire hospitals have been shut down, the number of intensive care units has been slashed and there have been huge staff cutbacks and salary cuts.

Having googled "angiography" before arriving at the hospital I knew that it is a fairly common procedure that investigates the flow of blood through the veins. It isn't really dangerous to the patient in any way but it does need careful post op care as you have to remain completely immobile in bed for 24 hours as any movement can cause an arterial wall rupture or other complication. I thought it odd that, after her procedure and as we (and by we, I mean literally me and another friend-there was no one else to do it!) were wheeling her up to her room, the doctor laid one of those typed pieces of paper on her bed with after-care instructions that are usually given to outpatients on their way home. I thought, "Why give us this? These vital precautions are only for the first critical 24 hours following the angiography and she will be here for those", but shrugged the thought away.

I was to discover why this paper was important a short while later as the standard of nursing in any state hospital could charitably be described as appalling. Most Greeks know this and don't expect to receive much care from hospital nurses and prefer to hire slightly more qualified private caregivers or rely on their relations to perform nursing duties.
 
Wheeling my friend into her none too clean looking room I noticed there was no nurse to greet her and make up an end of bed chart, or even read the piece of paper with the vital instructions on. After waiting a while I went to the nurses station and found the 'proestameni' or matron. She looked at me as if I was fairly barmy when I explained who I was, told her she had a new patient that, according to the written instructions, should have her vital signs checked right now. I also asked if her new patient could be allowed a drink of water as it wasn't clear on the instruction sheet. As she had no reply (at all) for me, I went and fetched the instruction sheet and showed it to her. "Ach," she said "I don't know, why not ask the doctor?" I hoped that in showing her the instructions, she might tell one of her nurses to follow them and check on my friend.

No such luck, and when I called her later that day my friend told me that despite it writing clearly that her bandages, blood pressure, drip and all vital signs must be checked at three hourly intervals, she was still waiting for a nurse to appear six hours later. There were also no call buttons and as she was forbidden to move a muscle below her neck, it was lucky there were other people sharing the room who had the mandatory army of Greek relatives and friends who could walk to the nurses station and demand some attention for her.

By the time I left Evangelismos that morning I had spent six hours in hospital corridors and "waiting rooms" (four or five chairs usually placed in corridors outside the elevators). I was desperate to either wash my hands or use some of the alcohol gel that in most hospitals is provided in every waiting area and outside every room.  After visiting five different floors and six waiting rooms, I can say that Evangelismos, as far as I know, has many locked bathroom doors and precisely one gel dispenser outside the entrance to outpatients and nowhere else. One, for the entire hospital.

When you cannot pay staff, when there are massive lay off's, when hospital wings are shut down and when there is no money to pump into better nurse training and education you see the sights I saw in Evangelismos.

Something that struck me hard was the ugliness of the surroundings and the lack of privacy. I watched a nervous patient wait to get some results from her doctors. I don't know what her ailment was but she wore a brightly coloured headscarf  to cover her obviously bald head. After a ten minute meeting with doctors in a room off a depressing, dingy corridor (pictured above) she reappeared in floods of tears. There was nowhere for her to go for privacy. She was told to wait on one of the five chairs outside the elevator banks. There she sat and cried and cried.

 I am happy to report that my friend survived the lack of follow up care and the undoubtedly a germ ridden environment and was released from Evangelismos the next day.

That same day I received a tearful phone call from an Albanian woman who has lived in Greece for twenty years and has raised her seventeen year old son here. Between sobs she told me he had collapsed in the street from an unknown cause and had been admitted to, where else?, Evangelismos.  Neither he nor she had state or private health insurance and after a morning of tests, her bill was already over 700 euros, a small fortune for a lady in her circumstances. This sum will keep mounting as the doctors perform more tests to determine the cause of her son's collapse.  If she can't pay, no drugs can be given if needed and perhaps the cause will never be diagnosed.

The official government stance is that if you have no money to pay for medical care, the state will always cover the costs. This seems to be blatantly untrue and there are hundreds of patients with life threatening diseases that are dying simply because they are uninsured or can't afford treatment.

Greece is a European country in the twenty first century but in visiting a state hospital here you would be forgiven for thinking you had dropped into the 1900's in one of the farthest reaches of the third world.

My recent experience this week with the Greek health care system has shown me that it is a body that is dying slowly as its limbs are amputated and its vital organs slow down. The European Union seems to have blithely overlooked the growing health crisis here and those old clichés of uncaring New Yorkers stepping over bodies on their way to work seem to be resonating strongly with me at the moment.   IKA is hanging on by its last breath and it needs help NOW.

I am attaching a link to the Metropolitan Community Clinic and I would ask anyone reading this who thinks I might be exaggerating the problem to have a look at what they have to say on the current state of Greek medical care.

Metropolitan Community Clinic