I left Serifos two days ago on a rainy afternoon, attempting to make the best of my remaining days in Greece with some island-by-island adventure.
I jumped on board the ferry for Milos, original home of the Venus de Milo, just in time to depart. The ride was smooth, about an hour and a half long, with a brief stop on the island of Sifnos.
The home I stayed in on Serifos had a great deal of fine pottery from Sifnos including a few beautiful blue bowls.
Upon landing in Adamas, a woman from town wandering the port asked me if I wanted a room. Her name was Nina. When I told her I was from San Francisco, she informed me she had relatives there.
I was led to a handsome small apartment building with rooms nested on three floors. Past flanks of black and white cats, I climbed the stairs.
The room was comfortable and clean with a refrigerator full of peas and bread and a hot pot. A gorgeous hand blown poppy-flower shaped fixture hung above the bed, with drizzles of gold paint in cross-hatch patterns. A matching bamboo loveseat and couch with a geometric patern in browns and greens from the 1960s. Other cozying elements included crocheted cozys and doilies.
It was maybe only the fifth night this year I’ve slept with a pillow that wasn’t meant for a plane. And probably one of the few in the last week where I slept for more than an hour or two.
The water was not potable, however, it was plentiful. It was tepid enough I could take a shower without shivering.
The port in Adamas was brightly lit against the blue water. I walked past bobbing boats to catch the Tripyti Road.
The vegetation here is a little different than in Serifos. Some beautiful red berries plants I could not quickly identify, gave off a sweet apple and rose smell. Sage and eucalyptus I broke off in pieces and inhaled.
Tripyti is a small town, like many others in Greece, with narrow streets and cafes and outdoor shops.
Guidance may vary during the tourist season. I found a single open market just past the main road. It took me close to an hour!
I was pleased to find Orangeade and Smarties, a British candy I enjoyed when I first came to Europe in my teens.
Just past is the Tripyti Theater, a lava rock and marble beauty, facing the Mirtoon Sea.
I imagined what it would be like addressing a group of people on the floor of the ampitheater.
I sat on some of the old marble columns and touched rocks and trees all along the road to leave a bit of my energy with Milos.
One final stop for me on the island of Serifos was the Monastery of the Taxiarchon.
Taxiarchon is a rough translation. It indicates what English speaking Christians would refer to as Archangels. Taxi means to move. Archon or "arches" indicates one who oversees or arches over a group. So The Monastery of Taxiarchon is The Monastery of the Archangels.
This time I remembered my scissors to gather wild grapes along the road, and retraced my steps to Piraeus.
From there, the road to the Monastery, founded in the 15th century, is about 7 km of seaviews. I found a driftwood walking stick and began clopping my hiking booths through delicate clouds of hatching flies, tiny spiders flying through the air on a single thread of their own silk. I offered some of my homemade bread to ants along the road.
Taxiarchon is a tidy white compound with a mosoleum and a chicken coop. I climbed a flight of stone steps and crept through a wooden hatch door.
On the other side, the pink double doors of the monastery’s inner sanctum came into my view, buttressed by an overhang of olive trees.
The sanctum was located in a depression in the middle of two levels of surrounding walkways. Every few feet, hatch doors marked the monk’s quarters.
A few of these tiny meditation chambers were open. They looked like dorm rooms for very small students. Not much headroom at all, so indicating seated or resting meditation. The were tidy friendly digs with refrigerators and stickers, degrees and portraits.
The leader of the order opened up the sanctum for me to inspect. I had not been inside a Greek Orthodox church of this caliber to my recollection.
The sanctum held about a dozen irreplacable artifacts. According to the leader of the order, each was about 100 years older than the next. The oldest, an Arabian cistern, dated back from shortly after the founding of the order. It resembled a very tall amphora and was posted next to arm rests, apparently made from olive wood, for the monks, who stand between them for several hours during organized prayers.
Just to the left of this this was a wall of tin press fetish articles, hands and throats and hearts, my understanding is that these indicatet illnesses and infirmities the monks have prayed for.
Additional artifacts in the room included a handsome Egyptian incense burner, just over the entry and a woven gold and platinum thread tapestry depicting the entombed body of Jesus surrounded by his apostles.
I made a donation of 2 Euros to the order. In return, I recieved a nougat of the type made by the order to support their work. It had the consistency of marshmallow, with the milk-and-honey flavor of Greek confectioners sugar.
