Sani Magazine

A G O O D L I F E D E S T I N AT I O N

Enter our world, welcome to Sani Resort The SANI MAGAZINE editorial team

Contents Halkidiki life p. 12

History meets beauty p. 30

A walk throuth the city p. 40

Passion for art p. 76

Behind the scenes p. 96

20 Years of magic p. 70

Star worlds p. 82

Greek flavour p. 88

A brief history of food p. 92

Summer 2011 short stories p. 52

Nomads of the 21st century p. 46

An invaluable heritage p. 35

A wonderful world p. 24

That's entertainment p. 102

Beauty and spas p. 104

Pomegranate bliss p. 112

Editorial

Dear guests, It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to the Sani Resort.

In the midst of the difficult economic circumstances which Greece is experiencing, and which now seem, unfortunately, to be spreading to other European countries, the Sani Resort has demonstrated a remarkable capacity – way beyond our expectations, I would say – to remain competitive, thanks to the affection and confidence of its thousands of loyal customers, your own affection and confidence. I feel that before I say anything else I must offer you my heartfelt thanks for your loyalty and support.

The confidence and affection of so many customers, which made us the leading hotel business in Greece in 2010, were not, of course, the product of chance. They are the result of many years of hard work and perseverance, aimed at creating a world class resort – a resort which would retain, however, its human scale, the sophistication and high aesthetic standards of its architecture, as well as a sensitivity to the need to protect the natural environment.

This endeavour - by no means simple and its results by no means guaranteed - does seem to be bearing fruit. And this is something in which we all take great pride.

This year you will find the Sani Resort more splendid than ever, with many of its facilities – particularly at the Sani Beach Hotel – completely renovated and brought up to date, and, most important of all, its staff smiling and efficient, ready to provide you with days of quality enjoyment, of peace and happiness, surrounded by a landscape of extraordinary natural beauty.

Since the very first issue we have done our best to make the Sani Magazine, which you are reading now, something that transcends the ordinary conventions of the hotel magazine. We want it to be your companion and guide during your stay with us, a source of relaxation, introducing you to new worlds, new dreams.

You can be confident that this year, as always, we will try our very hardest to make your holidays with us an unforgettable experience.

Chairman, SANI S.A.

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SANI MAGAZINE '11

destination

P H O T O

A L B U M

2 0 1 1

Photographs: Andreas Sfyridis (we thank the Halkidiki Regional Unity for the licensing of its photo archive), Heinz Troll for Sani Resort archive

life

By Argyro Barata

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The gastronomy essence Fresh fish > Diamantis Restaurant > Siviri | Cheek of sea bream > Alexis Restaurant > Sani Marina | Connoisseur’s wine list > Άris Delicatessen > Nikiti | Best stews in Halkidiki > Μαrigoula > Polygyros | Stuffed courgette flowers > Μαssalia > Nea Fokaia | Tomato meat balls with water melon > ntomata Restaurant > Sani Marina | Unforgettable gastronomic sensations > Squirrel > Danai Beach Resort | Fresh fish > Captain Hapsas > Porto Koufo | Meatballs with peppers > Sotiris Restaurant > Tristinika | Dining by candlelight > Ta Kimata Restaurant > Neos Marmaras | Japanese genius > Sea You Up > Sani Marina | Beef with pomegranate sauce > Sousourada & Sgouros Skantzohoiros > Athytos | Fresh fish > Μαrίνα > Nea Potidaia | Gastronomic ecstasy > Water Restaurant > Sani Asterias Suites | Ouzo and appetizers > Kritikos Restaurant > Ouranoupoli | Homemade village sausages > Plateia tis Anthoulas > Kryopigi 14

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The blue essence Landscape of granite > Kakoudia, Ierissos | Return to nature > Develiki, Gomati | An island in the midst of Halkidiki > Pounta, Toroni | The glory of the past > Xenia, Paliouri | For solitude > Agios Georgios, Paliouri | All friends together > Agios Mamas, Potidaia | An emerald treasure > Akti Koviou, Nikiti | In the embrace of the pine trees > Akti Spathies, Nikiti | Diving from the boats > Limanakia Porto Carras, Marmaras | Cocktails till sunset > Fourka, Pallini | A landscape from another world > Kavourotrypes, Sarti | For naturists > Alatobares, Tristinika | A sandy promontory > Poseidi, Pallini | The gem of Halkidiki > Vourvourou | Before the immensity of the Aegean > Bousoulas > Sani Resort

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3 The local agricultural essence Wine > Arnaia, Mt. Athos, Sithonia | Honey > Nikiti, Kassandra, Mountain Halkidiki | Oil > Olynthos, Pallini, Holomontas | Marianna’s vine leaves > Nea Gonia | Traditional leek pie > Goniatisses, Nea Gonia | Olives > Ormylia, Polygyros, Moudania | Preserved fruit and jams > Arnaia | Goat’s milk cheese > Mountain Halkidiki | Fresh fruit > Ormylia, Nea Fokaia | Jams > Palaiohori | Fabrics > Αrnaia

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5 The spiritual essence

4 The cultural essence Festival of the Sea > Nea Moudania | Afytos tis Afytou Festival > Athytos | Sani Festival > Sani Resort | Olive Festival > Olynthos | International Festival of Traditional Dance > Simantra | Agios Mamas Festival > Agios Mamas | Kassandra Festival > Siviri | Agia Paraskevi Festival > Arnaia | Toroni Bay Swim > Kallithea, Neos Marmaras | Sardine Festival > Nea Moudania 18

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Morning prayers in the monastery church > Philotheou Monastery | Mt. Athos fare served by Father Epiphanios > Agios Efstathios, Mylopotamos | The view of the sunrise > Iviron Monastery | Wine tasting at the Chromitsa dependency > Russian Monastery of Agios Panteleimon | 16th century frescoes > Monasteries of Stavronikita, Docheiariou and Dionysiou | Religious relics of the Holy Girdle of the Virgin, and the miracle-working icon of the Panayia Paramythia >Vatopedi Monastery | Mosaic icons of Agios Georgios and Agios Demetrios > Xenofontos Monastery | The library of the Athonite community >Megisti Lavra Monastery | Lake Dafni > Karies | The imposing architecture of Mt. Athos > Simonos Petras Monastery

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6 The historic essence The birthplace of Aristotle > Stageira | The earliest traces of human habitation in Europe > Petralona Cave | Ancient Olynthos, Byzantine watchtowers > Toroni , Nea Fokaia, Sani, Ouranoupoli | The archaeological museum > Polygyros | Mademohoria > Municipality of Aristotelis | The Athonite Monastic Republic > Athos peninsula | The folklore museums > Polygyros, Arnaia, Nea Triglia, Nea Moudania 20

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7 The fun essence Windsurfing > Poseidi | Scuba Diving > Sani Resort, Porto Koufo | Night clubbing > Aqua, Pearl, Angels > Kallithea | Sunday lunch parties > Aqua Mare > Fourka | A romantic stroll > Athytos | Adrenalin at the casino > Neos Marmaras | Boat trips > Ammouliani | Swimming with the crowd > Agios Mamas | Swimming alone > Paliouri | Swimming with the waves > Kalamitsi | Chill out east and west > CohI > Neos Marmaras, Siroco > Agios Nikolaos

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8 The camping essence First Class > Akti Oneirou > Vourvourou | Favorite campsite for 20-somethings from Thessaloniki > Armenistis > Akti Armenisti | Favorite campsite for 30-somethings from Thessaloniki > Thalatta > Kalamitsi | Ethnik > Isa > Tristinika | An unspoiled setting > Paradeisos > Kriaritsi | Sea and good food > Linaraki > Sykia | Oldies but goodies > Platanitsi > Toroni | Solitude > Alykes > Ammouliani | Atmosphere > Porto Elea > Akti Zografou | Family moments > lακάrα > Akti Kouloumousi 24

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good life

A

S A N I

lways on the cutting edge of tourism developments, the Sani Resort gives the concept of the holiday a new and richer meaning. Because the Resort is not simply a group of hotels by the sea. It is not a fantasy community, designed to seduce the holidaymaker with the charms of an imaginary lifestyle. It is a five-star holiday destination, where the management takes a genuine interest in human values and the natural world, real comfort and beauty, friendly services of the highest quality, exceptional food, the arts, security ... A community developed methodically through experience, boldness of imagination and vision. It is a new reality unfolding before the eyes of those who choose the Sani Resort for their vacation, a resort geared 100% to satisfying the needs and realizing the dreams of all its guests.

r es o r t

Located conveniently close to the international airport at Thessaloniki, the Sani Resort is situated on 4,000 hectares of privately owned land on the Sani promontory in Kassandra, the first foot of the Halkidiki peninsula. It is known for its concern for the natural environment and enjoys a beautiful natural setting, with clear, blue waters and views of Mt. Olympus and the Aegean, an important bird sanctuary which is home to many rare species, set among protected pine forests. The four five-star hotels of the Sani Resort, located in this fabulous natural setting, offer a state-of-the-art marina, three spas, an international music festival celebrating its twentieth anniversary this year, a week-long gastronomy festival, now in its sixth year, luxury villas and incomparable services and amenities.

A wonderful world

By Georgia Dodou

Everything about the Sani Resort has always been special: the concept, the style, the internal and external environment, the atmosphere, the high standards of those who designed and run the hotels and facilities. There has always been total commitment to providing the very best, to offering a vacation environment with a difference. Now more than ever before, it is essential that a holiday resort offer a real experience for its guests, respecting their need for a genuinely different experience, for physical comfort and relaxation, for cultural and spiritual stimulation.

The Sani Asterias Suites have been ranked among the 100 best hotels in the world by the authoritative Condé Nast Traveller, while the Sani Beach Club, Porto Sani Village and Sani Beach Hotel have been fully renovated and updated by the architect Niki Andreadi and her NIMAND practice. The newly designed rooms, common areas and other interventions show full respect for the natural environment while reflecting the hotel’s commitment to ongoing improvement in services and quality of life.

A new model is now being followed in sophisticated tourism, offering a new lifestyle for contemporary holidays.

The 2

nd

generation resorts take a new approach to holidaymaking,

and the Sani Resort is one of the few Mediterranean destinations which have embraced this new philosophy.

Every aspect of the tourism sector – locations, facilities, hospitality – is affected by the different tastes of each different age. People’s wants and requirements are continually changing. So what is the priority of today’s tourist? The holidaymaker of today wishes to feel that his needs, desires and dreams are respected and appreciated. He seeks out destinations where the concepts of vacations and leisure, comfort and quality, are given the importance they deserve, destinations with facilities for family and friends. A place where man and nature coexist in harmony. A place, in short, where he can be happy and live well. The Sani Resort offers a beautiful natural setting, buildings designed with respect for the environment, services provided with genuine friendliness and courtesy. It is a place to discover the virtues of the past and the promise of a better future. The vision of a contemporary Greece at her best.

Photographs: Heinz Troll for Sani Resort archive, Iosifina Svania 26

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The 15+1 features that make the Sani Resort unique: 1> The 4,000 hectare private estate 2> The superb beaches 3> The company’s total commitment to good ecological practice 4> The wetland and bird sanctuary 5> The nature trails and other walks 6> The four five-star hotels, opulent but discreet, designed to blend in with the natural environment 7> The cosmopolitan marina with its superb services, comprehensive shopping facilities, bars, cafes and restaurants 8> The Sani Festival, now in its twentieth year, featuring prominent performers from the international music scene (jazz, classical, ethnic, contemporary, film music, Greek music) 28

9> The Sani Gourmet – Greece’s major gastronomic event 10> The three spas 11> The sports clubs 12> The fifteen restaurants, some of them winners of important awards, offering modern Greek, French and Italian and Asian fusion cuisine; not to mention the sixteen bars...

13> The garden theatre and Orfeas summer cinema 14> The special services and activities for infants and children – providing reliable childcare so parents can relax 15> The 24-hour security all across the resort And most important of all: the human factor – courtesy, an exceptional level of service, understanding and respect.

SANI MAGAZINE '11

New face S A N I

Photograph: Heinz Troll for Sani Resort archive

B E A C H

H O T E L

Luxury family holidays at the Sani Beach Hotel will now be even more enjoyable, thanks to the wideranging renovation recently completed. Guests will see the results as they approach the entrance through the surrounding gardens, while inside the 140 Junior Suites have been given a makeover, with neutral colours and dÊcor in the modern colonial style enhancing the sense of an escape from everyday routine, the objective of all hotel design. The new, large windows also change the feel of the hotel, bringing into the interior a full sense of the sea and open spaces outside. In the suites the dream beds with their ultra-comfortable mattresses, the anti-allergy pillows, light blankets and quilts designed for the Mediterranean summer will all make your stay unimaginably luxurious! For adults, there is My Spa for relaxation and the Sani Marina for fine dining and leisure, while children will discover their own idea of paradise in the new outdoor play area. There are also the Kids Company and the mini clubs, taking care of children aged four months to 16 – with appropriate activities for each age group. Can you imagine a better place to spend a vacation?

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destination

Photographs: Andreas Sfyridis (we thank the Halkidiki Regional Unity for the licensing of its photo archive)

Athytos rises like a fortress above the sea from the Kassandra peninsula in Halkidiki, a magnificent vantage point from which to gaze out over the Aegean.

History meets beauty

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o those who know Greek, to hear the name Afytos is to know that the town has been occupied since ancient times. Some believe that Afytos was an actual person, others that the name (in which the first letter is not the usual indication of absence or negation) refers to an abundance of plants (fyto) in the area. Whatever the truth of the matter, Afytos is a place endowed with extraordinary beauty, and it is no wonder that people have made their home here for so many centuries. Archaeological finds demonstrate the existence of a settlement here in prehistoric times, colonized by settlers from Eretria in the

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8th century BC. The town is referred to under its alternative name Athytos by Herodotus, Thucydides and Aristotle. The sanctuary of Dionysius dates from the 8th century BC, and the Temple of Zeus Ammon, protector of the town, from the 4th century. A prosperous community in archaic and classical times, it minted its own coins, bearing the head of Zeus Ammon. The modern town has some of the most interesting examples of vernacular architecture to be seen in Halkidiki.

It is set in a location of breathtaking beauty, enjoying some of the cleanest and warmest sea waters to be found anywhere in the Mediterranean.

SANI MAGAZINE '11

the use of porous stone by local craftsmen provides some of the most representative examples of modern Greek vernacular architecture

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The porous rock on which the town is built forms a striking contrast with the lush vegetation, still fed by the waters of ancient springs. But it is the traditional village itself which makes the most powerful impression on the visitor, the use of porous stone by local craftsmen providing some of the most representative examples of modern Greek vernacular architecture, foremost among them the house of Katsanis, of the painter Paralis, and that of the musician Mantakas on Mondounou St., both of them boasting remarkable architectural details. The Church of Agios Demetrios in the centre of the village is also extremely interesting. Built of the local porous stone in 1858 and the only church in Halkidiki to be designed as a domed basilica, it has remarkable carved reliefs by local craftsmen above the windows and on the bell tower. A walk through the narrow streets of the town brings a wonderful sense of tranquility,

and in the summer months there are opportunities to enjoy a range of cultural events and to savor some of the local traditions. On 23 and 24 June there is the Festival of Kleidon, in July there are five days of events honoring the artist Nikos Paralis, and on the last weekend of July there are a number of special events surrounding the famous Toronaio, in which hardy swimmers make the crossing of the bay from Sithonia.

In August there is the eight-day Bridges of Culture event, as well as five days of music, dance and theatre, races, swimming, donkey races and bicycling contests, and exhibitions of painting, sculpture and books in the week of the 15th August. For those in search of simpler pleasures, Afytos has one of the best restaurants in the region, Sousourada, and many people come to the town just to drink at Koutsomylos cafe-bar and enjoy the amazing views.

SANI MAGAZINE '11

ecology

By Sani Green Team

An invaluable

heritage

In the Sani wetlands, the song of the birds seems more cheerful than elsewhere, perhaps because they feel safe here. Take a walk among them and enjoy their music.

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Photographs: Konstantinos Stafylidis

A total of 214 species of wild birds have been recorded at the Sani wetlands, many of them strictly protected. To be more precise, 31% of the species feature in the revised Red Book of Threatened Wildlife in Greece (and 16% in the three most important categories of the book).

L

ike any living organism, the natural world as a whole has its vulnerabilities, and also its defence mechanisms. Nature may seem to permit our incursions, but she always remains all-powerful, unconquerable, always evolving, and gifted with incredible powers of self-healing and regeneration. And should the latter be needed, we shall not be here to see it! Before then we will have come face to face with the wrath of nature – terrible to the just and unjust alike.

The signs are already present; the natural world is sending out its SOS signals, calling on us for help. Fortunately, over the last few years action has begun to be taken on the global level, the environmental movement has gathered strength, individuals and businesses have realized that every one of us must join the battle to prevent catastrophe. We have reached the point of no return; this may be our last chance to change course and advance in a new, more sustainable direction.

At Sani S.A. there are many things we can take pride in. First, that we remain committed to our primary objective – to offer superb hospitality in a place of remarkable natural beauty.

Second, that we offer such a high quality of service in all areas of our business. Third, the cultural and artistic events we stage. And last, but by no means least, our ecological programmes: from recycling and energy-saving to protecting the Sani wetlands – a contribution to nature conservation, a beautiful amenity for our visitors to enjoy, a legacy to future generations.

Our wetlands programme is a significant environmental initiative, funded entirely by Sani S.A. and involving the study and protection of the wild birds of the Sani wetlands. The man in charge of the programme is environmentalist Lefteris Kakalis, working under the supervision of the ornithologist and Assistant Professor at the University of the Aegean, Triantafyllos Akriotis. For a whole year the specialists worked on preparing a plan to monitor the bird life and habitats in the local wetlands, preparatory to conducting a census of the wild bird populations, establishing a data base, defining the priority species for the area (protected, rare) and determining what measures are needed to conserve them. ‘We made four-day visits each month from October 2009 to September 2010 to record the bird life, the human activities and environmental problems of the area, while also mapping the main habitats’, explains Lefteris Kakalis. ‘This was followed by analysis and evaluation of all the above parameters, and we then recommended the concrete measures needed for protection, rational management and promotion of the area. The purpose of the study was to gather the necessary environmental data, with the emphasis on the bird populations, to use as a database for future actions to protect, manage and showcase the area’.

Speaking of the distinctive features of this ecosystem, Lefteris points to the alternation of typical Mediterranean-type ecosystems on a small spatial scale, saying that this is one of the unique characteristics of the Sani wetlands, where coastal wetlands coexist in harmony with cultivated fields, olive groves, sand dunes and Mediterranean Aleppo pine forests, creating an interrelated complex of ecological processes. ‘What’s more, the differences between the two lakes in the area, in terms of salinity and vegetation, increases the variety of habitats and therefore the variety of bird life. Another unique feature, when you compare Sani with other coastal wetlands in Greece, is the low level of human intervention and the unspoiled nature of the landscape’.

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SM (Sani Magazine): How important are these wetlands for the environment of the region, and more generally?

LK (Lefteris Kakalis): This is an important location in European terms, with six species meeting the population criteria for inclusion of an area in the Natura network. There are also thirteen species with important populations on the national level. The wetlands of Sani are also important in European terms as a resting and feeding place for migrating birds like the little egret, the blackheaded gull and the little tern, as a breeding ground for the black-winged stilt and the common shelduck, and a wintering place of the ferruginous duck. In national terms, the wetlands are an important site for the dabchick, the purple heron, the greenheaded duck, the common pochard, the Eurasian coot, the common tern and the little tern during breeding season, as well as the black-throated diver, the great egret, the wigeon, the red-breasted merganser and the jack snipe during winter. Bearing all this in mind, we can definitely say that the Sani wetlands are an important regional wetland of northern Greece, less vital than the major wetland systems of the country (i.e. the Ramsar locations), but more important than many others of comparable size around the country. On the local level, they are far and away the most important in the prefecture of Halkidiki, and together with those at Agios Mamas make up the richest birdlife ecosystems in the prefecture.

SM: How do you manage visitors at ecologically sensitive sites like these? How do you propose to protect the wildlife on the one hand, but allow visitors access on the other?

LK: Visitor movement at ecologically sensitive sites like national parks is handled by special management agencies for the areas.

They weigh up the special features of their region (environmental parameters, the wildlife requiring protection, etc.) and the needs of the visitors and draw up special eco-development plans. What we plan for the Sani wetlands is that visitors should use the existing road network, and then special observation posts should be constructed for them. There should also be effective signing to help visitors gain access without disturbing the wildlife, and be able to watch the birds in their natural setting. We also propose protective measures in other areas, with solutions and alternative options for a number of issues, like dealing with sources of water pollution, protecting the pine forest from fire, guarding against unauthorized development that might compromise such a sensitive site, setting up breeding zones for certain priority species, protecting the bird populations from hunters, keeping the reed beds under control so they don’t overwhelm other important habitats, and so on.

While you are staying at Sani, don’t forget to experience these unique wetlands. Ask for one of the special maps and set a day aside for some fascinating bird-watching.

A

tip

total of 214 species of wild birds have been recorded at the Sani wetlands, many of them strictly protected. To be more precise, 31% of the species feature in the revised Red Book of Threatened Wildlife in Greece (and 16% in the three most important categories of the book). During the winter months, significant populations of aquatic birds live in the wetlands, including the Eurasian coot, the green-headed duck, the wigeon, the gadwall, etc. Eight species of aquatic birds breed in the area (a very high number for the surface area involved), the most

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important among them being the ferruginous duck (a globally threatened species), the common pochard, the jack snipe, the Eurasian coot and the green-headed duck. Also, two species of heron, the little bittern and the rare purple heron, as well as two species of terns, the little tern and the river tern. During the spring migration many flocks of black-headed gulls are to be seen, and in the autumn there are impressive concentrations of little egrets, as well as many aquatic species such as the black-winged stilt, the little stint and the wood sandpiper.

SANI MAGAZINE '11

destination

Photographs: Nikos Vavdinoudis

A walk through the city

LANDMARKS Aristotelous Square

The port

Ladadika

This is the city’s main piazza, the favorite meeting point for residents and visitors. Its lower section is flanked by two buildings with curved facades: the Electra Palace, one of the city’s best, five-star hotels, and the Olympion Theatre, where the International Film Festival is staged every November. The square was designed by Ernest Hebrard in 1917, after much of the city was destroyed in a terrible fire, and the facades of the buildings combine elements of Thessaloniki’s Byzantine heritage with memories and motifs from other European and Mediterranean cities. During the years between the wars and the immediate post-war period many of these buildings housed summer cinemas like the Rio, Ilysia, Rex and Zephyros. By the early 1960’s the area had acquired the appearance the visitor sees today.

In the early 19th century Thessaloniki was one of the busiest cities in the region, with rail links to Europe and Constantinople making it the major port and financial centre of the Balkans.

In the early 20th century the long breakwater was built, as well as the warehouses on the first pier, the customs house and the rail lines into the port, while the first mechanical equipment for handling cargo was also introduced.

Following the city’s integration into the modern Greek state in 1912 it continued to enjoy steady growth, and is now one of the country’s major ports, a maritime gateway to southeastern Europe. The most important of the port buildings is the old customs house, built in 1910 to plans by the architect Eli Modiano, and using the reinforced concrete which was to revolutionize 20th century architecture. The old warehouses on the first pier, monuments to the industrial age, were renovated in 1997 to provide venues for Thessaloniki – Cultural Capital of Europe, while in 1999 they were modified to provide homes for some of the liveliest cultural institutions of the city: the Contemporary Art Centre, the Photography Museum, the Cinema Museum, the Contemporary Art Biennale, the Photography Biennale, as well as frequent seminars, conferences, exhibitions, festivals and so on.

Behind the first pier of the port you will find the Ladadika, one of the busiest and most authentic districts in the historic centre of Thessaloniki.

From the 16th century onwards this area was a market for wholesale trade in olives, oil, cereals and other local and imported produce, and home to the various administrative services of the port. The district has now been revived and regenerated, with a completely new personality: many of the old warehouses have now become restaurants or bars, making the Ladadika the most fashionable area to eat out in. But despite its contemporary profile, the architecture, the stone-paved streets and the scents and smells of the neighbourhood still evoke the atmosphere of an age gone by.

Modiano Market The market was designed by the civil engineer Eli Modiano, and has a rectangular structure, with a pediment to the façade, covered by a glass roof. Together with the open street markets that surround it – the Kapani and Louloudadika - the Modiano Market has the picturesque, bustling atmosphere of a typical Greek market, with little shops and stalls selling groceries, spices, vegetables, meat and fish, as well as tiny restaurants. Always busy, and packed with shoppers at midday, the market is full of delicious fragrances and the air alive with a thousand different kinds of music. A place to delight the senses.

Yiahoudi Hamam The bathhouse dates from the first half of the 16th century and took its name from its location in the Jewish quarter. The double bathhouse – the male section larger than the female – remained in use until the early 20th century.

Since then it has housed commercial premises, with a row of flower shops along the northern side giving it the informal name Louloudadika Baths – the Flower Market Baths.

By Argyro Barata

A city like Thessaloniki offers a sequence of fascinating images: historic monuments alternating with places of living tradition. It is a city that needs to be explored and experienced close-up.

T

here is no better way to discover a city than to walk through it, and the interest is even greater if you approach your task through a series of themes. The urban fabric, historic buildings, local neighborhoods, busy streets, open squares, markets full of bustling life – these are the component parts that make up the unique character of a city, revealing stories from its past

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and present. More than many other cities, Thessaloniki is rich in unexplored secrets, old and fascinating stories concealed behind the contemporary surface.

And exploring the city is even more intriguing when you have an outline of its history to refer to, a guide to lead you in the right direction.

SANI MAGAZINE '11

Bezesteni The old bezestenia of the Ottoman Empire were markets specializing in cloth and fabrics. One of the last surviving examples is to be found here in Thessaloniki, at the junction of Egnatia and Venizelou Streets, a rectangular building with four entrances and six domes, built by Sultan Mehmet II in the 15th century. It is still home to many shops selling cloth, but is also used as an exhibition venue. Surrounded by tavernas and bars it is one of the most lively points in the city centre.

Bei Hamam This Turkish bathhouse on Egnatia Street was built in 1444 by Sultan Murad II. The first Ottoman baths to be built in Thessaloniki, it is the largest to have survived intact anywhere in Greece. It consists of two separate sections, one for men and one for women, each with three chambers: cold, tepid and hot. It retains the distinctive atmosphere of a time gone by, with its water cistern, columned portico, massage couches, basins and marble benches, domes, wall paintings of plants and apertures to flood the interior with light. The bathhouse remained in use, under the name Paradise Baths, until 1968, when the building was leased to the Greek Archaeological Service for four years.

After the 1978 earthquake the building was renovated and is now used for cultural events and exhibitions.

Yeni Hamam Also known as the Aigli, the bathhouse was built in the late 16th century and remained in use until 1912. After the liberation of the city it was transferred into state ownership, and then sold to a private individual. It has been used as a storehouse, a cinema and, more recently, a venue for theatrical and musical performances and other cultural events.

If you are interested in taking a themed walk around the city of Thessaloniki, you are recommended to use the services of the Symvoli team.

For information and booking, check out their website at www.thessalonikicitywalks.gr or e-mail them at thessaloniki@symvoli.gr.

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1 5 Mitropolitou Iosif str.: Workshop of the jewellery designer Katerina Ioannidis. Stunning creations also to be found in galleries, museums and selected outlets in London, Vienna and Saudi Arabia. Check out: www.katerinaioannidis.gr

6 12 Amazonwn str.: Gruppo Casa for kitchens that will teach you how to cook!

2 40 Mitropoleos str.: Gallery Diamond – a display of remarkable precious stones. Limo transport available for visitors from the Sani Resort.

shopping: Top 20 The best of days begin with a good morning. Take a morning stroll and discover things to relax you, raise your spirits, and bring beauty into your life.

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4 Agias Theodoras str.: Gatsos Jewels – for the touch of glamour that makes all the difference.

6 Chrysostomou Smyrnis str.: Stemma – cult perfumes and cosmetics.

4 32 Pavlou Mela str.: Hionidis – one of the city’s top outlets for men’s labels. Fashion for the contemporary man about town.

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5 5 Vogatsikou str.: Emporio Armani. The favourite fashion spot for the well-dressed man.

Chanel forever! Must-visit store in a city famous for the elegance of its inhabitants (Athens store: Linea Piu, 6 Sekeri str.)

9 Apivita Cosmetics – Greek products designed to international specifications and based on pure, natural ingredients.

10 Designer Thomis Papadimitriou worked in London with Christopher Bailey and has now brought the spirit of the British capital to Thessaloniki.

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19 Proxenou Koromila str.: Stylefax Boutique – find out how the local stars dress.

14th km Thessaloniki-Halkidiki: Lusso has the city’s most interesting collection of chairs and relaxing armchairs.

12 26 Tsimiski str.: Parousiasi – synonymous with style! From kitchen gadgets and opulent dinner services to small items of furniture and designer objects.

16 21 Pavlou Mela str.: M&F Flora – a paradise of amazing materials and fabrics.

13 1st km Moudania-Kassandra, Halkidiki: Gerakis – the best ideas for cool shade in summer.

17 71 Mitropoleos str.: Shopping at Bloom. The best way to change your image – and improve your mood!

14 Poseidonos 2 str., Pylaia: Mexil, Design furniture with a contemporary look.

18 49 Proxenou Koromila str.: Summer is wedding season in Greece, and all the smartest brides dress at Pronovia. And if you care for the perfect candelier, you can check Chatziioannou light.

123 Georgikis Scholis Av.

19 Blé – sweet and savoury pastries and breads.

Pure addiction.

20 Kava Isimerinos – top choice of fine wines and other drinks.

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trend

The book of Julia Chaplin «Gypsetstyle» (ed. Assouline), is a chronicle of an alternative way of life, like the one of Lord Byron and Salvador Dali (foto).

By Michalis Skafidas

Once upon a time it was hippies and jetsetters, but now all the talk is of gypsetters, as described by Julia Chaplin in her book "Gypsetstyle".

>> Nomads of the 21 century << st

T

hey are not easy to find, but there are certain signs to know them by: they wear vintage Pucci kaftans, write poetry, sunbathe naked. Some of them will have an American Express Black Card in a crocodile-skin wallet; some of them are committed only to having a good time. If you are over forty, you might think I am talking about hippies, but these are actually the children and grandchildren of the original hippies, who have grown up in the world of Google and Twitter. While the mindless masses remain glued to Facebook, the new hippies prefer to read old-fashioned newspapers and holiday in undeveloped parts of the world, far from air conditioning and Hermes outlets. We call them gypsetters, a new class of travelers, seeking new experiences in remote parts of the world still untouched by Starbucks.

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The term ‘gypset’ was coined by Julia Chaplin, an American reporter who has roamed the world writing travel pieces for the American press. It was in St. Tropez – now widely known as the theme park of the nouveaux riches – that she had her moment of inspiration: ‘On one of the many trips I made for the New York Times I found myself in St. Tropez, writing about the alleged charm of the famous resort’, she recalls one afternoon in Manhattan. ‘But I was not enjoying myself at all, and felt a terrible disenchantment in this circus of show-offs. The more money you have, the harder it is to be sophisticated! When the two come together, money and sophistication, that’s ideal, but

SANI MAGAZINE '11

I don’t believe there’s a single person left in St. Tropez with any class. And I thought, this is no good, there must be alternative places, it can’t be that there’s nowhere left in the world where you can meet people who are affluent, but also creative and sophisticated. And so I decided to travel in search of them, applying new criteria’. This new quest led her to Peru, to Argentina and to Mexico, in search of the ‘refugees from Hollywood and St. Tropez’. And having discovered them, she joined them, inventing the word gypset and describing the gypsetters’ profile and lifestyle. Her book Gypsetstyle is the chronicle of this alternative lifestyle, the end product of an adventure that

led the writer beyond the frontiers of the glossy magazines. ‘What I like best of all about the gypset is that it has nothing to do with money’, she writes.

‘The glamour comes from the contribution the individual makes to the place where he is. It’s no coincidence that the people who define the aesthetic of the gypset are artists, fashion designers, photographers, musicians and surfers, people whose work is based on and reflects their lifestyle – and whose lifestyle is based on and reflects their work’.

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Lord Byron was one of the forerunners, in the 19th century, of what Chaplin calls the ‘decadent gypset’. Pursued by wives, lovers and mistresses, he sought refuge first in Italy and then in Ottoman Greece. Before the century of the hippy had even dawned, sophisticated fugitives were already discovering the charms of the gypset life, as they fled from scandals – especially in the Victorian era. The beautiful and much pursued aristocrat Jane Digby, for example, who lived in Victorian London and shared the same insatiable desire for men as Samantha in Sex and the City, abandoned the British capital for Damascus, where, to the profound dismay of her countrymen, she fell in love with a Bedouin and made her home for long periods of time. Without realizing it, adventurous spirits like Byron and Digby were blazing a trail to be followed by the modern gypset, a course that was regarded in their day as an eccentric detachment, a flight from the everyday, from scandal and convention and the tedium of bourgeois life. It is the same motivation that drove a poet like Byron, surrounded by admirers, or later, leading figures of the 20th century like Yves Saint Laurent (who created a refuge for himself in Marrakesh) and Peter Beard (the photographer who spent much of his life in remote corners of Africa).

The gypset has no official home. ‘America is not the centre of the gypset, not at all’, she observes.

Nor is Europe; in fact I don’t think there is any central point. These are nomads who find their own places on every continent’. Although anonymity is a must for the gypset lifestyle, its leading figures are celebrities, with Jade Jagger one of the prime examples. Jade wouldn’t be seen dead in St. Tropez. When she’s not in London, where her jewellery design company is based, Mick’s daughter heads for the beaches of Goa in India, the island of Mustique in the Caribbean, or sometimes Ibiza, where, despite the place’s reputation as a Mecca of drug-taking and frenzied clubbing, she manages to enjoy herself unmolested on the less popular northern side of the island. But according to Julia, perhaps the most famous of the gypsetters is the wealthiest artist in the world, England’s Damien Hirst. He and his partner, surfer and fashion designer Maia Norman, live on a houseboat on the Thames, alongside Chelsea Bridge, and spend their winters near Zihuatanejo in Mexico, a sleepy country town which experienced its fifteen minutes of fame in the 1960’s as the centre of the global LSD community founded by Timothy Leary. This is what distinguishes the gypsetters from the hippies and the démodé jetsetters: their aversion to anything that trivializes human existence or distorts the sensations.

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Whereas anonimity is the "must-have" code of the gypset way of life, its representatives are famous asJade Jagger and the Beatles, to name some of them. Left, Jane Digby, an aristocratgypset of the Victorian era.

When actors and rock stars stole the scene from poets, in the century of Mick Jagger, the rock star gypset made decadence fashionable again.

A mixture of the bohemian, the hippy and the jet set, fabulously wealthy, hyper-agoraphobic, incredibly spoiled, rock stars like the Beatles and Jagger became the personification of the gypset which inspired whole generations. As Chaplin reminds us: ‘The jet set discovered exclusive locations like Gstaad, Sardinia, St. Tropez and Acapulco, hopping from one to another with their Pucci dresses and Louis Vuitton luggage.

These lucky individuals could easily have afforded the jet set lifestyle, but they rejected it in favour of something spiritually more satisfying. They followed the path laid by the hippies,

but invested it with more style and glamour.

In contrast to the jet setters, they sought out destinations in India, Greece, Morocco and Spain, which was relatively unfashionable at the time, places quite off the map for those who insisted on hot water, hairdryers and international airports. The Beatles had all the money and contacts in the world, but instead of luxury hotels or fashionable resorts they chose to live barefoot at Rishikesh in India ... Leonard Cohen was just 26 when he moved to Hydra, buying a simple, whitewashed house without electricity or water. He set up his old Olivetti typewriter on a little table and sat bare-chested in the sun, hammering out the lyrics for some of his greatest songs.

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At the first sight of Hermes, the first scent of meaningless consumption, the gypsetters vanish into thin air. All it takes is for Madonna to touch down in a spot like Malawi, and the gypsetters will move on elsewhere

And even before the rock stars, there were the American writers, like Hemingway and, above all, the Beat generation.

Jack Kerouac, Paul Bowles and William Burroughs were the precursors of the new gypset, always on the move, always challenging custom and convention, always lamenting the provinciality of their immense fatherland. Bowles sought refuge in Tangiers from the ghosts of war, and the gypsetters who followed him made the city their own.

Until Aristotle Onassis arrived with his hordes of friends and followers, making the city the height of fashion, and the gypsetters slipped quietly away.

At the first sight of Hermes, the first scent of meaningless consumption, the gypsetters vanish into thin air. All it takes is for Madonna to touch down in a spot like Malawi, and the gypsetters will move on elsewhere. Hydra and Patagonia are no longer what they were for Leonard Cohen and Bruce Chatwin, nor is Mykonos the island of the Agios Sostis hippies. My gypsetter friend Sara has bought a fabulous ranch on the Argentine pampas with the money she made from selling her house on Mykonos. ‘I’d had enough’, she told me. ‘When I came here in the 70’s, I was living in paradise, on an island of unspoiled tranquility. Then I woke up one morning and realized I was living in a crowded suburb of Athens. Here on the pampas I feel the way I did on Mykonos, in the days when there was still no road to Agios Sostis’. The last time I saw a truly unforgettable

gypsetter on Mykonos was Easter 1990.

A friend of mine, an art dealer from Switzerland, came to the Easter party at my house in a Rolls Royce, and parked in an unfenced field. I warned him the cows might scratch his car. His reply: ‘The best thing that could happen to a boring old Rolls’. The final touch to a perfect day in the perfect place!

The most popular gypsetter destination is Panarea, one of the most picturesque of the Aeolian islands off the coast of Sicily. ‘One of the reasons both rich and poor flock to this little island every summer’, Chaplin explains, ‘is its distance from civilization. There are no cars; the hotels have no air-conditioning; people enjoy the novelty of not being surrounded by opulent, sevenstar hotels. This is why Berlusconi still comes here’. I imagine that the Italian PM, as far removed from the gypset philosophy as Byron is from Donald Trump, stays on his yacht off the coast of Panarea, ruining the view of the true gypsetters and spoiling their mood. But you can’t have it all your own way. If you are anxious to avoid the yachts of people like Berlusconi, there is always the alternative of Lamou, an island as tiny as Panarea, off the coast of Kenya.

You get there on a little steamer, which is always breaking down. Locals and tourists all walk around barefoot, and the beaches are magical. Just one problem: there are sharks in the water. This would seem to be the major dilemma facing the gypset in 2011: Berlusconi or sharks?

Photographs from the Conde Nast Traveller Greece archive

A mixture of the bohemian, the hippy and the jet set, fabulously wealthy, hyper-agoraphobic, incredibly spoiled, rock stars like the Beatles and Jagger became the personification of the gypset which inspired whole generations.

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s umm e r

2 0 1 1

short

s a n i

ma g a z i n e

p r e s e n t s

stories Panos Karnezis,

Soti Triantafylloy,

and Amanda Mihalopoulou,

three well-known Greek authors, have written three short stories inspired by holiday themes and locations for this edition of the Sani Magazine.

short

stories

Holiday

PANOS KARNEZIS Panos Karnezis was born in Amaliada in 1967 and studied engineering in Greece and the UK. He worked in industry for a while, but was to gain fame for another of his interests: writing. His book Little Infamies – written in English – was published to widespread acclaim in 2002, and translated into eight languages (the author himself translated the work into English). Karnezis, who still lives in London, is now one of the bestknown names in his field.

‘C’ è nient’ altro che posso fare per lei?’

They stood in the middle of the big room and admired the high ceiling with the plaster-of-Paris moulding and the gold paint, the old wooden floor and the tall French windows that opened out onto a small balcony overlooking the gardens. They had arrived in the country an hour earlier, early in the morning, on a long transatlantic flight that was delayed several times without any explanation. It was the first holiday in many years that the children had not come too. The husband walked up to the window and parted the thin lace curtains.

The big house was built on a steep promontory that crumbled into sharp boulders near the bottom and was swallowed by a calm sea. It was a big garden with narrow paths and paved steps, viewpoints that looked out at the sea, and enormous agave plants that were as strange as creatures from the bottom of the ocean. And everywhere there were the tall pine trees that shaded the garden and gave the quiet hotel its name: Villa dei Pini.

The bellboy coughed several times, until the couple turned and looked at him. The heavy suitcases were at his feet.

‘C’ è nient’ altro che posso fare per lei?’

‘What did he say?’ asked the husband.

‘It anything do you want?’

‘Give him something,’ said the wife.

The man searched his pockets and handed the boy a few perfect banknotes.

‘Here, son,’ he said, patting him on the shoulder.

‘Buy the Linguaphone records.’

The bellboy stared at him.

‘Records, signore?’

‘Never mind him,’ said the wife, and coaxed the boy towards the door. ‘Grazie. Tutto bene.’ She moved her hands expressively. ‘We tutto bene.

You can go. Molto grazie.’

‘Yes,’ her husband said, studying the frames on the walls with his hands in his pockets. ‘We’re very tutto bene. Please call again.’

The boy left their key on the bedside table, and shut the door. Suddenly the couple were alone in the big quiet room with their suitcases in a corner, the plaster-of-Paris moulding on the ceiling and the towering windows from where the morning sun was starting to lighten the grand room. A moment later the birds in the pine trees broke into song.

‘We should unpack,’ said the wife.

‘First I’m going to sleep.’

‘How can you sleep on a day like this? It’s beautiful.’

Standing at the window the man began to undress. He threw his clothes onto a chair, took off his watch and left it on the table next to the key, and then lay in bed with a sigh. His wife began to unpack. After hanging her husband’s shirts in the closet, she paused and looked out of the window.

‘This is such a beautiful place.’

The man in the bed folded his arms under his head, and stared at the ornamental ceiling. His wife hung the skirts and trousers on the rail, and put the underwear, the socks and a pair of woollen sweaters, unnecessary for such warm weather, in the drawers. When the suitcases were empty, she shut them and climbed onto a chair to store them on top of the antique closet.

‘Why don’t you go for a walk?’ the husband suggested.

He pulled the bed sheet from under him and covered himself. The starched fabric felt cool and pleasant, as the temperature in the room continued to rise.

‘Draw the curtains, will you?’ he asked. ‘No – the heavy ones.’

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short

stories

His wife went from window to window drawing the curtains, until the room sank into a warm velvety twilight. When she looked at him again he was snoring. She stood in front of the mirror and inspected herself. She wore a pair of olive chinos, a white sleeveless shirt and the leather trainers she had been avoiding for many years, until her feet could no longer tolerate any other shoe. The wrinkles on her face were in step with her age, but the dark circles round her eyes were only the result of the long flight. A hint of sadness was in her face, as if a shadow had passed over it and left an indelible mark.

After she shut the door behind her, the husband stopped snoring and waited for a moment.

Then he got out of bed and went and stood behind the curtain at the window. When he saw his wife come out into the garden, he sat on the edge of the bed and made a long telephone call.

Downstairs there was no one at the front desk. The wife had walked outside where she saw the young bellboy, now dressed in slack overalls, working in the garden. He raised his head and greeted her with a smile. She strolled along the paths that crisscrossed the gardens, passed among the sharp leathery leaves of the enormous agaves stretching out in front of her and came to a stone-paved terrace with iron tables and chairs where one could watch the sea under the shade of the trees. At one of the tables two middle-aged men sat side by side, holding hands. They were dressed in immaculate white suits and hats, and one had a clipped beard. Two small cups and saucers were on the table. When the men saw her they raised their hats.

‘Buongiorno, signora,’ they said in one voice.

The woman blushed. She stared at them, trying to smile. They men said: ‘È appena arrivata?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’

The man with the beard smiled.

‘Are you arrive today?’

‘Si.’

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They invited her for coffee at their table, and she said that she would love to but better perhaps later so that her husband, who was still in bed, could join them. The two men shrugged their shoulders amiably.

‘Certo. Other hour.’

They returned her goodbye with another oldfashioned tip of their hats, and sat back to continue admiring the view of the sea from the terrace. When the wife returned to the room the curtains were drawn open and her husband had finished his phone call and was lying in bed. He was reading.* ‘I had a lovely walk,’ she said. ‘What did you do?’

He raised his eyes.

‘Mm?’ ‘The gardens are very beautiful. Do you want to go for a walk together?’

‘In a while. I need time to acclimatise.’

The book he was reading was a thick detective novel he had picked at the airport. He had already read two thirds of it. Later he would shut it, and go for a walk with his wife. She went and stood at the tall French window and looked out, but could not see the terrace from there.

‘Those plants are strange in a beautiful way,’ she said.

Her husband did not lift his eyes from the page.

‘The cactuses?’

‘They’re called something else.’

‘Whatever they’re called, they seem deadly.

Be careful.’

It was only two hours since they had arrived, but felt as if they had been in the hotel more than a week. The temperature in the room was still rising. Outside the birds still sang. Despite the long flight, the woman was not tired. She opened the glass doors and walked out onto the balcony. The air was as warm as inside. The wife looked in the direction of the terrace but the pine branches obscured the view.

‘We should call the children,’ she said.

Her husband checked the time in his watch on the bedside table.

‘Not yet. It’s the middle of the night back home.’

The woman returned inside.

‘I met a nice couple in the garden,’ she said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Two men.’

Her husband looked at her briefly over his halfmoon glasses.

‘They were sitting side by side,’ said his wife.

‘Holding hands.’

‘That’s what men do out here.’

‘You’re thinking of the Middle East.’

Her husband licked the tip of his finger and turned the page.

‘Same thing. It’s because of the climate.’

SANI MAGAZINE '11

‘Yes,’ his wife nodded. ‘They have acclimatised.’

The bed sheets were not fresh anymore. The husband pushed them off, and searched the walls with his eyes for the air conditioner, but the room did not have one. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, big hands and a fat stomach that had defeated his several attempts to lose weight over the years. But at least his hair was silver and thick, and his skin tanned quickly in the summer. He was almost pleased with his appearance.

‘Perhaps they’re Siamese twins,’ he said.

His wife was standing at the window looking out again. There was nothing to do. She wished that the children were with them. She wished she had not agreed to the holiday.

‘Who?’ she asked.

‘The two men. On the terrace.’

Their room was too big. On the walls there were framed pictures of landscapes, and on the ceiling an old chandelier whose light bulbs were blackened with dust. The room was not as impressive as it had seemed at first. The husband felt sad and tired. He shut his book and put it on his lap.

‘The proper term is “conjoined”,’ he said. ‘When I retire I’ll write a detective novel where one conjoined twin would be the villain and his brother the policeman assigned to the case.

What do you think?’

His wife was still standing at the window.

‘They asked us to join them for a drink on the terrace,’ she said. ‘Would you like to go?’

‘ ...The story would climax with a shoot-out between the two brothers.’ The man rubbed his chin. ‘But I haven’t worked out the ending yet.’

‘I would like to go. They seemed like nice people.’

Her husband picked up his book and turned the page; he was a fast reader.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Maybe we could do some interesting things together – an excursion or something.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘But I have to be careful. They may steal you from me.’

The man curled his lip.

‘Don’t worry. If they were holding hands they must be in love.’

‘Do you think we seem in love to other people?’

Her husband folded the corner of the page and closed his book. In the en-suite bathroom he urinated with the door open. When he returned, his wife was choosing clothes.

‘Perhaps they know the area,’ she said. ‘We could go hiking. And they speak the lingo.’

The man lay in bed again, and picked up his book.

‘I’d rather rest than run around with a couple of strangers who may or may not be conjoined twi—’ ‘Isn’t that what you like to do?’ asked his wife.

‘Running around with strangers?’

The husband said nothing. He found the page and started to read again. But then suddenly he put down the book.

‘It was a mistake,’ he said. ‘What more do you want me to say?’

His wife was quiet. She was standing in front of the closet choosing clothes.

‘And it’s over,’ the man said.

He picked up his book but could not concentrate.

‘I gave you my word. It was ... a stupid thing.’

‘We shouldn’t have come,’ said his wife.

‘We agreed to, didn’t we?’

The woman took down a shirt from its hanger and held it in front of her and looked herself in the mirror.

‘We shouldn’t have come alone,’ she said.

‘We’re not alone. We have your friends on the terrace. Remember?’

‘We should’ve brought the children.’

She finally chose some clothes and put the rest back in the closet.

‘Is it time to call home yet?’ she asked.

The husband did not check his watch.

‘No.’ Later they bathed, dressed and walked to the terrace where the two men in white were still sitting at the same table, holding hands, watching the calm sea. A cool breeze was blowing from the sea that shook the trees and swept the dry pine needles off the floor of the terrace. As soon as they saw the man with his wife coming down the path, the two men sprang to their feet.

‘Welcome. Piacere.’ They pulled up two chairs.

‘Prego. Have a seat.’

The husband shook hands with both men warmly. He decided he liked them. All four sat at the table. The bellboy came, dressed back in his uniform, and they ordered drinks. While they waited, one man said: ‘Siete proprio una coppia deliziosa.’

‘Excuse me?’ asked the husband.

The other man, with the beard, smiled.

‘He say you are what a lovely couple.’

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short

stories

A long

honeymoon To Erika and Stefan Svanström

SOTI TRIANTAFYLLOU Soti Triantafyllou was born in Athens in 1957.

After studying pharmaceutical science at the University of Athens, and then French literature, she went on to study history in Paris and American history in New York. She developed an early interest in writing, with an impressive range of subjects, and has written novels and children’s stories as well as essays on the cinema, in which she takes a keen interest. She has also worked as a translator and editor, and regularly writes articles for the Athenian newspapers.

I

t was the promise of a honeymoon in Oceania that had persuaded her to marry him.

A whole month’s honeymoon: four weeks, perhaps even longer.

‘Marry me, Marina, marry me! And everything will be perfect!’

He had knelt before her in the middle of the street at two in the morning, with two motorbikes bearing down on him – Marina had nearly fainted.

‘All right. All right. Get up! Fix a time at the town hall and I’ll be there’.

And so the wedding wasn’t so much about getting married, as about having the honeymoon afterwards. The whole clan had offered to help – parents, aunts, uncles, Marina’s grandma, friends and colleagues too – chipping in fifty, a hundred or two hundred Euro each so that Dionysis and Marina could have their trip to Oceania. There was no list of presents, no household appliances or plates or candlesticks; all they wanted was the exotic five-star resort in Oceania with its miles of sandy beaches. The good life!

‘But why don’t you go to Crete?’ Dionysis’ mother asked them. ‘Crete has lots of beaches and resorts’.

‘Why not Tunisia?’, asked friends who had been on a package holiday to Tunisia and Morocco.

‘Why not Portugal?’

Because Dionysis had promised Marina a honeymoon in Oceania, and because Marina was afraid it was their last chance to see the world.

It wouldn’t be long before Dionysis was on his knees again, begging her to make him a father. He might even get down and beg her twice – to have two children. To ensure the reproduction of the species. After all, that was how it usually went ...

Dionysis took care of the wedding arrangements, while Marina was in charge of the holiday. Destination: Port Douglas, Queensland.

A tropical resort with palm trees and emerald waters – or rather, coral waters, since the sea at Port Douglas was known as the Coral Sea. That’s what it said in the brochure, and the photographs on the internet confirmed it. They took the midday Lufthansa flight to Munich, and then transferred to Air New Zealand. Marina was bursting with happiness, and Dionysis was happy because Marina was happy.

At Munich, the plane landed ninety minutes late, ‘owing to heavy snowfalls’. They circled the airport for an hour and a half, and when they finally touched down, the Air New Zealand flight had already taken off.

‘Never mind’, they said, and spent the evening in the bar at the Holiday Inn Express, gazing out at the snowbound runways through the window.

‘Amazing’, said Marina, and Dionysis agreed.

In the morning they woke early, the Air New Zealand flight left at 6, but in the end they weren’t put on this flight, but on a Pacific Blue flight for Auckland.

‘Never mind’, they said. ‘We wanted an adventure, so ...’.

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stories

The flight to Cairns, Australia, was scheduled to last 32 hours and 5 minutes, with a stopover in Abu Dhabi and a change of planes in Singapore.

Marina took a couple of sleeping pills, wrapped herself up in the Pacific Blue blanket and fell asleep, curled awkwardly in her seat. Dionysis had too little leg room, after two or three hours he was losing feeling in his legs. Only two or three hours gone, that meant they had another 30 hours to go. And five minutes!

Time seemed to stand still. Dionysis wondered if the first-class passengers had enough room to stretch out their legs and go to sleep. And were they enjoying other comforts, perhaps? He had heard that on one airline specially trained stewardesses administered massages to VIPs in first class – but Dionysis and Marina were not VIPs, and were not in the first class section.

A number of meals were served; they made a number of trips to the toilet; they took several strolls up and down the aisle to stretch their legs – despite the turbulence which was shaking the plane. Then they studied the guidebook to Australia, specifically to Queensland, and Dionysis read a whole book he had bought at Athens Airport. He gave it to Marina, who also read it to the end, but skipping parts here and there. And then, tired and bored, they began to quarrel, without really knowing why. Marina took another couple of sleeping pills and fell asleep, but when she woke she felt drowsy and her stomach was churning.

‘I’m so bored’, she moaned, and threw up all over the seat. The stewardess came running, cleaned up the mess, and Dionysis and Marina sat there rigid with embarrassment. Their limbs ached from the hours of immobility, they had pins and needles in their feet. Marina insisted that her feet were swelling up; she might have a blood clot in her leg.

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As the plane prepared to land at Cairns Airport, from where they would take a car to Port Douglas, the pilot gave the passengers a weather update. There was something enigmatic about the announcement; his words seemed ominous. Apparently Hurricane Olga ‘had now diminished in intensity’. So ... it had been intense? When?

It wasn’t long before Dionysis and Marina discovered that a few days earlier Hurricane Olga had been very intense indeed, lifting roofs off houses and uprooting palm trees. The driver from the Heaven hotel complex who was waiting for them at the airport held his little sign with a mournful expression.

‘We suffered a lot of damage at the resort’, he said. ‘All the bamboo huts have been ruined ...

What we’re recommending is that you stay at Heaven 2 in Brisbane’.

By now Dionysis and Maria were well versed in the geography of Australia.

‘Brisbane?’ they stuttered. ‘But Brisbane is two thousand kilometres away!’

‘One thousand seven hundred, actually’, the driver corrected them. ‘Unfortunately, you’ve come at a difficult time ... In the Tropic of Capricorn, these extreme weather phenomena are quite common ...’.

Dionysis and Marina checked in to the Holiday Inn at Cairns Airport. Marina fell asleep without even undressing, having taken another powerful dose of sedatives. Dionysis sat in front of the TV and zapped from channel to channel, too exhausted and irritable to sleep. Eventually he dozed off with the remote in his hand.

Midday the next day they were to leave for Brisbane. They awoke more or less refreshed and full of anticipation. The real honeymoon was about to begin ...

But it wasn’t.

As they prepared to leave, and Dionysis was shaving, their attention was arrested by words from the television: ‘Floods in north-eastern Australia. Images from Brisbane ...’. Their first thought was that these must be archive pictures from some earlier disaster, but no, Kangaroo News was giving the date and time, January 2011, and appealing for help. What do you do, Dionysis wondered, to help someone in a flood? Beginning to cry, Marina insisted that it was all his mother’s fault for telling them to go to Crete. ‘She jinxed the whole trip!’ Dionysis raised his hands and admitted ‘You may be right. She always did bring bad luck’. And although Dionysis was still shaving, Marina squeezed past him into the shower; they had always quarrelled about who should use the bathroom first.

SANI MAGAZINE '11

Then the phone rang. It was the man from Heaven. ‘Listen. There’s a problem in Brisbane.

We have flooding here, you may have heard about it on the news ... These things happen in the tropics ... We suggest we change your booking to Heaven 3 in Perth ... It’s beautiful there, you’ll have an unforgettable time!’

We’re already having an unforgettable time, thought Dionysis.

‘But, Perth is at the other end of Australia’, he cried out in protest a moment later. Marina had emerged from the shower, wearing the hotel’s white robe and matching slippers. She stood at the window and stared out, sniffling, at the wreckage of the trees. And while Dionysis tried to work out where they were sending them next, she began to chew on a Mars Bar she had found in the fridge.

They left for Perth on a Qantas flight: 9 hours and 5 minutes. Dionysis was irked by the five minutes they always seemed to add to these flight times. What was the point of those extra five minutes, except to drive the passengers mad with irritation? They ate four meals; they made four trips to the toilet; they paced up and down the aisle; they slept huddled together – and finally, they arrived at Perth. The man from Heaven 3 was waiting, courteous, armed with a little sign bearing Dionysis’ surname, prefaced by the usual Mr. and Mrs. This provoked a hysterical outburst from an exhausted Marina, shrieking that she did not belong to him and demanding to know where her own name was!

Soothingly her husband assured her that it was just a convention, there was no room for both surnames on the driver’s little card.

‘How stupid this marriage business is – becoming the Mrs. who belongs to some Mr!’ But the real problem was elsewhere, and of a completely different nature.

The landscape they drove through on their way to the hotel was reminiscent of Greece: windswept, arid ... and in places, scarred by fire.

‘They’ve just finished putting the fires out’, the driver said cheerfully, pointing to the scorched undergrowth and earth. ‘We had a lot of fires these last few days. The scrub caught fire ... the high temperatures ... the wind ...’.

Dionysis and Marina huddled in their seats. And when they arrived at Heaven 3, it was clear that the hotel resembled neither the one at Port Douglas, nor the one at Brisbane they had seen in photographs. It was a very tall building, like a small skyscraper, with pools, golf courses and pairs of old-age pensioners tottering slowly about, hand in hand. But the young honeymooners were much too tired and confused to voice their dissatisfaction. No sooner were they in their cool, comfortable room than they collapsed on the bed and slept through to the morning: nineteen hours sleep for Marina (with short breaks for chocolates and peanuts from the mini-bar) and fourteen hours for Dionysis.

At last they were able to relax! Sun, sea, exotic cocktails on the beach ... passionate kisses and loving embraces ... a real honeymoon!

In the morning they put on their bathing costumes and headed down to the sea. Not a soul in sight. ‘The ocean – what an amazing sight! Perfect for surfing!’ cried Dionysis, full of enthusiasm but a little daunted by the huge waves. But when they came closer to the water’s edge, they realized why there were no surfers or bathers to be seen: a sign planted in the sand offered a chilling warning: BATHING PROHIBITED: SHARKS! And a companion sign, wordless, offered a still from the film Jaws!

‘That’s in rather poor taste’, said Dionysis, gazing out to sea. Meanwhile, Marina had laid out her towel in the sand and they sat and anointed each other with sun cream. After a while, they made their way to the pool and splashed around for a while; but the water smelt of chlorine. That evening things improved somewhat: they ate and drank by candlelight, the night was warm, they felt like real honeymooners.

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The following day was much the same: boring, but not excruciatingly boring. But at the end of the third day, Marina announced that she was ready to slash her wrists from boredom!

But Dionysis would not countenance another move; the thought of boarding another plane made him feel suicidal as well. Finally they agreed to stay on a little longer, until they felt ready to travel again, and to explore the magic of New Zealand. On the fourth day they stayed in their room; not enjoying uninhibited sex, or indeed any activity relating to a honeymoon, but sheltering from the intolerable heat, enjoying the air conditioning, the room service, and the mini-bar’s stock of Mars Bars. Late in the day Marina stepped tentatively onto the electronic scales in the bathroom, to confirm her suspicion that she had put on two kilos.

‘This marriage is making me fat,’ she complained, close to tears again. To comfort her, Dionysis suggested a visit to the spa for a massage and mud bath, but Marina refused, insisting she was too fat. For the same reason, she was unwilling to visit the pool. All she wanted was to remain in the room and bemoan her fate.

A few more days passed, so empty of events that Dionysis began to miss the office. Whatever had made him request so many weeks of leave?

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And why had the company agreed? Were they planning to get rid of him? And how was he going to endure the weeks ahead with Marina sunk in depression? He was a fool to have given in to her wishes. Oceania, for heaven’s sake! His mother was right. They should have gone to Crete ...

Marina passed the time talking to her girlfriends on Skype. But the hours were inconvenient: when she was awake and keen to chat, it was night back in Greece and the girls were asleep.

Or vice versa.

‘What’s it like there, are you having a good time?’

‘It’s perfect, perfect! We’ll tell you all about it when we get back’.

Dionysis wondered why Marina was lying like this. But then again, people always lied about their vacations.

With just a few hours to go before their relationship soured completely, the couple decided to leave Perth and continue their journey to New Zealand – as planned, but a few days earlier

than originally intended. Another 9 hours and 5 minutes from Perth to Christchurch, New Zealand. But finally, finally, a real, wonderful, fabulous resort! Just as they had imagined it; just as they had seen in the photographs.

The good life! They were sitting beneath the rustling palms; it was midnight; the sky full of stars. Marina was reading the guidebook with the aid of a pocket torch. ‘We’re to the east of the Canterbury Plain, close to the southern end of Pegasus Bay ... Oh, Dionysis, what beautifully romantic names ... To the east the Pacific Coast and the mouth of the rivers Avon and Heathcote, to the south and south-east the volcanic slopes of Port Hills, separating the city from the Banks Peninsula ... The Maori tribe ... Dionysis, are you listening?’

The Maori tribe ...

SANI MAGAZINE '11

Barely had she uttered this phrase when the ground began to tremble beneath their feet.

An earthquake! Dionysis gripped her by the wrist and they made their way to the volcanic slopes, striding over the sand dunes, their feet sinking into the sand. Later, Dionysis explained to her he had been terrified of a tsunami, that was why he had raced towards high ground.

As soon as the tremors had ceased, and it was clear there was no tidal wave heading towards them, the couple stopped, gasping for breath, clutching their chests.

‘That – was –a – lucky – escape’, he gasped, so short of breath that Marina feared these might be his last words.

‘Yes’, she agreed, red in the face, sure she was on the brink of a heart attack.

A state of emergency was declared in Christchurch. Once again, they were obliged to leave.

They stayed three days amidst the wreckage left by the earthquake, waiting for seats on a flight to Europe. This was high season for New Zealand, and seats were scarce; all they could find was a long-haul flight of 31 hours and 5 minutes. They decided to break the journey into manageable parts; first they would fly to Auckland, stay there two days, then fly to Tokyo, stay there two days, and then return to Greece on Air France, via Paris. But checking their finances they realized they didn’t have enough money for so many stopovers: their credit cards were close to maxed out.

‘All your family are cheap’, Marina sneered, now apparently dissatisfied with the wedding gifts they had received.

‘You’re the cheap ones’, Dionysis retorted. ‘Your grandmother only gave us forty Euro!’

So, they would be returning to Greece on the 31 hours and 5 minutes flight. Marina started the trip with a dose of four sleeping pills – and threw up for the next eight hours. Dionysis raged silently. He would never, ever travel anywhere again. Not even to Thebes. Nowhere.

And to ensure they stayed close to home in future, he would take the necessary steps. It was essential to get Marina pregnant as soon as possible!

Once they were back in Athens, and had slept another 48 hours to recover, Dionysis finally switched on the TV. He was shaving, preparing to go in to the office, humming contentedly, relieved to be home. ‘Japan ...’ the voice intoned urgently ... Japan where Dionysis and Maria had not had the money to make a stopover ... there had been an earthquake, a tsunami, and a nuclear accident. In that order. Dionysis remained frozen, his razor halfway to his face.

Marina seized the opportunity to slip past him into the bathroom.

‘We could have been there ... What a stroke of luck!’ he called out to her, through the closed bathroom door.

‘Right. Lucky!’ Marina agreed. But her voice was drowned out by the sound of running water.

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Amanda Michalopoulou Born in Athens in 1966, Amanda realized at

Daddy will be

here soon

an early age that she had a talent for writing.

Her first work consisted of short stories, and she worked as a journalist for a while. Her first novel Octopus Garden was a sensational success, and her I’d Like won the International Literature Award of the American National Endowment for the Arts in 2008. She has also written books for children and her works have been translated into nine languages.

She recently returned from Berlin, where she spent the last seven years, and published her new book, How to Hide.

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here was the usual creaking of chairs and clearing of throats, and then the music began. The friends who had invited me to the concert had insisted I sit between them, concerned as always to distract me from what had happened to my husband and how much my life had changed over the last few years. I usually accepted their invitations; since the children had left home, the house seemed empty, I missed the noise, the coughs, the chatter – all the signs of life. According to the programme we were to hear a sonata

by Debussy. But I paid no attention to the music, either lost in my thoughts or studying the faces of the performers. My friends were wealthy and had booked us the best seats in the house, right in front of the stage.

The woman was much younger than the man, and bowed over the keyboard with such concentration that only the parting in her hair could be seen. The man too was bent forward over his instrument, his legs wide apart, the cello resting on the ground on its metal spike. He swayed back and forth as he played and a lock of snow-white hair moved to and fro across his forehead. All of a sudden I recalled all I knew about the cello (the various chords, the low notes).

Where had I acquired these facts? I who could play no instrument and used the concert programme as a fan. A strange image entered my mind: myself (could it be me?) in front of a cello, trying out chords and even aware of how the bow should be held.

The man was engrossed in his playing, his eyes half-closed, the strand of hair still swinging back and forth, and suddenly, who knows through what mental connection, his position over the cello, the lock of hair – they suddenly made sense: thirty years before I had moved a lock of that same hair back from that same forehead.

From my chair in the concert hall I suddenly found myself transported to a deckchair on the Euboean Gulf. My hair was blonde from the sun and my breasts were young again and firm. My children were playing with buckets and spades, except for the oldest, who was sitting apart and reading. Even at that age he was always reading. My husband was at work in Athens. He joined us at the weekend, which he spent under a parasol, concealed behind a sports paper. I was sitting under a parasol too, but with my feet stretched out into the sun. The slack belly that now obliges me to wear one-piece bathing suits had not yet appeared; I lay in the sun and admired the little erect hairs on my forearms, my navel above my bikini, my knees. I must have been about forty years old.

That summer the archaeologist and cellist Dino Forza was in Athens on a grant from the Italian government. I had never been able to understand how a person could achieve distinction in two completely unrelated fields – I had achieved distinction in none. Dino had decided to stay on after his grant expired and to spend the summer on the Euboean Gulf. He had rented an apartment on the beach, within our complex, right next to our own apartment. A pane of frosted glass separated his balcony from ours. Every morning I could make out his silhouette through the glass, swaying back and forth over the cello. On the ground beside him, his three-year-old son chewed on things he found on the ground. Dino never swept up.

My holiday neighbours were of no interest to me: who they were, what they were doing there, how long they would stay – I neither knew nor cared. They were just part of the summer scenery, extras without lines whom I would see dragging their canoes from the sea and screaming at their children. We might exchange the odd word, discuss what we were cooking for lunch as we swam lazily around the buoys. At the beginning of the vacation we wished one another a good summer, at the end – a good winter. I only really noticed them when they annoyed me. Dino Forza and his music annoyed me so much I would happily have had my ear drums removed to spare me hearing his morning practice. The practice he would describe as exercises, and I as a headache. In the beginning I drank my coffee quickly, got the children dressed and headed for the beach.

When we met on the stairs I used to give him a dirty look. The situation was making me angry. Why couldn’t he show the same consideration to others as I did? I couldn’t face any more of that wretched cello.

One morning I rang his bell, determined to have it out with him. This wasn’t music: it was like listening to heavy furniture being dragged over a marble floor, like a constant clearing of the throat. Dino regarded me with curiosity: my English was meagre and hesitant, his almost non-existent. French? He asked. Italian? I realized there was no chance of making ourselves understood in any language.

I drew my fingers across an imaginary cello and then covered my ears with my hands. ‘No!’ he laughed, uproariously. ‘That’s a guitar’, and he imitated the motion my hands had made across the invisible strings. He went inside and came back with his bow, to show me the difference. ‘This is the cello’. From that day on, I

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would wake and prepare a coffee, send the children down to the beach, and sit opposite Dino, on his balcony, watching him play. He taught me everything I know about music: the various kinds of string instruments, vibrato, the values of each note, the characteristics of the good conductor.

At midday I would sweep and mop their balcony, feeling sorry for the poor child who put everything he found in his mouth. Then we would go down to the beach together. Dino did not swim, he lay in my husband’s deckchair and read magazines on archaeology or music. He had no idea the Moscow Olympics were beginning. No idea that the Americans were boycotting the Games because of the Russian invasion of Afghanistan. Sometimes I told him about the big stories I had heard on the news. He just shrugged. He lived for his excavations and his chamber music.

We didn’t talk much. What was there to say? But we laughed a lot: at the children diving into the water, the discovery of an injured starfish, the jellyfish we hunted with masks and buried in the sand. As the sun rose high in the sky and we grew drowsy from the heat, all the things we left unsaid acquired ever greater significance.

Sometimes I cooked for us all, and took theirs next door in Tupperware containers. Or we ate on their balcony. It was hard to draw out the little boy. He wanted to eat and then disappear to the little nest of pillows Dino had made for him in a corner of the bedroom. In the evening, when the children were asleep, we went down to the beach for a drink and sometimes paused on the landing as we came home, repeatedly turning on the light, which was on a timer switch.

Dino spoke with his hands and the expressions of his face. I understood that he lived in Bologna with his son, Hector. His wife had left him and gone off with her lover to South America. She had been a beautiful woman – bella - who had sacrificed her looks to alcohol, cigarettes and men. These were dangerous topics: abandoning the marital home, long journeys, lovers. But I had to admit that it was precisely these dangerous things that had brought Dino to our resort.

Every weekend our routine was overturned. We ate en famille and then my husband watched the Olympics on TV or played ball games in the sea with Dino and the boys. He didn’t mind the cello lessons, or the Tupperware containers being carried back and forth. My husband was not a jealous man and he liked classical music. Our relations with Dino seemed to him a natural extension of the concept of Greek hospitality. Anyway, we had quarrelled with half the neighbours over the service charges and the painting of the parking area, and with the others we had only formal relations. My husband, too, needed some company over his evening drinks.

Sometimes I watched them from the balcony. Darkness was descending on the beach, the waves broke in front of the deckchairs and I wondered: if I didn’t know them, if I had just met them, that summer, which of the two would I choose?

My husband was tall and adroit, a good climber. Dino was short, warm and inquisitive. But this crude scheme of classification did not solve the problem.

All right, I admit it. I wasn’t so interested in their characters, as in the lock of hair that fell across Dino’s superb forehead, just above his jet-black eyes.

One evening, mesmerized, not really aware of what I was doing, I put out my

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hand and stopped Dino from turning on the light on the landing where we used to part. And God knows what gave me the courage, but I reached up and swept away the lock of hair from his forehead. Dino’s hair fell in curls around his face. And that one lock that fell across his forehead was his trademark. When he brushed the lock away himself, you could see the small blue veins pulsing in his temple.

Dino stared at me, and I could make out his expression despite the darkness: a mixture of pity and embarrassment. ‘OK’, he said, finally.’ ‘Bedtime, don’t you think?’ As if I wanted to extract every last drop from my humiliation, I asked him ‘Together?’ He snorted once and said, gently but firmly: ‘No’.

The next morning we resumed our routine as if nothing had happened: cello lesson, sunbathing, food, drinks in the deckchairs. Perhaps for him, it really was as if nothing had happened. Just a moment of madness on the part of his cello student.

By the end of the month I had learned a few simple notes. The lessons only lasted fifteen minutes. Later, looking back, I realized that for Dino this quarter of an hour was the minimal concession he made, allowing him to return to his practice unmolested, with his neighbour curled up at his feet like a cat.

At some point, tired of practicing, Dino would rise, stretch like an athlete and then make his way down to the beach with his son. The little boy disliked me – or, at least, did not like me. He was very close to his father; whenever I bent down to speak to him or to tease him, he hid his face in his hands. As if he were saying: hands off! I’ve had enough of mothers!

At the end of July a visitor came to the beach complex, Vicky, a drama student whom I had known since she was a little girl. We sometimes spoke to her parents on the beach, talking of the weather, of how the deckchair cushions can fade if you don’t bring in the beach furniture at night. It was one of those summer acquaintances which go no farther, are simply enough to give you a sense of the loose social ties that bind us during the summer months, only to be severed with the first rainfalls of autumn.

Vicky had suddenly become a grown woman – the way eighteen-year-old girls do. She was dark, and so beautiful that one overlooked the light fuzz above her upper lip. Dino certainly didn’t notice it. When Vicky came down to the beach with a transparent blouse over her bikini, he paused from his exercises and turned to look through the railings. His playing changed. A passage would be played now tentatively, now with brio. As if you had been gargling all day and then suddenly launched into song.

All Dino and I had exchanged had been smiles and exclamations – the repertory of sounds made by fools, I had often remarked to myself after our encounters.

I felt I was losing him. He had become irritable and sharp-tempered. I had to keep reminding him about our lessons. Our shared meals, our drinks, became ever less frequent.

Early in August there was a major terrorist attack on the railway station in Bologna.

Dozens of people were killed, hundreds injured. As soon as I heard the news, I knocked on his door. Vicky was already there. She translated what Dino was

SANI MAGAZINE '11

saying: the Italians were blaming a neo-fascist organization, but Dino believed it was the work of the Italian secret services. He sat in his usual position, his legs wide apart, but instead of his cello it was his head he held in his hands. He said he would pack and leave. But he didn’t.

Bringing the rubbish down in the evening, I come across them, whispering together on the landing, just as he and I had done. The difference was that Vicky knew Italian and thus they could hold a proper conversation. With my ear glued to the door I tried not to understand what they were saying (which would have been impossible) but to gauge any excitement or awkwardness from the timbre of their voices. I carefully opened the door, just a crack, put out my head and saw them standing there, in the dark, engrossed in their conversation. They were too absorbed in one another even to bother to turn on the light, which went out after thirty seconds.

It must all have happened within the space of one weekend. When my husband left for Athens, on Sunday evening, Vicky had already moved into the apartment next door. I could make out their outlines through the frosted glass. For appearances’ sake, I carried on with the lessons. I no longer watched him attentively as he showed me how to place my hands on the strings. Instead, I cast fleeting glances at Vicky as she moved about the room, as if it were her own home, the strings of her bikini visible through the tears in her blouse. I was relieved to see that Hector shunned her just as he had shunned me, to see that they were not living there like the perfect family. But the relief did not do away with my pain.

In fact it made the hurt more acute: if theirs has been an ideal story, I would have retired to a corner to lick my wounds. But they had their disagreements, shouted at each other, sometimes even threw things at one another, before being reconciled – or so I assumed from the reflection of the candles and the silence, full of meaning, on the other side of the glass.

One evening Dino invited me over for pasta. Hector was nowhere to be seen.

I peeped round the door of the bedroom: he had fallen asleep in his nest of cushions, his toy shark with its felt teeth in his arms. There was no sign of the girl either, and when I asked Dino he answered dryly: ‘We had a row’. I felt a shiver go through me; the table was elaborately laid and Dino was not tossing back the errant lock from his forehead – as if he were leaving the task to someone else.

The pasta was a Neapolitan specialty. It was cooked very al dente, not something we were used to in the Greece of the 1980’s, and I remember my teeth ached from chewing. But what counted was not what we ate, but the way we sat unspeaking over our food, the room echoing to Italian songs from the portable cassette player.

As soon as we had finished eating, Dino raised me from my chair and, taking me in his arms, turned and spun me into the drawing room in a kind of waltz, his hair tossing to the movements of his body. He asked me to sit on the couch, and then knelt down before me. ‘I have a big favour to ask you, Phaedra’, he said, gazing into my eyes. Apparently, Vicky wished to go to Epidaurus with him to see Euripides’ Hippolytus, but he had nowhere he could leave Hector. Could I possibly, he asked, pressing my hands in his, look after the boy on the night of the performance? If he didn’t take her, Vicky would never speak to him again.

And he had such plans for her! He was trying to persuade her to abandon the theatre and concentrate on the piano, for which she had a great talent. The two of them could tour the world, performing works by Saint-Saens, Beethoven, Dvorak. They would be a great success.

I agreed to look after the boy, appreciating all at once how infuriatingly stupid I had been. I got to my feet, smoothed down my dress and prepared to leave.

Dino embraced me tightly before the front door. Our cheeks brushed against each other for a moment and his aftershave left a bitter scent on my skin. I gave him one last look, opened the door and left. That night I lay down to sleep without undressing. But I didn’t sleep a wink.

Friday morning – the day of the performance. It was the day I was to take my boys to the bus station; their father would collect them at Kifisos and drive them to their summer camp. When I returned I felt like an old woman, without a family, coming home to an empty house. At midday, as I was drinking my coffee, I saw something slipped under the front door. It was one of the service charge bills, with some Greek and Italian phrases written on the back: Come and play: Giochiamo?

Don’t worry: Non ti preoccupare.

What’s your favourite game? Qual e il tuo gioco preferito?

Daddy will be here soon: Papa arrivera presto.

Do you want to pee? Vuoi fare pipi?

Some milk? Un po di latte?

It’s bedtime. Where’s your shark? E ora di fare la nanna. Dov’e il tuo squalo?

Can I stroke your hair? Fami accarezzare un po i tuoi capelli?

Goodnight: Buona notte.

It was Vicky’s work - some useful phrases for the babysitter.

They brought the little boy over in the afternoon. He was already in his pyjamas and clutching his shark. Dino was looking very handsome in a blue linen suit, a contrast to his usual jeans and sandals. Vicky was wearing huge earrings and a backless black dress. Her back was smooth and the skin glowed. ‘Have fun’, I said, and Dino pressed my hands between his sweating palms. ‘Ciao bello’, he said to Hector, ruffling his hair. The little boy rubbed his eyes and began to whimper. Dino, anxious to avoid a scene, hurriedly pushed Vicky out of the apartment and closed the door behind them. I could hear their steps echoing in the stairway. Hector, now sobbing helplessly, began to kick the door and beat on it with his little fists. I consulted my crib sheet. ‘Non ti preoccupare’, I began. And then: ‘Papa arrivera presto’. I reached out to stroke his head and with a roar he began to beat me with his shark. I sat next to him on the floor and let him rain the blows down on me. He was in a rage, it was far too soon to suggest sleep. Perhaps something to drink. I cast another glance at the piece of paper: ‘Un po di latte?’

Hector began to shriek, stopped suddenly and relapsed into sobbing. At the same moment I saw a dark stain forming on his pyjama bottoms. ‘Vuoi fare pipi?’ I asked, although it was already too late. Upset and ashamed the little boy slipped free of my embrace and ran into the living room, curling up under the white cover we spread over the cushions on the couch, wailing and thrashing with his hands and feet, like a ghost in despair. Over and over again I repeated

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the phrase ‘Non ti preoccupare’. After a while I joined him, sitting on the edge of the couch, and weeping softly myself. I repeated, more to myself than to Hector, ‘Non ti preoccupare’.

After some considerable time, Hector fell asleep. He held the shark tightly in his arms, and occasional sobs still shook his little body in his sleep. His eyelashes were wet and gleaming with tears. His half-open mouth reminded me of my own boys when they were the same age, and would fall asleep, so helpless and vulnerable, wherever sleep happened to overtake them. It was a little risky, but I decided to leave him there, on the couch, with an armchair in front of the cushions to stop him falling. I took my keys, slid a bottle of wine under my arm, and made my way down to the beach.

The waves drove forward and retreated, reflecting slivers of the August moon. I opened the bottle and drank without ceremony, just like the despairing heroines of so many romantic films I had seen. I was drawn to the sea. It felt as if the rising and falling of the waves was something I could control. As if the waves were really my own work. It was I who drew them higher and higher, like a conductor, the conductor of the summer, holding in balance all the individual instruments, using his baton to lead them on to the finale of the composition.

I imitated the movements Dino had showed me. Something quite distinct and magical was occurring. It is impossible to describe it now, it only lasted two or three seconds, but it filled my soul with an illusory sense of omnipotence. As if absolutely everything were under my control: the waves, the breeze, the movement of the branches in the trees. For one unique moment I was as I would have liked to be. In charge of my own destiny, and the destiny of others.

My life that summer had been no better or worse than the life I would have liked to live. But it had been more dramatic. And the drama, the despair which had descended upon me, made me realize something I hastened to dismiss from my mind immediately: this is life. Waves, wind, a vain wish to orchestrate events.

I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my chest, and sat on the edge of the chair to recover.

Then I rose and splashed some water on my face, tasting salt – seawater and tears – before heading back to the house. Every fibre of my being was crying out: Don’t worry, daddy will be here soon! I did not yet know that this scene (anxiety and relief and then the long slide back into anxiety, the next relief ) was, in essence, what we call the cycle of life. And that daddy (my own father, Hector’s, the father of my own children) is always a figure who will disappear, as be beckons to us, or not, from the edge of the abyss.

Dino and Vicky came back after midnight. I managed to treat them as a couple – two neighbours for whom I had done a favour. We chatted, standing, about the performance, and then Dino took his son in his arms. Hector wrapped his own arms about his father’s neck, without opening his eyes. Vicky thanked me repeatedly.

I closed the door behind them and went to bed. It was years since I had slept alone in a house. Even when my husband was away I had the children. And when the children slept over with friends, my husband and I would sit on the couch and ‘rehearse’, as we called it, the life we would lead when they grew up and left home.

Then I began to forget, systematically – just as we iron a hand towel, folding it in two and then in four, pressing the tip of the iron across an ever smaller surface. One weekend, at the end of the summer, after my husband and I had taken our regular walk along the shore, we came back to the apartment but found ourselves unable to sleep. We went out on the balcony, barefoot, in our robes, without putting on the light. On the other side of the frosted glass we could see two shapes approaching and parting from one another, in rhythmical thrusts. We watched them in silence, with no real embarrassment, as if we were watching a film on TV. And somehow they became distanced from reality, for me at least, like actors impersonating passion in a movie.

Back in the concert hall, sustained applause erupted, and as if I were in a time machine I rose from the deckchair at our old summer house, returning to the concert hall from a time when my husband was still alive and the children still needed us. I turned my gaze back on the two musicians, studying them in the tiniest detail: she was about the age I had been then, but loose flesh trembled on her unexercised arms, beneath the black, short-sleeved dress. It was clear that she didn’t take proper care of her skin. She was one of those women who don’t bother to remove their make-up at night. As for him, he had aged the way handsome Italian men do: skin tanned and tough as leather, a gold chain under a white shirt, liver spots on the back of his hands. I stared at them for what seemed an age, drinking in every detail, hoping that the longer I studied them the more I would understand about that summer, about myself.

But I understood it no more now than then ... στο πάτωμα και υπέμεινα τα χτυπήματά του. Ήταν έξαλλος –δεν είχε νόημα να πω ακόμα «E ora di fare la nanna». Κι αν του έδινα κάτι να πιει; Συμβουλεύτηκα το σκονάκι μου πάλι. «Un po di latte?»

th e 70

e n d SANI MAGAZINE '11

C U LT U R E

Π ο λ ι τ ι σ μ ός

By Georgia Dodou

Years of magic Jazz on the Hill represented the first tentative steps towards what is now the Sani Festival – and 20 years on the institution is brimming with confidence.

Photographs: Μinos Alhanati for Sani Festival archive 73

The beginning

T

he vision was there, the bold idea, and the people who were to channel their own passion and enthusiasm into the new institution. And when the curtain rose, it was all just as they had hoped and imagined, a marriage between the beauty of nature and the excitement of the arts. But what no one could have predicted on those August nights in 1992 was the wave of enthusiasm that would carry them all along â&#x20AC;&#x201C; organizers, audience and musicians â&#x20AC;&#x201C; on a journey that has now lasted twenty years, and has every prospect of a long and successful future. Because the Sani Festival is the only private-

sector festival in Greece to be so highly respected both here and abroad, the only private-sector festival to have become a major date in the cultural calendar. There are many reasons for its success, perhaps most important is that it was established by people with faith, supported by talented associates, has featured legends of the international musical scene and the cream of the Greek music industry, and is appreciated by an ever-growing audience.

what no one could have predicted on those August nights in 1992 was the wave of enthusiasm that would carry them all along on a journey that has now lasted twenty years

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Jazz on the Hill, the programme of evening events on Sani Hill which has grown from humble beginnings to become the only international jazz festival in the country with an uninterrupted history of twenty years, still inspires Olga Tabouris-Babalis, Artistic Director since its fourth year, with undiminished passion and enthusiasm. "The festival represents a continual exploration of the role of the artist in a cultural landscape that is for ever changing. We feel emboldened to take ever greater risks, to reach out to the unfamiliar..."

There has been no reluctance to take risks in the past, with invitations extended not only to jazz legends appearing for the first time in Greece, like Cedar Walton, Hank Jones, Ahmad Jamal, Ray Brown, Abbey Lincoln, Charlie Haden, Cassandra Wilson, Lee Konitz, Paul Bley, Arturo Sandoval, Charles Lloyd, and Dee Dee Bridgewater, but also emerging new artists like Tord Gustavsen, Lizz Wright, Yaron Herman, Youn Sun Nah, as well as eminent contemporary pianists of the calibre of Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Brad Mehldau, Esbjorn Svensson and Omar Sosa. "Many of these performers had been regarded as risky by concert promoters, in the sense that they were not well known

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to audiences here. But in the event the public responded with enthusiasm and interest, and over time the festival acquired its own fanatical audience, which has been one of the main sources of satisfaction in my professional life". Now a mature, well-established institution, Jazz on the Hill is still a vibrant and dynamic programme, as are the parallel programmes Sounds of the World, Film on Music vs Music on Film and Sani Classics. Perhaps this is the secret of the festival’s success – the enthusiasm of the organizers, which is communicated each year to the audiences who arrive on Sani Hill, in the shadow of the mediaeval tower, under the starlit summer sky. The Sani Festival elevates the spirit and beguiles the senses, casting its spell and offering its magical experience.

The twentieth anniversary festival will be as magical as all those which have come before, an occasion for celebration and promises – particularly the promise that the surprises will keep on coming!

Sani Festival 2011: Highlights Jazz on the Hill: 15-17 July 2011 To celebrate this year’s 20th anniversary of the event, a number of major names in the jazz world will be appearing, including the legendary Charlie Haden and his Quartet West – themselves marking their 25th year of touring this summer, and appearing with a surprise singer to honour the Jazz on the Hill anniversary.

Sounds of the World: 22-24 July 2011 This year’s Sounds of the World programme will feature the Moroccan singer Hindi Zahra, a powerful interpreter of soul-folk-jazz who has been hailed as a successor to Billy Holiday, as well as !DelaDap, an incredible multi-ethnic group representing the new urban gypsy sound, and the popular group from Quebec, De Temps Antan, with their explosive mix of instruments – guitar, accordion, harmonica and even our own bouzouki!

Greek Concerts: 30 July-21 August 2011 Prominent Greek musicians and vocalists will be delighting audiences on Sani Hill.

Classical Waves: end of August - beginning of September Seductive classical sounds performed by some of the best performers on the Greek classical music scene.

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people

Biennale 2 | Warehouse C', Thessaloniki Port, 2009

By Georgia Dodou

Katerina Koskina does nothing half-heartedly. Her passion for art has defined her existence. Her most recent project is the 3rd Thessaloniki Biennale of Contemporary Art, which she confidently expects to be a great success.

katerina koskina

Passion for art W

hen you meet Katerina Koskina it is her creative passion which strikes you most – more even than her many qualifications, impressive as these are: Chairman of the Board of the State Museum of Contemporary Art, Artistic Director of the Ioannis F. Kostopoulos Foundation, exhibition curator, national representative at the Venice and Sao Paolo Biennales.

Honored as she is by these titles and positions, she nevertheless continues to see herself as a servant of the arts, a woman of energy, will power and ideas, tireless in her determination to attain her main objectives: to promote the cause of the visual arts in Greece, to introduce the highest international standards to the Greek museum and exhibition world, to make the country more outwardlooking and to promote reciprocal influence among different countries in the arts.

We have met to discuss the forthcoming 3rd Thessaloniki Biennale of Contemporary Art, which is being organized by five of the city’s museums: the Archaeological Museum, the Museum of Byzantine Civilization, the Tellogleio Arts Foundation, the Macedonian Museum of Contemporary Art and the State Museum of Contemporary Art – the latter taking the role of coordinator.

This is obviously a busy and exciting time for Ms. Koskina, but she remains as always lucid, passionate and confident. ‘The 3rd Biennale, which will run from mid-September to the end of November, in Thessaloniki, is to have the general

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title Old Intersections – Make it New! It will differ from its two predecessors not only in its dates and venue, but also in respect of the agencies involved’.

She explains that the new Five Museums Movement is undertaking its first joint venture in the organization of the Biennale, led by the State Museum of Contemporary Art, and it is hoped that the involvement of five of the city’s institutions will mean greater interaction between the exhibitions and the city’s people. ‘The Biennale will not just be working with the five museums, but with all sorts of other cultural and educational institutions in the city, like the City Council, the universities, the Concert Hall, the National Theatre of Northern Greece. The programme will include exhibitions to be staged mainly in the five museums, but also in important historic and urban venues. There will be a main programme and a parallel programme of events. Both this year’s Biennale, and the subsequent two in 2013 and 2015, will focus on the broader Mediterranean region. This year there will be a special focus on Arab and Israeli art, as part of the Crossroads of Civilizations programme for the city organized by the Ministry of Culture and Tourism. I think the first two Biennales went well, despite certain weaknesses due to the lack of experience of those involved.

We must make sure that each Biennale is better than the one that preceded it’.

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SM: Would you say Thessaloniki is a city that generates lots of movements and ideas?

KK: It is a fascinating and seductive city, with a long history and rich cultural traditions; in a beautiful natural setting, and an important geographical position. So it has the potential to be a breeding ground for ideas and creativity – as indeed it has been in the past. Of course, these things need support, from individuals and organizations. We have to understand that producing new ideas, making everyday life richer, is in everyone’s interest, and should be everyone’s business.

SM: Do you think the appeal of art is confined to a particular time and place, or is it something which can transcend history? Does art touch the essence of our lives, or is it just a part of them?

KK: Art is definitely enduring in its validity. This is obvious from the way we are moved by works of art and architecture from the past, however old they are. A true work of art is the product of a synergy between man and the transcendent, the sublime, the sacred. A work of art is among the few human creations which abolish time in its conventional sense.

SM: There is a widespread feeling that contemporary art is too self-referential, that it involves only a small circle of artists, gallery owners and collectors, that it is more about commerce than art.

Is there any truth to this?

KK: At any time in history, the art that is being created will seem to be self-involved, even complacent, in the sense that it will be linked with current events – be they political, aesthetic or social developments and changes. In the last ten years contemporary art has forged broader links with other areas – science, commerce and society. The art world and its audience have expanded. Moreover, the boundaries delineating different types of artistic expression are no longer watertight, are not as clear as they used to be. It is true that works of art can be an investment, or a status symbol. But these things are incidental to the work, which always has its own history, one which transcends its current status and relevance.

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"a true work of art is the product of a synergy between man and the transcendent, the sublime, the sacred"

SM: At a time like this, when our values are in crisis, obviously art cannot remain aloof. Do you see the crisis as an opportunity for the arts? Is there likely to be an explosion of artistic, creative activity, perhaps bringing forth a powerful new movement?

KK: Obviously, as a value system, art will be affected by the crisis.

In fact, the arts often foreshadow these crises. In economic terms, no, the crisis is not going to be an opportunity. However, the value of the messages conveyed by works of art, as they relate to a crisis, mainly a social crisis, can affect or even reverse the situation, in some areas at least. That a powerful, universal new art movement would arise, that seems to me unlikely, given that the main centres of artistic activity are now so dispersed. But a trend, focusing on enduring values or points of cultural, ideological and social convergence, in relation to the more general changes in areas like eastern Europe and the Arab countries, that can already be seen in contemporary art. For example: works of art that are opposed to violence, or comment on the erosion of social or family life, or on migration and exclusion.

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SM: You often have occasion to travel abroad, and you were recently in America on a Fulbright Scholarship. What were you doing there, and what did you bring back from the experience?

KK: It’s very important to be able to travel frequently and have a general sense of what’s going on in one’s field. The Fulbright Foundation gave me the opportunity to catch up on developments in America and work on new contacts which, if properly used, will help us develop closer links between agencies and people in the States and the State Museum here, the Kostopoulos Foundation, other Greek agencies with whom I and other individuals have worked or collaborated. It was quite an experience, because American society – at least in the big cities like New York, Boston and Washington – is devoted to the arts. It is private benefactors in America who support their museums, to a much greater extent than in Greece or the rest of Europe.

SM: How is art communicated, in a country where so much is invested in it? How do ordinary people behave, the visitors to museums and galleries?

KK: Art communicates in various ways: from advertisements on the street, to the involvement of museums in education, to providing forms of leisure and entertainment. Visits to museums are often family affairs, with the museum laying on activities and things of interest for all the different family members. There’s a whole range of activities on offer: children’s educational programmes, films, receptions, talks, leisure areas, concerts and events, even food. Obviously, this makes the museum an attractive place to visit. The galleries are different.

But even so, many of them, especially those in Chelsea in New York, appeal to local visitors and foreigners whatever exhibition they are mounting, because of the old industrial premises in which they are located.

SM: At the present time, do you believe that Thessaloniki and the State Museum are in a position to help advance the creation and management of art? Is there a place for making people more sensitive to something which sharpens the faculties and enriches our lives, at a time when so many of us are struggling to make ends meet?

KK: Of course I believe it, it’s the goal all my efforts are directed towards. It is very important for all of us at the Museum to increase visitor numbers, reaching out to ordinary people of all ages and hoping to offer education and information in an attractive way. The State Museum of Contemporary Art does have a number of problems, like the fragmentation of its various exhibition spaces and its distance from the city centre. This is why it’s important to have the support of our colleagues in other cultural agencies, and of the public. There is much that we can achieve together, at least in terms of creating a contemporary profile that will still retain the distinctive elements of our local culture.

Photographs: Aris Rammos

Biennale 2 | Warehouse C', Thessaloniki Port, 2009

"It’s very important to be able to travel frequently and have a general sense of what’s going on in one’s field"

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universe

By Argyro Barata

Star worlds The big and little dipper, Andromeda, Cassiope and a host of other stars and constellations all owe their evocative names to the rich mythology of the ancient Greeks. let's get to know to some of the most famous among them.

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he sight of the night sky in midsummer is literally breathtaking. Magnificent and mysterious at one and the same time. Dots of light against a black background, improbably geometrical combinations, a million pretexts for the mind to wander to distant worlds, real or imaginary, worlds which man has set his imagination to naming in the hope of making the unfamiliar less strange.

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All civilizations have endeavoured to interpret the infinite. Scholars studying ancient texts have concluded that the original, limited number of names for the stars was probably derived from the Sumerians. However, all are agreed that knowledge of the heavens was first systematized by the ancient Greeks in the last four centuries before Christ. This is why the best-known stars have Greek names, such as Cassiope, Andromeda, Orion and so on. But who were these characters who inspired the early astronomers to give their names to the stars? The answer is to be found in a review of ancient Greek mythology, the basic source to which the ancient Greeks invariably turned when they wished to explain the inexplicable.

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Big and Little Dipper

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Orion

Cassiope

Andromeda

Orion is a mosaic of 77 individual stars, visible from all points on earth, which owes its name to the giant Orion, son of Poseidon, gifted with irresistible strength, who came to a tragic end.

The myth says that when Orion met Artemis on the slopes of the Cretan mountains he boasted he could kill all the wild beasts, unassisted.

The goddess, although she had fallen in love with him, was indignant and ordered a scorpion to sting his heel to punish him for his impious claim. The wound was fatal and Orion succumbed immediately. The ancients believed that Zeus set both Orion and the scorpion in the heavens, placing them diametrically opposite one another at the farthest ends of the sky so that they could do one another no harm. And so, on warm summer nights when darkness has fallen and Orion has set together with the sun, the impressive figure of the Scorpion rises in the south.

The constellation of Cassiope is also known as the Throne of the Queen, a reference to the Queen of Ethiopia of that name. Cassiope was turned into a constellation when she angered Poseidon by claiming to be more beautiful than the Nereids, the daughters of the god.

The angry Poseidon sent a wild beast to ravage the coast of the country, and the only way to secure respite was to sacrifice the daughter of the queen, Andromeda, another of the familiar constellations of the night sky.

The closet nebula to earth and the only one visible to the naked eye from the northern hemisphere.

Andromeda, the beautiful daughter of Cassiope and Kefeas, queen and king of Ethiopia, was finally spared from sacrifice. At the moment the beast was ready to tear her limb from limb, Perseus arrived, the mythical hero with winged sandals, and fell in love with her – enchanted by her beauty. He did battle with the beast and rescued the beautiful Andromeda, carrying her off to the island of Serifos in the Cyclades.

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The most easily recognizable groups of stars, they took their name from Callisto, a lover of Zeus, and her young son Arcas. When Hera, wife of Zeus, became aware of her husband’s infidelity, she flew into a jealous rage and turned Callisto into a bear. When her son Arcas was a young man he was out hunting and encountered a bear – none other than his own mother – and took aim to shoot her with his bow. But Zeus, to prevent the terrible crime of matricide, transformed the young man, too, into a bear, so that he could recognize his mother. But fearing the wrath of Hera he then transformed them both into constellations, and since then Callisto has been the Big Dipper and Arcas the Little Dipper, or Ursa Major and Minor to give them their Latin names. Hera was indignant at Zeus’ action and cursed both mother and son to an eternity without rest – and this is why the two constellations never set.

Sirius Sirius is a star which features under various names in many cultures of the world. In Greek mythology the sun god Apollo was said to have envied Orion his relationship with the goddess Artemis. Anxious to destroy his rival, the renowned hunter and giant, he contrived his death, but was then overcome by remorse and decided not to leave him alone. He placed beside him in the heavens his faithful dog Sirius, and another young dog to keep him company in the world of the stars...

The Pleiades The Pleiades are a cluster of some 300-500 stars distributed in a spherical arrangement with a diameter of some 30 light years. They form one of the closest open clusters to earth, and are estimated to be no more than 50 million years old. One version of the myth has it that the Pleiades were daughters of Atlas and Pleione; in their intolerable grief at the death of their father they took their own lives and Zeus placed them all together in the heavens. Their names, in order of age, were Maia, Taugete, Electra, Sterope, Kelaino, Alcyone and Merope.

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The New Greek Cuisine is now a reality, and the main aim of this yearâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Sani Gourmet is to highlight its remarkable qualities and place it where it belongs on the world gastronomic map. The only Greek gastronomic event consistently to meet the highest international standards, the Sani Gourmet Festival has for years been supporting the work of top Greek chefs, artists who are inspired by the culinary traditions of our country, and anxious to revive them in a form appropriate to the contemporary world.

13-22 May 2011

13 - 22.O5. 2O11

taste

Dish by Chrysanthos Karamolegos

Greek

f lavour

By Georgia Dodou

The New Greek Cuisine is the theme of the Sani Gourmet

Dish by Manolis Aslanoglou

2011 and all the best of the Greek chefs from inland and abroad will be gathering in Sani Resort to celebrate a week of culinary excellence.

Photographs: Heinz Troll for Sani Resort archive, Iosifina Svania 91

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reece has a continuous and serious tradition of good cuisine, of subtle flavors, purity and incredible diversity of ingredients – a diversity which reflects the extraordinary variety of the country’s landscape.

Haute cuisine is cooking which delights the sense of taste – not necessarily through the use of expensive ingredients or complicated methods of preparation. And this is the secret of Greek haute cuisine: it is based on simplicity of ingredients and preparation – a long tradition of using the freshest and purest raw materials. A creative tradition enriched by the influences of all the surrounding cultures – thanks to Greece’s privileged position at the centre of the Mediterranean world, a meeting point for East and West.

From Macedonia to Crete we see examples of refined versions of similar dishes, each adjusted to reflect the special features of the region and the different flavours of the ingredients: the oregano of Pindos has a slightly different taste to that of Ikaria; the vegetables of the barren islands vary in flavor from those grown in the rich soil of the Peloponnese.

Meat, poultry, fish, vegetables, fruit – Greece has them all in abundance, the raw materials of a creative process that yields fabulous culinary results. We need only reach back in our memories to our childhoods, when our grandmothers and mothers brought to the family dinner table daily miracles of the culinary art, often beautifully presented.

These were the dishes and recipes we are in danger of losing, along with the flavour of the real Greece.

For years now Sani Gourmet has been supporting the efforts of top Greek chefs, inspired by the culinary traditions of their country and modifying and adapting them to the contemporary world. We shall be inviting chefs distinguished for their knowledge, experience and passion to showcase the delicious variety of Greek cuisine in its superb combination of tradition and innovation. In a spirit of friendly rivalry, our chefs will be launching a debate on New Greek Cuisine, bringing into focus its special properties and qualities. A week of events that we hope will demonstrate the truth of an old saying: the secret of beauty lies in simplicity.

From top, dishes by: Konstantin Erinkoglou, Dimitris Dimitriadis, Yorgos Venieris, Yannis Loukakos

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taste

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Illustration: Maritina Daskalaki/Red Creative

otatoes, macaroni, rice, chocolate, tomatoes, lemons, oranges, peppers, aubergines, squash, maize, sugar, coffee, spices, distilled spirits – what do they all have in common? Simple: they are just some of the foods we take for granted, but which were completely unknown to the ancient Greeks!

Our ancestors were penetrating thinkers, and often dedicated to the enjoyment of life’s pleasures, yet at the same time their diet was a very plain one – sometimes as a matter of principle, sometimes as a matter of necessity, a result of the grinding poverty in which they often lived. The geographical contours of Greece made transport very difficult in the ancient world; warfare was almost constant; many areas of the country suffered frequently from drought. The result: scarcity of many foodstuffs and a diet that we their descendants would find extremely plain and monotonous.

A brief history of food The pleasures of the palate would never have e volved into the sophisticated culinary culture of the present day if

It is not generally known that the ancient Athenians, rather than the Spartans, enjoyed the least varied of all diets in the ancient world. The proverbial expression ‘to lead an Attic life’ meant to live frugally, with great austerity. Nevertheless, consciously or not, it was the ancient Athenians who created, or helped to create, what we now refer to as the Mediterranean diet, recently placed on the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity list. Along with the culinary traditions of Italy, Spain and Morocco, the diet of Greece is now officially recognized as constituting a major contribution to human culture! The official announcement was made on 17 November 2010 – but barely mentioned by the Greek media, lost in news of rioting students and new austerity measures from the European Commission!

It would be impossible to define a standard, ancient Greek diet, because the truth is that eating and cooking practices varied greatly from region to region.

There were also many differences in the variety of commodities and quantities available, and in the frequency with which meals were taken, between rich and poor. But the general pattern was as follows: there were three main meals, sometimes reduced to two, sometimes increased to four. Breakfast consisted of bread – made of barley for the ordinary folk, wheat for the rich – dipped in undiluted wine and accompanied by dried figs, walnuts and olives. In some regions they drank a beverage known as kykeon, a mixture of wine, grated cheese and barley meal; elsewhere the morning drink might be goat’s milk, or hydromelon, warm water with honey, a very popular beverage in ancient Greece. The ancient lunch, or ariston, featured bread, cheese, eggs, olives, nuts and pulses for the poorer classes, and the same ingredients with the addition of fish or poultry for the more affluent. Obviously, the available ingredients depended on the region, on such factors as proximity to the sea, whether one lived in the mountains or the plains, in the city or the country. The evening meal, or deipnon, was the most lavish and important of the day, a mixture of pleasure and ritual. Just like the Greeks of today, our ancestors liked to dine late, and in company, believing that a man who eats alone is not dining, but merely filling his stomach! Dinner was a great occasion, ranging from the simple dinner party to the large symposium; the ancient Greeks set great store by these functions, and they played an important part in the social life of the ancient world. The menu would include meat, fish, poultry, vegetables, pulses and grains. A variation on this routine was the aristodeipnon, a combination of midday meal and dinner, taken when there were only two meals a day. And also the esperisma, a fourth meal late at night, a supper or snack eaten late at night to prevent hunger pangs disturbing sleep!

This was relatively rare, and only indulged in by the rich.

THE MEDITERRANEAN MIRACLE Olive oil – the key to a healthy diet! But why? The main reasons are its high mono-unsaturated fat content: unlike the fats in butter and other vegetable oils, those in olive oil supply the body with plenty of energy while offering protection for the vital organs, alongside valuable antioxidants defending us from cancer and heart disease. Regular use of olive oil by the ancient Greeks, disseminated across the Mediterranean by merchants and colonists, and sparing consumption of meat (for economic reasons, and because of the Greeks’ fondness for fish, particularly those rich in Omega oils) were the keystones of what was to become known as the Mediterranean food pyramid. We use the word ‘pyramid’ because this is the best way to visualize how the various ingredients of this diet are distributed: low consumption of fat, particularly of saturated fatty acids, and high consumption of hydrocarbons, found mainly in cereal products (bread, rice and macaroni), fruit, vegetables, milk and dairy produce.

KEY TO PYRAMID A few times a month – or more frequently, if the quantities are small, meat, sweets, eggs. A few times a week poultry and fish.

Every day cheese and yoghurt, olives and olive oil, vegetables, pulses and nuts, fruit, bread, pasta, rice, wheat, other cereals and potatoes.

If we start with the base of the pyramid, we find the foods we should be eating every day: bread, rice, macaroni, other cereals, potatoes, vegetables, pulses, nuts, fruit, milk, cheese, olive oil and olives. Not all together, obviously, and not in huge quantities. Then, to be eaten a few times a week, we have eggs, fish, poultry, sweets, and then, a few times a month, at the top of the pyramid, red meat.

our ancestors in the ancient world had not invented ways of refining eating into a civilized pastime.

By Spyros Raptis

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It was these dietary habits, and the special geographical features of our region, which helped our ancestors to live long lives, enjoying good health well into old age. Another important factor was that so many of our forebears were farmers, working in the fields, unlikely to become obese and develop degenerative diseases. The relative poverty of many people also benefited their health, making it impossible to consume excessive amounts of food, or to indulge in the more expensive foods, like meat, which can be damaging to the health.

In the contemporary world, sadly, there are many things which have led us astray from the sensible diet of our ancestors. First of all, there are so many more foods available to tempt us; secondly, too many additives are put in our foods, to enhance the flavour, improve the appearance, or make the food last longer; third, intensive farming and fishing techniques have made the ingredients of our meals less healthy. But perhaps the main cause is simply that contemporary man has so little spare time; all too often we find ourselves snacking, instead of preparing a proper, balanced meal; all too often we pick up the phone and order a takeaway, instead of cooking something healthy and nutritious. And all too often, we find ourselves ‘eating out’.

Now this business of ‘eating out’ has led to a lot of misunderstandings, many of them to do with the quantity and quality of the food we eat in restaurants. It is generally felt that when we eat away from home it is harder to guard against fattening and unhealthy dishes. And with certain, very expensive, exceptions, it is generally the case that restaurants do not always use the best and healthiest ingredients. Are these fears well founded, or is there a certain amount of superstition involved in them?

Food as leisure activity The restaurant is an institution we take entirely for granted, something we assume has existed as long as men have come together to live in cities. But the truth is, in the western world the restaurant has a relatively short history, dating back only about 230 years, here in Greece only about a century! In China, on the other hand, we read of restaurants as far back as the 11th century – although their customs and practices were very different from anything we are familiar with today.

Taverns and inns were to be found in the ancient world, serving the needs mainly of travellers. But there was nothing like a menu, the choice of different dishes we have today, and the ambiance and quality of the food may not have been particularly appealing. Local people would rarely have used these establishments, certainly not respectable people. It was only in 1765, in the Rue Bailleul, in Paris, that a gentleman named Boulanger opened an establishment selling soups and meat and vegetable broths, which he advertised as restaurants, meaning restoratives. In other words, the first restaurants were a kind of pharmacy, where medicinal dishes were consumed on the premises to restore one’s strength and raise one’s energy levels! This, at least, is the origin of the word given in the Larousse Gastronomique Encyclopaedia.

Anyway, the idea caught on, and premises like Boulanger’s began to appear all over Paris. And because there are no limits to the imagination and resourcefulness of man, it was only a matter of time before someone, in this case a certain Antoine Beauvilliers, had the idea of offering hungry customers solid foods instead of the original soups and broths. And so, in 1782, under the grandiloquent title of the Grande Taverne de Londres, the first establishment that we would recognize as a restaurant opened its doors to the public. It was the very first establishment in the western world to offer its customers the following extraordinary amenities: a menu, with a wide range of dishes to choose from, including hors d’oeuvres

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and desserts; fine wines; an elegant ambiance and décor, and intelligent, efficient waiters! Another claimant to the title of the world’s first restaurant is the Sobrino del Botin, in Madrid, founded a little earlier in 1725, but this would seem to have been a much simpler affair, a shop selling a narrow range of cooked dishes. One thing we definitely do not know is when the final letter ‘s’ disappeared from the name, leaving us with the modern form ‘restaurant’.

And so it was from these humble beginnings that the modern restaurant evolved, in all its rich diversity. But however varied restaurants may be, they all serve one and the same purpose: to delight the palate of the customer, and to provide entertainment and relaxation. Where there has always been great variety, of course, is in the quality of the food they serve. Formerly, when people were less particular about hygiene and food quality, many restaurants served a menu rich in saturated fats, cheap meat and seed oils. But nowadays more and more restaurateurs are aware of the importance of good ingredients, the need to prepare light and healthy food – and not just in the restaurants catering for the rich and famous. There are superb restaurants and simple tavernas where excellent food is available at reasonable prices, and many of those here in Greece still base their menus on the life-enhancing properties of the Mediterranean diet.

In the end, however, the main deciding factor in ensuring a healthy, nonfattening meal away from home is the consumer himself, and the wisdom or folly of his own choices. So do your research before you eat out. Enjoy dining properly with friends, instead of simply filling your stomach! Emulate the ancient Greeks, with their civilized habits of dining in company. And don’t overdo it – as the ancients were wont to do. Don’t be tempted by that midnight snack, the esperisma; be moderate in your intake of wine, leave all forms of excess where they belong – in the past!

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people

By Argyro Barata

H

ospitality is every bit as much about manner as substance. At Sani we have both: exceptional facilities, made even more appealing by the services offered and the people who provide them. Always with a smile!

Iosifina Svania has captured moments of daily life at the Sani Resort: individuals working together every day, pooling their skills and creativity in a collective endeavor to provide the most hospitable of welcomes.

Behind the scenes All hotels have their hidden side – just like theatres. What you see during your vacation is a well-organized performance – what you don’t see are the endless rehearsals or the mass of people working hard behind the scenes and doing their best to remain invisible.

Smile please A smile is infectious, we all know that, especially Julia, who each morning welcomes every guest of the Asterias Sani Suites to a superb breakfast in the Water Restaurant. It’s the most important meal of the day, setting you up for the whole day’s activities. The basic rules to ensure the meal goes without a hitch are posted every day on a notice board, but the most important objective for our staff is the smile on the face of our guests. For us, that smile is the sign of success!

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The taste of happiness The staff of the Water Restaurant prepare to serve an order, attentive to every tiny detail. The process involves a number of stages: from choosing the best ingredients at the local market to preparing a skillful garnish that will show off the finished dishes to their best advantage. Over the last ten years the Sani Resort has laid great emphasis on the variety of dining options it offers its guests. There are now fifteen restaurants, each with its own character and style, to satisfy the tastes of our many different guests, and 15 teams of cooks and their assistants, under the overall guidance of eminent chefs from Greece and abroad, who have earned the resort its reputation as a gourmetâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s paradise.

On cloud nine Eleni sprinkles rose petals on the floor of a suite in the Porto Sani Village, preparing for the arrival of a couple who were married at the resort a year ago and are now returning to celebrate their anniversary. Your first impression of your room is terribly important, because so much of your time at Sani will be spent there. And it is these little details which make all the difference, allowing us to create the warm atmosphere of a private home, enhanced with discreet luxury in an environment that is comfortable and familiar, yet at the same time breathtakingly different.

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Fresh message In the laundry room Anna, who works for the housekeeping department of the Sani Beach Hotel, is ironing tablecloths for the Poseidon Restaurant. Every day the laundries of the resort handle more than 2,000 sheets and 8,000 towels, not to mention tablecloths, hand towels, and the clothes of both guests and staff. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a huge task, and one that we rarely appreciate: clean fresh sheets and towels are something we take for granted when all goes well. And to ensure that everything runs smoothly, dozens of cleaning crews across the resort work night and day to maintain the highest standards of cleanliness.

Between us In the last few years the Sani Resort has established itself as one of the top vacation destinations in Greece, and indeed the world.

This has required team spirit and whole-hearted commitment to our objectives, not forgetting excellent communication between all the members of the team. The right spirit needs to be cultivated from the very beginning, when the group comes together for the first time for training. And the first step is to get to know one another. The first day at work means lots of new acquaintances to make, and lots of people will feel nervous and shy. So to avoid moments of embarrassment, a photograph showing all the new members of the team, with their names, is an invaluable way of bringing people together â&#x20AC;&#x201C; as they set out together on an unforgettable experience.

Photographs: Iosifina Svania 102

SANI MAGAZINE '11

culture

By Argyro Barata

Every season 110 shows are put on, and on average around 450 performances of live music, all of the highest level of quality, most of them staged at the Garden Theatre of Sani Resort and the Helios Theatre at the Oceania Club. Sani Magazine team was there to report the world of wonders of what’s behind the entertainment scenes.

That's entertainment

D

ittrich Joerg is the head of the Sani Resort’s entertainment team, the man who organizes our leisure activities.

In his view, the secret of success is to satisfy as many different kinds of guest as possible. ‘We aim to please all the guests at the hotels, whatever their nationality, as well as people from the local community – all of whom have shown keen interest in our productions, especially since the new theatre was opened. Their response has been so positive that we have been inspired to produce even more exciting events this year’. ‘A musical usually takes five months to prepare: 3-4 months to get the venue ready, and another two months from first rehearsal to first night. For dance shows we need two weeks with many hours of rehearsal for dance and singing, about 3-4 weeks for the costumes and 3 weeks for the sets! A show lasting an hour and with a cast of thirteen might need 100 costumes!

Providing entertainment is no easy business. Our guests expect a high quality production, and good performers are not easy to find. ‘We need excellent dancers and singers, and we’re in competition with the cruise ships to find them.

Companies like Carnival, MSC and Cunard like to hire performers who’ve worked with us because they can be sure they have been well trained’. Mr. Joerg informs us that this year’s season will feature a Greek musical, a Michael Jackson tribute, a circus show – with high-wire act, the Show Ensemble, with acts from all over the world, and – of course – appearances throughout the season by a host of foreign entertainers. A confident Mr. Joerg is sure that this year’s audiences will be well satisfied.

Photographs: Iosifina Svania 104

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105

good life

I

origins

By Spyros Raptis

We think of the spa as a modern "invention" – but nothing could be farther from the truth. The fact is that the spa dates back to very distant times and – allowing for the inevitable changes brought about by advances in technology – is now once again becoming not just a place dedicated to relaxation, well-being and beauty, but a meeting place and focus of social activity. So: let’s take a closer look...

n essence, spas are places whose activities are all centred around water. In other words, they are a sort of public bathhouse. They vary enormously, and the variety of methods they employ almost defies the imagination. Pools, tanks, fountains, water jets, hot water, cold water, wave machines, low lighting, natural lighting, gentle, new age music, scented rooms – whatever the ingenuity of the management and the designer of each facility can invent. And of course, one must not forget all the auxiliary experiences and services that help us in our pursuit of relaxation and beauty: massages, body rubs with all sorts of products, face cleansing, oils, salts and any number of other substances and methods are employed by the modern spa centre. Every resource imaginable to offer the spa guest that sense of rejuvenation, relaxation, wellbeing, beauty, fulfillment, peace and – of course – the delicious sensation of being the centre of attention, pampered and spoiled by devoted attendants!

Like so many other aspects of our civilization, the spa has its origins in ancient Greece. In fact, archaeologists have uncovered remains dating far back before the classical period - which indicate customs of bathing and personal grooming in very ancient times, as well as the practice of purifying the spirit by immersion in water. There is no doubt that our distant ancestors, in Greece and elsewhere, were well aware of the life-giving properties and magical powers of everyday water!

Some of the earliest archaeological finds are those from the palace complex at Knossos, as well as the excavations at Akrotiri on Santorini, which include such marvelous artifacts as alabaster bath tubs and basins, objects designed solely for purposes of personal grooming. We must emphasize that these items were found either in private dwellings or in public bathhouses dating back 3,600 years – whereas in 1846, just 165 years ago, in Pennsylvania (in the United States no less!) a law was passed banning the taking of baths between November and April, for reasons of public health!

In classical times bathhouses began to spring up all over the Greek world, originally in the gymnasia. It was not long before they were housed in their own buildings – in the cities, close to shrines and oracles, and in general anywhere where people came together in social and religious activities. In the ancient Greek world they were known as valaneia. The ancient Greeks endowed every river and spring, even every stream, with its own local deity, and the cult of these gods provided many occasions for gatherings, worship, feasting and, of course, bathing. The ancient baths at Pella are a good example. They date from around 325-300 BC, were uncovered during excavations at Pella and are among the earliest to come to light in Greece. They were public baths, equipped with ground-breaking plumbing and drainage systems, pools, a sauna and both private and public bathing areas. They were then updated in around 275-250 BC, at the time of Antigonus Gonatas, with the addition of under-floor heating and underground pipes for tepid and cold water.

Photographs: Heinz Troll for Sani Resort archive 106

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In the Roman era the public bathhouse became even more widespread, and also more sophisticated. The Romans imitated many of the practices of the ancient Greeks in this area, but also introduced some remarkably inventive innovations of their own. First of all, the abundant availability of water at many points in the city, which was due to the invention and use of aqueducts and their supporting network of distribution pipes. Next, the invention of cement, which allowed easy, rapid and cheap construction of large buildings. Bathhouses were now to be found from one end of the Empire to the other. They grew larger and more opulent, offering undreamt of luxury. One of them was located in the town of Spa in eastern Belgium, close to Lieges, next to the German border, known then as Aquae Spadanae. How the name of this town came to be used to refer to all such places is not clear, but there is no shortage of theories. One of these is that the word is an acronym of the Latin phrase Salus Per Aquam, or Sanitas Per Aquam â&#x20AC;&#x201C; health through water. But this is extremely unlikely, as acronyms only came into use in the 20th century.

With the coming of the Middle Ages to Europe, the old bathhouse of the ancient world passed into obscurity. Slowly but surely the institution degenerated, the baths became places for sexual encounters and sources of disease, venereal and other. Far from promoting good health, the bathhouses were now a threat to it. To a superstitious and ignorant population, bathing began to become synonymous with disease, something to be avoided. The all-powerful Catholic Church was happy to reinforce these fears, rabid in its disapproval of the public bathhouse.

It is interesting that the practice of washing only the face, hands and feet, with wet towels, lasted for so many centuries, while it took only a few decades, eventually, for a healthier relationship with soap and water to be restored! It was only in the 16th century that the idea of reviving the public bathhouse was mooted by physicians, who urged their patients not just to drink mineral waters, but to immerse themselves in them. Gradually the spa reappeared in many parts of Europe, but the critical moment which marked the return of the spa as a place of treatment, detoxification, relaxation and leisure was the year 1626, when a Mrs. Elizabeth Farrow discovered a spring of acidic water on a hillside south of the English seaside town of Scarborough, on the North Sea coast. In no time at all the town was inundated with the wealthy and the aristocratic, even members of the royal family, all wishing to enjoy the beneficial properties of the water and spend their summers in the town.

And since then the spa has never looked back. All the superstitions and fears of the past have been dispelled by the light of science, and spas are now to be found wherever tourists and holidaymakers congregate, anywhere in the world.

And the modern spa, of course, is infinitely more sophisticated, appealing and hospitable than its forerunners, offering incomparable opportunities for peace and regeneration. An experience not to be missed!

One of them was located in the town of Spa in eastern Belgium, close to Lieges, next to the German border, known then as Aquae Spadanae. How the name of this town came to be used to refer to all such places is not clear, but there is no shortage of theories

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Spa at the Sani Resort Visitors to the Sani Resort have a choice of not one, not two, but three different spas.

Each of them offering relaxation, pampering and rejuvenation – using techniques inspired by those civilizations which have best understood the healing powers of water.

My Spa at the Sani Beach Hotel works in partnership with Apivita, the leading Greek company in the field of natural cosmetics and the French beauty company Anne Semonin, using the healing properties of nature to improve your well being. Employing all the latest developments in the science of beauty, Apivita has designed treatments which will bring a glow to the skin and peace to the soul – and all at very reasonable prices.

At Porto Sani Village, the Spa Suite by Anne Semonin offers tailor-made massages, aromatherapy, moonstone treatment (one of the best anti-stress treatments available) and 100% active cryo-aromatic treatment. These and other therapies, using the top-of-the-range Anne Semonin products from France – some of the most exclusive total rejuvenation treatments available anywhere in the world – will give you a taste of absolute luxury. All cosmetics used in the treatments are carefully chosen to suit the special, individual needs of each guest.

Finally, the Sani Beach Club also has its own spa, the Club spa-Touches of the World, where guests can sample the sounds and fragrances of distant places with more Anne Semonin products. Treatments include Thai massage, Indian head massage, Finnish sauna, steam baths and Lomi Lomi Nui from Hawaii, as well as special therapies drawn from our own traditions in Greece, using the healing properties of olive oil, yoghurt and honey to offer a rare experience of healing and rejuvenation.

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good life

By Georgia Dodou

Health and wellness

into your everyday life and diet Work is meant to be a break from living, not the other way round.

The good life isn’t an impossible dream, realized by just a lucky few.

It’s a daily challenge for us to all to rise to. All you need do is discover small sources of pleasure throughout your day.

> Wake up fifteen minutes earlier so you can linger over your morning bath or shower. > Warm up the atmosphere of your home with candles and subtle fragrances. > Buy some good coffee and herbal teas for the office. Resist the temptation of fast (and usually unhealthy) food, and replace it with some cheese and rusks from a good delicatessen.

> Wash your food down with a glass of good wine. > Make up your bed with smooth, well-ironed and perfumed sheets. > None of these little changes are difficult or expensive to make, but within days they can bring dramatic improvement to your quality of life. Especially when you start shopping for healthier foods – like the pomegranate.

Photograph: Vangelis Paterakis 113

A natural remedy

P megranate bliss

Photograph: Vangelis Paterakis

To Greeks, the pomegranate symbolizes abundance and long life. At New Year and at weddings one of the rituals is to break open the fruit and reveal the seeds within it. But these seeds contain within themselves more hidden secrets, dozens of healing, health-giving properties, and a delicious flavor to be enjoyed in all sorts of dishes and drinks.

T

he pomegranate was the emblem of the Eleusinian Mysteries, and the fruit given to Persephone by Pluto to bind her to the underworld. The ancient Egyptians buried pomegranates with their dead. It was one of the three ‘sacred fruits’ of the Buddha, was used as a decorative feature in the Temple of Solomon and on the robes of the Temple priests, and is mentioned in the Old Testament, in the Song of Songs. In Greek tradition, the fruit is a symbol of fertility, long life and abundance, and this is why we break open a pomegranate at weddings and at the New Year. In the contemporary world, the pomegranate enjoys an honored place in creative cuisine, as an ingredient of sophisticated salads and other dishes. But apart from its important symbolic role in many different faiths and cultures, the fruit conceals in its delicious juices some incredible health secrets, remedies for all sorts of health problems, some trifling, some more serious.

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The pomegranate is first recorded in Persia. One of the earliest fruits to be cultivated by man, its botanical name is Punica granatum. It is the fruit of a small, deciduous tree with shiny leaves and orange-yellow flowers. The fruit are round and red, yellow when fully mature, and full of seeds. They can tolerate considerable heat and drought, need very little tending and adjust easily to different soils. They are rich in vitamins, iron, potassium and natural fibres, and low in calories. One single pomegranate can supply 40% of our daily requirement of vitamin C and 25% of our recommended intake of folic acid. It is rich in three different types of anti-oxidant (tannins, anthocyanins, ellagic acid) and its overall anti-oxidant effect has been calculated as two to three times as strong as that of red wine or green tea. A recent study has shown that the pomegranate and various forms of berry have the most powerful anti-oxidant action on the cellular level, when compared with 25 other fruits that were tested.

SANI MAGAZINE '11

The juice of the pomegranate has been used for centuries as a weapon against germs, a cure for inflammation and coughs, an effective styptic and healing ointment and a cure for diarrhea.

Among other things, it prevents oxidization of ‘bad’ cholesterol (LDL), which is a serious factor in heart disease, and appears to reduce levels of total and ‘bad’ cholesterol in diabetics with hyperlipidaemia. It can protect against brain damage and reduce blood pressure, while there are indications that consumption over the long term can help men with erectile dysfunction. It is also believed to help prevent skin, breast and prostate cancers, and to slow the growth of tumours. It is used in the treatment of chronic diarrhea, dysentery, hemorrhaging and osteoarthritis. Finally, it cleanses and protects the skin, is used in treating burns and herpes, and can counteract wrinkles and ulcers.

To enjoy the benefits of the pomegranate, you can eat it as a fruit or drink the juice. But the pomegranate conceals other little mysteries, too. To improve your digestion, boil 1 cup of pomegranate rind in a litre of water. Let cool, strain and drink one glass every day for 15 days, 10 minutes before your main meal. If troubled by piles or a sore throat, boil the peel of 8-10 pomegranate leaves in a cup of water for 10 minutes. Strain and, for piles, apply the fluid cold each evening to the affected area, for as long as necessary. For the sore throat, use the fluid to gargle with, lukewarm, 2-3 times a day.

There are three kinds of pomegranate: sweet, semi-sweet and bitter.

Whichever taste you prefer, you should always opt for heavy fruit with a smooth, taut rind. Be aware that even when the rind is shriveled, the interior remains fresh and juicy.

Cleaning the fruit takes time, but is not as difficult as it may appear at first. Cut around the circumference and remove the rind at each end.

Then cut down gently and open the fruit in the middle so you can remove the seeds.

Pomegranates will last for a long time outside the fridge, or in a dark place, if hung up together with the branch they grew on. If you want the fruit to last for several months, keep it in the bottom tray of the refrigerator. To keep it even longer, you can clean the fruit and store it in a container or food bag in the freezer.

Many recipes call for the juice of the pomegranate, not just the seeds. You can extract the juice either by squeezing the fruit just as you would an orange, or by pressing the seeds through a strainer. In the latter case the membranes encasing the seeds will remain in the strainer, giving the juice a slightly astringent taste.

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soundtrack

When I wake up in the morning, love And the sun light hurts my eyes And something without worning, love Bears heavy on my mind Then I look at you and the world's alright with me Just one look at you and I know it's gonna be A lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day A lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day When the day that lies ahead of me Seems impossible to face When someone else instead of me Always seems to know the way Then I look at you and the world's alright with me Just one look at you and I know it's gonna be A lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day When the day that lies ahead of me Seems impossible to face When someone else instead of me Always seems to know the way Then I look at you and the world's alright with me Just one look at you and I know it's gonna be A lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day A lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day Lovely day - lovely day

SANI MAGAZINE '11

SANI MAGAZINE / SUMMER 2011 PUBLISHER: SANI S.A. 55 Nik. Plastira str., 54250 Thessaloniki Τel: +30 2310 317327, Fax: +30 2310 317881

editor in chief: Georgia Dodou (georgia@saniresort.gr) EDITORIAL TEAM: Αrgyro Barata, Georgia Dodou, Spyros Raptis, Michalis Skafidas COPY EDITING: Anna Papadaki COMMERCIAL DIRECTOR: Georgia Dodou ADVERTISING MANAGER: Sakis Karavidas

PHOTOGRAPHERS: Μinos Alhanati, Aris Rammos, Andreas Sfyridis, Κostas Stafylidis, Ιosifina Svania, Heinz Troll, Studio Paterakis, Photo Vavdinoudis-Dimitriou/Studio VD DESIGN: Red Creative IMAGE PROCESSING: Sotiris Giannakopoulos PRINTING: Skordopoulos

www.saniresort.gr Sani Magazine is published annually by SANI S.A. in 20.000 greek & english copies and is distributed free of charge. All rights reserved.