Next morning, our family was all up and ready to go get some breakfast, as Fr. Nicholas and Gabriel appeared to still be asleep. It is not so easy to find breakfast in Greece. There tends to be three different types of eating establishments: the taverna, where you get restaurant-style food, the café, where you get coffee and ouzo, maybe some sandwiches and sweets, and then these fast-food-type places where you can pick up a souvlaki, sandwich, savory pastry or gyro. The tavernas are pretty much open for lunch (11-1) and dinner (8-midnight). In the larger towns they have pretty extensive menus, but all pretty much the same things. We’ve learned that out in the remoter areas, the menu doesn’t mean much. In fact, it’s not uncommon to get one menu for your whole table. Many items listed are unavailable, either seasonally or depending on the time of day. Most of them are family-run, and when the certain type of dish is gone for the day, it’s just gone. You choose something else. And they tell you what they have in the oven at that time.
The cafes are open all the time, more or less, as are the fast-food stands, but what you can get to eat there is pretty limited. For breakfast on Tinos, we’ve done the option that works pretty well. We had hoped to find a café with some decent food, but the only one open nearby had only toast, which means the dry melba-like toast that is popular here with some butter, jam and honey. So we went to the supermarket and bought yogurt, juice, and chocolate-filled croissants. Then we went and bought coffee, sat at the internet café, and had a decent morning.
On our way back, we crossed paths with Fr. Nicholas and Gabriel about 10AM. We had checked on boat times sailing to Andros and thought they would be going with us. They decided rather to head on to Naxos, hoping to catch up with 2 other American friends going on to Mt. Athos: Scott, and his son Ethan. Not quite knowing what they would decide to do, we went on to Andros on the 2:10 boat.
HEADING TO ANDROS
The ferry took close to 2 hours and we had hoped a public bus would be waiting at the end of the dock to take us around the other side of the island to Andros town (Chora – which means “main town” on the islands, I think). There was not one, but three busses waiting at the end of the dock. But they weren’t leaving for 5 more hours. We had been vascillating about whether or not to rent a car, and that little detail made our minds up quick!
So yet again, I became the intrepid driver. This had a great advantage for us, though. I had hoped that we might be able to stop through a monastery I spent a lot of time at when I was in Greece 12 years ago, just before getting married. If we had all been together, we probably wouldn’t have had this chance, but with a car, one has FREEDOM!! So as we headed south we saw the turnoff for Zoodohos Pigis Monastery and took it. Christopher and Emma were both anxious to see it after hearing stories for years.
The road up was pretty good gravel, steep and twisty. Andros and Tinos are both very hot, dry islands. We climbed steadily up through small olive trees, sage brush, bee boxes, and goats! The goats were hardly intimidated by either us or the car and happily snoozed along the side of the road (and sometimes on it!) and watched us pass.
After about 15 minutes of driving, the imposing monastery wall came into view. As I understand from my last visit, this monastery used to be inhabited by many monks and was very active, with a community of laypeople also growing up around it on the mountainside. At a certain point in history, there was a terrible raid from pirates who came in, burning all the fields and houses, killing the monks and wreaking havoc so badly that the town was not re-built. Three days before this occurred, the miraculous fresco at the men’s monastery across the island (Agios Nikolaos, where we were heading) began to weep.
At any rate, my history may be sketchy as it was 12 years ago and I wasn’t even sure at the time I was understanding completely what the abbess said. But I ended up making my way here those many years ago to find one nun (the Gerondissa) and another young woman staying with her. Some of the other pilgrims at the time made fast friends with me and together we made a sort of motley family for a couple of weeks. I had very strong and fond memories of that time. One other girl from Italy, Kristina, about my age was a little bolder than I since she was related to the Abbess. She got permission for us to explore around the monastery and it was quite an experience. About half of the monastery was in pretty good shape. The small church was built in the middle over a miraculous spring dating back to the pre-Christian era. On the far side, however, was a large complex of cells in great disrepair, with some of them only half-standing, with piles of slate and rubble all over the ground. She and I open doors with rusty hinges and inches of dust. Probably many of them had not been opened for years. It was very moving, and quite sad. We found looms with a piece of material half made and the shuttle laying on top, prayer corners with a small book askew on the desk and a sweater or cloak hanging on a little hook. It looked as though people had been there just a few moments ago and stepped away, except the dust everywhere told a different story.
As we arrived at the gates to the monastery, they were fast shut. We knew that the timing was terrible – in the afternoon the monasteries basically shut down, as do the towns and shops, for a universal “quiet time”. We knew when we went up that we would probably not be able to go in. The large black wrought-iron gate with a strong lock confirmed this, not to mention the high wall and heavy steel door firmly shut within the courtyard.
I was unwilling to leave right away, and took a short walk up a steep little embankment to a dirt road I remember walking down years ago. I wanted to see if it could get me the height to be able to look down on the little church. I remember the abbess telling me that this had been considered a holy site during pagan times, and when it was fulfilled in Christianity, it was named “Zoodohos Pigi” or “The Life-Giving Spring”. This icon for this feast is of the Theotokos in a large basin with water pouring out through spigots or holes on the side. She holds Christ on her lap, and many who need healing: lame, blind, ill, aged, come to the pool beneath the basin to drink of the healing waters.
I couldn’t quite get high enough to see the church. But instead I was rewarded with a delightful sight of a herd of goats and a couple of small sweet churches down the back side of the monastery. I walked back, knowing everyone would be getting hot and antsy. In God’s great providence, it happened that just as Christopher and I were at the gate taking a last look, we saw a figure. She also saw us, and took a look but was not inclined to come close enough to really see us, and seemed to be heading back into the monastery door. I remembered her very clearly and called out her name: “Anna! Ine Macrina! Anna, ella! Ella!” I was telling her it was me and to come here to the gate. She finally did, and recognized me right away. I was so incredibly thankful!
She went and got Gerondissa Evgenia, who also remembered me. She spoke what little she could with us (my limit with Greek is still very short, and she speaks no English) and then allowed us in to see the church, where we venerated the icons and got some water from the spring. We talked a little more, referring to the former time and the others who had been with us. We wished each other well and we headed back down the mountain.
The drive south down Andros and across the island was both stunning and peaceful. We wound along one side of the island, driving south across curvy roads dotted with small villages way down below, Andros being a very mountainous island with steep sides. Like in many other places throughout Greece, we saw many homes and shops clinging to the sides of steep hills.
Finally making it into Chora, or Andros Town, after about 1.5 hours of driving, we found the strip of road with hotels on one side and the beach on the other. It took some walking and patience, but we found a great apartment-style room for 60E, had some belated dinner at the taverna almost next door, and turned in for the night.
We all slept well -- no mosquitoes! Macrina signing off in peaceful Andros from our cute little downstairs apartment.
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