It's three thirty in the middle of the night and I have to turn the heat on again, get a second wool blanket from the bedroom closet and go pee. I decided to occupy only the living room and the kitchen because I don't want to heat the bedroom when I am alone and don't need any more space. Having lived on a 10 meter sailboat for the last 14 years and before that on smaller ones, in my opinion, most houses waste a lot of space.
The heater has been going all afternoon and evening yesterday and the best it could do by night fall was 18 degrees. I think I'm heating the walls, the floor and the ceiling of this house... It's been closed up this winter up till now.
I am also wearing a hat, a sweatshirt with a hood, pants and socks on top of my nightie. This is what happens when you are used to sailing in the tropics. Your blood thins. I make a note to ask Toula how much the heat is going to cost me. She is letting me stay in her summer house on Salamina Island near Athens for a good price and whatever the utilities add up to but I hope whatever they add up to is not going to break the bank. Greece in winter is a bit better than Canada in winter, but not like the summers I know. And not like Mexico of last winter.
The house is on a cliff facing the Aegean sea to the east and south, exposed to the wind. It is built of concrete with minimal insulation because it is a summer home. The heater is actually an air conditioner meant to cool the air during the summer and not heat it, so not very efficient.
The nearest village is almost an hour walk away, there is no internet and all I came with is what fit into a small back pack. Two sweaters, a sweatshirt and two pairs of pants – most of which I am wearing now. And it's drizzling. I decided to come here in January to write and to see if I could retire in Greece permanently. I want to find a small piece of paradise to call my own so this is to be the acid test.
After Christos and Toula, my friends and hosts left to go back to Athens yesterday afternoon, I walked down the stone steps to the beach and small boat quay, then on the way back picked flowers, rosemary and sage as well as a couple of lemons for my tea. I put the herbs and flowers in a glass filled with water on the table and the lemons in a bowl. Then I made tea. If this was going to be my winter home, I needed to get settled.
I turn off the heater, snuggle up under the blankets, put the hood of the sweatshirt over the hat on my head and close my eyes once more. I can hear the sea below the house sliding up the stony beach like a Buddhist monk's meditative breath and I fall asleep.
In the morning, I flick the heater remote switch and put on more clothes. The world outside is grey with a light drizzle moistening my face when I open the shutters and glass doors of the balcony door to get the milk.
The sea is lightly rippled today, its motion coming towards the shore out of the south east. Southerly wind usually brings rain and warmer temperatures. I hope for the latter.
The room is warming up a bit, and while I try to save electricity by not using the TV, the fridge or the microwave, what I am using is going into making heat. I'm sure a wood stove would have this place cozy in no time at all.
I check the thermometer outside: it's nine degrees. Inside it's only 17. I peel a ripe banana, chase it with a mandarin orange and two slices of bread with honey which complete my breakfast. I then warm up the coffee on the stove top and stare out the balcony glass door while the heater hums near the ceiling.
The buildings on the hillside to my left look like they are ready to tumble down, large boulders already littering the drop off above the beach. One construction – only a floor with supports over the cliff has been abandoned many years ago and looks ready to slide down at any moment. Another one above it, was perhaps a second try at building but it too was abandoned. This time the owner was more optimistic - there is a floor, some walls with a window and a roof but it doesn't look like it was ever lived in. And near the top, a third house was started and two floors are finished in concrete but even that one does not look habitable.
This is not the only project that failed on this hill. The second house from where I am staying, a three storied monstrosity has also been abandoned. The one that's closest to mine looks like it's been actually lived in, but the supporting concrete for its terrace is broken off and there are serious cracks in the walls below it. Concrete paths and stairs lead to the beach below but they don't look too secure either. I make a note to check the hill under where I am staying next time I go out and in the future hire an engineer before building my own home. Greece is earthquake prone but the sea and winter storms do a lot of damage as well. Perhaps a house on flat land would be safer? No view of course...
To the south, the next house is all closed up, shutters covering the windows and doors. It does look habitable though, so here is hoping. The one south of it has smoke coming out of the chimney, so someone is there. I envy the occupants their proper heater. There is also an elderly couple Niky and Pavlos who live up the hill with their son Jorgos and a dog Charlie. Toula and Christos introduced me to them yesterday and I have an invitation to visit. I think I'm going to like it here.
