Im not sure how I’m going to live without the morning trip to Costas, watching the boats and listening to the morning service.
Today there was a possession of the Icon round the bay of Halki. Over the past days people have been tentatively arriving. And as the news ferry drew into the bay from the windy sea, and the drifting sound of a slightly out of tune band wafted towards the town. The bells stormed into a cochofony of noise.
The icon, the bishop, and the arch bishop came down from the monestry in a taxi, saving the old tradition of walking the five hour possession for another year… something done for the last 30 years since the road had been built.
From the sound of bells, the band, and the chatter of people, the horns of all the ferries, and the gun salute from the elusive small and forgotten barracks up the hillside, the icon proceeded round the bay. I following, corraled into the crowed by old women talking at in Greek I didnt know.
It was a special that lasted a short brief time. Seen every year. Quietly anticipated.
And tonight, as the band withdraw to bells, horns, and gun salutes, will be a dance. A traditional dance that has won the Greek dancing championships several times.
The sound of the local band practicing whispering around the bay, draws the dusk in on another interesting day on Halki.
So I’m on holliday. A holiday is frankly a little understatement when refering to a return to Halki. It’s a small Island, bairely a population over 300, but every single one of them are friendly kind people. There has never been a more seculded, captivating, quietly known, and ever understated island.
And we arrived on the biggest dates for the island. A week of every distant relation to gather and celebrate this vibrant islands history. It buzzes with joy. An extended family of relations and regular visitors on one small, happy island.