Fires of August

By , 01/08/2014 09:46


The daytime yesterday was a swimming pool and beach day; the first few days of our family holidays we are usually very lazy. Naturally, I am tuned to Greek time more than they are, and I am up hours before the other Harts, and am tired in the evening when they are still wide awake.

In the evening yesterday we went along to Kalyvia (Καλύβια), a small village on the island, inland from Limenaria (Λιμενάρια), for the local Φωτιές του Αυγούστου (Fires of August) festival, organised by the local council.

It was a table for 13: We went with Kosta (the barman from our hotel) and a Greek/Russian family who live in Germany – and we were then later joined by another two couples, one from Slovakia, and one from somewhere, but I’m not sure where. I haven’t really spoken German since I left college in 2011.

My Greek is definitely better than my German, and it doesn’t help that I’ve forgotten the German verb endings, but know the Greek verb endings perfectly well. Unfortunately I don’t think «Mein Vater δεν sprechει Γερμανικά» is quite the way to communicate in two languages… It is gramatically correct to me, but you sort of need to know both languages well for this form of communication to work. Note to self: When asked a question in German, the answer is Ja, not Ναι.

The tavernas were very busy – the road was closed off and all the tables were out in the middle of the road. For the early part of the evening we sat and had our drinks at the taverna, while in the small square there was traditional music from all over Greece and traditional Thassos dancing, by local school children. Λουκουμάδες (donuts in syrup) were being given away on the street and we all had some.

Φωτιές του Αυγούστου, Καλύβια Θάσου.

Φωτιές του Αυγούστου, Καλύβια Θάσου.

Later in the evening, the hay bales in the middle of the road were lit and everyone jumped over the fires. We returned to our table, where we then had rather a lot of food – souvlaki, gyro meat, chicken, bread, tzatziki, feta cheese, beef burger etc – and we all tucked in to our evening meal – the whole thing accompanied by live bouzouki music from the taverna.

By the time we got in the taxi to head back to Potos, it was well after midnight, and Dad had maybe had one too many ouzos. Or four too many.

Today: Beach and pool again during the day I think.

Bye for now,


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