As agreed the previous afternoon, we set out to Hora to study the full moon in relation to Tom’s next installation project. Brigitte was waiting in front of her house dressed in black, wearing sandals but no bandanna. She insisted that we take her old jeep, “as it is such fun to drive in an open car”.
I reluctantly agreed.
“The whole of the island will now say that we are lovers,” she said, “there is no use trying to hide it in your car”. I murmured that I didn’t give a damn about that, but I did not tell her that I had doubts about her car’s trustworthiness. It really makes awful disquieting noises and I don’t know when it has seen a garage lately. Seeing me grabbing the handle in front of the passenger’s seat, she said: “Funny, you do exactly like Mike when I drive, are you nervous?” Of course not, etc., etc.
Tom, an habitué of the Moonrise bar, got an idea last month as he was sipping his ouzo and watching the enormous orange moon rise from the distant mountains of the island across the channel. It was such a majestic experience that he thought that one could enrich it further by having original music playing as well as giant video installation projections on the opposite side of the valley. He speculated that the show could be repeated 3 times every summer month: the night before the full moon; the night of the full moon; and the night after. Spectators would sit all around the side of the Moonrise bar watching the moon, accompanied by appropriate video and music. The project could be financed through various cultural funds and offered free of charge to locals and tourists, thus boosting the island’s attraction to visitors.
The moon came out at about 20.15, still broad daylight, as we were driving to Hora. It came out of a mist and was not imposing at all. It is far too early to start a show at moonrise. Being still daylight, it completely spoils the effect. At Hora itself I noted that, going up the drive that ends to the bus stop and the old school, you cannot see the moon. So Tom’s idea of having people sitting along there does not fly if intended for moonrise. You can see it about half an hour later, but not then. In general, the moon rises in the middle of the bay, but moves to the right (SW) as it goes higher, and at about 23.00, it is totally on the side.
The Moonrise bar was packed. Lefteris the barman had inaugurated new comfortable folding armchairs and they were all taken. From the bar, the view across the sea is superb and the clientele was sipping their drinks while watching the almost full moon––mostly young Greek tourists. “Buenas noches compañeros!” screamed Lefteris, shaking a cocktail. We looked around and we were about to ask him where to sit when a noisy and obnoxious French family with two screaming kids got up and left, leaving the best place for us just below the bar. Brigitte had brought three CDs with her and she gave one to Lefteris to play it. He did not seem very happy. The loudspeaker was screaming the “Evita” piece, which he obviously cherishes. One could now hear it after the departure of the wailing French. Typically Brigitte bullied him into playing HER record, a certain Loreena McKennit from Ireland. She said she was in love with the way this woman sung, she had heard her in a concert in Lycabettus last year and cannot forget her. She is not bad.
A continuous va et vient of parading people in front of us composed a strange scene with the moon and the sea in the background. Brigitte didn’t stop talking about herself, as usual. The moon slowly became more silvery and bright and a silver river formed on the waves. It was much more beautiful now, an hour later after moonrise, and it was completely dark. Tom’s idea to coincide with the moonrise is not good, unless tomorrow the moon rises later and it is darker. The wind did not seem to affect us as the site is quite protected. There is a need to study all this very carefully when designing a possible installation and show.
The crowd going up and down the steps in front of us thinned a bit as the night progressed. Among the young couples an old round fat woman with a stick was painfully going down the steps and paused in front of us. Seeing that I was looking at her with sympathy she said, “It’s the old age, the old age!” And before I had time to answer she added: “It’s not true, it is the fat!”
“You must go on a diet!” I told her.
“Yes I should.” She shook her head in doubt.
“There are too many temptations,” I said.
“Too many!” she agreed and went on with her stick. I thought that she might only be ten years older than me perhaps.
Towards 22.00 Lucille and Albert stood in front of us. Lucille like a shrivelled old woman. They had gone for dinner to a fish taverna down on the little beach and they came up to catch the bus. I invited them to have a drink with us as they still had half an hour. I asked Albert about his writing and he said that he had published a second novel in January. Lucille said that it has been well received. Maybe we should read it.
Then we talked about Lefteris, the owner of Moonrise. He looks after goats during the day and opens his sophisticated bar at night. In the winter he only deals with his goats. According to him, he is also the proud companion of Che Guevara. “C’est un phénomène!” said Albert. “Il prend conseil des jeunes gens branchés et il a monté ce superbe bar“. I told them I did not think he has ever been outside Greece, and they think he might have not even been outside the island. Typical Greek genius, the bluff that works.
We all agreed that this year, the island’s art exhibition in the monastery of Panteleimon was disappointing. Albert said that it had accomplished a circle: that either it’s the last year of this type of exhibition, or something new will have to happen. We told them about Tom’s installation project and Albert thinks that such sophisticated artistic endeavours might alter the island’s basic character, even if they are well done. I said that the island’s basic character is more in danger from tourism and the locals than from culture.
Brigitte said it would be silly to go back to her house to eat her salad and I agreed, thankfully. At about 23.00, after having sipped two enormous ouzos and munched some pistachios, she suggested we go to eat in Loukas in the square of Anomera. As we have not eaten there for years, I agreed to try it. The place was packed as usual, but we found a nice table in the back against the wall, under the bougainvillea. There was a pleasant breeze and one could see the clear sky packed with brilliant stars. Brigitte started talking about Lucille. Apparently she has been coming for many years to the island with a girlfriend, Fernande, before Albert appeared on the scene. Fernande had a daughter from a first marriage but she had later been living with a Bedouin in Burkina Faso, with whom she had another child. She still works in Burkina Faso but comes to the island from time to time. She is now here with her 13- year-old franco-bedouine daughter. Lucille comes from a well-known family of university professors, from Lille. We both agreed that we don’t like her as she is very false.
As we were picking at our mediocre food, a little silver car stopped in front of the restaurant and out stepped the Andreadis couple. It was about 00.30. Pavlos saw us first, and said loudly, shaking his finger to us: “I won’t say anything!” meaning of course to our respective partners, but only semi-jokingly. I’m sure the Ioannides, among others, will know that I take Brigitte out to dinner and… who knows? I understand that poor Brigitte must have a hard time from that point of view. Mike is only there occasionally, and the imagination of the locals is over-fertile about a woman alone. She told me this is one of the many difficulties she has to face here. She loves Mike but suffers from solitude (another one) and she is now afraid of getting old and ending up in an old people’s home. Apparently her daughter and her son assured her that they will not let this happen to her, but she is depressed and confused. And she doesn’t think Mike was right to go to Australia for his father’s 80th birthday and leave her alone here.
How can one explain to her the contradiction?
As we arrived back to her house, the mountains were bathed in silver moonlight and the air was light and fresh. She handed me the three CDs and instructed me to listen to them putting the sound to the maximum, watching the moon playing with the sea.
