Day 2 / Mamma Mia Bliss & Moon Bathing

Settling in, striking out and a tiny drop of history

Minutes spent listening to ABBA: 2,738 (alarming increase)
Goats spotted: 32 (new neighbours)
Burns incurred: 0 (v v good)
Near misses with local mopeds: 8 (objectively, not bad)

Hermit Awakening

Today I have one of those (rare) moments where I feel the thrill of the morning person.

I launch myself out of bed and throw open the shutters to be greeted by the flash of bright blue sea. A cloudless sky. Birdsong and the distant chug of boats.

As a sun seeker who’s happiest in bright Mediterranean days, this is my heaven.

Goood morning Leros

I do battle with the coffee machine (success! small wins!) and head down to the beach. She’s a crescent of sand and shingle. A gentle slope into crystalline water. Clear enough to see your shadow swimming on the sand below.

There’s absolutely nobody around and looking at the road down (more like rock pitted goat track) I can see why.

I swim. Play ABBA. Loud. Dance around. I am Donna. This is my Kalokairi. Pure cloud nine living before nine o clock in the morning.

For me, this week is about retreating. Disconnecting. Shedding the overstimulation of London life.

Today is only and all for me.

I read. I write. I start The Artist’s Way (more on this to follow). A small herd of goats comes clattering by. My new neighbours.

It becomes clear to me that this hermit chapter is not about running or hiding. It’s about looking inwards. The chance to find wonder and delight again. A creative reset.

Exploring

Later that day, I head out to the supermarket.

I spent many an evening on my year abroad happily mooching around supermarchés and this one doesn’t disappoint.

I load up on tomatoes and courgettes. Aubergines. Garlic. Greek yoghurt. Honey. Local wine. Fresh coffee. Greek flatbreads. A wheel of cheese.

Then I make a friend. Eleni behind the till. She’s new. I’m English. We muddle through. I like her nails (butter yellow, v chic). She is bemused about swapping London for Leros. She waves me off.

Day One Album

On the way back I take a wrong turn and head down to the south end of the island. The sun starts to slip behind the hills and golden hour descends on Leros.

Oh the joy to be driving properly. Not inching through London traffic but through Aleppo pines with the sea flashing bright blue at every corner. Music (Super Trouper) blasting through open windows.

History-ing

Leros itself is a small and squiggly island. She’s a cluster of wide bays and natural harbours with tree crusted hills and a scattering of laidback villages. As I drive, I pass fragments of a choppy past.

Hangovers from an Italian occupation. Ruined military barracks. A strangely Art Deco port, the only true rationalist town outside of Italy.

Then there’s the abandoned psychiatric asylum. An towering gothic building with empty windows for eyes. Today, the patients are housed in smaller (and hopefully less imposing) hospitals. Only a handful left, all elderly and living out the rest of their days.

Add in the newly built asylum processing-centre which lords over the main bay like a football stadium crossed with a spaceship, you can see why Leros has slipped under the radar.

There are no resorts. No Lidls. One daily boat.

But, as I watch the sea grow flat and pearlescent that evening, I decide I like it here. Really like it.

Moon Gazing

My favourite historical Leros anecdote though comes from a pre-Italian, pre-psychiatric era.

In Greek mythology, Leros was the hunting ground of Artemis, goddess of the moon as well as wilderness, healing, transitions and chastity.

Artemis giving OG hermit

A fitting icon for my hermit chapter.

Today her temple is a ruin of stones but the island still hosts full moon festivals throughout summer.

And that evening, the moon is nearly full. A bright globe that lights up the sea as it laps onto the crescent beach.

Sitting on the terrace of my hermit house, I watch the moon and listen to the sea. Calm. Moon-blessed bliss.

What, could possibly go wrong…