City of Hermes

Traveling Classroom^™

City of Hermes

Rising early, we go topside to check the weather. There was rain during the night. The quay is wet, but there are a few patches of blue sky in the cloud cover. It is possible that conditions will continue to improve and we can set sail for Mykonos. With a fresh pot of coffee on the aft deck, we begin to plot today's schedule. We must go to the telephone company and connect with our Internet service provider. The first order of business, however, is to find something for breakfast. We walk along the waterfront sniffing the air until we find a bakery with a nice selection of Greek and Turkish sweet rolls. Laden with good things to eat, we return to the boat.

After a tasty breakfast and another cup of coffee, Duane shoulders the laptop computer and we hike back to Platia Miaouli. Passing the statue of Admiral Miaoulis, I admire the beautiful Apollon theater, a small copy of La Scala in Milan, Italy. I wonder if this theater has the acoustics of the famous opera house. We turn right at the steps of town hall and walk under tall palms to the OTE building. The same woman is at the reception counter, and she remembers what we want. She leads us into an office with several desks and introduces us to another woman. We explain what we need and show her the modem connector. She leads us to a desk and disconnects the telephone from the wall, indicating that we may use it. We plug in the computer and start our dialer. The line in Athens is busy, so we use the Kos number. The server computer answers and we provide the proper user ID and password, but we are denied access. After many tries, Duane decides to telephone Hellas On Line for support. He talks with the computer technicians in Athens and gets additional information on configuring the computer.

Armed with new information, we try again and again and again. Each time we are stopped just short of a successful connection. After two hours of trying, Duane phones Athens again and receives further instructions. He reconfigures the computer and tries again without success. After repeated failures, we decide to stop at around 11:30. It is very frustrating to be unable to access the Internet after finally locating a place with the right sort of telephone outlet. Before leaving we thank everyone for their help and request permission to try again. As we walk towards the waterfront the rain starts.

After reviewing the weather, wind and sea conditions with our sailing companions, we agree that it does not look good for a trip into open water. In fact, we have noticed that none of the sailboats in harbor is making preparations to depart. We decide to stay another night and to continue our exploration of the city. Ermoupoli is much too large to see in a single day.

Duane and I want to check out the shower facilities in the old ferry terminal building before we venture off again. The prospect of hot showers and clean hair is very compelling. We can't get hot water on Zoe Zoe unless the engine is running. Peter has offered the use of the showers on his boat (he has a generator to keep the electrical system charged), but we don't want to impose on his generous nature. When we arrive at the terminal, we encounter an elderly couple who appear to be gatekeepers of the showers. The sign at the entrance announces that showers cost 250 drachma apiece (less than a dollar), and we quickly produce the coins. Before allowing us in, however, the old woman asks if we are married (she points at her ring finger). When we assure her that we are, she happily leads us to the showers.

Clean and refreshed, we stroll to the boat through a light drizzle. After hanging our towels and stowing gear, we venture out again to explore the city. To many citizens it is actually two cities built on two hills and divided by a valley. Ano Syros (on the left) is the old Roman Catholic town dating from the 13th century and Vrondado (on the right), where the Orthodox Greeks live, was built in the 19th century as an offshoot of Ermoupoli. We walk along the waterfront to the west side of the harbor, and then up the hill towards the medieval city of Ano (upper) Syros. It was built during the time when Venice ruled, which accounts for the Venetian architecture. It was also at this time that the Roman Catholics displaced the Orthodox religion and built numerous churches and monasteries.

With its walls, narrow lanes and arches, Ano Syros has kept much of its medieval character. It is in the form of a defensible castle and the houses are separated by narrow, slate, whitewashed alleys. The main characteristic of the town's architecture is the reed stegadia, seen around the townlet, as well as the portopoules (small balconies, no terrace). We are immersed in a bygone age as we wind our way up the hill. At the top of the hill is the impressive temple of San Giorgio, and just below it are the Jesuit and Capuchin monasteries which once dispensed justice and organized schools and hospitals. Because the influential Syrian Catholics had strong ties to Italy and France, the island was given special privileges when the Turks took over in 1537. When the War of Independence broke out, Syros remained neutral but secretly protected refugees and supplied money to the freedom fighters. Starting in 1821 thousands of Greeks, who were driven out of other Aegean islands by the Turks, found refuge on the shores of the bay below Ano Syros.

The refugees gradually built a new town around the bay and up the neighboring hill; it was placed under the patronage of Hermes, the god of commerce, and called Hermoupolis (Ermoupoli). Totally Greek, it grew rapidly and by 1828 it already numbered 15,000 inhabitants. After independence was won, the "City of Hermes" was even considered as the capital of the newly established Greek kingdom. Although it did not become the capital, Ermoupoli remained the most important commercial port in Greece until the end of the century. Maritime trade, ship yards, textile workshops, tanneries, the production of wrought iron and ships' prows all enriched the cosmopolitan inhabitants. Famous architects created marvelous public buildings, elegant houses with wrought iron balconies and the handsome villas in Vaporia where the ship owners, bankers and rich merchants lived. While the money flowed, the entire town was alive with commerce, art and cultural events. The money stopped flowing when the Corinth canal was opened in 1893 and Pireás became the primary shipping port in Greece. The economy of Ermoupoli was dealt a serious blow and the pace of life slowed considerably.

We leave the medieval world and move forward in time as we walk back towards the harbor. In the Vaporia neighborhood it is evident that some of the great neo-classical mansions have fallen into disrepair over the years. Perhaps it is just that wealthy folk of today don't like 19th century architecture. Passing through commercial streets, we window shop and visit at stores selling antique jewelry, clothing, books and all sorts of interesting goods. Nearing the waterfront, the stores now specialize in marine equipment, motors, etc. Every one seems to specialize. I even saw a little shop that sells only mops and buckets. There are a number of ships docked at the Neorion ship works for repair and refitting. Seagoing commerce is still going strong in this port.

Walking through the rain towards Zoe Zoe, we count the things we have not seen. We have not visited the archaeological museum, nor the temple of the Assumption with the icon painting by Dominikos Theotokopoulos (El Greco), nor the cave home of Peresydes (philosopher and teacher of Pythagoras), nor a dozen other things we want to see. "You like jazz?" calls a voice behind us. We continue walking, thinking it is one of the shop keepers. Again the question "You like jazz?" and we turn around to find Peter, motioning us into a waterfront coffee house.

It is an old place with all manner of eclectic memorabilia and artwork hanging from the walls, jazz playing on the sound system, and people crowding around small tables talking or playing backgammon. Peter leads us to a table where a long-haired man is seated. Introducing himself as John, the man is happy to hear that we are from Seattle. He was born on Syros and he once visited Seattle as a teenager when he served as a galley helper aboard a freighter. In fact, he was stranded there for several days because he failed to return to the ship before sailing time.

John now works as a cook at a restaurant in Germany, and frequently returns to Syros to visit and work as a fisherman with friends. While the rain increases outside, we drink our coffee and listen to John tell of all the changes that have occurred in Syros: the Neorion ship works will be closing, the city will develop its harbor to cater to tourists, and (most disconcerting) we must be careful of Albanian pirates who steal foreigners' boats and sail them north to sell. We chat for nearly two hours until a very tall, white-haired man walks into the place, comes to our table and begins speaking in German to Peter. His name is Hans. He is a retired Swedish dentist who built a boat and has been sailing it for the past several years. He also speaks excellent English, and we exchange stories with him for a time. It is starting to get late, so we decide to adjourn to our boats and meet later for dinner. We have found a taverna called "1935" which is listed in one of the guides, and we want to try it. Peter begs off. He really doesn't like Greek cuisine.

After a meeting on the boat with Jeanette and Paul, the four of us connect with Hans at Peter's boat and walk up towards the town hall. The Orthodox cathedral at the top of the hill is lighted tonight. Before we get to Platia Miaouli, we turn left and wind through side streets and alleys until we arrive at the 1935. There are not many customers now, but the place smells wonderful. We examine the menu, confer, and order a selection of favorite foods with some of the local wine. Judging from the huge wine casks that decorate this taverna, the owner must have some connection with local vintners. Over dinner, Hans tells us that his laptop computer has completely quit and asks if we can do anything to help. He needs the computer to operate the autopilot on his boat. Duane suggests that we try to boot the computer from a start disk rather than the machine's own hard drive. If this allows us to get into the computer, then something might be done to determine what caused the system to crash. It is decided that Duane and I will get our computer from the boat and join Hans on his boat to try and sort out the problem.

It is a long hike around the harbor with Hans. He has anchored his boat offshore on the west side of the Neorion ship works. We finally arrive at a dock where a number of fishing boats are tied, and Hans shows us a little inflatable dinghy. It looks too small to carry all three of us, but Hans says that it will. We carefully climb in, Hans starts the tiny outboard and we motor out into the bay. The boat is a beautiful sloop with a steel hull. It is smaller than Zoe Zoe, but rigged with more sophisticated equipment that has allowed Hans to sail solo from the North Sea down along the coast of England and throughout the Mediterranean. The interior is all handmade wood cabinetry, which Hans built for his own specific requirements.

Duane attempts to get Hans' computer running by using a start-up disk produced on our computer and then he tries some other tricks. Nothing seems to work, and Hans' description of computer function breakdown suggests a virus infection. This will require the services of a computer technician. After a short visit, Hans ferries us back to the dock and thanks us for our efforts. It is well past midnight as we trudge back through empty streets and dark alleys, where only a few stray dogs notice our passing.

When we reach the main waterfront area, we discover that all the bars and tavernas are open and cheerful people are dancing to the sounds of tsambouna and toumbi. Music is a vital part of the daily life here on Syros. This is where Markos Vamvakaris combined elements of the music from Asia Minor with Byzantine sounds to create the rembetiko music loved throughout Greece. Duane suggests that we join the dance, but it is much too late and we may have to sail tomorrow. Leaving the music behind, we finally arrive at Zoe Zoe and climb quietly aboard.