Kobi Shmuel- Greece 2
Posted on May 8, 2015
the journey to Greece – Kobi Shmuel, chapter 2
Rain drops and considerable amount of water gathered on the side of the road and on the path surrounded by greenery and lead to the small motel. I’m in a picturesque town while the brush is still painting.
Aidipsos is the name of the town that touches as a sleeve of sea to the other side of Greece. Rain, color of grey and some clarity in the horizon. I lightly speak with the motel owner and he ask with an indifference typical to the place why do I need all this travel… and me… I laugh out of tiredness, answer in Hebrew “it doesn’t matter” and good night.
7:30 in the morning, taking a photo in my camera and sending it, a beginning of a wonderful morning. Several minutes after that I already make my last arrangements, look out of the window again, the same color but different shade, a click on the camera and there you have a photo of the morning process… in colors.
I’m in the alleys of the town, heading towards the ferry that will take me the next 5.5 miles, deep blue water and seagulls escort welcome me to the ferry. Twenty minutes later I’m in the other side towards Volos in curved roads and rather ordinary view. On the left I spot an amazing factory with pipes and chimneys, I stop, take a photo and move on, I love the simple and unsophisticated industrial factories that in several years will be replaced by the “green” ones, but until then…
A warm, nice and welcoming man who is tied with every fiber of his being to Judaism, Zionism and Israel, Mr. Mekis, a physics teacher in his profession and my contact in Volos. I’m at the café, talking about life under war that is still lingering. How many Jews were taken? How many were left? Anti-Semitism and other issues. As I understand it, there is a rather large community here in Volos. In my short drive, my look turns right and I spot the synagogue, with a Star of David on black iron door, my own personal pride, and we still have our hope… a synagogue that was completely destroyed during the war and was rebuilt afterwards… oh wait, another round, an earthquake in 1956 destroyed the synagogue again and it was built once more… we still have our hope, as I said.
Here, in this place, there is a monument for the memory of Holocaust victims. Here I stay quietly in awe in front of the power of this artist who managed to embody the sense of silence, strength, pain to honor the victims’ memory. Long minutes of noisy silence in the lanes of memory and on internal question, how?
A morning in a hotel that presents the best of industrial capitalism without any touch by mother nature, typical American coffee that in one sip summarizes everything that is kitsch and corny. Starting up and the motorbike comes alive, I start to get away from the city and my smile returns again with views of greenery and scenery. I ride up the mountain towards “Demuchari” village; the rain doesn’t really detract from the picturesque sight of this village, quite the contrary. From this observation point, the entire city of Volos is spreading as a white fabric along the blue of the sea, while I think and ponder… that sometimes…far is better than close.
A woman cries near the connected boards that depict what had happened in this community, I get closer and again silence engulfs me for several seconds when I see this memorial monument here in the center of Larisa. Around there are many people and life routine, cafés, restaurants, everything moves and hustles and I look once more at the womanly figure made of bronze that tells the story as it happened with human softness.
A wonderful nice woman, sister of Mr. Mekis from Volos, opens the synagogue of Larisa, I admire the remains of old object that are somehow related to Judaism and the culture of this place. I prolong my stay here in light of magnificent stories and knowledge about this community, the meeting ends with a lunch accompanied by this wonderful woman and her husband along with conversations on religion, culture and even art…
I’m on my way to the “Olympus”, a town named “Litochoro” that was founded in 1920 in order to serve as a health resort for the sick. The delta of Alfeios River splits into two and from there the Olympus tops can be seen. A small motel in the alleys of the town. It’s already darkening, twilight of the sunset along with a view to the sea signals the ending of a successful day combined with happiness and sadness for my presence here and me… I’m just few moments away from “Jerusalem of the Balkans”, Saloniki.
Via country paths that are far away from the highroads, fields of color reach my eyes, mountain shaped horizon blends with small colorful cafés along the road; chairs are dotting the balconies of the cafés, vine trees above them and the residents drink coffee and chat in their boredom…
After several miles I spot the spectacular views of the city Veria. From afar, the houses along the mountains seem as colorful game cubes. I entered the city and sampled amazing desert named “Rabani”, some sort of syrup cake. A ride to city hall of Veria, a beautiful building, I entered and asked where the Jewish synagogue is. After a search call and polite answer, “several minutes and Mr. Costa will escort you to the place you look for.
I pass through the city and enter the Jewish quarter in Rabota. A tangle of trees and sounds of water creeks, pleasant sounds, through ancient houses in which wooden boards connect among themselves as though they insist upon staying together forever.
A strong blue color meet me the old door of the synagogue is opened, I stand there in awe and silence pondering over the past of a culture that is already extinct… and sometimes no word or words can express the feelings that emerge from these sites… when this happens, the best way is to stay silent…
In the guest book I wrote:
“a journey to a past not so far, through marks in the lives of community members in Greece. I was here! After two thousand years of exile, for the memory of Veria’s Jews. May their memory be blessed.
Kobi Shmuel.
