A complete change of scene. Every summer we take the mother-in-law to her native village. In recent years, due to her age, she has been spending less and less time there, but this year she stayed for seven weeks. It is literally at the end of the road, a stone’s throw from Albania. From the house you can see miles of dense forest and Papingo in the distance. I believe the permanent population is around sixty people, all past middle age. Though it is in Epirus, the rarely used guest house is Spartan, the school disused, and the café closed due to a dispute between the couple with the concession and the villagers. I say dispute, but it was more of a sullen, unspoken boycott. The couple are now running a small hotel in another Epirote village, Skamneli, and say they are going to keep the concession of our village café for the next eight or nine years. It’s spite, but I don’t blame them. This decision has literally killed my mother-in-law’s village. The café, on the square, was the only place where people could gather, and it was the location of the village festival in honour of St. Paraskevi which took place on July 26th every year. There was no festival this year.
Only the church, reputedly built by Ali Pasha, is still functioning. The school has been closed for a long time, over 40 years. It closed due to the post-war movement of people from the villages to the cities. Now schools are closing at the rate of 700 a year due to population decline and emigration. The government is trying to counter this by offering increased family allowances to larger families. I fear it is too little too late. The sums involved do not reflect financial realities on the ground.
Greece Closes More than 700 Schools Due to Deepening Demographic Crisis – GreekReporter.com and a more detailed one in Greek: https://www.kathimerini.gr/society/563787484/kleista-700-scholeia-kathe-chrono/
On my second night in Roupsia we had a spectacular thunderstorm. The average storm lasts about 40 or 50 minutes in Greece but this one continued for hours. I woke up early and looked out of the window. The village looked as if it was in the clouds. I was so fascinated by the morning dew that I took some photos. You don’t notice them until you take a pic, but there are cables everywhere. Still, the photos look haunting.
At school, I was intrigued by the Castalian Spring in Delphi. I got to see it when I was 23. I have visited Roupsia over 30 times in the past 35 years, but I have never managed to visit Parga, Syvota or Arta. As a student in our folk poetry class I learned about the Bridge of Arta. I am as determined to see this bloody bridge as I was to see the Castalian Spring. Next year. Drop the granny off in her village and head for the coast.
