The wrath of Poseidon strikes again
In June 2017 our sailing boat Pegasus was moored in Plomari harbor Lesvos when a massive 6.3R earthquake hit, shaking the boat like a cork and causing havoc in the town. It was one of the most terrifying moments in our lives. But remarkably, what would have put most people off encouraged us and we started our love affair with Plomari.
Now we have a house there and we're inextricably linked with this idiosyncratic town. And yesterday, sitting 9000km away in South Africa, we heard that another earthquake had hit just 5 km south of Plomari. This time measuring around 5 on the Richterscale, it seems that, although very frightening as reported by our friends, there has not been significant damage.
When the earthquake hit in 2017, we had just got back from a long lunch at a local taverna and we were getting ready for a siesta when we heard a massive roar, and the boat started to shake like a cork in boiling water. When we looked out the porthole we saw that the harbor was awash with mud. We rushed onto deck and saw chaos – people screaming, dust billowing from rock slides. As we watched an old olive oil chimney near the harbor collapsed. A river of ouzo was running out of the café opposite us where bottles and glasses had crashed to the ground. And then the tsunami hit and water started to rush out of the harbor. We raced to undo the ropes and the boat sank about 1 meter down towards the harbor floor – and then seconds later the sea rushed back in again, lifting the boat up until it nearly tipped onto the quay. This carried on for 30 minutes and then slowly subsided.
But what captured our hearts was the way everybody responded. A state of disaster was announced. People were told over the town loud hailers to report any damage and file a claim. The square was teaming with people who had all experienced near disaster – and a marvelous camaraderie developed. That evening in a nearby taverna, we were showered with shot glasses of raki, and we in turn bought shots for others. The town embraced us and we embraced it.
Now, 3 ½ years on, we have renovated our beautiful stone farm house on the outskirts of the town. And we love it there!
However, this year it seems that Lesvos has had more than its fair share of tragedy and trauma. The refugee situation has worsened along with rapidly increasing Covid infections. The press continually reports only dismal bad news stories, despite there being a wonderful other side to the island. Only today Lesvos was coded red – one of the few Covid hotspots in Greece, mainly because of outbreaks in the refugee camps. And now another earthquake. It's all too much for these islanders to cope with and we think it's time for nature and the EU to be more kind to this most beautiful island.