Greek Island of Santorini


It is better to define the terms. Under the boredom I personally do not understand the gentle kind of depression, but only and only the lack of role. The man almost always plays a role: leader, subordinate, the father, secular dandy, a freelance artist. Tourists and travelers – is no exception.

Even lazy is no exception. As astutely classic “couch potato – a career-with.” And just bored people sincerely ceases to understand who he is and why it is here, it is among these people. To fight boredom useless. It makes more sense to cede – will quickly return to its normal state. But to make such concessions better than at home, where you will feel just fallen out of life, but in a place that is just like you, for the time lost its own role. This lack of role in the area commonly called the “off-season” and it is difficult to find anything more consonant boredom. I suggest to the Greek island of Santorini. According to legend, this tiny crescent almost barren land emerged on the site of the famous Plato’s Atlantis. Atlantean civilization flourished here before 1500 BC. e., is a volcanic eruption, the strongest in the history of mankind, not end it. In seconds, the former Santorini (then called Strong, t. E. Round, and was significantly more current) covered with a layer of pumice and ash 30 meters thick. Then the island just fell through the ground, and the resulting cavity (scientifically caldera) flooded waters of the Aegean Sea.

Caldera – something unusually picturesque. Largely thanks to her island at the turn of the last century and has become a popular tourist destination, the most expensive among the Greek islands. And, of course, in the summer should not go here. Prices are sky-high. Heat under 40, jostling and crowding, like hunting fraction volcanic sand, which does not bare stupas, bus tours with organized admiring the sunset on the narrow streets tarahtyaschie mehanaki (referred to here as mopeds and scooters) and, of course, a tavern, inn, tavern.

But in the winter – the season starts in April, on the eve of Easter – almost anyone. It’s windy. Fog color creme brulee. This is when the wind brings clouds of dust from the Sahara. Plus blows from the coastal volcanic rock cliffs the color of mocha mixed with cayenne pepper. If you suddenly take place rain, all bleached lime houses on the island turn brown. They were then washed from the hoses. But the main thing – it is windy. You stand. Finely shutters rattle in the doorway. Paper ratchet for spokes rinse Scotch burr on lamps (tape wound to avoid the Jag glass of red Martian dust) .Trubka payphone hanging on the lever once obliquely. As a psychic spoon on the forehead, ready to twist a propeller. Like any violation of good-quality Newtonian laws. But again this is a breeze. It was he who holds the tube several naotlet.

He polishes it with sand Sahara and sweeps these strange letters – Call home. It would be interesting to know where it is – home? I like home. In a place where there is not terrible, but somehow, even cozy bored. Languish in the courts abandoned the autumn mehanaki..Chasto without wheels. More often – neglected in the ignition key. But almost always – with bunny “Playboy” on the tank. On the way I saw only one unit. The gray-haired native went to the mountains, releasing the steering wheel, and was baptized in the church. And, crossing, rubbing his thighs, pleased. Church almost all closed. Clapper tied ropes: to a water pipe, the door handle to shtaketine on the gate. But sometimes still call because the silence is alive and that it something breaks.

Sounds soft feather wind. But every distinction quite clearly: that the bell that fishing net stretched over the veranda café, and a little rattle lead weights. Sometimes even hear how trembles inflating sail rip upholstery on a chair. He stands alone somewhere near the desert café and humbly swells from the wind. Places on the island there. The concept of the number of storeys, thanks cliff conditional: in the basement there is a small window Sea, in the attic – a wall of the house opposite. Time vaguely in the chapel shows one face of the first half, the second – quarter past ten. Needless to say that the clock does not go in either case? In the street one. Time, wind and sand. Not a season. Boredom! And this does not mean that there is nothing.

Deeds just spate – bored, too, should be tasteful. In Imerovigli, almost immediately after the pointer up the road, check the house with a porch decorated with blue and white lions. This combination of colors – a brand name of the island, some Mediterranean Gzhel. White Church – blue domes. White bus – blue caps on the wheels. White boat – blue stripes on the sides. And the most moving: white lions – blue eyes … So, in Imerovigli Lions special: in my opinion, is a masterpiece of the local coloristic, because they are also blue mane mustache brush tails and claws. Messaria – it’s five minutes taxi ride from the island’s capital of Fira – remarkable because almost every house near the church stand toy, replicas of these (on the island of their already 352, but boredom often leads to replication of reality). At the Belfry hung bells taken from donkeys (donkeys – the second most common form of transport in Santorini after mehanaki).

Everywhere electricity. Inserted into the windows. On the doors, however, are hanging somewhere castles as in our mailboxes, but there are also unlocked. Be sure to look inside. If you do not believe that boredom can pray for a closer look to the small figures of the priests, made ​​of clay and lovingly painted by hand. By the rays of the cross, from which extends a web of filaments cardboard nimbuses John and Mary. And at the altar, just behind the iconostasis of linen glued pegs humbly dusts red children’s socks. In my view, clean water … the liturgy and the vineyard! Nowhere else I have not seen such. Imagine down the hill fortified stone terraces, and they – not the nest, not the basket, not just wire bay. In fact, this is a local vine, only dead. Young shoots are planted in special pots are skeletons that are not blown away by the wind. Indeed, instead of the soil here – ash alone, there is nothing to cling to. Once the crop is harvested, the spent vines wind on ready-made reel, and as such is left to hibernate. These reels islanders used in household, mainly as flower pots and wreaths that hang over the door. It is believed vine ward off evil spirits. If it is where to put, take one with a wreath. And, of course, try the local white wine: they say connoisseurs, it has rich mineral taste.

Translated, it means “taste of ashes.” And the ash and dust – the living flesh of boredom, which one can not receive communion. Then be engaged, for example, the study of knockers in Oia, the most picturesque village of the island. This is mainly female hand. Narrow and swarthy rust. With the ring or ring on the ring finger. And most importantly, all hand – the left. Not a right. None of the men. Perhaps they were simply houses of married persons (just rings and rings). But not sure. However, to go and knock, knock, and think about where gone right hand – work entirely in the spirit of the winter of Santorini. Who can find the answer to my prostration. Finally, the main thing: look for on the island at least one gate to nowhere. But only this. To her – the gulf, not a ladder, steeply to the beach. Mentally exit gate: it’s all over. Again, enter it from the other side, where the sea is: everything is just beginning. Look around. Think about the volcano. About eruption. About destruction of Atlantis. About 3,500 years that have passed since then. And himself. Now, you bring already precisely met. And perhaps realized that boredom – it’s a great chance to feel the details of the void, which is called the future. Your next role. And not just grope and catch her ​​breathe and inhabit that after it was filled with something meaningful. And not the first vending junk. Игровые Автоматы Онлайн

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