After spending the night in an entirely soulless but very comfortable hotel at Athens airport, Grace and I made our way back across the road to the internal departures area. The sky is clear and blue today, which is a relief after the past week of wind and snow, but it's still bloody freezing. Grace didn't notice it so much, what with living in miserable old Blighty an' all, but I found it quite a shock having left Portugal basking in heady temperatures of 18 degrees C.
Fortunately the airport has a shop selling SIM cards because a lot of the communication between volunteer groups is via WhatsApp and also an application called 'Slack' which is designed for 'teams' and is a bit like a cross between Twitter and closed FB groups. It enables live communication on various channels, e.g. there is a 'voluntary medics' channel and a 'boats landed' channel. Anyway, I was very glad I have Grace with me because all that SIM card activation and buying of megabytes shit makes my brain explode. It's bad enough being surrounded by Greek speakers when I've just about got used to being surrounded by Portuguese speakers. I keep speaking Portuguese to them which is ridiculous and embarrassing. ALSO 'Neh' means 'yes' and 'ochi' (sounds very like 'okay') means 'no' which is sending me into some sort of communications vortex and I keep wondering if I might have had a stroke.
At lunchtime we got on a miniature diddy plane with propellors (eek) and had a pleasantly brief flight to Lesbos (which I KEEP referring to as Lemnos. It's a miracle we're on the right island), where we picked up a hire car and promptly got lost in Mytilene (the capital) and found ourselves in a lorry park at the port where a man in combat gear who we happened upon as he was doing a wee between two lorries, turned round and waved his willy at us. So that was nice.
Having flukily found ourselves on the correct road out of Mytilene we headed north west across the island. I'm not sure of the actual figures but it takes about an hour to drive across Lesbos, on fairly small and sometimes very winding roads, so I'm guessing it's about 30-40 miles across. The south eastern part is flattish with two huge lagoons and the north western part is mountainous. The airport and the main town of Mytilene are on the south west coast and the town of Molyvos, where we are staying, is on the north west coast, so the drive there takes us past two lagoons then up over the mountains. Yesterday the road over the mountains was shut to all vehicles that didn't have snow chains on their tyres (which surely means 'all vehicles' on a Greek Island….surely) and the man at the hire car place had no idea if it was open yet so we headed towards the mountains with some trepidation. We're from Wales though, mun, innit but. Piece of piss. Bit of melting snow and a few boulders, nothing we couldn't negotiate in our 1.0L Honda.
The Turkish coast lies parallel to the north coast of the island, divided by about 5 miles of sea which, as we wound our way down the foothills towards Molyvos, looked smooth and calm and almost inviting as the setting sun twinkled across it. So I was shocked to learn that at least twelve people drowned today when a boat sank shortly after leaving Turkish shores.
The north coast has many bays and beaches, and this, combined with it's relative proximity to Turkey has meant that this is where most refugee boats have been landing over the past year, although I understand that the situation has changed over the past six weeks or so and many boats are also arriving in the south now, which means a much longer sea crossing. I'm not entirely sure of the reason for that, but I suspect it might have something to do with the EU shoving a load of dosh at Turkey and telling them to stop the refugees leaving Turkey. I've been listening in on the Slack channels since November and I've heard some terrible tales about the means by which the Turkish Coastguard are trying to stop the refugee boats but I won't repeat them unless someone who actually witnessed it tells me, because they surely, SURELY can't be true. No-one could be that wicked.
Once the refugees reach Lesbos (provided they're still alive) they have to go immediately to a huge refugee camp near Mytilene in the south called Moria. Even if they have money, they're not allowed to spend it (e.g. on a hotel) until they have been registered and have their papers. There are buses which take them there, fortunately, because if you were to offer any of them a lift in your car you may well get arrested for people-trafficking. There are one or two other camps too and I think the refugees are divided into the different camps according to nationality and also whether they are families or not, but I'm not sure about that yet. I've heard bad things about Moria though - it's huge and wet and dirty and cold. Once the refugees have their 'papers' - and this can take a variable amount of time - they can leave Moria, and indeed Lesvos, and I think most get the ferry to Athens (and hence, probably, make their way towards northern Europe).
During the summer there were around 7000 refugees arriving on Lesbos EVERY DAY. Over the last couple of months, because of the riskier conditions, there have been around 1000-2000 per day. Many still risk it though because the riskier it is, the less it costs. I think they're paying something like €1500 each for the privilege of risking their lives. Someone made about €18,000 out of those twelve people who drowned today. There's a big ferry that shuttles backwards and forwards several times a day from Lesbos to Turkey. The fare is €5. But you're only allowed to use it if your home hasn't been bombed and you're not fleeing a war and you're not running for your life. Them's the rules.
Molyvos is very beautiful,but quite unlike any Greek island town I've visited before (and I spent a lot of time island hopping in Greece when I was young). Instead of white houses, the village is built of un-rendered stone, and the handsome cottages skirt an imposing castle which sits high on a promontory at the north west point. We stopped at a grocery store and bought a few essentials and easily found our hotel, which is on the road east out of Molyvos and overlooks a large bay with Turkey just across the water. I asked the Greek shopkeeper if the town was busy. 'Quite busy', she said, in her heavily accented English. 'Mostly volunteers. More volunteers than refugees, I think.'
Hmmm.
Hotels out of season are always a bit sad, and this one can be best described as Crossroads Motel meets The Shining. Unlike the soulless airport hotel we stayed in last night, this hotel definitely has a soul but it's old and tired and has seen better days (a bit like me, really). It would normally be closed but it's open only for volunteers and at a special rate. There's a central reception/lounge/restaurant building and chalet like rooms on the slopes around it. There are no staff at all except a (very lovely) jeans-clad and hoodied young man, who is around between 5 and 9pm, which is the only time the reception building is open.
Our room has a sort of kitchenette in it - a fridge and sink and a two-ring hob. Unfortunately there were no plates, cutlery or pans of any sort, but the Hooded Young Man made a phone call and managed to find us one saucepan, a couple of plates and cups and some cutlery, so we can make a cup of tea and boil some eggs. It has an air conditioning unit, but it isn't very efficient and it's very very cold. As I type this both Grace and I are in bed, fully clothed including hats and scarves and thanking the Powers of the Universe for the fact that we were born where we were and aren't now huddled in a damp tent in Moria with a buried past and an uncertain future. I'm also cursing Holly who told me not to pack a hot water bottle.
WIFI is available in the reception area between 5 and 9pm, so we went and did a bit of interwebbing amongst a few of the other volunteers of various nationalities who were scattered about, wrapped in blankets, clickety-clicking on their iPhones.
'Are you eating in the hotel restaurant tonight?' asked Richard via FB messenger, which made me do a LOL. We ate chicken noodles in our room - those packets that you pour hot water on that I packed just in case of a dire emergency but never intended to eat because, well, they're not actually food, are they.
I think it's going to be a very interesting month.
Fortunately the airport has a shop selling SIM cards because a lot of the communication between volunteer groups is via WhatsApp and also an application called 'Slack' which is designed for 'teams' and is a bit like a cross between Twitter and closed FB groups. It enables live communication on various channels, e.g. there is a 'voluntary medics' channel and a 'boats landed' channel. Anyway, I was very glad I have Grace with me because all that SIM card activation and buying of megabytes shit makes my brain explode. It's bad enough being surrounded by Greek speakers when I've just about got used to being surrounded by Portuguese speakers. I keep speaking Portuguese to them which is ridiculous and embarrassing. ALSO 'Neh' means 'yes' and 'ochi' (sounds very like 'okay') means 'no' which is sending me into some sort of communications vortex and I keep wondering if I might have had a stroke.
At lunchtime we got on a miniature diddy plane with propellors (eek) and had a pleasantly brief flight to Lesbos (which I KEEP referring to as Lemnos. It's a miracle we're on the right island), where we picked up a hire car and promptly got lost in Mytilene (the capital) and found ourselves in a lorry park at the port where a man in combat gear who we happened upon as he was doing a wee between two lorries, turned round and waved his willy at us. So that was nice.
Having flukily found ourselves on the correct road out of Mytilene we headed north west across the island. I'm not sure of the actual figures but it takes about an hour to drive across Lesbos, on fairly small and sometimes very winding roads, so I'm guessing it's about 30-40 miles across. The south eastern part is flattish with two huge lagoons and the north western part is mountainous. The airport and the main town of Mytilene are on the south west coast and the town of Molyvos, where we are staying, is on the north west coast, so the drive there takes us past two lagoons then up over the mountains. Yesterday the road over the mountains was shut to all vehicles that didn't have snow chains on their tyres (which surely means 'all vehicles' on a Greek Island….surely) and the man at the hire car place had no idea if it was open yet so we headed towards the mountains with some trepidation. We're from Wales though, mun, innit but. Piece of piss. Bit of melting snow and a few boulders, nothing we couldn't negotiate in our 1.0L Honda.
The Turkish coast lies parallel to the north coast of the island, divided by about 5 miles of sea which, as we wound our way down the foothills towards Molyvos, looked smooth and calm and almost inviting as the setting sun twinkled across it. So I was shocked to learn that at least twelve people drowned today when a boat sank shortly after leaving Turkish shores.
The north coast has many bays and beaches, and this, combined with it's relative proximity to Turkey has meant that this is where most refugee boats have been landing over the past year, although I understand that the situation has changed over the past six weeks or so and many boats are also arriving in the south now, which means a much longer sea crossing. I'm not entirely sure of the reason for that, but I suspect it might have something to do with the EU shoving a load of dosh at Turkey and telling them to stop the refugees leaving Turkey. I've been listening in on the Slack channels since November and I've heard some terrible tales about the means by which the Turkish Coastguard are trying to stop the refugee boats but I won't repeat them unless someone who actually witnessed it tells me, because they surely, SURELY can't be true. No-one could be that wicked.
Once the refugees reach Lesbos (provided they're still alive) they have to go immediately to a huge refugee camp near Mytilene in the south called Moria. Even if they have money, they're not allowed to spend it (e.g. on a hotel) until they have been registered and have their papers. There are buses which take them there, fortunately, because if you were to offer any of them a lift in your car you may well get arrested for people-trafficking. There are one or two other camps too and I think the refugees are divided into the different camps according to nationality and also whether they are families or not, but I'm not sure about that yet. I've heard bad things about Moria though - it's huge and wet and dirty and cold. Once the refugees have their 'papers' - and this can take a variable amount of time - they can leave Moria, and indeed Lesvos, and I think most get the ferry to Athens (and hence, probably, make their way towards northern Europe).
During the summer there were around 7000 refugees arriving on Lesbos EVERY DAY. Over the last couple of months, because of the riskier conditions, there have been around 1000-2000 per day. Many still risk it though because the riskier it is, the less it costs. I think they're paying something like €1500 each for the privilege of risking their lives. Someone made about €18,000 out of those twelve people who drowned today. There's a big ferry that shuttles backwards and forwards several times a day from Lesbos to Turkey. The fare is €5. But you're only allowed to use it if your home hasn't been bombed and you're not fleeing a war and you're not running for your life. Them's the rules.
Molyvos is very beautiful,but quite unlike any Greek island town I've visited before (and I spent a lot of time island hopping in Greece when I was young). Instead of white houses, the village is built of un-rendered stone, and the handsome cottages skirt an imposing castle which sits high on a promontory at the north west point. We stopped at a grocery store and bought a few essentials and easily found our hotel, which is on the road east out of Molyvos and overlooks a large bay with Turkey just across the water. I asked the Greek shopkeeper if the town was busy. 'Quite busy', she said, in her heavily accented English. 'Mostly volunteers. More volunteers than refugees, I think.'
Hmmm.
Hotels out of season are always a bit sad, and this one can be best described as Crossroads Motel meets The Shining. Unlike the soulless airport hotel we stayed in last night, this hotel definitely has a soul but it's old and tired and has seen better days (a bit like me, really). It would normally be closed but it's open only for volunteers and at a special rate. There's a central reception/lounge/restaurant building and chalet like rooms on the slopes around it. There are no staff at all except a (very lovely) jeans-clad and hoodied young man, who is around between 5 and 9pm, which is the only time the reception building is open.
Our room has a sort of kitchenette in it - a fridge and sink and a two-ring hob. Unfortunately there were no plates, cutlery or pans of any sort, but the Hooded Young Man made a phone call and managed to find us one saucepan, a couple of plates and cups and some cutlery, so we can make a cup of tea and boil some eggs. It has an air conditioning unit, but it isn't very efficient and it's very very cold. As I type this both Grace and I are in bed, fully clothed including hats and scarves and thanking the Powers of the Universe for the fact that we were born where we were and aren't now huddled in a damp tent in Moria with a buried past and an uncertain future. I'm also cursing Holly who told me not to pack a hot water bottle.
WIFI is available in the reception area between 5 and 9pm, so we went and did a bit of interwebbing amongst a few of the other volunteers of various nationalities who were scattered about, wrapped in blankets, clickety-clicking on their iPhones.
'Are you eating in the hotel restaurant tonight?' asked Richard via FB messenger, which made me do a LOL. We ate chicken noodles in our room - those packets that you pour hot water on that I packed just in case of a dire emergency but never intended to eat because, well, they're not actually food, are they.
I think it's going to be a very interesting month.
God bless you and your daughter for the love and dedication that you put on helping the ones who needs the most...xx
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