Surviving Kos

by Terje Raa

The Greek island of Kos is a holiday gem - its pleasant countryside invites you to go biking, and its capital - Kos Town - is made for quiet strolls amid Italian architecture, major historical sites and tourist establishments beyond number.

Young people too have discovered the ease of Kos and gradually turned its elegant capital into a party place. Kos fanatics have reacted differently - some stay away, others move their arrival to the off-season, the most addicted refuse to give up, find themselves new quiet spots instead, which Kos Town has so plenty of.

As a side effect, everyone has become potentially interested in the neighboring islands, not as a replacement, rather as a complement to Kos. The islands of Leros and Kalymnos - contrasting both Kos and each other - wait out there and are accessible by boat in no time. Leros, literally meaning dirty, receives you with three shining villages grown into one another: the port of Agia Marina, Platanos up on a hilltop and Pandeli at the other side of the hill.

Not that Leros is particularly hilly, only the three villages necessitate some climbing, first up to the capital Platanos, then perhaps 300 steps further up, to the castle of Kastro, rewarding you with an overall view of Leros, the home of some 8000, a number doubled by Kalymnos and tripled by Kos. Beyond Agia Marina lies the shapely bay of Alinda, occupied by swimming and sunbathing tourists. Pandeli, below on the left, looks very peaceful, the only activity is caused by two swimmers and a few fishermen repairing nets and polishing their boats.

After Pandeli, a fourth village with a huge natural harbor can be seen in the distance - Lakki, where the big ferries berth, more infamous than famous with its ostentatious Mussolini architecture. The military junta placed political prisoners in Lakki. Later, mental patients from all over Greece were interned here and - according to unforgettable documentaries - treated no better than animals. An evening out on Leros can easily include several villages, but half-empty Lakki will hardly be one of them.

Kalymnian Gold

Before the sun goes down in Pothia - often called Kalymnos Town - Eleni always hangs up a lantern in front of her stall where she sells little wonders from the bottom of the sea: sponges, shells and corals. On the harbor flagstones, Eleni’s elegantly arranged merchandise looks like a work of art. Married to a former sponge diver, she knows what there is to know about the Kalymnian gold - natural sponges.

The lamp-lit Pothia is an amphitheatrical sight, shaped by the mountains that are so characteristic of Kalymnos. The Italians have also contributed to the shape of Pothia, in the form of grandiose municipal buildings like the courthouse and town hall. The building between them, Nautical Museum, may switch your interest from architecture to sponge diving, an inevitable fascination on this island. Still in our days, a group of sponge divers leave Pothia right after Easter, heading for harvest grounds all around the Mediterranean, but their boats are few and far between.

The light is on in the dark rooms of the museum even during daytime. The history of sponge diving is also dark: greed for money far outweighed the primitive fishing methods and diving equipment, with death and paralysis as a result. After diving suits were introduced in 1869, being a sponge diver became so dangerous that less than half of them returned in the autumn. The rest had died from decompression disease.

The sponge trade made the most enterprising citizens immensely wealthy, like the merchant Nikolaos Vouvalis. Museum signs in the shopping street will lead you to his house. This is hardly where Eleni will go tonight, her night off - since the promenade is being used for this summer’s final outdoor concert. Tomorrow, Eleni and her colleagues will be back, and if you question them, they will tell you the tale of a terrifying profession - about adventurous and totally fearless divers whose lives were worth very little.

Good Old Kos

Despite the invasion of young people, Kos has one particular oasis where even the elderly feel young - that's under the 2400-year-old plane tree of Hippocrates in the heart of Kos Town. The wind - whispering through the fragile old branches - could be the whisper of time, initiating you in the work of Hippocrates, the father of medical science, who walked here teaching his students long before the Christian era began. Whether this tree is the original or not, is open to dispute; some say it is 600 years old at most.

The plane tree, like the man himself, is indomitable, with no respect for what a tree normally looks like. The trunk has in the course of time split into numerous limbs, vertically and horizontally, many of which have been cut through to change their direction. Distinguishing between stem and branches isn’t easy. The plane tree is unable to support itself and was years ago provided with a metal corset, a green rack of iron bars. Nearest neighbors are the Knights of St John, or rather the castle they left behind, yet dominating the entire harbor.

The foremost attraction on Kos, Asklepieion, lies a few kilometers outside Kos Town, a combined shrine and hospital laid out on three terraces, only partly restored. It's necessary to be imaginative to picture the altars, temples and rows of columns to oneself. The ruins do appeal to people's imagination; a talkative German tells his wife tall stories about everyday life at Asklepieion. He’s right, however, in claiming that this is where the gods were honored and the sick cured. The hospital facilities were at the bottom, the temples higher up.

Visitors click their cameras frantically. The possibilities are endless, and it would be practical if all the impressions could be clicked into a camera: the colors of the marble; the elegance of the cypresses; the chirping birds and singing cicadas; the light air and the smell of woods. And especially not to forget: the view toward Kos Town and to Bodrum on the Turkish side, two white beauties separated by a narrow blue strait, handsomely dotted with white sails.

Asklepieion was dedicated to Asklepios, normally depicted as a bearded master holding a snake-entwined staff in his hand. But Hippocrates became the kingpin of the place, although it was completed after his death in the early 4th century BC. His methods and ideas were applied here, in practice and teaching. The wise Hippocrates often prescribed quiet and rest in beautiful surroundings, fresh air and healthy food. This prescription could sum up your own holiday, confirming that your island choice - Kos, Leros, Kalymnos - was a choice of wisdom.