It’s a shiny day. Summer is stealing the show from Spring and it’s inviting me to my favorite hideout, somewhere in Kalamaria, Thessaloniki. Karabournaki or Little Karabournou, a place that is also known as “The little plunger”. So many nicknames for a cape with such a long history, that was proclaimed an archaeological site back in 1989, a place of extraordinary natural beauty in 1993 by the Council of State, and now, it is just a dead zone full of rubbish.
As it turns out, it’s quite challenging for someone to walk across the shore, due to wire fences, cement and thrown garbage. However, if you only have eyes for the true beauty of this place, feet ready to dive into the sea and respect towards the environment and the ducks that swim in its waters, it’s worth the shot.
Within a small walking distance, at the yacht club of Kalamaria, lies a small beach that seems to hide a lot of stories from the past but yet, stays quiet, with some fishing boats that resisted the strong waves but lost the battle against time. Α boat named Nausikaa from Dusseldorf, another one, with no name but a huge window to the sky…
Suddenly, absolute silence is broken by a familiar sound. Makedonas:
“Sto Lefko ton Pirgo, pira ta filia tis,
Ihe ki ena spiti stin Kalamaria
Apo to Vardari itan I mama tis
Pappou pros pappou Salonikia” (renowned greek song)
Behind the abandoned boats, inside a huge workshop, I see an old man- a craftsman, probably the owner of the workshop. “Happy Easter!”, I said keeping some distance wishing to calm down his suspicious look rather than start a conversation. After observing me for a while and made sure that I respect his “kingdom”, he simply nodded and then dived into his own thoughts.
I continued on strolling around for a while and ended up at the Marina and the renowned Aretsou beach, ready to host the upcoming Flower Exhibition (4-8th May 2016). I took off my shoes and reluctantly jumped into the sea up to my knees, in order to cross the wire fence. I say reluctantly, because the waters of Thermaikos are quite polluted. Once I crossed the fence, I came back to reality. Local youngsters jogging around the marina, wearing huge headphones, a yachtsman quarreling about politics while cleaning his floating “baby”, loud voices coming from nearby cafes. I sat under the shade of a palmtree and indulged myself in sunbathing.
With its highs and its lows, it’s still a magical place worth visiting. I am definitely going back there. This old man has many stories to tell. Many forgotten journeys are longing for someone to tell them…
Μαρία Ελένη Βασιλειάδη 