Chania
Part I (Cat-Man and The Chain)
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Ancient City of Cydonia (Today's Chania) |
Following two nights in Bari, Maria Elena, Gianna, Leonardo and I looked forward to spending a week in the old Venetian Port of Chania (ha-knee-ah), located along the northwest coast of Crete. The city of Chania is a maze of cobbled streets lined
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Welcome to Lithinon Street's |
The four of us had literally arrived In the Heart of Old Town, which was both the location of our lovely rental as well as the name of our temporary home. We arrived in Chania by taxi, which twisted and turned its way through narrow streets until it dead-ended at a weathered wall with a grey door that likely predated the Venetian occupation of the city. But the “dead end” was only for vehicles. Stepping from the taxi, we discovered a double-stone archway leading into a tranquil courtyard surrounded by historic homes, trees, and stillness. Our accommodation for the week lay before us across the courtyard. We hadn’t expected such an intimate, private retreat in the
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Our Beautiful Chania Accommodations |
There was one quirk though. Despite the accouterments of modern toilets,
we were instructed not to dispose of used toilet paper in the expected
manner. It had to be bagged and set out
in a special trash barrel. We knew the
courtyard had a history. This proved
it. In addition to photos of the
courtyard in historic folios, we now had an inkling of its age, evidently bolstered
by remnants of an ancient plumbing system.
The Romans had been here. If I probed around some, might I uncover evidence of the ancient Roman technique of opus reticulatum where the facing of concrete walls held diamond-shaped blocks?
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Historic Print Showing Our |
I was only deterred by what I imagined would be an outrageous but justified repair bill for the damage I’d make. If anything, our lodging still retained an old-world atmosphere where ancient collides with contemporary.
There was something else worth
mentioning about our courtyard: His name was Jürgen, and he was our neighbor. What hair he still retained was a mop of
unkempt white, and much like the UK’s former Prime Minister Boris Johnson, he
struck me at first as an eccentric character.
German by nationality, he had lived in England but now permanently resided
in Chania, along with his wife and eight house cats, who came and went through
an always-open doorway. With an
infectious smile like Alice’s Cheshire cat, I was inclined to believe he was
but another member of the clowder, the ninth cat.
At first glance, as he sat regally poised in his doorway, he reminded me of Donald Sutherland, an actor I’ve always enjoyed. With a cat on his lap, surveying his courtyard estate, a place of shared harmony, the cats and cat-man intertwined in a daily pattern of co-existence. He appeared to lead a quiet life with a relaxed routine: watering the courtyard plants, feeding the cats, tidying up the surroundings, and, on afternoons, clothed in swim trunks
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Jürgen Installed in His Doorway, |
It was Jürgen who served as
our lighthouse of information on where to go, what to see, and what to avoid,
like one of his front door trees. He
advised me not to touch the tree’s flowers.
Apparently, it was a forbidden tree like that of the Garden of Eden, in
this case, not of forbidden fruit, but poisonous flowers. Forget about eating them like zucchini blossoms.
Like wolfsbane, these were not even safe
to touch. Always a good student, I
heeded his advice, and while sitting outside on my own, I also warned others. After I’d done this a few times, I became
curious. Could this simply be a ploy to
prevent passers-by from taking his flowers?
My guess is that my early judgment of him hinged simply on how different he was from me, which I’d labeled odd behavior leaning toward eccentricity. At first glance, sinner as I am, my judgmental reaction was as I had when I first saw Joe Rogan, the American podcaster. How quickly I’d made the jump, stereotyping him, not my type, which I doubled down on when I saw his arms upholstered with tattoos. I’d assigned him a false persona until I listened to what he was saying and asking. Undoubtedly, it was a grave fault on my part, something to work on. So much for first impressions. In a similar manner, the more I got to know Jürgan, the more I
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A Not to Touch Specimen |
We were soon off to explore Chania, the center of activity on this part of the island. It lies nine miles from where we landed, along the northwest coast of Crete at the old Venetian Port. With its boat and cruise ship activity, this key facility serves as a link to the world beyond, as it had thousands of years ago. Due to its strategic position along key Mediterranean arteries of trade, Chania was constantly fought over, changing hands between rival empires and enduring near-constant turmoil. It belonged to the Roman Empire, then the Andalusian Arabs (824–961 AD), followed by the Byzantine Empire, and eventually the Venetian Republic (1204–1669 AD) before it fell under Ottoman rule. Only in 1898 did it gain autonomy, ultimately uniting with Greece in 1913.
In 69 BC, at the time of Pompey and Caesar, the Roman General Quintus Caecilius Metellus Creticus was entrusted with the task of ousting the Mediterranean pirates headquartered on Crete. He
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Today's Chania Lighthouse |
defeated the Cretans and conquered Cydonia (today’s Chania), to which he granted the privileges of an independent city-state. His actions explain his appended cognomen Creticus, the Latin word for Cretan. After Caesar’s heir, Augustus, became emperor, Crete was officially incorporated into the Roman Empire, where it experienced a period of prosperity with the construction of temples, amphitheaters, baths, and aqueducts. It remained under Roman rule for 900 years.
Following the dissolution of the Byzantine Empire
in 1204, Crete was allotted to Bonifacio I, the Marquis of Montferrat, and
leader of the Fourth Crusade. Montferrat
quickly sold his rights to the Republic of Venice. Venetian troops occupied the island beginning in
1205, where they remained for over four and a half centuries.
The Venetians built today’s emblematic symbol of Chania, one of the world's oldest and most iconic lighthouses, which lies at the end of a massive breakwater of masonry and stones at the harbor’s entrance. This lighthouse was originally part of a naval post created by the Venetians to protect the city from the advancing Ottoman Empire. Its defenses included a chain, now lost, that could be strung from the base of the lighthouse across to the Fortress of Firkas on the opposite shore to stop ships from
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View of Chania Harbor & Lighthouse |
This historic lighthouse and restrictive chain gave me pause to imagine life in Chania during the Venetian period of rule. Join me in an imaginary mix of fact and fiction into the life of Damien, whom I envision, like countless other solitary souls, often gazed across the turquoise waters of its vibrant harbor where I presently stood, contemplating an uncertain future …
Damien Psomes, though yet a young man, had grown old enough
to question his future. He sought to alter
the course of his existence, which he saw as a parody of true life. His dreams of adventure far outstripped his
father’s bakery. His mind swirled with
thoughts of escaping his mundane life in search of something greater. His avenues of escape appeared limited: the
life of a priest, the merchant marine, an apprenticeship, or perhaps enlisting
in military service in the Crusade.
He knew that leaving his family’s bakery would disappoint his father, but he wagered the bounty from life elsewhere, one beyond the bakery door would offset the pain of his absence. Times were hard. His father’s
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The Old Town When It Was Younger |
business was struggling as costs soared, with Damien, one more mouth to feed, only adding to the financial burden. The thought of his life becoming a mirror of his father’s, filled with flour, dough, and tedious routine, left him despondent. The drudgery was far more than enough to provoke him to embrace any opportunity that might lie beyond the harbor’s chain that symbolized a life sentence of confinement. “Let the mantle fall to my younger brother,” he thought, determined to somehow escape his pre-ordained destiny. With this ambition burning within him, he began to imagine an escape, not just from his father’s bakery but the very island itself.
Damien let the moments stretch each day as he watched the harbor, lost in thought. His gaze would linger on the protective chain that stretched across the port’s entrance and had come to symbolize his confinement. In those moments, an inescapable lure for a life beyond the chain only grew stronger within him. Remaining in Chania felt like a knife cutting deeper into his spirit. He knew he had to find a way out. There had to be more waiting for him on the other side.
He’d often imagined how different life would be
elsewhere, beyond the chain, beyond the curve of the horizon. The world out there, filled with endless
possibilities, beckoned as though he was already there. From the strategic crossroads of Chania, he might
go south to Egypt, journey northwest toward Venice, travel north to Greece, or
venture northeast to Byzantium.
Certainly, the people and languages would be challenging, but in Chania,
he’d grown accustomed to the many cultures that interacted there daily.
Damien had heard rumors and whispers of ways to escape the island, but they were always vague. No longer willing to let the world float in and out before him with the tide, he paid an informant, with knowledge of the goings-on in the port, with the only thing he had to offer: bread. His informant told him of the expected arrival of a Templar ship destined for Venice. Occasionally, an injured knight might require looking after. Others, commensurate with their social rank, with the
loss of an attendant, required assistance. Even the occasional need for a replacement of a crew member might work. It was exactly the opportunity Damien had been waiting for.
Damien’s heart beat faster several weeks later when he
sighted three Templar galleons at anchor in the harbor. This was his moment. Mustering his resolve, he boarded a supply
boat bound for one of the ships and, upon arriving, inquired about joining the
crew in some capacity. His first attempt
failed, though not completely. The first
mate mentioned that one of the accompanying ships needed kitchen help. Seizing the opportunity, his appeal there was
successful. His literacy combined with
familiarity with the Venetian Italian dialect helped considerably, as did his
bakery experience, suggested by his surname, Psomes, which meant “bread maker.”
It was a bittersweet triumph for Damien days later when, with the arrival of the tide, the ship’s sails billowed, and the refitted ships passed the harbor chain, and cruising by the lighthouse, he escaped Chania. Glimpsing the beckoning world beyond, he felt free. He never looked back. Yet, deep inside, regardless of what lay ahead, a quiet sadness lingered. He had escaped but the cost of his decision had crushed his family's expectations. The cost had been high, and what lay ahead was uncertain, but he was sure of one thing: he was in control of his fate.
What happened to Damien when the ship’s sails disappeared beyond the horizon is best left to the imagination. However, nothing could halt our Greek adventure, even in the absence of a long-gone harbor chain. Shortly after we’d settled in, we were off to explore the bustling Saturday Market along Minoos Street.
From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo
1. Kingdom_of_Candia,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kingdom_of_Candia
2. Chania, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chania
Reference to our Chania Accommodation “In The Heart of Old Town”, https://www.booking.com/hotel/gr/in-heart-of-old-town-w-venetian-port-views.html#map_closed
