... of a small street in Skiathos
The council men arrive and collect the rubbish, its noisy, the men shout to each other as they go about their work.
They leave the street with discarded rubbish, blowing in the breeze in their wake.
Then a crash as someone throws their rubbish bag out, as they walk by, leaving it for 24 hours in the sun, and for the cats to explore.
Later a lady arrives with her bins and sweeps up after the bin men, she is friendly but many ignore her. She does a great job we say Kalle Mera ...
An old lady sweeps the street outside her home, adding the final touches and waters her plants.
An old man coughs, and spits in the street, not far from her feet.
Those tired eyes have seen it before, as she carries on sweeping.
Kalee Meera Ti Kanis ? - Greetings are exchanged by neighbours.
The shopkeeper arrives, and sweeps the street, passing the waste on to the neighbours step, a problem shared?
The tourist passes by and discards the cheese pie wrapper to the floor, and tin can to the old ladies window sill – a gift from a stranger.
Later the tour party passes by, “on the left, on the right” but on the floor, the cigarette wrappers and the empty water bottle to the neighbours flower pot.
The litter increases, the warm breeze distributes.
The street falls quiet for the afternoon sleep, unless you ride a scooter and remove the baffles.
Tables are laid in the square, glasses chink, people return from the beach, tired from the sun and slowly walking.
Swallows scream overhead in the late afternoon sun.
A blast of a ships horn announces the arrival of the Express Pegasus.
The heat slowly cools, and a steady passing flow of people, many hand in hand, now return smartly dressed.
A beach buggy style hire car appears, it squeezes past the tables and continues up the narrow street.
Engine revving, it cannot go any further, so oblivious to passing people, they try to turn, bumping into clearly invisible plant pots and freshly painted walls.
We are not here it seems, and a 15 point turn later they depart, scraping walls and squeezing back past dinner tables towards town.
Only yesterday someone tried to ride a scooter down the steps, kerlunk, kerlunk, kerlunk with eyes in a fixed stare ahead as we all watched ...
Music, laughter, singing and wafted smells of cooking, “Which taverna tonight – you choose” he said.
Later - There is someone shouting, he is very drunk, and sitting on a step addressing the seated old ladies.
What must they think ?
He shouts and slurs, and shakes his finger, and eventually staggers away.
Night falls, the music and the singing eventually fades, and the street goes quiet as the tavernas close.
Then different singing, laughter and shouting, as people go home past shuttered windows where in airless warm rooms, people try to sleep.
Morning comes, and the scent of fresh bread from the bakery drifts on the breeze.
However, the ladies from the shoe shop are very sad.
Some of the flowers have been stolen again, and the beautifully tended lilac clematis, is now clearly dying.
Does their lovely terracotta pot really look like a toilet bowl ?
Sadly someone thought so last night, and again not for the first time ...
Another day starts in the life of a little street in Skiathos ...