Friday December 14, 2018
Photo article: Joshua and I decanting olive oil from the Greek Hovel - it tastes awesome
Desperately stupid virtue signalling academic of the day: History Professor Tanja Bueltmann of Northumbria
Photo article: a tale of two cheeses at Christmas: both arrived yesterday

PERSONAL, UNDILUTED VIEWS FROM TOM WINNIFRITH

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Picture article: The Cultural quarter of Kambos – Part 1

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- Tom Winnifrith

It was my last afternoon and so, having done my washing and tidied up the Greek Hovel (I do hope the Mrs is reading) it was time for a bit of sightseeing in the cultural quarter of Kambos. Quarter…I exaggerate a bit. However.

As one drives out of Kambos on the looping toad up the hill towards Stavropoula ( home to the lovely Susan Shimmin of Real Mani) on your right there are two monuments of note, one visible, the other hidden in olive groves.

From the road you can see a ruined Tower House. In the Mani of old the local gentry would build these constructions as they prepared for blood feuds, war, with other families of a similar status. Those in the lower orders were roped in to serve their local gentry. In some villages there are numerous Tower Houses as they were blessed with several families vying for power in that village.

There was always a race to build higher and higher towers so that you could dominate and shoot down on your enemies. Blood feuding was only halted when the Maniots joined together to fight the common enemy, i.e. the evil Turks.

In Kambos there is just one tower house and it is ruined. I am not sure when or why it was destroyed. The statue at the front is clearly of a Maniot with the traditional village people style bushy moustache. His dates are given as 1813-1877 which means that he missed the war of Independence but I guess he was the last owner.

Below the tower house is a much older constriction, a Tholos (a tomb from the Mycenaean era. It’s not as big or as impressive as the great structures at Mycenae itself but it was clearly large and shows that this area has been inhabited for an awfully long time. And I suspect that I will have been its only visitor all year, hidden as it is in a village that tourists just drive through.

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