Following Matt’s Greek Bike Ride blog soon to be published as Lifecycle: a soul journey to a Greek olive grove we have passed an important milestone in our Greek adventure with the purchase of a small house (‘kalderimi ? spitaki ‘_ still under discussion!) down here on the Mani. That this was achieved during lockdown was a triumph of the notary system. For those that followed my ride down the Via Francigena through Rome and indeed for those tempted to buy the book my route,on the leg across Northern Italy, follows in the footsteps of Sigeric the Serious, Archbishop of Canterbury (990 - 994) as he travelled to Rome to collect his pallium, or symbol of office. Incredibly when I wandered into the office of my nearest notary on the Gloucester Road in Bristol to collect the witnessed authority to be legally represented in Greece to complete the house purchase Mark, the notary, pointed out that it required an ‘apostille’ which was not currently possible due to the Covid crisis. ‘Yes’, I had seen reference to ‘apostille’ in my Greek lawyers document – ‘what exactly is one?’ I enquired. Mark gestured to the impressively ornate certificate in pride of place on the office wall and informed me that notaries are appointed by the Archbishop of Canterbury in the UK, and the apostille certified this status. This echo of the church’s role in validating primates with the pallium across Europe took me right back to the Via Francigena, the palio in Siena and the timeless Tuscan landscapes on the road to Rome. It turned out, less romantically, that the official register or apostille service is now operated by the Foreign and Colonial Office and was temporarily shutdown due to the pandemic. But a few weeks later the formalities were completed in time for the reopening of air travel and after an uneventful journey (1 hour in a plane equating in distance covered with approximately 1 month on a bike and incomparable in terms of lived experience) we were safely installed in our spitaki on Saturday August 22^nd 2020.

The next day marked our first visit to the reopened village taverna. As we settled ourselves at a table Xenophon (unlike his illustrious namesake neither a general nor historian but an escapee from a family aluminium business) was leisurely taking our order when along came pig-tailed Spyro, the grey-haired village bouzouki player, whom I know a little, pushing a sack in his wheelbarrow. Pausing to survey the afternoon scene he answered my enquiry as to what was in the sack with ‘Amygdala’. My Greek is still stuttering into life and it took several sluggish moments before I made the connection; ‘almonds’ after which the almond shaped mass of nerve cells relaying emotion in the limbic circuit of the brain is named. Medical training has its uses, not least for the etymological insights it affords in Southern Europe down here on the Mani peninsula, the middle of three fingers of Greece’s Peloponnese jutting out into the Middle Sea (Mediterranean).

Xenophon and his wife Maria had decided just before lockdown to give the taverna a go, as Potta, the much loved keeper of the old Kafeneion had sadly passed over the winter. The other taverna’s owner, which had run for a couple of years in an ugly building on the road, had been only too pleased to let it go with family illness troubles of his own. The young couple’s new business venture is a modest affair but strategically located in the narrow shaded alley between the two main village churches* and appeared to be ticking over satisfactorily with a fair few locals scattered along the alley on this hot August Sunday afternoon.

Pausing in the cool of our shady passage Spyro called for a beer and joined us in conversation on the abiding issue of these days. As an accomplished, performing musician, owner of one of the grander family houses on the village square and cosmopolitan man of the world with a half Norwegian son Spyro wanted to know my opinion as a paediatrician about the global push for a vaccine against Covid 19? Without pausing for my answer he offered a view that he had heard describing the pandemic as an artificial creation of Big Government to force citizens into accepting immunisation that would insert a chip enabling governmental control through smartphones. This was a new, more elaborate version of a conspiracy theory I last heard here in the winter based on 4G luddism (being pedalled on that occasion by smart English visitors). Later that evening I ran into a bohemian English acquaintance down at the coast who repeated more or less the same conspiracy theory.

I research and lecture on three phases of the postwar child survival revolution. The first phase, driven by Unicef, often characterised as GOBI (growth monitoring, oral rehydration for diarrhoeal disease, Breast feeding advocacy and Immunisation) was the world’s first attempt at a universal infant vaccination programme. The gains in terms of children living to their first birthday and beyond were dramatic. Global Infant Mortality fell from around 114/1000 in 1960 to 65/1000 by 1990 when the first child survival revolution faltered in the face of Neoliberal Economics and associated ‘structural adjustment’ policies. I will be returning to the second and third phases of the child survival revolution in future blogs. But coming back to the abiding global health issue of the day I naively thought that whatever other consequences might flow from the pandemic at least vaccination would get a welcome shot in the arm (forgive the pun!).

This is important as ‘vaccine hesitancy’ (as the fruits of the anti vaccers misinformation campaign are now coyly referred to) has sprung up all over the place and poses a significant risk to continuing progress saving children’s lives. I hasten to add that such conspiracy views are in the minority here in Greece and thankfully the skilful public health led response to the pandemic has thus far been one of the most successful in Europe with 9000 odd cases and 250 deaths to date. If the UK clarion call was to ‘save our NHS’ Greece’s has been (unofficially) to save the tourist industry. Greece locked down early (we were here on March 13^th as it happened) and returning here in late August, it would appear effectively, so far, thankfully. Prior to travelling I duly registered with the Greek health authorities providing detailed contact details whilst in Greece and on the morning of departure received our travel party unique QR code. Screened by thermal camera at the airport I wasn’t selected for random testing and allowed to proceed down here.  Last week’s spikes in Mykonos and Halkidiki (both holiday hotspots) were effectively addressed with enhanced local restrictions and the blip in the cases detected rate returned to baseline.

Down here on Mani there are far fewer international visitors than normal and probably fewer Athenians but still plenty enough judging from the coastal restaurants to give a seasonal boost to the local economy. Tourism still plays second fiddle to olive production here in Messenia with Kalamata our regional city port at the head of the Gulf. There will be lots more olive news on this blog as we approach the all-important harvest in late November. Meanwhile up here in the village all is quiet and thankfully Covid free and the hot afternoon calm is broken only by the sounds of tinkling goat bells and the occasional splash from the grand villa across the gorge from us. More musings from Mani to follow into September!

*[13^th century Byzantine Aghios Nikolaos and early 20^th century Eisodia tis Theotokou (The Presentation of the Virgin Mary) both with accompanying Venetian campaniles (not to mention the more than 30 family chapels dotted around the village and the semi-ruined Byzantine monastery on the hill above)]