And here I am, finally on Tinos. I was convinced that I would come here before summer, ever since Diane Alexandre from Athens shared her personal experience about this island, its unusual villages in the hills, changing landscapes, the winds and the chapels on every hill that seem to immerge out of rocks.
Senja and I wander around Tinos, mostly uphill. Our little convertible Fiat 500 lets the wind play with our hair romantically, but it also brings heat into our heads, refuses to cooperate and we fail to comprehend it, especially its inability to move at the speed we prefer.
It appears to me that the sky is different over here, as if it has merged with the islands across the sea, Mykonos, Andros and Syros. The wind dominates almost all year round, the sea rises and creates an unusual veil in the sky. As we race across the island from one village to another, we smell sage and wild oregano, and every now and then we check with each other if that is the smell of cannabis in the air or just another bushy plant.
Gods love Tinos
Gods love Tinos. It used to be the center of Poseidon worship and the famous sanctuary of the Virgin Mary. Pilgrims visit it in order to be healed, ritually crawling from the port to the top of the hill, where the famous Panagia Evangelistria is located.
For me, this visit represents some kind of pilgrimage too. I wonder where it will take me. This trip is different, because it comes at a time when I don’t quite understand the changes of nature and the arrival of the most beautiful season.
I’m not ready to go outside yet and face this new version of myself I don’t completely recognize, as well as this summer that stubbornly keeps on trying to awaken me.
I’ve been waiting for Tinos for months, as if it would offer me the most important answers, maybe the ones for which I don’t even have adequate questions yet.
Every trip is a chance to observe something different in ourselves. This time I have confidence in Tinos, like I do with my best friend. Because the island doesn’t open its arms to just anyone. This is a place where only people who want to hide come to. Hide in the caves of old houses painted in white and blue (a range of blue colors on the windows) with marble details and patterns of white-gray stones at the entrances. From every cliff, you can hear the chamois persistently greeting their friends on other hills, and I can’t help but think how interesting and dynamic it is for them here, just like the nature they are moving through.
Parallel to their conversations, in the village of Kardiani, Senja and I are having conversations on the terrace, while we’re waiting for the pink sky to turn dark gray. We are open to deep insights. We build trust in a place where nothing will expose us better than the contact to each other.
…
The roads between the villages are winding and lonely. It is said that there are 66 villages (40 inhabited), some Catholic, some Orthodox, with architectural reminders of the Venetian rule. Curved passages and carved doves above the doors, some of the icons and symbols of Tinos, scattered pigeon houses standing proudly here since the 18th century.
Is there room here for the thoughts that have been anchored in our drawers for too long or can we now bring them to a complete silence?
We are confused by the silence. We are spinning in circles trying to understand who the people who live here are, why the French who live here buy old crumbling houses or build a studio to explore their undiscovered hobbies.
They say that Tinos finds the people who belong here.
In the end, we manage to find that place of mine that I keep on looking for in endless dreams.
In the village of Volax, the hills are covered with large round rocks, balls crowded together, in various sizes and shades of brown and dark gray. Were these huge round stones formed by a glacier or were they created by giants for bowling? It is said that Sisyphus rolled the stones up the hill and left them all right here in the valley of the village of Volax.
Here I feel as if I myself was a part of some great tectonic disturbance that turned into a play of nature.
I lie on the rocks and listen to what they want to tell me. Will I be brave enough to grasp them if they tell me the secrets of this place and the reasons they invited me here?
…
That’s all for now. In the following story, I want to introduce you to the wonderful people we have met here:
- Virginie, a Parisian woman who created a multidisciplinary space in an old house with a courtyard in the very center, Taxidi Tinos
- Carol, who discovers historical objects that have stories like in novels, and proudly displays them in the Trela gallery
- Anna, a fashion stylist and her concept store Katsiki
- The modern hero of creativity on Tinos, Theodor Anastasato and his art shop Zosma
- Ceramic artist Sabrina Bindu
Until the next read, close your eyes and let Tinos whisper a secret to you.
Written by Nataša Nikodijević Savin @myjourney.rs
Photos by Senja Vild @senjamafn
