Cats in the Mani

All over Greece there are cats. It's famous for them. The tourist trade exploits foreigners' love of cats in calendars, postcards and all manner of souvenirs. Tourists come every year and feed them; outside (and inside) their apartments, in the streets and in the tavernas. Feral and semi-domestic cats are reknowned for hanging about at the tables for tidbits from customers' plates and the taverna and restaurant owners tolerate them, encourage them, even. It's the same here in the Mani, at least in the coastal towns and villages. But what do you think becomes of the cats outside of the main season? Many of the eating establishments close for the winter and the cats have fewer places to beg food from. They may become nuisances at ones that stay open and they are likely to find themselves in the hands of someone who thinks they are doing the community a favour by killing them.
To be fair quite a lot of people here look after cats, after a fashion. That is to say they will feed them and give them shelter, but other forms of care that you and I might take for granted are unlikely to be administered or may even be against their principles. This is where Greek thinking is often utterly illogical. Take, for instance, the idea of spaying cats. I may be wrong, but I don't think Orthodox christians are ordinarily opposed to contraception. However, when it comes to their animals they will not have them done. Perhaps it's the cost. During January and February the tomcats go calling and the females get pregnant. In the Spring the females give birth to their kittens who are are then promptly taken by the cats 'owners' and drowned (because there are too many cats) or they may be dumped for others to look after or to fend for themselves. Dumped kittens, even feral ones, cannot last long on their own and will often be taken by truly wild animals such as foxes. In fact, if a mother cat is able to hide and try to raise her brood away from human intervention, this will always be a danger and she is likely to lose most of them (which begs the question, why do humans interfere?). Kittens taken from their mother too early are also at risk of fatal diseases as they will have been unable to build up their immune system. Getting pregnant season after season is not good for the health of a female cat. And many cats get pregnant more than once in a season because losing their kittens means they can come on heat again much faster. When it comes to having tomcats spayed there is an almost total macho resistance to interfering with their 'natural' life.
Another example of illogical thinking goes like this: 'You shouldn't feed feral cats because they need to be hungry so that they keep down vermin.' Now this is nonsense - cats will catch and kill mice, rats, voles, etc and eat them, but not enough to keep them healthy and if they aren't healthy they can't catch anything. But because they believe the cats don't kill enough vermin (presumeably because people feed them), they put down poison instead. What happens then is the cats eat the poisoned creatures and may die themselves. Some folk don't bother with any of the justifications; they simply put down poisoned meat to kill the cats directly. It isn't just feral cats that get killed, of course; it's also people's pets. Coupled with all the kittens being exterminated, this should mean there's a reducing population of cats, but on average that's not the case. Someone is not playing by the rules. Somehow enough kittens and adult cats are surviving to keep the tourist trade alive...just!
When we first came to Stoupa we discovered that many of the feral cats were being fed. An English woman had established a number of feeding stations and a routine to look after the cats that come to them. She is supported by several helpers and donations from people both here and in the U.K. No doubt she is regarded by some of the locals as a bit odd. However, Greeks' attitudes to animals in general (except perhaps for farm animals) and domestic pets in particular have changed for the better over the last couple of decades or so and continue to improve. City dwellers (but also some people in rural areas) are more likely to keep pets and look after them well. In Athens and other main cities there are numerous organisations established to protect and look after street cats and dogs. Wildlife programmes on the TV are becoming more popular. Having said that, Greek men are still noted for going out and shooting anything and everything that moves. And that includes domestic and feral cats and dogs, paticularly if they feel they might spoil their hunting. Neighbours of ours, a Greek couple, recently found their two pet dogs shot dead and left by their wall in a plastic bag! Admittedly they did let them roam free.

After being here for a while Sue discovered that there was a feeding station for cats at Pantazi beach, a 10 minute walk from our house. This was established and supported by an older Welsh couple and to cut a long story short we were eventually involved (against my will at the time) in regular feeding. At the same time we tended to a couple of donkeys, but that's another story. There are usually around 15 cats, give or take one or two irregular visitors, who come to the boxes for food. The boxes, made from old chests and scrap wood, provide shelter for those that have nowhere else. Clearly, though, a number of the cats do have homes to go back to. We have settled into a routine where the older couple feed in the morning and we feed in the evening, although in summer they really only need a big meal once a day.

They might be feral or semi-domestic, but each cat has a unique appearance and personality and between us we have named each one accordingly. The current alpha female is Momma, although the others are always vying; there's Fluffy Mavro (she's a black long haired cat), Sissy, Bandetta, Aggi, Beauty, Phoebe, who is so small she can be mistaken for a kitten, and Trixie, who visits from the taverna around the corner. Many of the males think they are the alpha male particularly HRH (George 2), Al (Scarface), Hector and Shadow/Valentino, who is a very elegant long-haired cat. There's also Quentin, Georgie (Yiorgo), Cookie, JBS (Jerry-Bonz Senior because he's similar looking to young JB who sadly died from Feline Distemper last year), but the star of the feeding station is Marmalatha [Μαρμαλάδα - which actually means jam], so-named because he's a lovely ginger and white colour. Marmalatha was brought to the station as a kitten last year by Stefano, an Italian man who was living, at the time, in Sedona which is a village half way up in the mountains. Stefano is thought by many to be quite mad (he, himself thinks he might have a brain tumour); he certainly seems eccentric and over the top in his opinions and behaviour. He claimed that Marmalatha was in danger from the 'crazy mafia' of Sedona and brought him to the beach to save him. Because he has always been handled, Marmalatha is easily the most approachable of the group and can be picked up and cuddled; in fact, he will ask you to, although less often now as he has got older and become a fully fledged adult tom. We had hoped to arrange to get him spayed (via a street cat programme), but Stefano, who is Catholic, went wild at the idea and opposed it vehemently. He says all the Greek people are crazy, but this is one opinion he seems to have in common with them. Other cats have come and gone, but the core group still regular wait at the boxes to be fed. When we call they all come running to meet us; it's quite amazing to see!

The boxes themselves have undergone various moves and changes. Originally placed next to the bank of the gorge by the road bridge, they were vandalised soon after we had tidied and painted them early last Summer. We assumed that this had been at the instigation of the beach bar owner who didn't want the cats near his bar. So we moved them to next to the path on the other side of the gorge. This path leads up to our house and also to the villages on the hillsides. As part of the general cleaning up of the area we have now been asked to move them to a more secluded area off the path. This is fine as we think it will benefit the cats as well. We are going to take this opportunity to use better boxes because some of the current ones are falling apart. This will happen just as soon as the local council (δήμος) clear away the accumulated rubbish.

Spring has arrived and soon, and throughout Summer, we can expect people to dump kittens at the boxes despite our requests for them not to. If we are lucky we may find homes for them, if not we may sadly experience more dying or just disappearing in the night. We have to be strong: The boxes are meant to be just a feeding station, not a cats home, even if some of our core group do stay there most of the time, and we do not have the resources to do much else.

You may think there can be no genetic difference between feral cats and the average domestic moggie found in the UK, but our experience of rescuing and taking in a kitten dumped at the boxes has shown us how different they are. Although our kitten is slowly settling now, her behaviour has always been far more wild than anything we've experienced before. Jessy, who we brought from the UK has certainly found her quite stressing! It's the same with the male kitten our next door neighbours adopted and when the two get together it can be bedlam; we have to hide or glue down everything! Like the people of the Mani, the cats have adapted to the environment and landscape which, despite its beauty, can be tough and unforgiving.

How in hell did I get here? (Part Two)

After publishing Part One I started to feel that perhaps I'd been self-indulgent in airing all this stuff. I want to complete it now, but hopefully this part will be more balanced and then I can get back to the original purpose of writing about our experiences here.
This area, the Mani, where we live, despite any comments I've made previously, is absolutely beautiful; the scenery is stunning, for the most part the people, both Greeks and foriegn nationals, are really friendly and supportive, the weather is...well, you know what the weather's like; and did I mention the scenery? Yes, it can be difficult, at first, to acclimatise to everything, but it's hard to imagine that anyone could regret or become angry at being here. Yet, I did. I couldn't see all the wonderful positive stuff, or rather when I did it wasn't enough to overcome my depression. The difficulty still, is that all those negative feelings are attached to my memory of the last year or so. Rather than therapeutic now, it's quite hard reviewing the things I wrote before. It's also, I realise, quite unfair on Sue, who has had, and still has, to put up with me and the negatives that, in particular, I attached to her! I doubt if anyone finds moving to another country easy and Sue has had her own struggles with that (which I totally and selfishly ignored) as well as dealing with a problem partner. This is how my log, written about a year ago, continued:
"As I said earlier, I started to become panicky when Sue was researching houses in Greece - the closer she got to firm ideas the more panicky I got. Recognition that this was me becoming ill is, of course, all in hindsight. At the time I tried to ignore it. At the airport on the way to Greece to view some houses, they had introduced the new security arrangements where you couldn't carry more than 100ml of liquid in your hand luggage. Sue had contact lens solutions and other stuff on her and, until forced to, wouldn't accept she couldn't carry them. This came on top of discovering our luggage was overweight and we'd had to pay an extra £25 (£5 per kilo over). I don't exactly remember how I behaved, but Sue tells me she was frightened by it; I know I was agitated and angry. Sue, of course, was in shock and grief over her father and, realistically, so was I. We really should not have been going!
In Stoupa, where we stayed, I started to get panic attacks; not the sort that people usually describe and feel like heart attacks, but severe agitation, inability to sleep, wanting to run and hide, not being able to be still or relax. We spent a day with the agent, looking at various old houses, but eventually settling on a new build, involving extending our budget and drawing on savings. From Sue's point of view, it seemed to me, there was no option of not buying. You can see why I was stressed. Fortunately I finally recognised that I was not well and determined to see my doctor as soon as I got back home. He was very helpful and prescribed Sertraline which when it eventually kicked in was very good. I spent quite a while off work until I felt strong enough to return.
The side effects of Sertraline, while minor, were a bit disconcerting; I put on weight and got twitchy legs at night. I continued to sleep badly, but I'm not sure if that was caused by the illness or the medication. When I say badly I would sleep for 4, 5 or sometimes 6 hours and then be awake and unable to go back to sleep, with all sorts going round and round in my head. I bought a Paul McKenna book on stress with a self-hypnosis CD in it and I tried some of his techniques, particularly focussing on breathing and counting backwards. However, whereas during hypnosis it's okay to let your thoughts drift, when you want to sleep it gets in the way! Eventually going back to work was the best therapy, although it was very hard at first.
My doctor also recommended counselling and gave me some contacts, but I've done counselling (for stress) before and I understand the process, so I didn't feel I could cope with or commit to it. Maybe that was a mistake - I'm not sure.
By the time I returned to work we had sorted out the mortgage and I think we had made the first payment (or it was soon after). So it was arranged; we were committed, everything was under control. I could put it to the back of my mind for a bit. That helped, except it was aways there and every so often the fear and anxiety erupted and I was a pig to live with. Of course, everyone around us was always eager for news of the build and our plans. I was forever being told how lovely and exciting it all was, yet I really could only feel the fear, the insecurity we faced: I knew that employment prospects in Greece would be poor. I had a good job in the U.K. I investigated possibilities for retirement or sabbaticals, but none were available to me. So the prospect was giving up the job and going with what savings we had.

The one capital item which we wanted to sell was our VW Karmann Ghia, hoping to raise about £8K. I started to advertise it early in 2009, but only managed to sell it at a much reduced price in October, just weeks before we were due to leave the country. With the economic crisis the market for such cars is well down. The other idea for maintaining a safety net in the U.K. and realising more capital after the recession (if we ever survive this one) was to rent the house. To do this, we knew, would require some improvements. In 2008 I completed fitting a new bathroom. It took about 5 or 6 months. Then we started planning to upgrade the kitchen, including fitting an oven which we had always managed without. Work continued well, especially the new graphic facilitation training I had developed - very enjoyable.
After finishing the kitchen in early 2009 we started to do the decorating we needed to be able to rent the house out. It would also include getting a new window, finishing the airing cupboard, finding a way to finish off the chimney breast and put in some flooring in the back bedroom. We started at the top of the house with the attic. Being an attic it was full of rubbish and accumulated memorabilia. A lot of this was boxed up and put in the front room or cellar (where stuff started to get damp - lousy summer!!!). We had to leave the computer and table and work around it. We also worked around the bookshelves, although I think we eventually gave this away..............." I stopped writing here. Coincidentally (or perhaps it wasn't) it was at this point in the story that the pressure got to me and my illness erupted again. The main trigger was the inability of Sue and I to agree on when I should leave work; Sue saw it as setting a goal and me committing to it, whereas I wanted to be sure we would be ready so that I could have an income right up to when we were about to leave the country. Money inevitably played a large part in the stress we were both under. We needed enough to get to Greece and survive for a while and I felt we also needed to clear our outstanding debts like credit cards, but we clearly weren't able to raise what we hoped from selling the car and that wouldn't have been enough anyway! We definitely were not leaving Jessy, our cat, behind; that alone, to transport her by air, was nearly £1000. If we'd known then what we know now we probably would have invested in a camper van and driven here. I decided (without consulting Sue!) that we needed to borrow some extra money, preferably very cheaply. So that meant family. At first I asked my mother which upset my brother and sisters considerably and upset Sue because she was adamant that we could manage without it. I was certain that we couldn't. In the end, my brother, Andy, offered to lend us the money. Sue relented, I think, because of the effect the worry was having on me. However, she has not forgiven Andy for the conditions he set and for asking us to sign a contract with him; she feels that he unfairly has a stake in both our properties. He would describe the arrangement as a safeguard in case anything went wrong; I couldn't see that it made that much difference - we would still owe him the money.
Even though part of me didn't want to, I eventually handed in my notice at work. Later on, I negotiated a month's extension. I remember having various conversations with people, expressing my fears, and my stress must have been quite obvious even if there was nothing they could have done to help. In August 2009 it became evident that I was ill again; I went off sick from work and never returned.
I went back to the doctors and this time, because I expressed some reservations about the side effects of Sertraline, I was put on Certalopram which works in a similar way; inhibiting the loss of serotonin from the brain. However, instead of putting on weight, this time I started to lose weight. I also found it difficult, whether because of my condition or the medication, to relax or to focus in social situations.
There was still so much to do in the house, but now I was at home all day I could work on it. Looking back, I doubt if we could have got it all done if I'd still been working, but then again if I had not been ill maybe it would have been easier to focus and plan. I certainly didn't take sick leave so I could work on the house, but it helped. The attic, the stairway from top to bottom of the house and the back bedroom which included fitting an architrave, plasterboarding the chimney breast, adapting various pieces of wood and board to complete the airing cupbard, having a new window fitted (twice - there was a fault in one of the original units) and laying a laminated floor all had to be done. Then, we had to pack into boxes everything we wanted to take and throw or give away everything else. This involved  hiring  skips, getting charities to take away furniture and, it seemed like, at least 100 trips to the many charity shops in Arnold. This carried on even after the international removers had take all that we'd decided was going to Greece (well, not quite all; we missed one or two items and couriered them separately). I've no idea how we did it!
The arrangements for actually getting to Greece were relatively simple. We booked our flights in conjunction with Jessy's so that we took her to the cattery near Heathrow on our way to Gatwick and then picked her up at Athens the next day. We then had to coordinate her getting check-ups and the necessary injections and treatments prior to leaving (the last one has to be done within 48 hours of travelling); we'd already done the groundwork earlier in the year of getting her microchipped and purchasing her passport. To get to Gatwick we eventually found a car hire company that did the one way journey without a massive extra charge.
Throughout this process my mood and behaviour varied from robotic to completely manic, from anti-social to dangerous, and though the medication helped, this continued well into our first year here. My inner feelings and outward behaviours frequently led to blazing rows with Sue where she justifiably threatened to end our relationship. At one time, I confess, I experimented with increasing the dosage of Certalopram I was taking; it made me quite happy and agreeable for a while, but I recognised that it was unreal and gradually lowered it again. As I explained before, I eventually felt able to wean myself off it, but there are still times when I can be irrational and manic and unbearable, though, hopefully, these are getting fewer and further between.
We've lived here for 16 months now and we've got to know people and begun to find a place for ourselves in the community. The sad thing is that, if I hadn't been so ill and shut off, we may have been able to do it much quicker. Still, a friend of mine, who moved to France a few years ago, says it takes up to 3 years to really integrate and understand how everything works. So perhaps we're not doing too bad.