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| Skoutari seashore |
Written on October 14, 2015
The roots of my family are scattered in the land called Sparta. The land of so fine warriors that their fame lives on for over 3000 years. While Greeks to the bone, people here had always their own way to express themselves, live their life, love, and hate…
My maternal side of the family originates from the place which every Greek highly respects…It originates in Laconian Mani. Although Laconia is primarily an administrative division of the Peloponnese, it is also the land, where the Ancient Spartans had lived.
Linguistically the name Mani comes from the ancient Doric Greek word μᾶνιν (mãnin) meaning 'rage' (Attic-Ionic: μῆνιν) which lead to the evolution of the word Μανίαν (Attic-Ionic: μηνίαν) "Manía" (Μανία), meaning "mania", "crazed with rage" or "wild" which itself originates from the Ancient Greek verb, word "Manîsomai" (Μανήσομαι), meaning to "become crazed" or "full of violent rage". The English word "mania" evolved from this.
It is really difficult to say exactly whose ancestors were Spartiates….except Mani. There is not even the slightest doubt that Maniots (Μανιάτες), the people of Mani are straight descendants of Ancient Spartiates. After Ancient Sparta ceased to exist, the Spartans still were the best soldiers in the Roman Army, and in the Army of the Venetian Republic…and many, many other armies… Their military skills were always in high demand. Not much has changed in the lifestyle; thousands of years after the Spartans, the villages of Mani still resemble more of the military settlements than anything else, and from the Middle Ages onwards the population had been military like organized with the captain as the highest-ranking member of the society.
Income from land was small and uncertain. Maniots (Μανιάτες) have to be very creative to survive, and they were. For hundreds of years, they used to be merchants….. pirates.
That way of living had stopped when Mani became a part of an independent Greece…..The Maniots (Μανιάτες) were always ready to bear arms as they held their freedom in high esteem, and were never seen to lay their arms down, especially throughout the duration of the Greek struggle for independence. Greece became again a state because Maniots - Μανιάτες made it possible.
Military tradition in Lackonia lives on. Men from Mani do not have a problem to do their military service, it is still a custom to be in the military, this land produces also the finest generals of the Greek Army.
Even my two brothers, born in Canada, took one year off of their North American life to do, like real Spartiates, a military service in Greece. Spartans from every continent of the planet keep still tradition going….
Late summer in Gythio …the colors, scents, and flavors of the season which I have never seen in Greece…The most Southern end of European continent happened to be the place I love the most, the place I have in my DNA, the place I feel so much at home…
The sea was close, but it had to be reached by car. The man I love did not mind to have a small drive south…because Skoutari seashore, every morning was different, the light was different and even the taste of the water….After our long morning swim we used to go for a coffee, and sometimes a small gelato with a lemon flavor, the man I love is so fond of…
Two sets of grandparents were taking care of our sons so we could have another honeymoon after 3 years of marriage…
Love, in every dimension, became even more intense than before…now… that we know one another so well….
Our vacation in Mani, started from an e-mail note from my aunt Eva: “High time to learn how to handle the firearms, take advantage of staying in Mani”. Slowly, I discovered that every adult member of my family not only knows how to handle the firearms, everyone in the family has actually a gun at home, including my husband. This is this maniatiko they have…they feel secure when they have it…To my amazement, my mother, a classical pianist, has learned how to shoot at the age of twelve, and my aunt, the essence of femininity with the face of Madonna, can disassemble the rifle in no time, like an old soldier.
I had no choice, just to learn how to handle the arms. Amused by all that what was happening to me, my mother visited us in Gythio and brought me a box of old photographs. On some, my grandparents – students, a few years after the war, in Paris, entertaining themselves….at the shooting range in Bois-de Boulogne…. this was a fun à la maniatiko…… My grandmother had apparently a great affinity to the rifle and was always shooting with a precision of a sniper. This September it was my time. My father – in - law took all very seriously, and for over two weeks was taking me to the mountains for the lessons. Finally, after ten days, I got it. I could shoot, disassemble the rifle, and put it together… all by myself. Although I missed the targets many times in the beginning, I was not that bad in the end… I became an old style Maniatissa - Μανιάτισσα, a Maniot woman….like my grandmother, like my aunt, like my mother…..
The sea was close, but it had to be reached by car. The man I love did not mind to have a small drive south…because Skoutari seashore, every morning was different, the light was different and even the taste of the water….After our long morning swim we used to go for a coffee, and sometimes a small gelato with a lemon flavor, the man I love is so fond of…
Two sets of grandparents were taking care of our sons so we could have another honeymoon after 3 years of marriage…
Love, in every dimension, became even more intense than before…now… that we know one another so well….
Our vacation in Mani, started from an e-mail note from my aunt Eva: “High time to learn how to handle the firearms, take advantage of staying in Mani”. Slowly, I discovered that every adult member of my family not only knows how to handle the firearms, everyone in the family has actually a gun at home, including my husband. This is this maniatiko they have…they feel secure when they have it…To my amazement, my mother, a classical pianist, has learned how to shoot at the age of twelve, and my aunt, the essence of femininity with the face of Madonna, can disassemble the rifle in no time, like an old soldier.
I had no choice, just to learn how to handle the arms. Amused by all that what was happening to me, my mother visited us in Gythio and brought me a box of old photographs. On some, my grandparents – students, a few years after the war, in Paris, entertaining themselves….at the shooting range in Bois-de Boulogne…. this was a fun à la maniatiko…… My grandmother had apparently a great affinity to the rifle and was always shooting with a precision of a sniper. This September it was my time. My father – in - law took all very seriously, and for over two weeks was taking me to the mountains for the lessons. Finally, after ten days, I got it. I could shoot, disassemble the rifle, and put it together… all by myself. Although I missed the targets many times in the beginning, I was not that bad in the end… I became an old style Maniatissa - Μανιάτισσα, a Maniot woman….like my grandmother, like my aunt, like my mother…..
