Ρούμελη, οδοιπορικό στη Βόρειο Ελλάδα

by Patrick Leigh Fermor, Λίνα Κάσδαγλη (Translator)

Γοητευμένος από αυτό το παράξενο και ωραίο όνομα, που άλλοτε περιλάμβανε όλη τη Βόρεια Ελλάδα, ο Πάτρικ Λη Φέρμορ το χρησιμοποιεί ως τίτλο στις περιπλανήσεις του μέσα στην εξωτική για κείνον περιοχή. Θυμάται τους ανθρώπους που γνώρισε, τον σαρακατσάνικο γάμο όπου παραβρέθηκε, τη Μονή Βαρλαάμ, ψηλά στο βράχο των Μετεώρων, όπου πέρασε τη νύχτα, το γευστικό κατσίκι που απόλαυσε, μαζί με ούζο Τιρνάβου και μήλα ποτισμένα στο κρασί - και ανασκαλεύοντας την Ιστορία δίνει ένα συναρπαστικό κράμα από παρελθόν και μέλλον.
Για τον Έλληνα αναγνώστη έχει ξεχωριστό ενδιαφέρον η άποψη ενός ξένου που έγινε δικός μας χωρίς να χάσει το καθαρό βλέμμα, την ορθή κρίση και το χιούμορ του, ενός ξένου "που ζει στην Ελλάδα, μιλάει ελληνικά, γνωρίζει τους ίδιους τους Έλληνες όσο κανένας, και αγαπάει αυτό που γνωρίζει" κι έτσι μπόρεσε να μας δώσει "ένα αριστοτέχνημα διανοητικότητας που απαλύνεται από ζεστή ανθρώπινη κατανόηση".

Genres: Travel, Nonfiction, Greece, History, Memoir, Biography Memoir, 20th Century

408 pages, Paperback

Published May 1, 2010

About the author

Sir Patrick Michael Leigh Fermor, OBE, DSO was of English and Irish descent. After his stormy schooldays, followed by his walk across Europe to Constantinople, he lived and travelled in the Balkans and the Greek Archipelago acquiring a deep interest in languages and remote places.

Fermor was an army officer who played a prominent role behind the lines in the Battle of Crete during World War II. He lived partly in Greece in a house he designed with his wife Joan in an olive grove in the Mani, and partly in Worcestershire. He was widely regarded as "Britain's greatest living travel writer".

Reviews

[Jonfaith · Rating 4 out of 5]

A swaddled baby in a hewn cradle like a little trough rested across her lap; it had been slung across her back like a papoose when she got in.

What a wonderful albeit strange journey, or a monument, perhaps, to several journeys or perhaps to the craggy landscape which inspired such. The Songlines owes much to this work, given his proclivities, perhaps Chatwin slipped the essence into his pocket and fleshed out his own ideas on nomadism.

Roumeli picks up steam in a shepherds wedding and shimmers in incandescence in the pursuit of Lord Byron's shoes. This book is both mournful and reverent. It might be a better point of entry readers than A Time of Gifts though obviously Fermor isn't for everyone. I feel enriched. Events alter us and then leave us changed but ever forgetting. I was thinking of the time Edward Thomas spent with Robert Frost earlier, how such links across time.

[Steve · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is book is filled with 5 star writing, and yet I can't shake the sense that the parts are greater than the whole. But perhaps that's the case with travel writing in general. I'm not all that widely read in the genre, and whenever I do read an acclaimed author and book, I tend to get frustrated. I suppose I like my foreign adventures (and descriptions) wrapped in a story -- or a history. So in other words, I suppose the fault lies with me. This particular book by Fermor is one of his Greek travel books, with a focus (broadly) on the northern part of the country (there's a lengthy (and beautifully poetic) wartime interlude in Crete -- which is way south). The early part of the book has Fermor attending a traditional wedding, with wonderful descriptions of food, drink, and apparel (especially the bride)-- all of which are probably now long gone (the book was written in 1966). What next follows is some monastery crawling -- most of which are located on steep mountains. (How did they build them?) The descriptions are, again, beautiful, but oddly lacking in any descriptions of the art. (In contrast, see Rebecca West's descriptions in Black Lamb and Grey Falcon.) Fermor does mention, at least once, that the paintings are "darkened." In other words, maybe he's seen better, and didn't bother.

Throughout the book, there are several meditations on the Greek personality, which I found circular and boring. I'm sure there are many that find them nuanced and poetic. One particularly wonderful episode, which is actually two, involves a search for a pair Lord Byron's shoes. Fermor clearly loves Byron, and he expends a number of pages on this search. The first part has Fermor and a friend visiting an eccentric 80 year old descendant of Byron's. They are pulling together what information they can for the search, which was prompted by a letter from Greece to the ancestor. The visit ends with a game of pool during a rainstorm. This could of easily been a wonderful short story. The second part has Fermor in Missolonghi (the eventual site of Byron's death) seeking out the holder of the shoes. For me this is the heart of the book, and made the reading trip all worthwhile.

Things sort of tailed off for after that. Fermor continues to ramble about, but throughout all of this, there is a tinge of lament. Fermor sees the Greece that he loves dying in a wave of what we now call Globalism. That which is unique is being diluted, dumbed down or done away with. One poignant episode, late in the book, really made an impression on me. In it, Fermor, traveling on a bus, encounters a young Greek woman traveling with her child. I believe it captures the experience of the book (the best part anyway) in a nutshell:

We had passed a couple of meagre hamlets and the bus had emptied of all but Andreas and me and, in the seat behind us, a pretty mountain girl whose face was alight with candour and happiness. A voluminous black kerchief swathed her head, thick chestnut plaits fell down her back, and she was encased in one of those coats of homespun goats' hair, flaring from the waist and gallooned round the hem and along the perpendicular pockets with a dark red braid, that the call a "segouni." Round silver plaques as big as saucers fastened her woven belt. A swaddled baby in a hewn cradle like a little trough rested across her lap; it had been slung across her back like a papoose when she got in. She looked about fifteen. As she listened to Andreas her eyes grew wider still and laughter covered her face with the spread fingers of one brown hand. (pg. 192).

I doubt you would encounter that woman, in that attire, these days. Anyway, as you can see, Fermor doesn't write -- he paints with words. And that's a rare gift.

[Andrew]

Recently, I was traveling in the Northern Philippines, and my guide suggested we stop at a small rapids and pool, where I spent some quality time with the local 20 year old knucklehead dudes, jumping into the pool, grilling some goat, taking shots of Filipino gin (smoother than expected!), and generally just enjoying the day. "Total Fermor moment," I thought. Although he would have instantly becomes best friends with them, learned to converse in the local dialect, and garnered some wisdom about the history of the region.

Because Patrick Leigh Fermor is the coolest human ever. This time, he's in the mountain regions of Northern Greece (mostly). It's a story of shepherds and witchcraft, forgotten ethnicities, lemons and roast lambs, cypress trees and sea views, wit and wisdom, ancient heroes and 19th Century freedom fighters, and singing around the campfire, swigging retsina. Yep, that's what I came here for.

[Melina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Η σχέση μου με τα ταξιδιωτικά χρονικά είναι τόσο μικρή που παίζει να είναι και το πρώτο που διαβάζω. Το όνομα του Πάτρικ Λη Φερμόρ το άκουσα πρόσφατα για πρώτη φορά όταν ανακαινιστηκε και άνοιξε στο κοινό το σπίτι του στην Καρδαμύλη και αγόρασα το βιβλίο από περιέργεια. Η εικόνα της Ελλάδας μετά τον εμφύλιο που παρουσιάζεται έχει πολύ μεγάλο ενδιαφέρον, πόσο μάλλον που η παρουσίαση γίνεται σε τόσο υπέροχη γλώσσα και μέσα από τα μάτια ενός Άγγλου που παρότι διατηρεί μια αντικειμενικοτητα και διεισδυτική ματιά, αγαπάει πραγματικά την Ελλάδα και τους Έλληνες και μας βλέπει με συμπάθεια και επιείκεια. Το ανήσυχο πνεύμα του συγγραφέα, το πόσο διαβασμένος είναι και ο ανθρωπισμος του είναι διαχυτα στο κείμενο. Τέλος το πρώτο κεφάλαιο που περιγράφει τη συνάντηση του με νομάδες Σαρακατσανους έξω από την Αλεξανδρούπολη το '50, για εμένα, απόγονη Σαρακατσανων από τον Εβρο, ήταν συγκλονιστικό.

[Elena Sala · Rating 5 out of 5]

ROUMELI (1966) describes Patrick Leigh Fermor's travels around Northern Greece and Macedonia. He visits secluded and remote areas and describes the rugged countryside and how people of these remote regions live. As he meets Sarakatsan shepherds and spends some time with them, visits the impressive monasteries of Meteora, attempts to track a pair of Byron's slippers in Missolonghi and investigates Kravara and it's private language he makes accute observations about these communities and their history.
His prose is rich and his erudition is immense. His love for this long lost world is touchingly obvious. ROUMELI is not just travel writing, but a moving celebration of Greece and its culture. A highly recommended book for readers who love travel writing and Greece.

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

On the plus side, Patrick Leigh Fermor is becoming one of my favorite authors. Even a little known travel book such as Roumeli: Travels in Northern Greece is so brilliant and effortless in its erudition that one hates to come to the end of chapters, of paragraphs, even of sentences. On the minus side, I'm coming to the end of Fermor's oeuvre and will have to re-read his books just to feel the same buzz.

Like Mani: Travels in the Southern Peloponnese, Roumeli seems at first glance somewhat haphazard in its organization. We begin with Fermor among a shepherd tribe known as the Sarakatsán with its own culture and dialect that he encounters in northeast Greece, near the Turkish border. Then he visits some monasteries located on the tops of steep rock columns at -- no, not Athos -- but in a north central region known as Meteora. Then he travels around the north end of Gulf of Corinth visiting small unknown towns and getting all wrapped up in the argot and culture of a tribe of beggars who inhabited a region known as the Kravara. There is even a chapter about Crete, which is hardly in nothern Greece.

I am sad that Fermor is closing in on his first century. Though still very much alive, he cannot have too many more works in him.

But what a fine mind! What a splendid eye for detail and character! After Fermor, all other travel writers -- Theroux, Morton, Morris, Durrell, Lawrence, and even Chatwin -- seem insipid by comparison.

[Jason · Rating 3 out of 5]

Patrick Leigh Fermor comes across as a master of language, picking up new dialects and quickly getting to grips with made up languages. He also comes across being part of the British Empire, he fully immerses himself in the culture but steps back a bit in his writing. He meets some very interesting groups, some on the verge of disappearing altogether as Greece embraces the modern world, he gets them to reveal secrets about their people and to tell some great stories. When writing these bits there is a lot of passion in the writing, as soon as he moves on to what he is doing or where he is going the writing becomes very clinical, he will happily reel of names of people, places, language that they use and he goes very in-depth with the history of a place. I found it hard going at times, desperately wanting to skip ahead but sticking with it incase I missed something.

The book is an enjoyable read if you stick with it, hearing stories by Uncle Elias is well worth it. There is a wonderful map at the beginning featuring countries that no longer exist, seeing Yoguslavia on a map is quite a shocker. This is the first book I've read by Fermor so it probably just takes a while to get into his work, personally I prefer it when the writer becomes part of the story, I am intrigued to read more by him. This is a good read and would get 3.5 stars if I did half stars....but I don't.

Blog Review> https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2019...

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you were to pop the name of Roumeli into Google maps then all it would bring up is a tiny place on the island of Kriti. For Patrick Leigh Fermor though this name brought to mind an entirely different region of Greece. For him, it is the northern counterpart to the southern Mani and is the ancient name for the lands that went from the Bosphorus to the Adriatic and from Macedonia to the Gulf of Corinth.

Even though this region isn’t known by that exotic and slightly mysterious name now, the people and places that formed it are still there, and Leigh Fermor is there to tease the stories out from them. He begins in Alexandroupolis, a town that normally elicits a groan from the civil servants who have had the misfortune to be posted there, but he had grown to like it partly because it was the first Greek town that he stayed in after a few years absence. But in this town, amongst the bored civil servants, walked a man dressed mostly in black with curving shoes that had a pompom on the end. He was a Sarakatsan shepherd and he was as out of place as a wolf walking through the streets.

This nomadic style of life still existed; part of the population moved from one area to another seeks grazing for their flocks. This practice had been honed over hundreds if not thousands of years and the rituals and traditions were deeply embedded in their culture. Even though the orthodox church had a certain amount of influence over peoples lives, the pagan spirits of old inhabited the land and still need to be placated and resisted.

This book is full of stories like this, a visit to a substantial house of yellow stone to shoes of Lord Byron, rising at dawn to travel by bus to the hinterland of Aetolia, climbing up the steps to the monastery perched onto of rocks and learning that guests used to be winched up, and the rope was only changed when it broke. This is a wide-ranging series of encounters and vignettes as he travels around the region. You can tell he deeply loves this country from the evocative writing as he travels through the landscape. As I have come to expect, it is such beautiful writing from Leigh Fermor. However, I think I of the two Mani just has the edge for me. But this is still a really special book.

[Andy Weston · Rating 5 out of 5]

Second time of reading, and appreciated even more as I am followed his footsteps, reasonably closely. The blog of my journey, a lesser work.. at the blog page of my website.

At one stage the author ponders what the area will be like in 50 years time, already he says, there are signs of tourism changing the areas he visits.

Its 56 years on now, and I plan to visit and follow his progress later next year, though with dog and campervan in tow. A week or so ago I read his earlier book, Mani: Travels in the Southern Peloponnese, by which I was inspired. I don't expect things to be much like they were in Fermor's days, but I am nonetheless very keen to find out.

Mani's northern counterpart follows Fermor's journey among Sarakatsan shepherds, the monasteries of Meteora and the villages of Krakora, among itinerant pedlars and beggars, and even tracks down at Missolonghi a pair of Byron’s slippers.

He attains the balance between travelogue and historical detail effortlessly. Its a difficult balance to get right, most readers are not beginners to Greek history, or to the country's culture, yet neither are they by any means experts.
I will revisit this while travelling, and appreciate more the historical aspects.

These are two of the best travel books of the twentieth century.

[Czarny Pies · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Roumeli: Travels in Northern Greece" is a book of Patrick Leigh Femor's recollections of his voyages conducted in the region extending from the Greek Adriatic Coast to the Bosporus. The time frame seems to run from 1946 to 1976. Fermor also includes a lengthy "sidetrack" to Crete where, as a special services officer he served for two years behind enemy lines during WWII.
Fermor's two main areas of interest are the rural folk culture of Greece and monasticism. He rigorously ignores the culture of Greek's urban centres. Despite his royalist sympathies, he goes out of his way to avoid discussion of the conflicts between the republican and royalist factions of Greece during the era.
The overall result is much less successful than that obtained by "Mani" which presents his impressions of the southern Greece. "Roumeli" is nonetheless an extremely charming book as Fermor is a master stylist and a passionate lover of Greece.
One of Fermor's main points is that the connection between the Greece of the 20th century and classical Greece is a complete myth. He argues that the traditions of contemporary Greece come from Byzantium. The Ottoman era which lasted from 1453 to 1830 simply reinforced the Byzantine nature of Greek society and consolidated the position of the Greek Orthodox church. In this area, Fermor's opinions are neither surprising nor controversial.
The chapter entitled "The Monasteries of the Air" contains wonderful descriptions of several of Greece's mountain top religious communities and the monks that live in them but offers no new insights on Orthodox spirituality which receives superior treatment by Fermor elsewhere notably in "Mani" and "A Time to Keep Silence".
Although insisting for the main part that Greece's culture is primarily Byzantine, Fermor then devotes a rather dreadful chapter to the Helleno-Romaic dilemma in which he argues that Greeks fall into two camps having either Hellenics or Romaic personalities. The word Hellinic seems to be tied to the ideals of Plato and Aristotle the leaders of classical Greek philosophy. The Romaic identity originated under Ottoman rule when the Greeks learned to live by their wits and duplicity. On pages 279 to 294, Fermor presents a chart of the characteristics of the two groups that reminds one of typology proposed at a campus pub and which begins as follows:
The Romios The Hellene
1 Practice Theory
2 The Concrete The Abstract
3 The Real The Ideal
4 Private Ambition Wider Aspiration
5 Argument Rhetoric
6 Concentration Diffusion
7 Instinct Principle and Logic
8 Improvisation System
9 Empiricism Dogma
10 Love for the recent past Love for the remote past
... 50 The Dome of St. Sophia The columns of the Parthenon

The final chapter "Sounds of the Greek World" has the feel of a prose poem. In it the various Roumeli cities are associated with their unique sounds. From page 574, I take an example:
"Psychiko is la Tonquinoise, Kephissia a soirée musicale with a background of 'Yes Sir, that's my baby'; Leophoros Syngrou, an exhaust pipe, Patissia a gear-change, New Phaleron a metrical hard-luck story to the accompaniment of a bouzoukia, Old Phaleron a tango heard through convolvulus horns.
The Plaka is drunken polyphony at four in the morning in praise of Retina.
Piraeus is a hashish-smoking rubiyat to the geometry of the butcher's dance and a ship's siren."
"Roumeli" careens from the sublime to the ridiculous. The general reader will easily spot the ridiculous. Only Fermor's diehard fans will be able to find the sublime.

[Christos · Rating 4 out of 5]

Πρόκειται για μια συλλογή από περιηγητικά κείμενα με τις εμπειρίες του συγγραφέα από τις περιπλανήσεις του στη Βόρεια και Δυτική Ελλάδα (με μια μικρή παρεκτροπή για την Κρήτη) τη δεκαετια του 50. Συμμετέχει σε ένα Σαρακατσάνικο γάμο, φιλοξενείται από μοναχούς στα Μετέωρα, αναζητά τις παντόφλες του Λόρδου Βύρωνα στο Μεσολλόγγι, επισκέπτεται τα φτωχά και άγονα χωριά των Κραβάρων στην ορεινή Ναυπακτία κ.α. Οι περιγραφές του είναι ζωντανές και έχουν τεράστιο ανθρωπολογικό (και όχι τουριστικό) ενδιαφέρον, απεικονίζουν τοπία, ήθη, έθιμα και ένα τρόπο ζωής ολόκληρων κοινοτήτων που πλέον έχει αλλάξει ολοκληρωτικά. Παρότι καθόλου συνηθισμένος στην ταξιδιωτική λογοτεχνία, μου κράτησε αμείωτο το ενδιαφέρον μέχρι το τέλος.

[Sairam Krishnan · Rating 5 out of 5]

My first Patrick Fermor was interrupted by several important life-decisions, and therefore had to be read in demarcated chunks, and over more time that I wanted it to be ingested in.

And yet, it was so so good.

I do not profess to know much about Greece and its history, and I came to the book to see the linguistic style and narrative flourish I had heard so much about. And I wasn't disappointed at all. The descriptions and tales just blew my mind, and I couldn't have enough.

I'm filing this away to come back to, perhaps after a primer of Greek history and geography, and maybe even after Fermor's earlier books, so I can read this with even more comprehension and delight.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

From Mani to the deep south, Fermor travels north to another rugged region of Greece. Good read.

[Yannis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Στην περιγραφή για τις μυστικές πηγές και τα τα νερά μέσα στο δάσος, έπεσα σε ένα περίεργο τρανς φαντασίας και πραγματικότητας. Λίγες φορές μου το έχει προκαλέσει αυτό ένα κείμενο. Είναι η σελίδα στην οποία επιστρέφω κάθε 2-3 μέρες.

[Matthew Tyas · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’m a huge fan of Fermor. This book was the usual poetic delight, while also being highly informative. It dwelt on parts of Greek culture that were already fading in the sixties, leaving a historical record of them as time progresses. A real delight.

[R. · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is my least favorite of the 4 Fermor books I've read. Fermor's digressions become distracting here, and it took me a lot longer to finish the book than with his other titles.

That being said, there are some jewels in here. I enjoyed the passages about Meteora, and those that dealt with the years of Ottoman subjugation. And there's a priceless passage about Byron's
missing slippers. The Greeks consider Byron to be their equivalent
of Washington, or maybe Lafayette. He died just before going into
battle near Missolonghi during the Greek War of Independence.

The story goes that Byron rewarded his boatman with a pair of his
shoes/slippers for ferrying him daily through the marshes to the battle
area. At some point in history, the slippers disappeared.

In preparation for his journey through Greece, Fermor visits the 80 year-old woman who caretakes Byron's estate (she being the main remaining descendant). He wants to get all the information he can, and find the missing slippers.

She wines and dines him and his companion, soundly thrashes him in billiards, and over a period of time, tells all she knows about Lord Byron, giving Fermor unlimited access to view Byron's estate. Perhaps the most important item she tells him is the name of the Byron's boatman.

Armed with all of this, Fermor sets off on a tortuous trail through Greece, and is just about to give up near Missolonghi, when...

Ah, but that would be telling! Suffice it to say that what unfolds has all the mystery and excitement of the best mystery fiction.

For this one tale alone, I'm glad this book is in my library.

[Nick · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'll read anything Patrick Leigh Fermor has written. In fact, I'm busy right now chasing down Three Letters from the Andes, a minor work by the master that is not always easy to find. Roumeli has passages of vintage Fermor -- travel writing that exceeds just about anything ever written in that genre -- and that brings to life these moments and places in rural Greece that are gone in two senses -- geographically swallowed up by the encroachments of the Western industrial world, and temporally gone in the swirl of the last fifty years and all the mixed blessings of modern life. Fermor has an openness to people and experiences that makes him a joy to travel with, even on the printed page, even after a half-century, even though the places and people he writes about are gone. It feels like something is missing from modern life that Fermor embodied -- a shared joy and awareness of the fragile beauty of human life we seem to have lost. Can you imagine anyone creating a scene like the author Lawrence Durrell describes when, years ago, during a time of tension between England and Greece over a territorial dispute, Fermor broke into song at a private dinner (in Greece), singing Greek, Cretan, and other songs long into the night -- and a silent crowd of Greeks gathered outside, standing in the dark, simply to hear him sing through the open windows? What have we lost, that such human connections seem more impossible than ever?

[Tanja · Rating 4 out of 5]

Patrick Leigh Fermor is without doubt one of my favorite writers. I just truly enjoy delving into one of his books (whether it is his account of his youthful journey on food through Europe just prior to the outbreak of the second world war, or his time working with the Greece resistance during WWII). Without fail they catapult me into a different world with which I can claim only partial acquaintance. That said, his books are not easy reads, this one especially required quite a few trips to my trusted OED. I have certainly extended my vocabulary once again (one never knows when 'haruspicate' might come in handy). I love that once I put down his books, I feel not only that I enjoyed myself, but also that I learned something. And his account of these out of the way Greek places entice me to explore and experience the roumeli on my own.

[Robert Siegmund · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderful book chronicling the famous authors travels through northern Greece in the year 1966. The authors deep understanding of Greece and its 5000 year history, language and culture is impressive. Sometimes its almost too much knowledge conveyed for a reader no that much familiar with Greece. Since the book is almost 50 years old it also serves as a kind of time capsule of the times before Greece was mutilated by mass tourism and the ill effects of the recent Euro-crisis. My favourite story in there is the search for Lord Byrons slippers in Missolonghi and a mountain hike with a friendly Greek military officer who turns out to be quite a hedonist. Definitely worth reading for anyone that loves Greece.

[Patrick Cook · Rating 4 out of 5]

I distinctly remember being disappointed by this book the first time I read it. It was nothing like as good as 'A Time of Gifts' of 'Between the Woods and the Water'. Having re-read it, nearly a decade later, and actually in Greece (indeed mostly on Mount Athos), I still stand by the latter part of the judgement — it really isn't as good as the two books of his uncompleted trilogy. His excesses are not reined in here, as they are there, by careful and conscientiousness editing. This would not be a book to give to someone who was unfamiliar with Leigh Fermor's work. But it's still wonderfully evocative, erudite, and quite a lot of fun. Second-rate Leigh Fermor is still better than most travel writers can produce on their best days.

[Mavra K · Rating 5 out of 5]

Δεν το πίστευα πως θα μου άρεσε αυτό το βιβλίο, ούτε είχα ξαναδιαβάσει ταξιδιωτικό. Είναι εντυπωσιακό και συνάμα άκρως συγκινητικό το πόσο ένας άνθρωπος από τόσο μακριά βρέθηκε στην Ελλάδα, πολέμησε γι’ αυτήν, έμαθε να μιλά τη γλώσσα άπταιστα και μελέτησε τον τόπο και την ιστορία του περισσότερο και βαθύτερα από την πλειονότητα των Ελλήνων. Το βιβλίο είναι σαν ένα καλογυρισμένο ντοκιμαντέρ, ωστόσο λογοτεχνικά αρτιότατο. Το λεξιλόγιο είναι πάμπλουτο, η γλαφυρότητα εξαιρετική. Αμέτρητα κοσμητικά επίθετα στοιχειοθετούν ανεπανάληπτες περιγραφές, μεταφορές μοναδικές και παρομοιώσεις εξαίσιες αποδίδουν τη δική μας Ρούμελη ως έναν τόπο μυθικό, μια γη βασιλιάδων, αγίων, ηρώων, σκληρών νομάδων αλλά και παμπόνηρων επαιτών. Θαυμάσια προσθήκη στη βιβλιοθήκη μου.

[Margo Berendsen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I picked this book up for research about Greece; I soon discovered I couldn't put it down. This is no mere travelogue. Fermor is part anthropologist, part linguist, and part poet. The way he describes the nomadic shepherds of the mountains of Greece (I did not know such people even existed!) is so well done I feel as if I'm still hearing their chants and the rhythmic stomp of their dances, still shivering from their superstitions (this is Greek mythology you probably haven't encountered before!)

I will definitely be picking up more books by this author; there are three more and wish there were more.

[zed · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have been thinking about this book for days. Some sections, (are they chapters?) stand out. The first, The Black Departers, was so impressive I reread it immediately. The Monasteries in the Air was as enthralling. But for long periods after it all became a touch dense, hard work and even tedious. Sounds of the Greek World ended the book nicely but it was too late.

Thinking about it now I had read 4 PLF books in a row and had been enthralled. Maybe this was one too many? Maybe I will reread it in years to come and wonder what it was I missed. I hope so.

[Mes · Rating 5 out of 5]

Partea despre Creta mi-a readus in minte fascinatia cu care am citit bucati din Circe. Descrierile sensibile sunt extrem de aproape de realitatea salbatica (inca) a insulei. Am sentimentul ca, pntru cei care au vazut Grecia, descrierile actioneaza ca niste fotografii-madlene.

In capitolul dedicat nomazilor sarakini  am aflat din nou apropierea pe care un mod de viata o aduce in ciuda distantelor si granitelor. E greu ca ciobanitul sa fie atat de diferit in functie de granite. Granitele devin fascinante prin dubla lor functie de apropiere si departare in acelasi timp.

[Davvybrookbook · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book and this writer became an instant favorite. I fell into this book for $10, a discount in DC, starting it when back to Seoul. Then I lost the book and was devastated. After ordering it online and I have finally finished it. Otherwise I would have devoured it in days.

Patrick Leigh Fermor is as erudite a hellenist and Hellenophone as they come. His firsthand, anthropological investigations into the villages, regions and linguistic cultures of midcentury Greece, post-Turkish occupation, is astounding. The groundedness of his reporting on outstanding individuals like the monks of Meteora, or the “beggars” in the Kravara, this is a travelogue that is now my measuring stick. The section on Lord Byron and his shoes is a sterling piece of investigation, myth, history, heirlooms, honor, and legacy. The treatment of Greeks is uncharacteristically warm and humane (unlike derogation or hyperbole by Mark Twain in Innocents Abroad and Henry Miller in The Colossus of Maroussi).

Leigh Fermor’s proficiency in Greek means he can appreciate the wild variations within the language from village to village, even though there are times when I wish he wouldn’t. But also, the power of Greek word families occurring at the frequency defines this book as a Greek journey—for how else is a land inscribed than by the sonority of its people and their talk. The final chapter is a playful ruse to this very Greek sound:

6. SOUNDS OF THE GREEK WORLD

THE OLIVE-GROVES of Amphissa, the terraces of corn and vine, are notes on the syrinx, the Pindus is a jangle of goat-bells and the single herdsman's pipe.

Arcadia is the double flute, Aráchova the jingle of hammers on the strings of a dulcimer, Roumeli a klephtic song heckled by dogs and shrill whistles, Epirus the trample of elephants, the Pyrrhic stamp, the heel slapped in the Tsámiko dance, the sigh of Dodonian holm-oaks and Acroceraunian thunder and rain.

The Meteora soar twisting to the sky as a Byzantine litany ascends in quarter-tones to the Christ Pantocrator across a cupolas concavity.

Mistra is a swoop of kestrels among cypress trees, a neo-Platonic syllogism under provincial purple; Sinai, a fanfare of rams horns, Daphni, a doxology, Athos the clatter from cape to cape of semantra, drowned by the waves, the millionth iteration of the Hesychastic prayer.

Constantinople is the Emperor's acclamation, the commination of Chrysostom, a lament for the Fall, the wail of amané, a grammarian's cough and the mewing of cats; Alexandria the valedicion of the Gods deserting Antony, a creak of papyrus, the eleven-fold wake that follows a quinquireme, a Judaeo-Ptolemaic bargain.

The Propontis is the combustion of Greek fire from the bronze beaks of galleys, the Symplegades the breaking of ships' timbers, Anatolia the epic of Digenis Akritas…

The height of the work occurs in the chapter explaining the title, Roumeli. It is in this chapter that Leigh Fermor differentiates who is Helleno and who Romaic. It is worth the read just to discover this distinction, and to experience Crete through Leigh Fermor’s eyes.

I also like this playful ending celebrating the neighborhoods of Athens, with my old one in Psychiko [pronounced Psy-hi-ko] coming in the front, and my stomping ground, Kephissia mentioned next, where I would meet friends in the 90s. For me, the nostalgic landscape as well as the history, philosophy, myth and legend have been such a draw to Greek literature, ancient to modern.

Athens is a canticle of columns and a music-hall song, a jangle of trams, a pneumatic drill, a political speech, the inaudible paean of the Panathenaic hymn and the little owl hooting.

Psychiko is la Tonquinoise, Kephissia a soirée musicale with a background of Yes, sir, that's my baby; Leophoros Syngrou, an exhaust-pipe, Patisia a gear-change, New Phaleron a metrical hard-luck story to the accompaniment of bouzoukia, Old Phal-eron a tango heard through convolvulus horns.

The Plaka is a drunken polyphony at four in the morning in praise of retsina and the tune of a musical-box perched on a photograph album of faded plum velvet with filigree clasps at five in the afternoon.

Omonia is an equivocal whisper, a boast about Brooklyn; Kolonaki, the rattle of ice-cubes and a radiogramophone, Maroussi a monologue.

Piraeus is a hashish-smoking rubiyat to the geometry of the butcher's dance and a ship's siren.

Hymettus is the hum of bees, Attica a footfall on pine-needles.

There are a few Greek poets on my list now from Seferis, Cavafy, Palamas in addition to the few novels of Kazantzakis remaining on my shelves. I have also purchased Leigh Fermor’s Mani, Roumeli’s pairing covering his earlier travels in the Southern Peloponnese. His earlier travels across Europe are now on my radar as well.

[Mel Vanler · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ik hou van oude reisboeken.
Ik hou van Griekenland.

[C. M. Kosemen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Informative, bright, beautifully-written. The author can paint with words. This, not "A Time of Gifts", is Fermor's finest work.

[Donna]

I'm encountering Patrick Leigh Fermor suddenly and unexpectedly on multiple fronts...simultaneously happy to be reading him for the first time but sad that I haven't been reading him for years! Without realizing who he was, I do know the story of his daring and bravery on the Isle of Crete during WWII through the movie about same starring Dirk Bogarde, Ill Met by Moonlight. Also unbeknownst to me was his long friendship and correspondence with Debo Mitford...their letters have been recently published...In Tearing Haste...

Decided to read his first two books, written as a very young man, of his travels across Europe, mainly on foot, from Holland to Constantinople, during years of rising Fascism.

[Tim · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fermor is an erudite guide. This collection is mostly set in Northern Greece (with side trips to Crete and after Lord Byron), among nomads, monks, soldiers and villagers. His experiences are unique and these essays are difficult. Aside from his English vocabulary, Fermor's love for linguistics makes several of the essays tough for the non-linguist to generate interest. He also is, at times, too spare with context - barely explaining himself or his context/place before throwing us into a new context. I liked "Monasteries of the Air" and his encounters with local, rural folk and storytellers. Literary and linguistic quests, not as much.

[Andrew · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can now safely place Mr. Fermor on my short list of literary heroes. His attention to detail, descriptive prose, depth of research and knowledge are incredible. Not to mention a linguistic workout. I'll be the first to admit that many of the historical references went beyond me. This is definitely not "lite" travel writing to say the least.
Roumeli is also now on my short list of to go places, though I'm sure that much has been lost since the time of this writing.
I'd already read the first two books of his walking journey through Europe, but this book really hit the mark as to how important and influential a writer he was, is and will be to many.