A little to the east of Amari Nefs, the town of Amari in central Rethymno, a wonderful country road winds its way down towards the monastery of Asomaton. The regimental appearance of row after row of olive trees planted equidistant with military precision, is broken by the often shabby fences separating the groves. They seem to cross the impeccable rows of trees in impossible patterns, twisting and turning to mark the often centuries-old borders between different properties. Borders which everybody knows but nobody wrote down. The wild undergrowth, dotted with thousands of wildflowers that change colour every 6 weeks or so to mark the coming of age of yet another year, emphasises the unruly, freedom-loving nature of the people of this island
After meandering downhill for two kilometres, which seem to last an eternity, a sharp lefthand turn reveals an open field to our left. For no particular reason, this field is allowed to grow and develop at will, kept in line only by the odd few sheep wandering along and feeding on the natural goodness on offer.
A closer look reveals a rather odd looking, small building shaded by an ageing oak and flanked by a wild pear tree. This is the idyllic setting of the small church of Agia Anna (Saint Anna), mother of the Virgin Mary. Overlooking the open field and the distant olive groves and mountains surrounding it, this building is the silent witness to history which unfolded in the valley of Amari. Small as it is, this little church is home to one of the most important cultural treasures of Crete.
A short, investigative walk around the building before going in reveals without a shadow of a doubt that the building underwent many changes over the centuries. Some of these we are aware of, e.g. the collapse of the west wall of the church as we see it today as a result of the huge earthquake that hit Crete in 1303. We know from existing documents that his same wall collapsed a second time later in history. This is probably the reason why the original doorway, traditionally in the west wall, was moved to the north wall, and the window next to it was then added.
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A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table – Samsa was a travelling salesman – and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer.
Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad. “How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense”, he thought, but that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state couldn’t get into that position. However hard he threw himself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he was.
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. “What’s happened to me? ” he thought. It wasn’t a dream.
His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table – Samsa was a travelling salesman – and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.
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It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted parts of sentences fly into your mouth. One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment.
It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer. Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad.
