Lesvos, Day 2

We awoke to a free breakfast at our hotel in Mytelini which was an unexpected surprise. The coffee was especially welcome. A young group of Greeks sat at a near by table. I sensed they were here for the refugees. I asked the one woman directly if she was a volunteer. She said she was part of a film crew from Athens that was filming the goings on. I said that I was pleased that things were being documented (I, for one, was admonished for wanting to take the most innocuous of pictures - see yesterday's entry). She said that she had encountered refugees who were eager to tell their story. I asked how the footage would be used. She said it would be distributed to the various news agencies in the EU and U.S. She had to leave with her crew. I gazed up at the Greek news on the TV which was mostly "Greek to me." The woman who runs the hotel said, "No news is good news." I smiled recognizing that she understood more than a bit of English using that phrase. I replied, "There must be a lot of news from your island." She said, "Sometimes a lot, sometimes a little." I finally understood her to mean that the flow of refugees is not constant, nor is where on shore they are arriving. She said that lately, a lot were arriving here, near Mytelini. More on why and the consequences of that later. I had been in email contact with a woman named Mawa the night before about volunteering in the north where "historically" most of the refugees were known to reach land. After discussing it with Julie, we agreed to drive up for an orientation. First we got lost leaving town when we hit a dead end near the castle ruins. This allowed for a photo op of both the castle and a pile of lifejackets. Really, you see a lot of lifejackets, mostly in piles as you drive the shore. As we've been instructed not to photograph the refugees themselves out of respect for their privacy, a photo of a pile of lifejackets represents their struggle. We found our way out of town by driving around the castle on the hill. We got on what is dubbed "the superhighway," but we had to laugh. Since when does a superhighway mean one that barely accomodates one lane north and one south, is full of pot holes, rarely has any kind of guard rails next to the cliffs and where there are guard rails, they are flimsy at best. My sister, the civil engineer, they could use you here. I was rewarded for the arduous drive by going through gorgeous little townships, and literally, you drive right through slaloming through pedestrians, stray dogs and cats, cars parked where there is little space for them. I took some pix and will put them in a PowerPoint at this blog to give you the real sense of beautiful homes perched on a hillside. We reached our destination of Molyvos after a couple of hours. Like Mytelini, it has a castle/fort in ruins atop a hill. The town is packed with homes perched on a hill on a small peninsula. We drove on coble stone streets. We decided to get out and stretch our legs and get a refreshment. Julie asked where a nice spot was, and a kind woman took (actually walked with us) down to the water's edge to a lovely cafe. While we were walking, Julie introduced herself as a volunteer and asked the womman if she knew of stuff going on. The woman suggested that we later go down to the harbor to a place called 'The Captain's Table' and ask for Melinda who apparently knew a lot about what was going on. When we got there, Melinda was busy with others, so we spoke to her young, beautiful assistant named Emma, Emma was very helpful, too helpful with information. She said that things had slowed in recent days and more help was needed in Mytelini, specifically Moria where the refugees were processed and awaiting passage to Athens (those who get permission). I spoke of how Molyvos was so stikingly beautiful. She said, if you go to Moria, be prepared for an awakening as this is a former prison and things are rather grim here. Our original thought heading north was to go to Skala Sikamias via Molyvos. Emma informed us that doubling back, and taking a tiny twisted road down to that small harbor town would be easier, so we did. Driving into town, down it's one windy road, we saw a building that had a banner on it reading "Lighthouse." This was what we were looking for. We pulled the car over and spoke to a young Scandanavian man with bushy hair on both his head and face. He introduced himself as Mats and really, a friendlier guy you are not likely to meet. He told us that there would be an orientation at Under the Tree cafe at 6pm. It was not yet 3pm. He suggested we go check out their camp at the shoreline. We did. I have to say, I was immediately impressed. It all seemed so clean and well organized and with a nice gravel path leading through it. We came upon a youngish blond woman volunteer in a bright yellow vest, who, come to find out, was also from California. She was also quite friendly. I asked her where I could find Caroline as I noticed her name listed as the day's camp manager on the whiteboard. She smiled and said, Caroline is a lamb. She was found as a baby at the side of the road. She was first bottle fed, but now is on grass. Julie said, "Oh, so more of a mascot." Julie started asking questions about how often boats were coming in from Turkey. The woman motioned to a group of seated people wrapped in blankets, sipping tea and said, "We had one arrive 15 minutes ago." Just then a young lad approached the volunteer and asked her where she was from. His English seemed good. We left them. It all just hit me like a ton of bricks what we had just encountered. I walked to the end of the camp and had to compose myself. I then used the porto-potties there to relieve myself. We used part of our time until the orientation to pick up trash off the beach. Clothes are washed and recycled by a group of women called Dirty Girls. We had been mistaken earlier in the day as belonging to this group. Julie joked, "You should have known me 30 years ago!" I came upon a small green, embroidered blanket that I picked up from the rocky shore. Julie said it was a prayer blanket. Knowing this might be special to someone. I threw it over a bench to dry within site of the camp. We inquired at a couple of hotels about rooms and had a look at them. 40 E a night seems to be the going rate. We had our orientation with Mawa who is Arabic-American and the volunteer coordinator for Lighthouse Refugee Relief Lesvos. She told us that five boats had come in today and that numbers were up from the week before. She gave us the skinny on what goes on. Rule number one - never separate family members. The organization operates 24/7. People work in one of three 8-hour shifts. Only coastguard members, lifeguards, medics and the like are actually supposed help the boats into shore because they have the training. It could be, if multiple boats come at once, you will be called to action. It's OK to be there to welcome people as they make it to land. Mawa says it's an emotional, but gratifying experience as the refugees are so grateful. Back at the camp, there are separate men's and women's tents where they get a change of clothes, etc. Treatment to prevent hypothermia begins immediately with mylar blankets at the shore. Back at camp, food and tea are offered by volunteers. The night shift includes wearing night-vision goggles in search of boats that could come in at any hour. Lighthouse is what is called "Stage One" where refugees are first received. The day they arrive, or the next day, they are brought to "Stage Two" up the hill operated by the UNHCR. From there they go to Moria (just north of Mytelini). Julie inquired about why boats were arriving in the Mytelini area since the north coast is closer. Mawa said the simplest answer is "politics." In Turkey, authorities are trying to block boats leaving by blocking roads to the north. The waters further south are more dangerous, but people are taking their chances and who knows what the coyotes are telling them. Next to the Lighthouse camp is another camp called Platanos. A (very handsome) young Greek man joined our table representing Platanos. He was jovial (which only made him more good looking). He was very well informed of the politics of it all. Under the Tree is one of two cafes in town and is hoppng with activity, mostly that of volunteers decompressing after a shift. There is a suspended firepit under which stray kittens gather to escape the frigid temperatures. Patrons throw out bits of food to the cats who scamper over in a hurry to devour it. All is allowed. All is OK. We happily took cats and kittens into our laps at this cafe named for the 200 year old tree at its center with a plastic canopy tent forming the inside. We had to head back to Mytelini to have one more night at our hotel and gather our belongings before we head back to Skala in the morning. BTW, Lighthouse Refugee Relief accepts donations - http://www.lighthouserelief.org/donation