The Red Door

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I previously mentioned that I am up in the Chora, in the old part of the city, right underneath the ruins of the castle. It’s mostly quiet, but I feel eyes upon me always.

Why? There is a constant stream of tourists outside my door taking pictures day and night. They press their faces up against the wrought iron, looking left and right. Am I famous, are the paparazzi waiting for me to step outside in my dusty archaeology duds?

Or maybe there is an old tale about a house in the Castro with a red door. Find it and you will be protected from the evil eye as long as you can recall the image of the door in your mind’s eye.

In reality I think people are attracted to the beauty. The metal work on the windows is fantastic. Both tiny windows open from the inside to let plenty of air and mosquitoes in. Greeks rarely use screens.

The classic hand door knocker is a big draw.

But I think it is all about the color- red

Today I got fed up with a group of 8 or so tourists who hung around my front door shouting while I was attempting to nap. I opened the door and shouted “Ti” at them. They scurried off. Ti means what in Greek.

I also get a lot of people calling out to me through the door asking for directions to the castle. Keep climbing I tell them as they huff and puff up the endless steps. All unnamed unmarked roads lead to the castle. 

It’s an odd feeling to feel so on display.

More soon