Watching the young man press himself against the rock before leaping 20 metres into the ice green waters beneath reminded me of why I love Greece.
If this had been Britain, endless red signs, railings and red tape would have prevented us scrambling precariously through the glades and pools of Polilimnio to reach the beautiful small Kadi Lake, with its sheer walls and rickety rope ladder. Encouraging the intrepid to cling, and then fling themselves from the six-inch ledges high above to shouts of “bravo”.
Instead, it felt like we were being encouraged to liberate the daredevils within us and take risks, clear that the sign saying we should accept responsibility for our own actions was just that.
Enough that, at the first lake, known locally as the ‘Italian Lake’ as an Italian ‘was drawn into it’ and dragged out by a local, they had flagged the warning.
I’ve heard many say this summer they are mystified by the actions of Greeks, at their lack of willingness to pay tax or accept communal responsibility for the dire economic straits in which their country finds itself.
They criticise Greeks for their disregard of rules and point to everyday misdemeanours like the refusal – endemic in this part of southern Greece – to wear seat belts and safety helmets in the blazing heat, or the fact that cats lick plates clean in the local tavernas, and people smoke throughout the meals.
But for those of us from countries where rules and regulations seem to be an ever-increasing response to a litigation bonanza and blame culture, leaving government authorities no option but to control all apparent dangerous activities and curtail public access, there is a freedom in Greece rarely found elsewhere.
All summer long young people load their motorbikes and camp wild on beaches, boats moor for free in hidden harbours and coves and the small lanes are lined with the makeshift stalls of farmers selling melons and ‘meli’, plastic bottles of oil and wine and sacks of oranges.
Of course, it’s lost state revenue and, no doubt, contravenes EU laws on health, safety and hygiene, but in searing hot summer it makes perfect sense to sell your wares beside the land where they were grown, or pile your grandchildren on your lap as your old Vespa climbs the hill to the village or let cats clean up the leftovers and keep rats from the food stores of your beach bar.
Which is how, I found myself swimming in the clear green water high in the hills above Pylos next to a pink freshwater crab and a number of frogs cheering the boys fearfully flinging themselves from the cliff above.
All of us, especially our young people, need the opportunity to take risks and occasionally land flat on our face if we are to grow strong.
No doubt some Greeks have behaved badly, but sometimes I can’t help but respect the bloody-minded stubbornness that refuses to be bullied and change.
