The Bells. The Bells.

Historically, the bells of Europe, controlled by the church, signalled to the people when to rise, when to work, and when to rest, and gave the church a level of authority through the practical application of sound as a representation of God. Did they use the Muslim system of telling when it was ‘day’ and when it was ‘night’? Hold a black thread at arm's length in front of you. In the morning, when the Imam can see the colour, it is daytime. In the evening, when he can no longer see the colour, it is night. 

 

The bells rang to start the day, and to break the day into its component parts. Here in Thessaloniki, the bells still ring to start the day, and at intervals throughout the day.

 

Clocks allowed the day to be evenly divided into times, yet the bells continued to control the day, not tied to clock-measured time, retaining the power and control of the church. 

 

As society changed, and with the French Revolution stripping the churches of any authority, the bells continued to ring, aligned with the clock, and under the ‘management’ of the state, so continuing the roll of the clock as an emblem of power over the people’s day.  

 

Now, having a clock (that is accurate) is a very important tool in any society, and for any individual. “What time is the meeting, what time do we need to be there, at what time does the ferry/train/plane leave?” Synchronisation enables efficiency, and any synchronisation requires clocks. 

 

In Saint Malo the clock on the cathedral tower chimes the number of a times equal to the hour; 6 chimes for 6am or 6pm, 2 for 2am or 2pm. And for each 15-minute interval in between, one chime. Rising from the depths of sleep to the sound of the bells is a pleasure, a means of establishing time-position in, and for the coming day. Counting the bells is equally relaxing and focusing.  

 

In Thessaloniki this morning, the bells rang at 7:22am. But that was from one church only. And there was no cadence, only a cacophony of sound. A minute later another church rang their bells. Did the bellringer think he’d missed his time? Or did the first bellringer want to be first this morning, after days of being second or third or fourth church?  

 

Each church bellringer has his (they are always men) own tune. Live bell ringing is a performance as much as a task. We know the bellringer at the closest church, and we know exactly when he is away on holiday and his responsibilities are taken over by someone who does not know his tune.  Jakova, a Georgian, is the caretaker of the Chalkeon Church, named (the church, not Jakova) after the Virgin Mary, patron of the Coppersmiths. His bellringing is a sweet little tune, repeating four rings in a little sing-song, and distinctly his.

The Agia Dimitrios church, three hundred metres away, has a very different sound, made by larger bells, rung in a more, dare I say it, threatening and powerful cadence - Bong - Bong - Bong, devoid of any tune or cheerfulness.

In the evening the bells ring somewhere around, but without any apparent linkage, to 6:30pm - 7:00pm. Usually, we are finished feeding the cats when the bells begin, but sometimes he has, probably at the goading of the priest, rung the bells before we arrive.

If you like the bells, and if you do not rely on them for anything other than a reminder that you are in an Orthodox country, they provide a comforting backdrop to the day. Otherwise, well, they are a sudden intrusion unhinged from any specific time.

 Maybe the bells here ring, at whatever time they do ring, as a vestigial exercise of control by the church. “We’re still here, and we still will intrude on your life, every day”. Don't plan your day around us, after all, we are the church, not the City Council or your employer. We are ringing to remind you to cross yourselves and think of God. Oh, and to remind you that your church needs you to send it a little gift of money every week, or we won’t be able to ring the bells. 

Catymodo and a good start to 2024

New Year’s Eve and we were off to feed the cats at the Chalkeon Church. We've been feeding a colony of constantly changing size for the past three years. That night, one was missing; Mandarin. But this is nothing new as he is not a 100% attendee cat. But the other cats were disturbed, and there was a crying cat in the churchyard. When we did see him, he was on the top of the church, having climbed the scaffolding that had been put up around the structure for repairs and renovation. 

 

It was fascinating to watch the other cats, all of whom were keenly interested in his plight, and were watching him and us. They left their feeding area and went to stare up at him and in some cases, call out to him as well. It was heartwarming to see them caring about their cousin and colony-mate. 

 

No way was that cat coming down. Francoise and I went to the Zeus is Loose Hotel that overlooks the church, and the woman at the front desk called to fire department for us. Is the cat trapped (as in, has something fallen on it, or can it not move and is in pain)? No, the cat was stuck on the roof but can walk around. “Leave the cat, if they can get up, they can get down” was the message, with no interest in actually doing anything. They also said that we should not call the cat, as to do so would make the cat want to come and would stress the cat more than it already was. Not the most encouraging message, but we did leave it at that. 

 

So we left the cat there and worried about the cat through the midnight fireworks.  

 

The next day, New Year’s, the cat was still up there, and there was nothing we could do. He wasn’t in distress, other than being stuck on a roof. We had to leave him there again. 

 

We did watch for him and could see that he seemed healthy and not out of energy. 

 

By the third day, we were getting quite worried. The Fire Department had a truck parked at the Christmas fair in Aristotelou Park in front of us, so Francoise suggested I wander over and ask them for help. Same story, the cat will find its way down. But it has been there for two nights and has not found its way down. Basically, “Not our problem” and they were going to do nothing.  

 

I informed them that I would have to go up and get the cat myself. They told me that if I was going to do that, I should call the Fire Department so they could send someone to give me first aid should I fall from the building (or stop me from doing that). 

 

The hotel rang the Fire Department again, and the same story. I came close to losing my temper. 

 

Nicoletta (another local cat-lover) sent us the Facebook link for Animal Rescue and Protection Thessaloniki. I rang that person, who said that yes, he could come at 5:00 – 5:30 in the evening, with a trap, to capture the cat. Okay, so we had a plan.  

 

But in the evening when we went to feed the cats, the Animal Rescue guy did not show up, did not answer his phone, basically silence. Options were running out. We couldn’t see the cat, and whistling did not get him to show his face. We wandered around the church looking for him, but could not find him.

I then went back to the hotel, and with binoculars, went to the 7th-floor bar that overlooks the park and church. I was not able to find him. The manager of the bar/hotel came up to me and asked what I was doing. Many apologies and explanations, and a fortuitously timed call from Francoise telling me that they found the cat – still on the roof - all was accepted. The manager was happy with my explanation and told me that they feed two cats at the hotel also – something everyone at the hotel wants to tell us... 

While I was looking from the hotel, Francoise and Nicoletta were searching for the cat with the flashlight. He saw the light playing on the walls and stuck his head out, looking at Francoise. That was when she called me to say they had found him

 

 

And there he was, the “Hunchback of Chalkeon” - AKA Catymodo.  

 

The churchyard was locked up. So eventually I climbed over the locked churchyard gate and took food and the cat carrier and went to the scaffolding. It became clear to me that without a real trap, there was no way that the cat was going to come near the carrier, and even if he did, there would be no way to seal the carrier with him in it; he would bolt too quickly. The carrier was left on the first level of the scaffolding.

 

I’m not a fan of heights, so it was pretty amazing that I was able to climb up there with no problem, The mesh around the scaffolding provided a sense of limited space, and the buttressing of the scaffolding provided a sense that it was “built to last”, so to speak. Nonetheless, the best strategy seemed to be to focus no further than the scaffolding itself, and not allow my eyes to enjoy what otherwise should have been a fine view.

 

So instead, I left a plate of wet food for the cat, and climbed down the scaffolding.  

 

The following morning I collected a trap from Nicoletta and we headed to the church

 

I walked over and down the stairs into the churchyard, around the building to the side where three people were standing looking like archaeologists or engineers, and said “Kali mera. I’m here to rescue the cat”. Simply matter of fact, that's why I'm here, and I'm going up there. They looked at me and were sort of, okay. Not a question. But I did explain that the cat was on the roof and had been there for three days. Nods all around, and up I went. 

 

Trap set.

There was nothing to do then except wait. He was sleeping on the other side of the church roof, so we let sleeping cats lie. A little later, through binoculars, he was clear to be seen walking around the top copula, so he was alright.  

 

A sudden flurry of messages came in saying that the cat was in the cage, and off Francoise and I were to get him down from the roof. Into the churchyard, and up the scaffolding. Sure enough, he was there in the trap, scared as can be. I’m not too much better knowing that I have to get the cage down again, with a hefty cat in it. He was thrashing around making carrying and maneuvering the trap a little more difficult than it needed to be. Interestingly, a gentle word and there was not a sound out of him the entire trip down from the roof.

Down we came, and then around to the back of the church, to a spot where Francoise could video the experience from the fence, and boom, he was out of the trap and running.  

 

Gone. But not for long. Sure enough, he was back with the colony that evening, hungry and bossy, with the only trauma being a couple of missed meals.  

 

All in all, I’d say a pretty good start to the year (for us and the cat at least).