Greeks and tourists alike received good news earlier this month when the Minister of Culture, Lina Mendoni, and the Mayor of Thessaloniki, Stelios Angeloudis, met. The two officials signed an agreement for the “Restoration of Ottoman Fountains in the Upper Town of Thessaloniki,” which had for years been neglected. The bad news here in Heraklion, Crete, is that the famous Venetian-era Morosini Fountain seems to be officials’ last priority.
Ms. Mendoni’s agreement allocates 150 million euros to maintain, protect, preserve, and promote the eight Ottoman fountains in Thessaloniki and other projects. The ministry says upgrading the public space will help them reintegrate into the city’s life. The news is wonderful for Thessaloniki if, in fact, Greek “plans” materialize, as they so often do not.
Turning the page to the much older Morosini Fountain (Lions Fountain) in the central square of Heraklion, visitors and locals alike are shocked at seeing a majestic monument just sit there in front of some cafes and money order companies like a decaying relic. To borrow from a magazine article I read, the Lions Fountain “acts as a symbol of Heraklion’s rich heritage, drawing tourists eager to immerse themselves in the city’s history.” Unfortunately, the fountain is no longer a fountain. It’s a dirty marble statue with sediment-rich water running around its base.
Like most people who live in Heraklion, I pass by this magnificent work of art several times a month. I often sit at Heraklion’s most famous sidewalk cafe, Phyllosophies, to drink coffee, people-watch, visit old friends, and look at an icon from a bygone age of elegance. The last time I was there, I asked one of my friends who’s worked there many years, “When was the last time the fountain worked?” His answer was as informed and critical as any of my jabs at the Greek bureaucracy. He told me the fountain had worked some years back, but only briefly. He also pointed out how hundreds of thousands of tourists (millions if we tally correctly) passed by the fountain this year alone.
He told me I should contact the mayor’s office, as the municipality and Ephorate of Antiquities of Heraklion, to ask about a “plan” to save the fountain. So, I called the mayor, identifying myself as a publisher, editor, and journalist, but I could only speak to the lovely person who answered the phone for him. I was told the fountain had been shut down over some water damage, and the issue was in the hands of the Ephorate. I called someone I knew there, but she would not speak to me on the issue. Instead, she tried to connect me with the man in charge of preserving monuments. I was put on hold several times and had to hang up, but I finally got a call from someone at the regional tourism office. I was assured the man with the plan would contact me once he got the message. He was on leave. This was several weeks ago.
So, rather than fly off the handle when I was not given any definitive answers at all (or even recontacted), I decided to wait a given amount of time before writing this story you are reading. Readers, please be informed I was told at every turn that there had been damage to the fountain because of sediment in the local water supply. Of course, no one I spoke to could know of my time in the U.S. Navy (BT3 Engineering) or that I possess a Class II Water Treatment Plant (PDF) Operator’s license. Who would question, right? Something I saw the day I spoke with my friend at the cafe on the square really made me laugh and cry simultaneously. As I walked around the square trying to visualize the fountain’s water-channelling facets, I noticed two workers puttering around a couple of ancient manholes beside the fountain. The funny thing is, I have seen these guys “working” around the fountain many times in the past, mostly cleaning up. However, this time, I ventured to look inside the manholes. Brother, was I shocked.
Their condition, the amount of rust and spider web of hosing and wiring, and the frail ladders these men had to climb down made it clear to me that the fountain was in such a state of decay. No real maintenance or upgrade of this system has been conducted in at least 30 years. Rust and corrosion just does not act that fast except under the sea. I shook my head and threw my head back three steps later and laughed like an idiot. The video above shows a water hose feeding to the base of the fountain from a water tap on the side of a building across the street. No really. It’s the end of the tourism season, and Heraklion’s most monumental fountain is being partially run off of a surface water hose. Also take note of the city workers taking a breather on the park bench.
It’s funny (or sad) that everyone I talked to was well-informed that the city water had been corrosive to parts of the fountain’s interior water channel. Every person I spoke to seemed to have already asked the logical question. However, I was not able to ask the two important questions. “What type of water filtering/treatment has the city used to eliminate or minimize damage?” And secondly, “Are there funds in place to modernize this fountain so that visitors might enjoy it’s true magnificence? People go on leave, I get it. In Greece, they seem to go on leave any time you question their apathy or incompetence.
Maybe it’s a lucky thing Crete is rapidly running out of water. Soon, no one will want to visit or live here, and these monuments can be neglected without so much of a blink of an eye. My darker side wonders how Ottoman stuff precedes Venetian or Minoan stuff. Sorry, it had to be said.
Next, the status of the Minoan Palace/Temples and UNESCO “plans.”
[…] insights, dive deeper into NeaKriti’s recent report (in Greek) and reflect, as we did here, Argophilia’s original wake-up call in December 2024. Both are echoes. When will the people in charge of protecting the city’s fragile Venetian […]