My Ikaria Page 3

  Elderly Ikarians largely follow a traditional Mediterranean diet. I am reminded of the principles of such a diet when I pull from my bookshelves The Mediterranean Diet Cookbook by Dr Catherine Itsiopoulos. A respected Melbourne academic and author on Mediterranean food, she writes that the Mediterranean diet has been around for several millennia, and is one of the most comprehensively researched and scientifically validated diets in human history. She notes that thousands of studies have demonstrated that the traditional Mediterranean diet reduces chronic disease and mortality, including incidence of cardiovascular disease, cancer, and neurodegenerative diseases such as Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. The beauty of the Mediterranean diet is that it focuses on what you can eat, rather than what you can’t. She also emphasises its value beyond just food, citing a UNESCO committee statement: ‘The Mediterranean diet emphasizes values of hospitality, neighbourliness, intercultural dialogue and creativity, and a way of life guided by respect for diversity.’

  Back at my computer, another research article reminds me of what I have already learnt from my grandparents: that while the traditional Mediterranean diet varies across the countries where it is practised, it is generally high in vegetables, fruits, nuts, legumes, grains and olive oil, with moderate amounts of fish. It is low in dairy products, red meat and poultry. Alcohol, especially wine with meals, is drunk regularly but in moderation. I delve further and find that Ikarian cookbook author Diane Kochilas talks about how the diet of the island’s elders comprised a few basics, with foraged foods, especially greens, providing a solid foundation. She notes that it wasn’t so much what elders ate, but how little of it they ate that kept them healthy.

  It appears that the Ikarians diverge from the traditional Mediterranean diet in that they eat larger amounts of potatoes. The elders there grew up eating red meat very sparingly. They drink goat’s milk and eat cheese in moderation. Their main fat comes from extra virgin olive oil, which they use generously in cooking and on salads. They use herbs to flavour food and make teas, and have access to many wild foods on the island. The traditional Ikarian diet includes very little processed food, and is based on what is seasonally available, or what has been preserved from gardens and fields. Ikarians have traditionally fasted for up to half of the year, refraining from eating meat and dairy products. This cuts around 30 per cent of calories out of their diet. Though fast food has made some inroads into the island, the basis of their diet is still fresh, seasonal produce, which is often home-grown and organic.

  But the islanders’ wellbeing is not just about food. The centre of Ikarian social life is the family, which includes extended family. They enjoy connections with their fellow villagers and those in surrounding villages, of which there are several on the island.

  Traditionally in Greece, the cafeneion is a village gathering place to talk and argue, play backgammon and drink coffee, particularly for men. It is no different in Ikaria, except that women are just as likely to be rolling the dice as men. There are more than two hundred village feasts and celebrations (panigiria) throughout the year that both residents and tourists enthusiastically attend. This is a way of raising money for communal village projects, with the added benefit of celebrating and connecting.

  I discover that elderly Ikarians relax and rest by taking short naps during the day. Almost all those studied aged over ninety have a siesta at noon. Some researchers believe that this might explain the very low incidence of depression among elders on the island. A midday siesta may lower a person’s risk of death from heart disease, possibly by reducing stress levels.

  Ikarians mostly drink water. A lot of families produce their own wine, which they water down and drink moderately with meals, usually in company. They also mostly drink Turkish-style black coffee, and tea brewed from local herbs. I think back to research I’ve read showing that coffee drinkers have a lower risk of getting type 2 diabetes and heart attacks. The Ikarians tick all the boxes for healthy living, seemingly without trying.

  While the Ikarians no doubt get stressed like the rest of us, research shows that their lifestyle and habits help reduce it – moving lots, socialising, eating whole foods, getting out in the sun. While it’s hard to measure stress, studies have shown that prolonged stress is linked with many health problems, including a higher risk of getting cardiovascular disease, higher levels of ‘bad’ cholesterol and lower levels of ‘good’ cholesterol, and our cells becoming inflamed.

  The more I read, the more enamoured I become with the island and its people. What the Ikarians do sounds so simple, cutting through the many complicated messages we receive in the West about how we can be happier and healthier.

  It’s a Friday and I’m swimming laps with my friend Fiona at our local outdoor pool. Inspired by the doctor’s words several weeks ago, I’ve coerced Fiona into baring her winter skin once a week in the interests of health. There is no one else in our lane, and we swim side by side, debriefing about our week, talking more than exerting. While it’s cold, the early morning sun plays on the ripples that push out from our bodies, and I think of all that bone-strengthening Vitamin D my body must be making.

  I tell Fiona I have ‘discovered’ a Greek island and tell her some of what I’ve learnt about Ikaria, saying how much I’d like to visit it and find out more about what makes the people there live such a long time. We entertain the idea of going on a holiday there together, as if we were still single and childless. As we talk about the food we would eat, I fantasise about wild green pies and goat’s milk yoghurt and aromatic honey, the mountain walks we would take, visiting isolated bell towers and whitewashed churches on windy outcrops.

  But then Fiona confesses that the idea of travelling doesn’t really excite her – with all the preparation, the long claustrophobic plane trip, and then being away from home for so long.

  As we soak up the sun, languid stroke by languid stroke, Fiona turns to me and says, ‘You should just do it yourself, Spiri.’

  Starting

  The days and weeks roll on and winter turns into spring. My mood improves perceptibly with the little changes that the sunnier weather heralds: the first blooms in our garden poking up; being able to have the odd meal on the outdoor table under the olive tree; hanging clothes outside, rather than inside, the house.

  All my reading about Ikaria over the past months, and this renewed sense of joy from the simple pleasures reminds me of some of the things my own ancestors did – eating largely seasonal, ‘real’ food, living mindfully, celebrating their lives each day through rituals and rhythms that were guided not just by clocks, but by their natural environment. I reflect that spring is traditionally a time of renewal. And so, one Saturday morning, I decide to bring this ethos into our home by clearing our pantry and fridge of foods that my grandmother might not recognise.

  I place all the jars, packets and tins on our kitchen bench. The food stretches along its length. I read the ingredients of my kids’ favourite cereal, which runs down the side of the packaging. The second ingredient is sugar. I wonder if the kids will notice the disappearance of these foods. The rice crackers, which I’ve perceived as a relatively ‘healthy’ treat compared to potato chips, are made of up seventeen ingredients. One packet has 10 per cent of the daily recommended salt intake. It’s not uncommon for me to mindlessly eat the whole packet while watching a movie.

  I throw away the more sugary and salty products, and those things that have a massive list of ingredients – they wouldn’t pass what I now start to think of as the yiayia test. I keep the cereal until we can decide a suitable replacement. Some things stay, despite failing the test – soy sauce, sweet chilli sauce, Vegemite – I tell myself this needs to be a food revolution by stealth, not an outright coup. I decant the grains and nuts into jars so we can see them, perhaps inspiring us to eat them more often; I place the fruits and vegetables in the fridge or in a bowl on the table so that they are within sight. By the time I finish, our kitchen has had a make-over and looks neat and trim. I start a shopping list wh
ich includes legumes, grains, nuts and lots of fresh produce. No rice crackers. I put a question mark beside cereal. Somehow, I don’t think the kids will accept porridge every morning.

  Just as I finish, Katerina’s first cousin, Angela, texts. Just got back from Ikaria. Would love to tell you all about it xx Ang. Her timing is impeccable.

  Since Katerina died, Angela and I have become friends. Seeing each other helps us keep her memory alive. I mentally thank Katerina for fostering so many connections between the people she loved, even after she has gone. I invite Angela to lunch – both to see her, and to find out more about her time in Ikaria.

  Over our meal, Angela tells me that the Ikarian terrain was rugged and the taxis expensive. The taxi driver who was supposed to take her and her friends from their arrival port to the isolated mountain village where they were staying complained that the group and their luggage wouldn’t fit into the one taxi they’d ordered.

  ‘It’s not our fault you’re too fat – how much do you eat in Australia?’ the taxi driver had scoffed, before unapologetically leaving half the group to wait for another taxi, which arrived in its own good time.

  When I ask Angela why she chose to visit Ikaria, she shrugs and says, ‘To learn what the secret to a long life is.’

  ‘And what is it?’ I ask, leaning forward.

  She answers by telling me a story about a new resident on the island who asked a local carpenter if he could fix a broken window. The local carpenter agreed and promised to come on Tuesday. When he didn’t arrive the following week, the man wandered down to the cafeneion and found the carpenter drinking coffee and playing backgammon. When he asked the carpenter why he hadn’t come to do the job, the man answered, ‘I said I would come on Tuesday. I didn’t say which one.’ Angela laughs. The Ikarians appear not to worry at all about time, and while she was on the island, she didn’t worry about it either.

  ‘I hope that feeling lasts, Angela,’ I say, knowing from experience that it’s one thing to feel relaxed on a Mediterranean island while you’re on holidays, another to sustain that sensation when you return home.

  For me, time is a big concern: I’m always trying to squeeze the life out of it and wishing there was more of it. Trying to slow it down as I watch my kids grow up too fast, my body age, my mother get older. Trying to stuff as much as I can into each day, getting to bed later and later, spending too much time on social media, waking in the small hours of the morning, worrying about whether I’m a good enough mother, whether I’m spending enough time with my husband, whether I could be earning more.

  As I see Angela out, I realise that one of the main things I really want to learn from the Ikarians is how I can make peace with time.

  Learning

  A few weeks later, the pantry and fridge are still looking nicely ‘made-over’, as I’ve gotten into a weekly habit of doing a quick tidy before making a shopping list. Now that there is not so much processed food in the pantry, the kids seem more inclined to choose fruit and whatever is in front of them in the vegetable bowl as a snack. I mentally high five the Ikarians.

  I tell the kids that it is commendable that they are making healthy choices. While they agree in principle that it is sensible to eat less processed food, they are hesitant to knock back the many treats that come their way. Yiayia comes over with a tube of crisps and they are gone within hours. George still brings home a few packets of biscuits when he shops, which disappear over a few days. And when they go out with friends, the kids happily order fried food and sugary drinks. Overall, though, it has been relatively easy to eat less processed food simply by removing it from sight. As they don’t have so many snacks to fill up on, the kids start eating more of the food I’ve cooked.

  On my part, I wax lyrical about the Ikarians and how they have already helped us make some positive changes, even though I have yet to meet a single islander. I talk to the kids about Ikaria, and they listen in the half-hearted way they always do when an adult enthuses about something, only momentarily looking up from their homework or devices. George listens patiently as I tell him yet another fact about why the Ikarian lifestyle works. I’m beginning to sound like a broken record.

  The following weekend, I’m sitting reading a quiz about life expectancy when Emmanuel comes into the room and looks over my shoulder.

  ‘Why would you want to know how long you’re going to live? That just feels wrong,’ he says, making me wonder if my twelve-year-old son is wiser than me.

  ‘What this quiz tells you is how long you’re likely to live given your behaviour right now. It looks like it’s based on statistics and studies about what leads to longer life. It might be fun. There’s also one that measures how happy you are.’

  Emmanuel casts me a look, as if to say Mum has finally really lost it, clearly not convinced that doing a quiz that predicts how long you might live is a good idea.

  I found the quiz on a US website called the Blue Zones™ while reading about Ikaria, which is one of the five ‘Blue Zones’ around the world. These are small regions where people live longer than most of us – up to ten years longer on average, with some individuals living well into their nineties and early hundreds. The Blue Zone areas are diverse: Okinawa in Japan, Sardinia in Italy, Costa Rica in Central America and a community of Seventh Day Adventists in Lorma Linda, California. I see images of a 97-year-old heart surgeon who rides his horse on weekends and a 102-year-old grandmother holding her great, great, great granddaughter in her arms. Their stories confirm what I have already learnt from the Ikarians – that simple daily routines likely help them live longer, healthier lives than most of us.

  I watch a talk by Dan Beuttner, a dapper middle-aged man who talks compellingly about what the five Blue Zones communities have in common. He says that we can learn from their lifestyle and diet to add years to our lives and prevent chronic disease such as diabetes, cancer and heart disease. He notes there are no magic pills to longevity, no complicated programs or diets, and that only between 10 and 20 per cent of the factors determining how long we will live are based on our genes.

  What all five Blue Zones communities share is that the people keep fit by moving naturally and often. They are compelled to exercise without thinking about it, from planting fruit and vegetables to walking to visit neighbours, to ploughing their fields. They also have a strong sense of purpose, and are often able to articulate exactly why they wake up in the morning – be it to tend their farm, look after grandchildren or simply do work that they enjoy. Their routines shed stress, and prayer, friendship circles and movement all help.

  Buettner goes on to talk about how people in these communities eat wisely. They consume mostly plant foods, especially beans. Meat makes up only a small part of their diets. They drink alcohol moderately and regularly, with meals and in company. They stop eating before they feel full, eat their smallest meal in the late afternoon or early evening and don’t snack before bed.

  I look over at the kids and joke that we could really work on not eating so much . . .

  Emmanuel scoffs. He loves eating and in recent months has started raiding the pantry and fridge every hour of the day. I can’t get to the shops fast enough to satisfy his growing appetite.

  Social connection is important in the Blue Zones. People have a strong sense of belonging and put their loved ones first. They surround themselves with what Buettner calls the ‘right tribe’. He cites evidence showing that if we surround ourselves with happy, healthy people, we are more likely to be happy and healthy ourselves. People in Blue Zones are generally members of faith-based communities. Their ageing parents usually live nearby, they commit to a life partner, and invest in their children with time and love.

  The list reminds me to ring my mother more often. To consider eating a little less, yet again. Ponder how we can eat more real food that is quick and easy to prepare when pressing work commitments don’t allow us to dedicate much time to cooking.

  I think about Emmanuel’s words – perhaps it’s tempting fate t
o try to work out how long we’re going to live. I switch off the laptop. I don’t think I’m quite ready to find out what the quiz will tell me.

  Reading about the Ikarians has prompted me to read more about health issues in the West – so I pore over every magazine and newspaper article about obesity, movement, social connection, stress and relaxation that comes my way. And I realise I’ve become a statistic.

  I’m one of the nearly two-thirds of people in Australia who are overweight or obese.

  I’m one of the many Australians who spend most of my day being sedentary.

  I am one of ten Australians each year who experience loneliness.

  And like countless people in the Western world, I often feel stressed. I’m not always quite sure how to relax, to enjoy what I have right now.

  I am reminded that not only are these things bad for your overall health and wellbeing, they can also shorten your life.

  I know I should do something about it, but what? In the absence of a Greek island with clean air, plentiful homegrown foods, an orchard and vegetables to tend to, and a tight-knit village community, what should I do? Should I be going paleo? Eating more ‘lite’ foods? Taking mindfulness and yoga classes? Selling all our family’s earthly possessions and moving to an ashram in India?

  All that stuff sounds too hard. Too expensive. And ultimately, not doable or sustainable.

  Though I’ve started to make some small changes, I think I might need some help. Professional help.