Social Distance on a Greek Island in the COVID-19 Pandemic

When Greek schools closed to help slow the spread of the novel coronavirus on March 11, my teenage son was elated. His first free days were full of outdoor adventures with neighborhood friends oblivious of the approaching pandemic. We parents were unsure what to do; the serious threat of COVID-19 had not yet fully registered on our Greek island, but with the prime minister taking such serious preventive action, we began to consider the implications. We first limited playtime to outdoor meetings, then some of the boys started worrying that they should stay home. That became the rule, and life began to get boring for unoccupied, isolated schoolchildren.

Our neighborhood quieted down, with just an occasional lone ball bouncing at the basketball court, and the chirps and songs of migratory birds. Even the dogs seemed hushed. The relative silence of the first days of school closure was soon replaced by the kk kk kk kk kk kk of drills digging into our rocky land, the buzz of electric construction tools, the barks of dogs, and the rush of wind in the olive and mimosa trees on surprisingly cold, rainy April days. Then the weather calmed, Orthodox Easter Holy Week approached, and birdsong prevailed once again.

After restaurants, cafés, entertainment centers, and nonessential stores closed in mid March, and all movement was restricted in Greece starting March 23, I began to see more neighbors outside. We are allowed out only for jobs, banking, and food purchases that can’t be done from home, to care for those in need, or to go to immediate relatives’ weddings, baptisms, or funerals, and doctor and pharmacy visits—plus exercise. Equipped with the permission slip I must fill out for myself, I greet neighbors from the other side of the street, maintaining the required social distance.

Neighbors have offered me lemons and loquats from their trees. One day, the doorbell rang! We all rushed to see why, opening the door, then stepping back to an appropriate distance. A neighbor who had been picking oranges in a friend’s orchard invited us to take some. “We need to stay healthy!” she said. I filled a bag from a crate she put down outside her house, and later left a wildflower bouquet on her doorstep.

Here I am in a pandemic lockdown in the foreign country I now call home, barely finished with an economic crisis comparable to the American Great Depression. Yet I know I am privileged: jobless as I am, I have a husband with steady work, a comfortable apartment, plenty of all we need, and a generally healthy family (knock on wood). Moreover, I live in a scenic area between olive groves full of wildflowers and the sea—and I deeply appreciate that scenery and those flowers. So my daily walks transport me beyond the stresses and horrors of the dystopian novel too much of the world has become. 

As I walk, I stop wondering how I can find a job when so many people are unemployed and so many businesses are closed. I don’t worry about my family in New York City and California or the especially vulnerable homeless people and refugee families worldwide. I don’t wonder how a just-recovering Greek economy with hospitality and tourism at its center can survive as the lockdown continues. I don’t think about how many tens of thousands of beloved children, women, and men may die as a new plague sweeps the globe in a previously unimaginable neo-medieval threat.

To avoid such thoughts, I distract myself by admiring the cottony clouds in the blue sky above, focusing on the waves lapping against the rocks below, counting the 52 different species of wildflowers I pass, crushing chamomile and lavender between my fingers, and photographing and gathering blossoms. Later, when I can’t sleep, I visualize the bright yellow of spiny broom, the white and pink of cistus on green shrubs, the yellow and white of crown daisies, the light purple of mallow, the brilliant fuchsia of field gladiolas. Their colors cheer and calm me.

Aside from walks, my only other escape from home is the shopping trips that used to annoy me. On the second of my three drives outside my neighborhood in a month, I noticed redbud trees in bloom, blue-green sea currents meeting dark blue waters, a family of bikers, a yard full of sheep taking care of the weeds. In some supermarkets, we must arm ourselves with disposable gloves, plus a number to avoid overcrowding; in others we simply wait outside if there are too many to maintain proper social distancing. We can see people, but not approach them. Here in Crete, the store shelves remain well stocked so far; only alcohol, wipes, hand sanitizer, and yeast are sometimes missing. Many checkout clerks and shoppers wear gloves, and some wear masks, although the government recommends frequent handwashing and social distancing rather than gloves and masks. I have heard of just one confirmed COVID-19 case in our prefecture to date.

Fines for leaving the house without proper documentation and cause doubled to 300 euros as we approached the Greek Orthodox Holy Week and the country’s most important holiday, normally a two-week school vacation when city dwellers journey to their ancestral villages and extended families gather. Government officials have warned that Easter will be different this year, with no lambs roasted on spits, no trips to islands, no gatherings. This is unheard of; even in wartime, Greeks came together to eat, drink, and converse. Not this year: travel by car, bus, boat, and plane is forbidden, except for Greeks who are returning to their permanent home with tax forms showing that address. This is a huge blow to Greek tradition and culture, but most understand that it is a necessary follow-up to the early stringent measures that have helped prevent the level of tragedy seen in Italy, Spain, and the USA.

In relative isolation at home with my family, I have been in touch with more distant family and long-lost friends than ever before: friends from middle school through grad school and relatives from Vancouver to New York. I read that Americans are making more phone calls than usual, but here in Greece I connect with North America using email, Messenger, Instagram, Facebook, Skype, and now Zoom. The New York Times reports that in the debate over screen time, screens have won. That they have, although I try to keep up the fight. What can I say to the son who says he has nothing else to do? (At least my daughter has more online classes, for more constructive screen time.) Exercise, play with the cats, complete the bit of homework now assigned—then use screens in the variety of ways enabled by multiplying free online options.

I am grateful for the internet connection that is more of a lifeline to the rest of the world than ever before. Amazon has not successfully completed a delivery to us in many months, a Greek bookstore has also failed us (although the postal service still delivers), and our TV no longer shows us any channels, probably due to a cable malfunction no one can fix now. It’s a good thing I have one of the largest collections of American fiction on the island of Crete; I am starting yet another round of rereading.

The state of the developed world in the pandemic: connected to screens, connected through screens, nervous, restless, wondering. The human world is in disarray, with unprecedented situations becoming the new normal. We reach out across cyberspace to connect with those we care about. Meanwhile, the natural world continues its seasonal course, with cold, wind, and rain alternating with calm, warmth, and sun. The wildflowers thrive; the loquats ripen; the olive tree buds swell and begin to reveal their delicate tiny white blossoms. Yes, it is spring, and the earth is still fruitful.

From Spring into Summer with Greek Produce, Problems, and Glimmers of Hope

The Abundance of Crete in Spring, Summer, and Holidays

I scrambled up a rocky hillside at the end of May, following a goat path between sharp little shrubs. A sleek lizard streaked across the dried mud in front of me. I didn’t dare pluck any of the lavender-colored thyme flowers for fear the bees intent on the blossoms would punish me for my intrusion. That hardy wild thyme was thriving then, with beautifully rounded bushes full of their tiny blossoms.
 
April had been remarkable for the amount of produce and homemade food and drink we received as gifts from neighbors, friends, and acquaintances. I visited my favorite loquat tree at the edge of a generally untouched olive grove in an uninhabited lot for some of the sweetest fruits I’ve ever eaten, picking them before the insects and birds could finish them off and noticing that some were nearly as sweet as the syrupy Greek desserts I can’t eat (although others enjoy them).
 
Neighbors’ trees overflowed with lemons that our strong island winds blew to the ground or into the street, so bags of the bright yellow fruit appeared at our door before we’d exhausted our supply. Fortunately, I’ve adopted the Greek habit of squeezing fresh lemon juice on such foods as fish, chicken, meat, and cabbage/carrot salad, as well as in water and a chamomile/baking soda gargle. Some of the very ripe lemons are so sweet that it’s easy to eat the pulp.
 

And there were fresh, sweet Cretan oranges through spring and even into summer. An American friend of a Dutch neighbor welcomed me and my kids to her orange grove one sunny, windy day. It was a glorious time to wander among trees and pluck the cheerful orange fruit from their branches, and to climb a tall tree to enjoy a view of surrounding hills full of olive groves. I couldn’t tear my kids away from those trees, where they gleefully climbed after the hard-to-reach fruits, before we ended up with a large file box full of them, plus two huge bags to wedge into our fridge—so we had plenty to share with the neighbors who’d given us lemons, loquats, kaltsounia, Easter cookies, olive oil, and wine!
 

Such treats also played a part in the magnificent Easter feast friends shared with us on Orthodox Easter, when I contributed American desserts (carrot cake with cream cheese icing and chocolate chip cookies), since those are the only foods I can make better than anyone else I know around here. (At least I used Cretan olive oil in the cake, for a slight variation on my mother’s recipe.)
 
On Easter Monday, we were invited to lunch in a village square, where tables of lamb, salad, bread, kokoretsi (which includes lamb or goat intestines), and kaltsounia (little Cretan cheese and herb pies) were set up under towering plane trees, next to one of the village churches and a small, shaded stream, in the midst of the olive groves of the Kolymvari region. Greeks may crowd together, but they always find seats for everyone at the table. No one eats with a plate on their lap in Greece. And Greek dancing may well begin after a feast ends, as it did that day in the village square.  
 

On the way back from our Easter Monday lunch, we made two detours to show the kids the monumental olive tree of Ano Vouves, which locals believe to be the oldest olive tree in the world, and to see the German World War II cemetery at Maleme. Strong winds whipped up the silver green sides of olive leaves, and branches moved in a frenzied dance in the olive groves that filled hills, valleys, and roadsides. The winds gathered and scattered a mixture of clouds that ranged from dark grey and threatening to puffy and white in patches of light blue sky.
 

Now a hot, rather humid summer is following a too-dry, too-warm winter and spring in Crete, with the sweet scent of green and purple figs growing in the intense sun and the even sweeter perfume of white jasmine and plumeria flowers, the sound of cicadas overtaking dogs’ barking, birds’ chirping, and doves’ cooing. Some American friends arrived in June, in time to see brilliant walls of fuschia bougainvillea and pink and white oleander in full bloom near tiny grapes and little olives. Family came from the USA and Canada in July, as the unwatered oleander passed its prime, and the olives, grapes, and figs grew. We visited beaches, olive mills, Ancient Aptera, Sunset Restaurant in Horafakia, the Old Port of Chania, the Botanical Park of Crete—some of our favorite places.

 

Life in Greece Is Still No Vacation

 

 Although many are enjoying their holidays, there is too much bad news for others to enjoy anything. Very few of the refugees that European countries were supposed to take in have left Greece, Italy, or migrant camps. Greece continues to struggle with more than 57,000 refugees and migrants within its borders, searching for adequate, humane housing, food, healthcare, and registration and asylum procedures. We hear of Syrian refugees so exhausted and hopeless that they pay smugglers to return them to Turkey so they can resettle in a homeland still torn by a dangerous civil war. Even before a short-lived coup attempt led to a government crackdown on perceived enemies, Turkey threatened to pull out of its agreement to try to prevent or take back migrants and refugees arriving in Greece by sea from Turkey. Terrorists have struck too many times, places, and human beings to keep track of—for those of us not directly related to those people and places.
 

Taxes are going up more in Greece, pensions are going down again, nearly a quarter of Greeks remain unemployed, many storefronts stand empty, families have less disposable income, and still Greece’s creditors are not satisfied by the insane amount of “austerity” the Greek people have been enduring for six years now. A dilapidated Neoclassical mansion in Chania with its doors and windows gone and roof caving in is just one sad symbol of much sadder human stories about lives in disarray so European banks could be repaid—not so the Greek economy could rebound and the country could rebuild, as continued excessive austerity makes that extremely difficult.
 
Like many, I’ve gone through phases of disappointment that each new Greek government and each new “bailout” plan have failed to solve the country’s problems, disgust that Greece’s creditors don’t seem to make logical demands, astonishment at the failed political games of both Greeks and other European leaders, anger and rage about the human suffering as increasing numbers of people here lose access to adequate health care and nutritious food, and the suicide rate rises—engulfing a family I know well--and despair when it just doesn’t look like anyone will offer reasonable solutions to pressing problems.
 
I have jumped into intense discussions, mostly in Greek but partly in English as I run out of Greek but my rage continues, about how little many Greek grade school teachers appear to care about students or their parents. I have found no one who disagrees with me—not even the kindergarten teacher I spoke with. The latest proof to set me off was our elementary school teachers’ decision, for the second year in a row, to schedule the end of the year celebration that used to occur on a lovely late spring evening in the late morning, when working parents need to be at work—since morning is the teachers’ work time, and a couple dozen teachers have more rights than several hundred parents.
 
No matter if that was the same time our older children were taking some of the useless two-hour exams that occupy occasional hours of their last month of school, in place of lessons. This leads to my more serious educational complaint: apparently some secondary school teachers prefer to take a four-month summer vacation, instead of a mere three months, subjecting children as young as 12 to exams based on intense memorization of facts they will forget soon after each exam, for which they are expected to prepare at home, alone, not in review sessions at school.
 
There will be no educational benefit, since the exams will not be returned to the students or discussed after they are taken. So 12 through 18 year olds, not their teachers, are held responsible for their last month of learning each academic year. Of course, I should not imply that this is the fault of each individual teacher. But surely a general teachers’ revolt could change this terribly faulty system, which also pushes senior high school students to give up their childhood and work harder than anyone else in the country to gain a place at a free university where they will be too burned out to attend the classes that should prepare them for careers.
 

Reviving Hope: If It Doesn’t Exist, Create It

Sometimes I lose hope for Greece. But it was revived one Friday in early June. First, at the state health insurance office, I was dismayed to see a notice indicating that the person who could give me the papers I needed did not work with the public on Fridays. However, since she was helping someone else, I waited and found that she was willing to help me as well. She discovered a problem with my registration in the system: some of my information was in Greek letters, and some in Latin letters. It had to be consistent. So she took my ID and health book and fixed it, then went to another office, and came back with stamped papers. Unfortunately, I saw that she’d misspelled my mother’s name (in a way that made perfect sense in Greek). When I pointed this out, she calmly redid all the papers. Patient, efficient, willing to help: such civil servants still exist in Greece!
 

Stopping to copy my papers at the local toy and book store, Trenaki (which means “little train”), I was astonished to find it a totally different place than the previous week! I thought it had undergone major renovation to make it roomier, brighter, and better organized, with appealing, shoulder-high train ends on the bookshelves to match the store name. When I wished the owner good health—as Greeks do for all new clothes, new purchases, and new beginnings—Sophia surprised me by saying that her store contained all the same furniture and goods as before. 
 
Amazing. Sophia and her assistants had reconsidered the organization with great care and figured out how to overcome the crowding and darkness that plagued the useful, popular little store; they’d come up with a great solution. Now if they can do that, and the state health system has elements that work better than advertised, there does seem to be hope here in Greece. One step at a time, one person at a time.  

Thinking about what a friend could do if she and her friends don’t want to keep driving an hour a day to play on the only beach volley team in our area, I realized that my unconscious, unspoken motto in recent years may have become “if it doesn’t exist, create it.” Perhaps inspired by our elementary school’s wonderfully proactive, creative, and energetic parents’ association, which organized an affordable after-school and weekend activities program out of nothing during the economic crisis, or by the grassroots group in Chania that founded a soup kitchen (Κοινωνική Κουζίνα) that continues to serve hundreds of Greeks, migrants, and refugees, I started taking some modest action myself, foreigner though I am.

When I missed my far-off family and friends and got tired of explaining why life in Greece is no vacation (although a vacation in Greece is splendid!), I started this blog. When I lamented the lack of variety in kids’ summer programs in Chania, I attempted to convince some mothers and professors to help develop a summer science camp at the Technical University of Crete (TUC). My first spring efforts seemed to come to nothing, but they may have put the idea into circulation, because the following year a summer program seemed to materialize at TUC out of thin air.

When I saw that the refugees stranded in Chania for months and then years were receiving too little attention and assistance, I asked families at my children’s school to donate food and clothing and received an impressively generous response—several times. I never approached the accomplishments of many grassroots volunteer groups and heroic individuals, I did not set up a soup kitchen or help thousands of refugees as many have, but at least I got something done.

I have lived in Crete for almost 14 years. During that time, I have born two children, given up trying to keep up with their Greek, and tried to reconcile my dissatisfaction with the Greek educational system with my realization that some excellent teachers here are giving my children a solid grounding of knowledge. I have learned from Greeks, migrants, and refugees from various parts of the world about the problems in their countries, including the Syrian war and the Greek economic crisis.

I have learned to not only ignore, but fail to see, junked cars,

unfinished buildings, and scattered garbage along the roads. I have given in to the need to help feed some of the wandering cats around us and the necessity of a pillow over my head to sleep through the night-time barking of dozens of stray and under-attended neighborhood dogs. I have learned to distinguish the perfume of jasmine flowers from the scent of fallen, crushed figs. And in the past year and a half, I have been captivated by the beauty of Greek olive trees and become an advocate for the unique flavor and incredible health benefits of Greek extra virgin olive oil, which deserves a more prominent position on the worlds’ specialty store, grocery store, and kitchen shelves.

When I began writing about the Greek olive oil world for Olive Oil Times in the spring of 2015, I was surprised to discover that there was no source of consistent, reliable, in-depth information on my subject in English. So I started from scratch, educating myself with the generous assistance of Greek olive oil producers, consumers, marketers, and exporters, as well as online and print sources in Greek and English. I’ve shared what I learned in dozens of articles, but the source I was looking for did not materialize. Well, if it doesn’t exist, create it. So I did: Greek Liquid Gold: Authentic Extra Virgin Olive Oil—first, a Facebook page, now, a website. It’s all about Greek olive oils: gorgeous photos, delicious recipes, astounding health benefits, and the latest news.

See greekliquidgold.com for photos, recipes, news, and info about olive oil.

Greek Liquid Gold: Authentic Extra Virgin Olive Oil in Crete and Athens

Cretan Olive Oil Champions 

Three weeks ago, on a rare solitary drive beyond Crete’s Souda Bay, I climbed and descended hills on curving roads bordered by towering dark green pine, cypress, and eucalyptus trees, clusters of reeds and plane trees near riverbeds, brilliant yellow acacia trees, and light green emerging spring leaves. I passed olive groves stretched out below mountains and long beaches lying next to a deep blue sea. I sped along under a bright blue sky decorated with billowy cumulus clouds in varying shades of white and grey. Every time I drive from Chania to Rethymno, I am so impressed by the scenery that I must fight off the desire to stop and photograph the view.

I continued on my way to the 2^nd Cretan Olive Oil Competition awards ceremony in Rethymno, which turned out to be a combination of the ceremony I expected and a short conference about olive oil production, marketing, and quality analysis. My limited Greek left me with only a general idea of the points being made, but I was struck by the way the judges and panel leaders represented a cooperation between Greeks (such as International Olive Council trainer of olive oil tasters Effie Christopoulou) and Italians (especially agronomist, olive cultivation expert, and consultant Antonio Lauro) in the olive oil sector. 

I also understood that the judges praised this year’s considerable improvement over last year’s extra virgin olive oil samples (in the first Cretan Olive Oil Competition). In fact, the judges were so impressed by the quality of this year’s samples and the very small differences among the best oils that they decided to award a number of honorable mentions. Since I have not seen the full results of the 2^nd Cretan Olive Oil Competition announced anywhere in English, I list all the winners, including honorable mentions, below this article.

Before the awards ceremony, the governor of Crete, Stavros Arnaoutakis, and the mayor of Rethymno, Giorgos Marinakis (who’s also president of SEDIK, the Association of Cretan Olive Municipalities), emphasized the importance of the “brand name” of Crete and the Cretan diet. While I’d never thought of these as “brand names” before, the governor and the mayor had a point: these words could be used that way, especially since the Agronutritional Cooperation and the Region of Crete have begun certifying certain high-quality locally grown produce and traditional products with the Quality Label “CRETE.”

The mayor discussed the need to forge more links between tourism and Cretan cuisine and products, so tourists taste and purchase more local products such as olive oil. I’ve heard this argument before, and it seems self-evident to me: Greece has wonderful fresh, local agricultural products and foods which all my non-Greek visitors rave over. Tourists’ discoveries of incredible food and drink here should carry over into a desire to take some of that home with them, and then to import it to their home country. This would benefit everyone: tourists would have excellent healthy products, they would help improve the struggling Greek economy, and they could introduce their family and friends to Greek products as well as sharing stories about Greek beaches and archaeological sites.

Food Expo Greece

The day after my trip to Rethymno, I woke before dawn—not an easy feat for me--for an early flight to Athens and a day-long visit to the Food Expo that was conveniently located a short shuttle bus ride from the airport. It was my first visit to a major trade fair, aside from book publishers’ exhibits at the large literature conferences I attended back when I was still an English professor in the U.S.A. The Food Expo’s scale was impressive, with its 55,000 visitors from 55 countries and more than 970 Greek and international exhibitors, including 153 exhibiting olive oil—my main interest, as an Olive Oil Times correspondent covering the event and manager of the Greek Liquid Gold: Authentic Extra Virgin Olive Oil Facebook page.

Wandering around the 55,000 square meter Metropolitan Expo site, I must have covered many American football fields’ worth of territory that day, from the Oenotelia international trade fair for wine and spirits to the Mediterranean Food Experience with its exhibits of products from different regions of Greece, its group of white-clad chefs tasting the dishes prepared below and projected on a movie-theater-sized screen, and its audience listening to interviews and enjoying samples.

I spent most of my time meeting with dozens of olive oil businesspeople, talking with them and sampling their extra virgin olive oils, as well as small appetizers, snacks, and vinegars. Many were excellent, but I think my favorite sample was the chocolate mousse with olive oil offered by E-LA-WON. I never would have guessed chocolate and olive oil made such an incredible combination, but try it with a really good extra virgin olive oil, and you’ll see how amazing it is. E-LA-WON’s luxury olive oil with bits of real edible gold flakes floating in the liquid gold of the oil was also visually and conceptually striking, although I didn’t get to taste it.

It was exciting to see such a vibrant illustration, at the Food Expo, of what motivated Greek businesspeople can do, even in the midst of a continuing economic crisis. Everyone I talked with offered high-quality products in attractive containers, and they spoke with confidence about their contacts with international buyers. Moreover, many simply seemed like nice people to talk with. Forget the stereotypes of lazy Greeks and Greek inefficiency; I saw the opposite at the bustling, well organized Food Expo. This is not an advertisement; it’s the truth.


Before I came to Greece with my PhD in English and my love of photography, I was more interested in academics and artists than businesspeople. But since I have started learning and writing about the Greek olive oil industry, I have come to understand that good, conscientious businesspeople, including talented marketers and designers as well as intelligent olive oil bottlers and exporters, can do a great deal to help the hard-working producers of olive oil earn a fair living. Together, all of these people can—and should--help the Greek economy recover, if the end product is a high-quality item that is marketed well to bring the price it deserves.

Overall, I found the Food Expo an invigorating, encouraging sign of hope for Greece, its people, and its economy. And I hope the foreign buyers there will order a lot from their Greek contacts. As Philippe Poli of Philippos Hellenic Goods told me, just "like you have different wines, you can have different [olive] oils each day, sold together in a shop." Hear, hear, international buyers! Order a wonderful assortment of Greek extra virgin olive oils, and offer your customers impressive health benefits as well as excellent tasting oils. Individual consumers can either ask their local supermarkets and gourmet stores to order Greek olive oils, or go to companies’ websites to order. (See the Greek Liquid Gold Facebook page for links to many of these websites.)

Return to the Cretan Spring

It was refreshing to return from the vicinity of the Athens airport to the blossoms, blue sea, and sky of the Cretan spring, but we were hit by the worst dust storm I’ve ever seen a day later. It blew out the large plate glass window on our elementary school patio, so school was dismissed early. In place of our view of the Mediterranean sea, hills, and mountains we saw a strange gray-orange haze of African dust.

By the end of that week, however, we could once again enjoy the calm touch of a Greek island spring and the extensive  array of Cretan wildflowers in and around my neighborhood: giant fennel rising like little trees from a feathery light green base to spherical clusters of golden yellow florets at the end of multiple branches; Cretan rock roses with five delicate pink crepe paper petals surrounding a miniature sun; the soft lavender spikes of thistles above their treacherously sharp leaves; my beloved fuschia field gladiolas beneath the tiny white blossoms of olive trees; bizarre little pink tongue orchids between the trees; and radiant gold and white crown daisies bordering roadsides. Ah, spring in Crete! A few tourists are here, but most will miss this season’s beauty. More should come early, so they don’t miss the wildflowers!

Winners and Honorable Mentions at the 2^nd Cretan Olive Oil Competition

In two categories, conventional and organic

Conventional Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Gold ELEA (or “olive”): Liokarpi PDO, a Koroneiki monovarietal (that is, an extra virgin olive oil made only from the Koroneiki variety of olives, the most common type of olives in Crete) from Emmanouil Protogerakis Sons

Silver ELEA: Omega, a Koroneiki/Tsounati blend from Kardia Food

Bronze ELEA: Toplou Sitia, a Koroneiki from Biokalliergites Sitias

Honorable Mentions (all but one Koroneiki monovarietals)
Amphorae from AS Messaras

Plora – Prince of Crete and Euripidis Messara PDO from Euripides AE

Cretan Prince from Botzakis

Drop of Gods from Bio Kritika Elaiolada Mon. EPE

Crete Gold PDO Kolymvari from Kreta Food EPE

Kakoulaki from Kyralaki Theonymphi

Extra Partheno Elaiolado Assargiotakis from Assargiotakis Ioannis

Kreta Koumadorakis Olive Noel, a Tsounati from Kreta Koumadorakis Olive Noel

Terra Zakros from Nikolaos Ailamakis

Organic Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Gold ELEA: Liokarpi Bio, a Koroneiki from Emmanouil Protogerakis Sons

Silver ELEA: Kardia Tsounati, a Tsounati from Kardia Food

Bronze ELEA: Kardia Koroneiki, a Koroneiki from Kardia Food

Honorable Mentions (all Koroneiki monovarietals):

Terra Creta Organic from Terra Creta

Toplou Sitia Bio from Biokallergites Siteias AE

Evlogia from Biokritika Elaiolada Mon. EPE

Oliviennos from Olivos Gourniezakis Ioannis & Sia EE

Ladi Bio from Tsouderos EPE

For more photos, olive oil news, recipes, and information, including links to articles about the health benefits of olive oil and the websites of award-winning Greek extra virgin olive oils, see this Facebook page: Greek Liquid Gold: Authentic Extra Virgin Olive Oil