Greece 2011, Antiparos to Athens

When I woke in the morning it was a peculiar sensation but my head was still swaying as though I was still on Captain Ben’s boat and the bed was gently bobbing from side to side and I was happy with this because it was probably good preparation because we were shortly to take another small boat ride.

We had a ten-thirty appointment with the Blue Star ferry back to Piraeus but first we had to get back to Paroikia which meant a twenty minute taxi-ferry crossing to Paros so we skipped breakfast at the hotel, settled up and arrived in port in time for the short crossing to the larger island neighbour and the main port. We sat on the top deck and listened to the rumble of the engine and the growl of the exhaust as the boat negotiated the slight swell and delivered us to the quay side with enough time to spare for breakfast at a harbour side café and a quick trip to the supermarket for a couple of cans of Mythos for the journey.

The Blue Star Paros arrived on time and we made our way to the top deck and despite the fact that it was full to capacity we found seats at our preferred location on the starboard side of the boat so that we would be in the sun for the journey and where we waited for twenty minutes as the temperature rose as the sun got hotter and hotter before everyone was on board and the ferry finally cast off and slipped out of port.

Today the Aegean was clearer than I have ever seen it before and it was easy to pick out the islands of Mykonos, Delos, Tinos and Syros to the north and Naxos which steadily disappeared into the horizon behind us.

The ferry passed through the narrow channel between Kea and Kythnos and we were so close that we could clearly make out the small villages and the whitewashed towns clinging to what are really just mountain peaks poking out of the surface of the water and then shortly after that we could see the mainland and we began the final leg of the journey towards Piraeus. We had been sailing for nearly four hours now and the time had begun to drag but then we could see Athens, a gleaming mantle of white concrete spilling down to the sea and soon we were docked and in contrast to the slow pace of the islands pitched back into the madness of Piraeus.

Despite the robbery experience our plan was to take the metro into the city and we were edgy and nervous as we queued for tickets because in a Greek line it is essential to stay as close to the person in front (even if they are a pickpocket) because if you leave as little as a centimetre of space from the person in front then someone will interpret this as an opportunity to push in. The Greeks see queuing as a waste of time and an inconvenience and dislike it almost as much as the French and several people cut in front of me as I waited in line. I concluded that one thing’s for sure is that if there was an event at the Olympic Games for queuing then Greece and France would be an almost certainty for the final!

We negotiated the metro without any disasters and after emerging from the subterranean world we quickly found our accommodation, the curiously named Hotel Fresh, and settled in. It was a good hotel that I had paid for with Airmiles so seemed almost free and it was in a great area full of character that some of the hotel reviewers didn’t seem to appreciate but we liked it anyway. While Kim unpacked I walked along the main road lined with local shops full of character and found a place selling local wine in plastic bottles and a kiosk selling beer and made some purchases and returned to the room.

Let me remind you however that Athens was in the grip of a domestic and economic crisis so there was an edginess about the city and an unusually large number of police on duty at the main tourist spots as we walked to Monastaraki, The Plaka, Syntagma and Ermous and it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps they were preparing for a demonstration or worse still a riot so we retraced our steps to the hotel and stopped at a gyros place where we planned to have a roadside meal but there was only time for a beer as they took the tables and chairs inside and secured the shutters and closed. We noticed that every shop along the street was doing the same and the demonstration/riot concern returned.

Everything seemed settled enough however so later on we walked again to Monastaraki where we had a final holiday meal and then strolled back along a street of aluminium shutters all daubed in graffiti in various grades of obscenity and back to the hotel where we stood on the voyeuristic balcony and stared into people’s homes in the adjacent buildings as we finished off the plastic bottle of red wine before going to bed for the last time in Greece this year.



Greece 2011, Captain Ben’s Boat

On the previous evening the owners of the Kastro hotel had persuaded us to book a trip for a full day boating adventure and a trip around the island with Captain Ben. They had promised that it would be great fun and that the weather would be perfect and after a couple of glasses of red wine we were easily talked into handing over our money.

So, the next day, after breakfast, we packed our bags and walked along to the harbour in time for the ten o’clock departure. By the time we arrived the boat was beginning to fill up and on the top deck passengers were staking their claims to the sun beds and claiming their preferred spot on the seats and we sat and waited while the last few passengers made their way along the quay side to board the boat. We were outnumbered by Scandanavians but there were some French and Germans as well but I am fairly certain that we were the only English on board.

At ten o’clock the boat set off and it just about now that we began to ask ourselves the question that why, for two people who get bored on a beach after fifteen minutes or so we had agreed to take part in this seven hour trip around the island. First the boat went to Paros to collect some more Scandanavians and then it headed out to sea and Captain Ben apologised for the wind and gentle swell that to be quite honest was barely noticable.

We headed north until we reached some islands, just rocks really, but one of them large enoughto have a small white church on it and the captain manoeuvred the boat into a small bay, dropped anchor and invited us to go over the side for a first swim. Once back on board I realised that we had only been going for about an hour and it looked like a very long day ahead.

Having gone around the north of the island we now started to head south and there were some famous people’s holiday houses to look out for. Apparently Antiparos is becoming a favourite with Hollywood ‘A’ listers and Captain Ben pointed out the favourite homes of Tom Hanks, Madonna and Angelina Jolie and this reminded me of my boat trip around the island of Capri in 1976 where there were more famous people’s houses than I could ever remember (except for Roger Moore and Sophia Loren).

We stopped at a beach for another swim and we took the opportunity to do a spot of beachcombing and came across some more driftwood additions for our model boat project and after that we sailed for about an hour before reaching an empty beach on the uninhabited island of Despotiko where we were set ashore to wait for lunch. After a while Captain Ben and the crew came back with some appetizers of grilled squid and spicy Syros sausage and some local ouzo to wash it down. The food was excellent and far surpassed our modest expectations but back on board it got even better with a barbequed meat kebabs and salad, plenty of red wine and beer and finally delicious grilled sardines.



After the crew had tidied up after lunch the journey continued along the coastline and past some white gnarled cliffs that reminded me of Milos and then there was another invitation to go swimming and snorkelling into and through the caves that punctuated the coastline. The alcohol was flowing freely now and people were beginning to lose their inhibitions. There was some wild partying at the front of the boat and a group of Swedish women came to life when the captain played an ABBA tape and they started the top deck dancing. If there had been a slight swell before the boat was really rocking now and Kim was quick to join in.

There was one final swimming stop in between the islands of Paros and Antiparos and then Captain Ben made for home, stopping first in Paros and then returning to Antiparos to finally moor up. It had been a fabulous trip and a great cruise and despite my earlier misgivings the seven hours had simply flown by and it had been a wonderful day.

Back on dry land we dropped off at a bar on the way back to the hotel but after all those hours on the water we couldn’t get our land legs back straight away and both of us were continuing to sway in motion with the boat that we had spent the day getting used to. Later we spent some time around the pool bar and then walked back into the village. We would have found somewhere to eat but we were still quite full after all the food on board the boat so we skipped evening meal but had a quiet drink down by the harbour and reflected on our holiday. This was our final night on the islands and tomorrow we would be heading back to Athens for a night in the city before flying home in two day’s time.



Greece 2011, Antiparos

The hotel Kastro was excellent, we had stayed there before and had requested the same room but the owner insisted on upgrading us at no extra cost to a superior room and we were not going to argue with that!

In the morning we had an excellent breakfast under a gazebo in the garden where we planned a leisurely day in and around the village and the beaches.

We walked down what I suppose was the main street with plastic bollards to stop vehicles passing but which delivery vehicles simply ignored and drove straight over anyway, past quaint old mini-markets and twisting streets running in every direction and local women sitting chatting to their neighbours in front of the doors to their houses as they have done forever.

The main town of Kastro is a traditional Cycladic settlement, full of whitewashed cubic houses with little flowered balconies and blue painted doors and windows. My favourite doors are in the Cyclades where, next to the white that we all associate with the islands, the prevailing colour is blue. It turns out that the widespread use emanates from an ancient belief that the sky-blue shade of turquoise has the power to keep evil away. It is believed that the radiation of the colour composes a sort of invisible shield, which prevents the approach of bad spirits. Blue is used everywhere in the Cyclades, church cupolas, windows, doors, walls, staircases, fences and also as blue ‘belts’ around buildings, which supposedly provide protection against evil.

The road took us down to the harbour and we walked around it and to a gritty beach that was lined with armirikia trees with whitewashed trunks that provided welcome shade from the hot sun and we sat for a while and dangled our feet in the cool water. About an hour on a beach is more than long enough for me so just before boredom clicked in we left and wandered back to the village along the harbour side where there was a sudden frenzy of excitement when a fisherman landed a huge fish and set about gutting it and preparing it for the dinner table there and then by the side of the road.

On the way back we visited the ancient kastro that has a quaint but neglected mix of houses, some inhabited but others abandoned and crying out for refurbishment. There were some little shops and a folk lore museum that didn’t take long to look around and by mid morning it was time for a first mythos of the day and after that we ambled back to the hotel for a swim in the pool and a drink on the terrace. The terrace was blue of course with tubs of neglected geraniums, a crooked olive tree and pink bougainvillea tumbling down from overhead trellising.

While we sat and read our books on the balcony of the room the only thing to disturb us was the constant calling of the cicadas which are at their most noisy in the heat of the day. Apparently a single insect can achieve a sound level of one hundred and twenty decibels which is the equivalent of a pneumatic drill or a chain saw which is a very impressive ratio of sound to body weight. A human shouting like that would probably sound like Krakatoa erupting and the only man who can get remotely close to this is Brian Blessed.

There was happy hour at the poolside so before we went out in the evening we took advantage of that and after the sun disappeared walked all the way back down to the harbour, which was busy again. In the morning the little town seemed to have an end of season quietness about it but by the evening it had really livened up and restaurants, tavernas and chic boutiques had all opened their doors for business and the main street had a sense of vitality about it.

Anti-Paros felt very cosmopolitan and with no riff-raff about it felt just a little bit special. We poked around the shops but I have to admit that I do not have the same amount of enthusiasm as Kim for sparkly things on chains, baby clothes or sun tops and so quickly became bored. Kim sensed this of course and so we moved on and found a seat at the same taverna on account of the fact that we had really enjoyed it there the night before.



Greece 2011, Ios to Antiparos

Although we were travelling to Antiparos today the ferry wasn’t due to leave until very late afternoon so we had most of the day ahead of us to spend on Ios. After our final breakfast with more delicious figs we packed our bags in preparation for later departure and then walked to the harbour.

This morning we walked to the white sentinal church on a headland overlooking the harbour, the church where we had been a couple of nights earlier to the wedding and the christening and the church where we walk to everytime we stay on Ios. Usually there is a reason for this because we are beginning the walk to Valmos Beach a couple of kilometres further on to see the naturists but today we had no such intention so it was a rather unneccessary thing to do. We have photographed this church from every possible angle and captured every single detail but Kim wanted to go again just in case there was the remotest possibility that we had missed something on the previous five visits.

There wasn’t of course and after we had eventually satisfied ourselves on this point we walked back down the harbour, past the campsite that was now closed for the summer, the Carrefour supermarket, the swanky boats rolling around on their moorings and clinking their masts like ouzo glasses and back to the village where we spotted Martin at the Octopus restaurant and joined him for a while and shared a Mythos moment.

Eventually we left him there and walked along the blue flag beach and paddled in the shallow water at the edge of the sand. I imagine this beach gets busy in summer but it was only sparsely attended today and there was plenty of space for everyone including Lisa who we came across sunbathing in a Robinson Crusoe sort of way far away from everyone else. The season was coming to an end on Ios, the clubs and discotheques were all closed and the hotels were beginning to dismantle their beachside sunshades and put away their loungers for the winter and there was almost a sense that they would be glad when it was all over and the final ferry took the last holidaymaker away from the island.

We didn’t make the mistake of going for lunch today but walked back up the hill to Homer’s where we spent the rest of the afternoon around the pool drinking, chatting and taking the occasional swim in the hot afternoon sunshine. But soon it was time to leave so we said our goodbyes, did our final last minute packing and, under pressure from Kim, I agreed to dispose of my favourite blue tee shirt. I had had it since 1995 and it had been to Greece with me thirteen times but I had to agree that it was showing extreme signs of wear now so I thought the Greek islands was the appropriate place to leave it!

It was a High Speed ferry to Paros so it only took a little over two hours to reach Paroikia but at eight o’clock it was dark and busy and we couldn’t find the passenger ferry to Antiparos just around the corner so we had to take a fifteen minute bus journey to an alternative car ferry which left at eight-thirty and got us across to the small island off the west coast of Paros in just a few minutes where we were met by the owner of the Hotel Kastro and driven to our last accommodation on the islands for this year.

From a previous visit in 2008 we knew where we wanted to eat but three years later and in the dark we just couldn’t find it so when we came across somewhere similar we changed our plans and ate there instead. The food was excellent but we had the slight misfortune to sit on a table next to a large party of French folk and whilst this wasn’t a problem in itself what was irritating was that they seemed to be in a sort of who caught smoke the most cigarettes competition and although the tables were semi outside the acrid smoke kept blowing across out table whenever they lit up. To compensate for this irritation it made me smile when I overheard that they had to order their meals in English – I bet that stuck in their throats as much as their foul smoke collected in my nostrils!

At the end of the night, after our excellent meal we were about to leave when two of the waiters suddenly appeared with bouzoukis and started to entertain with the first instantly recognisable chords of Zorba the Greek. We couldn’t possibly leave now so we switched tables away from the drifting smoke, ordered a second carafe of red wine and stayed for another forty-five minutes or so to watch the show and finally when it was all over we left and made our weary way back to the hotel.