Greece 2011, The Boat Souvenir Project and Wasting Precious Water

Lagadha was a wonderful place full of sights and sounds to provide a satisfying Greek fix, a braying donkey resting in the shade who seemed to strongly object to having its picture taken, two outrageously gay Italian men arguing theatrically with each other about which directions to take back to the car park and a fish delivery van and a driver who announced its arrival in the village by blowing loudly on a conch shell. Soon it was decision making time – should we walk back to Egiali down the difficult donkey track or should we find somewhere for a cool Mythos and wait for the one o’clock bus? Secretly we both knew the answer to that and we found a nice place in the shade in the main square and placed our order.

At the next table there was an elderly English lady who looked as though she had just stepped out of a Merchant Ivory film with a very plumy voice which on account of her conversation about all things country and hunting I guessed might be from somewhere like Rutland. After she had established our shared nationality – ‘Ah, fellow Engleesh’ she declared at the top of her voice ‘Ha did ewe get har?’ and we told her that we had arrived by ferry. ‘Gud, Gud’ she said as though this was some massive achievement but I couldn’t help thinking that this was rather obvious and wondering how else she thought we might have arrived unless the airborne division of the SAS had parachuted us in or the European Union have suddenly funded an Aegean tunnel link to Naxos! Before leaving with her Greek companions she made some recommendations about Amorgos specifically and the Greek Islands in general and then she was gone. And so were we shortly after that because it was time to catch the bus which, I had to agree, was a great deal easier than walking.

In the afternoon we strolled to the beach and went for a swim in the sea and I continued my search for interesting bits of driftwood. Despite her earlier lack of enthusiasm even Kim was showing some interest in the project and by now we had the pieces we needed for the hull, the mast, the rudder and a cabin, some cuttlefish for sails and miscellaneous bits of twig and sticks for the sea. Later as I scavenged the harbour for other useful bits a helpful fisherman provided some authentic cord which was going to be just perfect for the nets.

The beach was close to the port but there was no activity of any kind because there were no more boats due today. It’s nice to see boats because it means there is still some connection with the rest of the world, or did I get that wrong and it is the other way round?

Not being dedicated beach people we stayed just long enough to dry off and then returned through the village and back to the hotel where we let the rest of the afternoon slip away. After four days it was time for a shave and I mention this not because anyone would be remotely interest in my ablutions but because I have noticed a curious thing about bathroom wash basins in Greek hotels. In almost every bathroom there is a notice on the wall explaining how precious water is and encouraging guests not to waste it – so curious then that there is hardly ever a basin plug and if there is then it more than likely will not fit and the water just pours away into the u bend and beyond. Surely if they are serious about being careful with water then it would be sensible to provide a simple piece of rubber on a chain to make sure that to take a shave you don’t have to keep the tap running continuously!

After the sunset we examined the ferry schedules and bought tickets for the next three legs of the journey, Amorgos to Koufonisia, Koufonisia to Naxos and Naxos to Ios and then we returned to the same restaurant, which was quieter tonight and had a second delicious evening meal selecting the beetroot starter and fish soup and grilled fish to finish.

Greece 2011, Amorgos and Egiali

Kim was the first to wake and by now she had perfected the art of making as much noise as possible and opening the shutters to shine the sun in my eyes that it wasn’t very long before I was on my way to the mini-market with a shopping list for breakfast provisions.

On some of the bigger islands big name supermarkets are starting to appear (later this week were disappointed to find a Carrefour Express on the island of Ios) but that sort of unwelcome progress has not reached as far as Egiali and the two local mini-markets were delightfully old-fashioned and traditionally disorganised with shelves full of random items irregularly stacked, dusty corners to investigate and curious items for sale. After a look around I selected pastries, yoghurt and fruit and walked back to the Filoxenia.

During breakfast on the balcony we noticed with some nervousness that there was some stubborn cloud clinging to the tops of the mountains that surround the town like a crescent rock stockade but we were comforted by a stiff breeze that kept dislodging big lumps of it and blowing it away far to the east.

The plan today was to visit the nearby village of Lagadha and there was a bus due at quarter to eleven but having inherited my dad’s aversion to paying unnecessary bus fares, and as it was only half past nine, I persuaded Kim to walk the couple of kilometres by road and footpath instead. I almost instantly regretted this when after only a couple of hundred metres or so the path began to climb and Kim slipped into full whinging mode. Kim’s whinging can come on like this without any warning whatsoever and it quickly reaches maximum on the moan metre and it was at this time that I decided that when we got home I would write to the local rambling association and tell them to disregard our application for membership.

The road zigzagged all the way up and we could see it looping away from us in front so I was glad when we came across a stony donkey track that was a more direct route and we left the road and tackled the steps instead disturbing and scattering the basking lizards as we went. It was uneven and difficult in sandals and Kim found the going tough but it was a lot easier for someone in peak physical condition like myself!

Once inside the whitewashed walls of the village we quickly found a roof top bar where we could rest a while and Kim could get her breath back. A nice feature in the bars and cafés in Amorgos was the hospitable habit of providing customers with a glass of cold water. I was unsure of this at first because I was brought up with a paranoia of drinking water abroad, so bad that I used to wash my teeth in bottled water in case I inadvertently swallowed a millilitre or two. In fact the first time that I went to Greece, to Kos in 1983, I had to have typhoid injections and a certificate to prove it! (This suddenly reminded me of the awful 1974 British sit-com called ‘Don’t Drink The Water’). Well, how things change and now it appears to be safe to drink the water across the whole of the European Union without suffering ill effects or an upset stomach and this was certainly the case in Amorgos

Rested and cooled down we returned to the quaint narrow streets with decorated paving and adjacent buildings all whitewashed and blue. All whitewashed and blue because since 1974 in a law passed by the military government of the time all houses have had to be painted white and church domes blue. Recently a debate has been re-opened between the Ministry of Culture and other authorities about allowing the use of alternative colours but as yet the law remains in place.

In the middle of the village we came across a curious shop and when I peaked inside the gloomy interior an old man invited us in. It was a sort of workshop and he explained to us that he was the village carpenter, the village hardware store, liquor supplier and barber! He obligingly showed us around and explained the family pictures hanging on the walls and invited me to have a haircut but I respectfully declined when I saw the age and condition of the clippers!