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, Amorgos – Egiali to Katapola

After a second breakfast on the terrace and several cups of tea we packed our bags and went for a last walk into the pretty village of Egiali and rechecked the bus timetable just to be sure that there wasn’t an alternative schedule on a Sunday. There wasn’t and I knew that already but I checked anyway, it’s a bit like that thing that English people do when they get on a bus or a train and even though they know the answer they ask the destination several times of different people just to be certain.

The bus fare to Katapola was good value at only €2.50 each and after we paid the driver started the engine and left Egiali dead on time. We had liked it here and if we planning the trip again we would have squeezed an extra night in at the Filoxenia but our plans were made and we had a room booked in Katapola in the south of the island.

We sat close to the front of the bus and in the seat directly behind the driver there was an old woman who was determined to talk constantly in some sort of quest to distract him as he eased the vehicle out of the village and began the ascent to the top of the mountain that separates the two ends of the island. Before this road was built the only effective way to get between Egiali and Katapola was by ferry but this new road provides a useful dry land alternative.

At first we passed through what might be loosely described as fields with rows of derelict terraces and dry stonewalls that separated the hillside into individual plots of land. Amorgos is mostly inhospitable rock that has been baked hard in the sun for thousands of years but as recently as only fifty years ago people here were scraping away at the thin soil and the stones to try and make a living or to feed the family by growing fruit and vegetables. Each islander had a personal plot and would attend each day to manage and tend the land. They had to carry all of the water to the side of these plots and the only way to achieve this was by using a donkey. Then in the 1960s visitors started to arrive and the enterprising islanders realised that there was more money to be made renting out the back room and this was also a lot easier than a twelve-hour day toiling under a hot sun.

The terraces are all abandoned now to thistles and what other few plants can survive in a hostile environment and they are unlikely ever to be cultivated again. There is no one to look after them or protect the heritage, each year parts of the walls collapse and disappear and soon they will be gone altogether and that will be a sad day. Although no one will ever see it again I like to imagine what this hillside might have looked like fifty years ago with farmers scratching away at the ground, donkeys patiently waiting to return to the town and fishing boats slipping in and out of the harbour below.

As the bus climbed higher and the engine began to labour and groan the sides of the mountain became greener with rugged plants clinging stubbornly to the thin soil and then we reached the top of the mountainous spine of the island and we could see all the way down across the Chora and into the port of Katapola and still the woman in the seat behind the driver kept talking – I’d have backed that woman in a talk-off against my mum!

The bus stopped briefly at the Chora to pick up more passengers and then the driver set off down the hairpin bends of the mountain road and down to the port. I think he liked this part of the journey because he made extravagant manoeuvres with theatrical turns of the steering wheel and he was confident too, even at one stage of the precipitous descent taking time out to make a telephone call while still listening to the woman behind him jabbering away.

After only a few minutes we arrived at the final bus stop, got off and met the owner of the apartments, the Villa Katapoliana where we had stayed previously and were hoping for the same room that we had liked. We were to be disappointed on that score but we had a nice room anyway and a balcony that was surrounded by flowers and trees so we settled in and then went out to reacquaint ourselves with one of our favourite islands.

Greece 2011, Sick, Suicidal or just Anti-Social

This year in our hotel room on the island of Amorgos I was amused to find in the guest information folder a helpful copy of the Regulations, Article 8 of the Law 1652/30-10-86 which is a list of rules associated with renting a room. These made amusing reading and these extracts were the pick of the bunch:

Article 1

“The hotelier may refuse the leasing if the clients a) Looks conspicuously ill, b) is under the influence of alcohol or c) has an untidy appearance.”

This seems a bit harsh, whilst I agree that a hotel might not want to let a room to a drunk what if someone who needs a room had suffered from sea sickness on the ferry and was looking a bit green or was just a bet dishevelled at the end of a long day back packing? Who decides what constitutes being untidy I wonder?

Article 8

“If the room is leased for a fixed time the hotelier has not the right to break the lease unless the client a) transgresses the regulations, b) is taken ill suffering from a contagious disease or any other disease causing inconvenience to other clients, or c) behaves against the commonly accepted moral law.”

This seems a bit unfair on anyone feeling a bit unwell or has a cold with an annoying cough for example and I would be intrigued to know exactly what the commonly accepted moral law is?

Article 20

“The client on arrival at the hotel must hand over to the hotelier or to the competent director the precious or of considerable value articles and the money that he carries with him, against receipt.”

Can’t help thinking that is going to be a bit inconvenient, especially the money bit, how are you supposed to eat?

Article 21

“In case of illness due to an infectious or contagious or mental disease as well as in the case of death or suicide of a client the hotelier is entitled to compensation by the client for the expenses he underwent as a result of the happening.”

My advice is try not to have any sort of illness that might be messy, such as diarrhoea for example, and if you are going to kill yourself do it in a way that is quick to clear up otherwise your family are going to end up with a large bill. On the other hand I’m not sure how relevant this illness rule is because under Article 8 a sick client will already have been thrown out on the street and that includes the mental cases who might do themselves in.

My personal favourite:

Article 23

“It is forbidden a) the preparations of meals or decorations by the clients in the hotel room also the taking of meals in the room with the exception of sick clients, b) the use of petrol engines or electrical appliances, c) the use of electrical current for other purposes than lighting or shaving”.

You will have spotted the inconsistency here because clients aren’t allowed to be sick (see article 8), who in their right mind is going to use a petrol engine in a hotel room and why is it ok to use electricity to shave but presumably not to dry your hair?

It goes on “d) the washing of linen or clothing, e) the placing of luggage in the corridors, f) the changing of position of the rooms furniture and the operating of holes into the walls for hanging photographs, g) the keeping of domestic animals, h) gambling, i) noisy music and songs which might cause inconvenience to others.

This is a pretty comprehensive list of don’ts and I have personally broken at least half of these rules. I have certainly eaten food in my room, used electrical appliances, washed my dirty underpants out in the sink, played cards for money, encouraged a cat to come in, reorganised the furniture on the balcony and put my bag down for a moment or two in the corridor. On the other hand I haven’t ever used a petrol engine or a Black and Decker drill to make holes in the wall or organised a rave in my room.

Article 24

“If the client violates the provisions of the regulations, continually makes noise and behaves in an improper way he may be considered as undesirable and asked to leave the hotel within twenty-four hours and evacuate his room”

I wonder why, if someone was behaving so badly, they get twenty-four hours notice to leave when a sick person, it would seem, has to vacate immediately – this hardly seems fair!

Greece 2011, Swimming With Sharks and Greek Australians

After the shortest of refreshment breaks our next stop was the beach which was just a stone’s throw from the hotel so we collected our swimming essentials and found a spot we liked on the sand, stripped down to our bathing costumes and paddled out into the inviting silky water. This year I had packed my black swimming trunks because I always consider black speedos to be quite slimming!

There is currently a beauty salon fad in the United Kingdom and elsewhere which involves parting with substantial amounts of cash, taking shoes and socks off and dangling them into a tank of fish which will nibble away at the dead skin and provide a natural pedicure. The toothless fish are called garra rufa and are also commonly known as ‘doctor fish’, they come from the Eastern Mediterranean, mostly Turkey, and there were some in the sea today and when we stood still long enough they congregated at our ankles and shortly got to work. While we enjoyed our free foot treatment it became obvious that the discerning little creatures preferred my feet to Kim’s and I could easily steal her fishy medical companions by standing close to her. Kim became irritated by this so I explained to her as best I could that the only explanation I could think of was that I really couldn’t help being a ‘fish magnet’!

This alternative beauty treatment sounds weird but it might be considered positively normal compared with some others. For example, bull semen, a moisturising hair treatment that uses the sperm of Angus bulls. Ox bone-marrow shampoo from Brazil, Nightingale droppings used in Japan as a facial cleanser, snail slime used in South America as a hand cream and snake venom which is claimed by some to have the same face-freezing effects as Botox.

It was a pleasant beach with warm sea, golden sand and a gentle breeze which kept the temperature comfortable. In the shops earlier we had seen some souvenir boats made of drift wood and this gave me an idea. It would be impossible to take one home given the restrictions on hand luggage so I decided that I would collect the bits of wood and sticks off the beach, take them home and, in an Airfix sort of way, make my own so I set immediately about beachcombing and starting my collection.

After her early start Kim was tired now so while she went back to the room to sleep I stayed at the beach, enjoyed some more foot treatment, had another swim in the Aegean and continued my search for suitable boat building materials. After I had tired of all that I returned to the room and rejoined Kim and where we waited until nearly sunset time before going out again for the evening.

We had seen Paroikia in the daylight so our plan was to return in the evening for a different perspective. We walked through the same streets but now twinkling lights illuminated the shops and tavernas and the trendy bars that were closed during the day were beginning to open for business. We walked from one side to the other and left the old town just in time for Kim to capture the sunset pictures that she wanted.

We had considered returning to the same taverna as the previous night but there was a lot of choice at this end of the town and even though it was rather touristy we allowed ourselves to be talked into one by a persistent waiter who found us a nice table by the water’s edge. It was busy and one thing we couldn’t help noticing was that there were a lot of young Australians at adjacent tables and walking along the street.

We shouldn’t have been surprised of course because after World War Two and the unstable post war years in Greece many people from the mainland and the islands packed their bags and set off down under. In fact Greeks were one of the main groups targeted by Australian Government migration schemes in the 1950s and 1960s and by 1971 there were one hundred and sixty thousand Greek-born people in Australia. Today, just under half of these live in the State of Victoria and the city of Melbourne has the largest Greek community outside of Greece and after Athens, Thesaloniki, Piraeus and Patras (all in Greece) is the fifth largest Greek city community in the World so this must surely explain why so many Australians visit Greece every year in search of their family heritage.

A trio of young (Australian) girls were persuaded to take the table next to ours and after a while the waiter came to take their order. ‘Can I get you something to drink’ he purred and then looked perplexed when they asked for three glasses of tap water! He came back after a few minutes with the order and directed them to the food menu. One of them took a while to decide and then made her selection– ‘I’d like a lettuce and tomato salad please’, the waiter must have thought this was the starter and waited for a further choice to complete the meal but after a pause she added without batting an eyelid – ‘without the tomato!’ He was totally baffled now and just repeated ‘a lettuce and tomato salad without the tomato?’ ‘Yes please’ she confirmed, ‘I’ll have extra lettuce instead’. I wonder what they made of that in the kitchen?

Anyway, we had a rather nice meal while we listened to the sea and eaves dropped other people’s conversations and when we had finished, although it wasn’t late, we were tired so we wandered off back in the direction of the hotel. We had a rather early start in the morning so we needed a good night’s sleep.

Greece 2009 - Day 17, Athens, a city of thieves

After four years of visiting Athens on the way to a Greek island-hopping holiday I have finally managed to see the new Acropolis Museum. It was originally planned to be completed in 2004 to accompany the return of the Olympic Games to their spiritual Athenian home but construction setbacks and various outbreaks of controversy along the way have meant that it did not finally open to the expectant public until June 2009.

The long awaited €130m Acropolis Museum is a modern glass and concrete building at the foot of the ancient Acropolis and home to sculptures from the golden age of Athenian history. Unlike any other museum in the world this one has been designed to exhibit something it doesn’t own and can’t yet exhibit and the Greek Culture Minister has said that he hopes that it will be the catalyst for the return of the disputed Marbles from the British Museum in London because about half of the sculptures have been there since they were dubiously sold to the museum in 1817.

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We spent most of the morning in the museum and after we had finished we walked around the ancient city admiring all of the sights. Athens is a wonderful place for visiting ancient monuments and buildings, in addition to the Acropolis there is the Ancient Greek and Roman Agora and the dramatic Temple of Zeus with its spectacular columns thrusting triumphantly into the sky. They are all in pretty poor shape it has to be said, the Parthenon at the Acropolis was blown up by Venetian invaders when it was being used as an armoury store, most of the Agora is pretty much non existent and the Temple of Olympian Zeus has only a handful of its original columns still standing.



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We checked the bus times back to the airport and discovered that the metro line had been reopened so we agreed that would be our preference and once confident of times we walked through Monastiraki with its cramped little tourist shops and back to the Plaka where we found a place for a drink next to the Agora. For some reason Athens felt different this year, there were more beggars, more lucky-lucky men and more gipsy kids pestering us at the table for handouts. It didn’t feel quite so safe.

Despite this, it was the last day of the holiday and we had spent a good day in the Greek capital even when it started to rain later in the afternoon. Finally we had a last meal before collecting our bags from the Royal Olympic and made our way back to the airport. This was the fourth year of taking the metro and I have never felt uncomfortable or unsafe in any of the previous three years but this time something was different. Syntagma station was busy and felt edgy and when the train arrived we had to force our way onto unusually crowded carriages.

As soon as I got on board I knew something was wrong and this is how they did it. At the very last moment a group of three or four young men rushed onto the train causing mayhem and confusion and pushing and shoving and moving other legitimate passengers around. In the melee we were separated so couldn’t watch out for each other and I knew instinctively that something was going to happen in that carriage. In hindsight it is easy to see that we had been targeted, we had been on holiday, we were off our guard, weighed down with bags and the way that Kim was looking after her bag made it obvious that there was something inside that she would prefer not to loose.

One man stood by the door but then I sensed that he was determined to stand next to me and he pushed in and stood so close I could smell his body odour and it was most unpleasant. I knew what he was doing but luckily I was wedged in a corner so I gripped my wallet in my pocket in a vice like white knuckle grip and turned away from him so that he couldn’t get a hand to my right side where my wallet and my camera were. He knew he was rumbled, gave up and moved on pushing and shoving the other passengers as he went.

Kim was stranded in the middle of the carriage but I could see that she was clutching her handbag tight to her chest and I felt reassured that she too was being extra careful. Suddenly I noticed that she was bothered by something and was examining her ring. One of the thieves had placed a bit of wire around the stone and had pulled it so hard that it had bent the ring and it had hurt her finger. She said that at the time she thought it had been caught in a zip or a strap from someone’s bag but this must be a well practiced diversionary tactic because at the moment she reacted he managed somehow to open the zip of the bag and remove the first thing that he found. All of this happened so quickly and at the next stop they were gone and so was Kim’s camera.

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This incident rather spoilt the holiday and we left Greece with a sour taste in our mouths. All of Kim’s precious pictures were gone including her favourite of the naked man on the beach on Ios and these were priceless and irreplaceable. I hope we will return to the Greek Islands again next year but we probably won’t be stopping off in Athens.

Greece 2009 - Day 16, Blue Star to Piraeus

The Hotel Korali put on a good breakfast and we were amongst the first in the dining room because we had an early start and a nine-thirty ferry to catch for the return journey to Piraeus. The hotel owner drove us to the port and with a day of disasters behind us we were optimistic about better prospects for today.

The Blue Star Naxos arrived on time and there were a lot of passengers to get on board before it could leave again. The Blue Star ferries can carry one thousand five hundred passengers and two hundred and fifty vehicles and the line of cars waiting to drive on board stretched all along the port and back to the town square. When the gate was opened we pushed our way on board and made for the top deck where we had plans to find a seat in the sun and we found some at the back of the boat which we estimated would enjoy the sun all the way to the mainland and we settled down and after the boat had loaded up and left the port watched Naxos slipping away behind us.

We had chosen good seats and they would have been perfect except for a group of Swedes next to us who couldn’t seem to settle down and they kept rearranging the furniture, changing seats, which seemed to involve a lot of unnecessary pushing and shoving and talking to each other in very loud voices. Soon we were following the shoreline of Paros and within an hour the ferry was pulling into the harbour for its last stop. The port was heaving and there was the usual chaos associated with a big ferry coming into town. Cars, busses and big trucks were all competing with the foot passengers for a place on the quayside but despite the fact that there appeared to be absolutely no organisation at all everyone finally got on board and there were no fatal accidents and soon the boat was under way again with a four hour journey ahead to Piraeus.

The restless Swedes had a picnic, which meant more furniture reorganisation and then thankfully they settled down for the journey. Other passengers manoeuvred themselves into preferred positions and everyone found their own way of passing the time. We finished off the last few pages of our books and then from my map I tried to follow the route and identify the islands on the way. We slipped between Serifos to the south where we had started our adventure fifteen days ago and then Kythnos to the north and I wondered if this might be worth a visit so I looked it up in the Island Hopping guide and it said not so I removed it from the emerging itinerary for next year that was beginning to take shape in my head.

As the mainland came into view the last hour of the journey began to drag as we started to look forward to being on dry land again. From the sea Athens was laid out before us, nestling beneath the mountains to the north, east and west (Parnitha, Pendeli and Hymettos) and the Saronic Gulf to the south. Out at sea, where we were, the expanse of grey concrete, which formed the outer environs of the city, shimmered brightly in the strong sun and it looked much more attractive than I guessed it would from up close.

Piraeus was hot and noisy, the traffic was as we remembered it when we left, pushy taxi drivers were touting for business, the lucky-lucky men were selling counterfeit goods and there were dusty road works just outside the metro station. The metro at rush hour was not a pleasant experience. It was overcrowded and felt dangerous and without a seat we stood and guarded our possessions for fear of pickpockets. We were glad when after eight stations we arrived in Omonia and changed lines to a less crowded train and travelled the three stops to the Acropolis station where we emerged from the underground tunnels back into the open air and the oppressive heat of an Athens September afternoon.

We knew roughly where the Royal Olympic hotel was and with some helpful directions from a taxi driver found it quickly, crossed the busy main road and presented ourselves at reception. The Royal Olympic is a five star hotel and we don’t usually do five star but I had spotted a good deal and broken the normal rule. It was very smart and plush and I felt a little out of place and conspicuous in dusty sandals, a salt streaked shirt and a battered backpack, which I put down as inconspicuously as I could and well away from the Versace and the Louis Vuittons. The supposed deal was a €650 executive room for €120 and the room was nice and I was happy with the price we had paid but it certainly wasn’t worth €650.

The trouble with five star hotels of course is that they have five star prices and after I had got over the shock of the mini-bar prices (€7.50 for a small beer) and had a good laugh at the restaurant prices I slipped out of the hotel and found a little shop with alcohol at sensible prices, purchased some cans of mythos and a carton of cheap red wine and sneaked it through reception as discreetly as I could and took it back to the room.

After we had had a drink on the balcony and tidied ourselves up we declared ourselves presentable enough to wander around the hotel and we made for the top floor roof garden and restaurant where there were some stunning views over the Temple of Olympian Zeus directly opposite. The restaurant looked nice and it was being fastidiously prepared for later but on account of the prices we knew we wouldn’t be dining there so we left the hotel and walked to the Plaka to identify alternative arrangements.

It was late afternoon and the streets and the shops were busy but the restaurants and tavernas were short of customers and every few metres we were stopped and encouraged to go inside and eat. It must be obvious that five o’clock in the afternoon is not the time most people want to dine and we turned them all down with a smile and a promise to consider going back later. One man fancied himself as a bit of a comedian and was quite entertaining and his menu looked interesting so we thought we might let all of the others down and go there.

Greece 2009 - Day 14, Ios, Beaches & Walks

There was a good start to the day with a blue sky and no wind. Robin was up early and in the breakfast room but he wasn’t fully recovered from the previous night’s drinking and he joined in the conversation only intermittently and with vaguely relevant contributions.

After breakfast we walked down to the harbour and headed south towards our favourite beach. After the rain what grass there was seemed much greener and I am sure there were some new shoots taking advantage of the unexpected watery bonus. On the way we bought our ferry tickets to Naxos and stopped for a drink and met some people who by chance happened to come from the same village as Kim, which meant an incredible thirty minutes of ‘all our yesterday’s’ and ‘down my way’.

The road out of the village runs past the business end of the harbour and there were some brightly painted boats that had just landed their overnight catch and were negotiating sales with local people and restaurant owners in a babble of animated activity. It looked like a good nights work and the trading was brisk. The fish looked interesting and on closer examination of the produce it soon becomes clear why we have to put up with stock shortages whilst the most of the rest of Europe have such an abundance of choice; we are just far too fussy about what we will eat and our preference for fish is restricted to two or three species that we have fished into crisis and near extinction whilst in Greece they will eat a much greater variety of sea food. We like to buy our fish in little blue polystyrene trays without heads, tails or entrails and ready for the frying pan but here the trays were brimming with fish so fresh that it was still alive and flapping about and winking at the prospective purchasers who were examining it. The colours were fantastic, sparkling silver, gleaming green and radiant red and I looked forward to being reacquainted with one later on my dinner plate.

The little beach at Valmas is delightful with a shaded terrace that overlooks the shore and the little bay and it is run by an old woman who probably should have retired years ago and who has a limited but interesting menu and with the sort of prices that I really like. Going to the beach and the taverna is part of the Ios routine and everyday we did the same things as the day before, walked along the same path, went for a swim, went to the taverna and sat at the same table and today had the calamari that she had promised yesterday. The naturist Swedes were there again but the amusement today was provided by a half-pissed man (who seems to be there every year) who drank a final bottle of wine and then went to the beach stripped off completely and crashed out on a sun bed, much to the amusement of the young Greek boys playing there, and proceeded to fry his delicate bits in the hot afternoon sun.

The walk to Valmas is interesting because of the derelict terraces and dry stonewalls that separate the hillside into individual plots of land. Ios is just one large inhospitable rock that has been baked in the sun but as recently as only fifty years ago people here were scraping away at the thin soil and the stones to try and make a living or to feed the family by growing fruit and vegetables. There is very little useful land on Ios so this must have been almost unimaginatively difficult and Antonia told us of her memories of life before tourism. Then in the 1960s visitors started to arrive and the enterprising islanders realised that there was more money to be made renting out the back room and this was also a lot easier than a twelve-hour day toiling under a hot sun. The terraces are all abandoned now to thistles and what other few plants can survive in a hostile environment and they are unlikely ever to be cultivated again. There is no one to look after them or protect the heritage and soon they will be gone altogether and that will be a sad day.

We spent the afternoon at the pool but by five o’clock it was beginning to get cloudy again so we abandoned sun bathing and sat with our friends for a couple of mythos. Today we met Tony from Ireland who was here for an incredible twelve weeks just for the clubbing. He had arrived in mid August and six weeks later he was still as white as a sheet on account of the fact that his daily routine consisted of sleeping until about five o’clock in the afternoon and then preparing to go to the clubs when they opened a few hours later.

As part of the Ios routine at the end of every day we would go to the Chora in time to see the sunset over Sikinos to the west just in case it was any different from the night before. This involved a strenuous climb to the very top of the town and past a succession of small white churches that got smaller and smaller the closer to the top we climbed. We did it tonight even though there wasn’t a sunset and later, being creatures of habit, we visited the same taverna over and over because once we have found somewhere that we like I have to confess that we are reluctant to go anywhere else. On this, the third night we had a meal of red snapper and when it arrived on the plate I was certain that I recognised it from the catch of fresh fish in the harbour that morning and I am sure that it winked at me as I prepared to eat it.

Creece 2009 - Day 13, Folegandros to Ios

In the morning there was a huge improvement, there was sunshine and a slight breeze and the place was remarkably dry considering how much rain had fallen. Everywhere people were busy cleaning up after the previous night’s unexpected deluge and storm and it was still cloudy over Sikinos and that was a bit of a worry because we were heading in that direction later.

After breakfast on a sunny terrace we sat and waited for the morning to slip away and as we did so some more angry black cloud rolled in from the north and joined the lump of cloud stuck to the top of Sikinos as though it were made of Velcro. This was one of those difficult, in transit, sort of days between islands when it is difficult to settle. The bags were packed and I suppose we just wanted to get going but it was a late afternoon ferry so we just had to wait and worry about the weather. We sat on the terrace of room fourteen all day and the weather progressively improved with each passing hour and by the time we went to the harbour to board the Aeolis Kenteris ferry for the twenty past four sailing the sky was blue and the rain was completely forgotten.

Sadly the Aeolis Kenteris was another modern ferry with airline seats and air conditioning and no access to the top deck to sit in the sun and we had to sit near some pretentious Oxbridge Rahs who were travelling on parent’s expenses and making total twats of themselves. Even though the weather was poor we were glad to arrive in Ios and leave them to carry on to Santorini.

As we arrived Ios looked dry, brown and arid and with a landscape parched and baked by the relentless summer sun it looked a bit uninspiring but we knew why we were coming back here and from the boat we caught site of our favourite beach and ramshackle taverna, the little church and cliff-top walk and then, once we had docked Vangellis from Homer’s Inn who greeted us with genuine friendship. It is an interesting fact that Vangellis (an ex-sailor) is a very reliable weather expert and on the short drive to the hotel he gave us a forecast for the next few days. I understand why we in the United Kingdom are fixated with meteorological conversations but I don’t really expect it in Greece, but he explained in great detail about wind directions and what difference that was likely to make to daily conditions. “Tomorrow will be sunny with a little breeze”, he explained, “and the next two days also, but after that I am not sure”.

Homer’s is a charming hotel and named not after Homer Simpson but after the author of the famous epic poems the Iliad and the Odyssey and whose burial tomb is allegedly to be found in the north of the island. This is something else that I like about Greece. Very democratically, as you might expect, each of the islands seems to have an association with a god or a famous person, Aphrodite in Crete, Zeus in Naxos, Hippocrates in Kos and so on. I like the way that in a sort of cartel sort of cooperation they have carefully shared them all out between themselves so that each one gets at least one deity or person of significant importance. We didn’t visit Homer’s tomb while we were there by the way because quite frankly I was a bit sceptical about its authenticity.

After we had settled in we walked back to the port to get some cash from the ATM and to check the fery times back to Piraeus. So far everything had gone to plan but now, right at the end, the ferry timetables didn’t match out itinerary and it looked as though we would have to make some rearrangements. This year the Blue Star doesn’t visit Ios so the only thing we can do is cut our visit short by one night and plan for a night in Naxos on the way back.

We had chosen to return to Ios for a four day stretch at the end of our holiday for a relatively long period of rest and once back at the hotel we wasted no time in getting into the familiar routine that we had established twelve months before. A visit to the pool a swim, a reunion with Martin and Lisa and with Robin, a glass of wine or two and then later a walk to the top of the Chora through the busy streets and to our favourite restaurant at the very top, the Mills, where there was grilled meat and squid for main course and complimentary ouzo to finish the evening, and I do like tavernas with complimentary ouzo and last year’s prices! We felt curiously at home and as we walked bak to the hotel the stars were shining brightly and I felt confident about predicting a good day tomorrow.

Greece 2009 - Day 10, Kimolos

There was very little change in the morning and the strong wind continued to rush in and chase through the balconies of the hotel, rattling the shutters and rearranging the furniture as it went. There was a lot of cloud as well and it was quite cool but not inconveniently so as we set off quite early after breakfast to return the bike to Adamas. On the way we stopped again at Sarakiniko to take some photographs before people started to arrive and we clambered over the smooth chalk white cliffs and down to the waters edge where waves were dancing energetically as the wind whipped them into salty columns that were leaping over the shoreline rocks. While we were exploring there were a few heavy spots of rain and some thick grey cloud passed overhead but it kept going and behind it the sky was left clear and blue.

We couldn’t stay long and we left as others started to arrive and drove to the port, handed back the bike and waited for the bus to take us back to Pollonia where we had a thirty minute wait for the little ferry boat to take us to the nearby island of Kimolos just twenty minutes away. The sea was still choppy and the boat was only small but it seemed reliable enough so we were confident about taking the risk of getting back to Milos later.

It was just after midday when we arrived in Psathi, a sheltered little harbour where the most noticeable thing was that nothing at all seemed to be happening. At the back of the beach there were a couple of bars in a dreamy setting under the shade of leafy trees and just a single road leading out of the port and up towards the Chora. Kimolos it seemed was an unspoilt get away from it all sort of place and although I like the idea of peace and tranquillity I couldn’t help thinking that this might actually be getting away from too much. As we walked to the town it occurred to me that this is how the other islands would have been fifty years ago or so and although the concept of a Robinson Crusoe holiday might sound idyllic perhaps on reflection it might not be.

The Chora was just as lethargic as the port, a few inquisitive visitors wandering aimlessly around the picturesque narrow cobbled streets and in between the whitewashed houses but with less than a thousand residents across the entire island there wasn’t a great deal of local activity to observe. At the top the tall cathedral seemed somehow too big and out of scale with the tiny streets and boxy houses. The streets were ramshackle and without order or purpose as they wound their way to the centre and the sixteenth century Kastro, much of which was dilapidated and in ruins with heaps of rubble from collapsed and abandoned houses.

This was the Messa Kastro, or inner castle, the original town where people lived before they moved outside to the Exo Kastro, the outer castle, as the town expanded outside of the restrictive confines of the walls. Inside, some people were clinging on to occupation of houses with only very basic facilities that would certainly be declared unfit in the United Kingdom. The Kastro is an important historical monument and there are plans to restore the buildings and some early work has begun but it is likely to take a very long time because current funding from the Greek Government and the European Union is totally inadequate which currently leaves the project financially beyond restorative reach.

It was a pleasant walk around the exterior of the Kastro, past one or two tavernas and traditional shops and through streets of houses with yards and balconies bright with flowers in gaily coloured pots and baskets and then we had seen all there was to see so we returned to the sleepy port and had a simple lunch at a taverna next to the gritty beach and waited for the ferry crossing back to Milos. Kimolos was well worth the visit, it was one of the most unspoilt and authentic islands that I have ever visited but I am not certain that I would need more than an afternoon there.

On the return journey there was one last defiant spit of rain and then the last of the grey clouds moved reluctantly aside leaving behind a silky blue sky and endless sunshine – the poor weather it seemed, had passed and the early evening was a complete contrast to the two previous and the sea was calm enough now to go for a swim. This was important because I was conducting a hair self-cleansing experiment that meant only seawater and lemon juice instead of harmful chemicals and a wash was overdue. At the halfway stage in the holiday the experiment seemed to be going rather well and I was predicting no more expensive shampoos for me any more!

This was our last night on Milos and we had enjoyed visiting again, repeating some of the things we did last time and exploring some new places as well. We didn’t do anything exciting, just walked into the village, had a final meal and looked forward to moving on in the morning to Folegandros.

Greece 2009 - Sifnos to Milos in a Force 7

In the morning it was clear that we should have taken notice of the weather forecast of doom because overnight the weather had changed just as predicted by all of those who knew better than us. From the balcony all that could be seen were dark and threatening clouds scudding in from the north and obscuring the sun, which was struggling for some sort of recognition of its presence in the sky. The weather forecast has got worse and the breakfast television weather map showed Greece with rain predictions for the mainland and the north and force seven winds in the Cyclades.

Fortunately for us the islands stay mostly dry but when I fetched the breakfast pie the lady in the bakery said that on the island they were hoping for rain because they hadn’t had any for several months since the winter and I could tell from the scorched fields and parched earth that definitely wasn’t exaggerating. I agreed with her about awful that must be but didn’t let on that personally I hoped the rain stays away for a couple more weeks at least, just long enough for us to finish our holiday.

It was windy and much colder so while we packed we choose suitable clothing for a rough sea voyage and after we had settled up at the hotel and said goodbye we slung our packs on our backs and wandered off down to the port. Kim went off to do some last minute shopping and purchase the pottery she had selected, which was going to be a bit of a nuisance because we were going to have to lug it about with us for ten days after that. I waited for her at the Captain’s Bar and ordered a mythos that came with peanuts so I guessed it was going to be expensive! The sun was fighting back by now and was beginning to get the upper hand, the cloud was breaking up and thinning out but there was no sign of the wind dropping and I wondered if the ferry would be on time.

I was fairly sure that it would be late so when Kim turned up I ordered more beer and sat down and prepared to wait. I shouldn’t have been so pessimistic because less than halfway down the bottle the ferry announced its arrival with a blast of its horn and we had to finish in a hurry and make our way to the port and back on board the Agios Georgios for the journey to Milos. The sea was choppy but not on a sea sick scale and we settled down again on the open top deck. If this was a force seven gale I wasn’t worried because the boat seemed more than capable of dealing with it . Wind speed is measured on the Beaufort Scale that was developed in 1805 by Admiral Sir Francis Beaufort who divided weather conditions into twelve for the purposes of reporting consistency. Force seven is a near gale, force eight is a gale and so on all the way to force twelve, which is a hurricane.

I settled down with a mythos to enjoy the journey and then there was an amusing little accident when the two back legs on my plastic deck chair snapped off and one minute I was sitting comfortably like an English gentleman abroad and the next I was in an undignified heap on the deck. Still, it made everyone laugh and luckily I didn’t spill any of my beer.

As we made progress towards Milos the sea got a bit rougher and the clouds thickened again and the day didn’t look promising at all. The strong wind made the Greek flag dance wildly at the back of the ferry as we passed the gnarled coastline of Kimolos and made steady progress towards our destination. Closer to Milos we passed the cliffs scarred by old abandoned mine workings, the iconic white beaches of the island and the gaily coloured fishermen’s villages and just after lunchtime we docked on time in Adamas.

Greece 2009 - Day 7 Sifnos, Kastro

On the way to the village to buy breakfast I stopped at a car hire shop and negotiated the hire of 150cc orange quad bike. We had used one last year with mixed success so were determined to give it a second try. After all how difficult can it be? I have seen whole families driving around on one bike sometimes carrying plants and furniture and a whole weeks shopping as well.

We carefully planned our route, first to the beach village at Vathi and then a visit to the monastery at Panagia Chryssopigi, a swim off the rocks and then on to Kastro for a meal. We left promptly after breakfast and the route away from the harbour was unexpectedly green and attractive with olive and fig trees on either side and little fields, allotments really, full of peppers and tomatoes ripening in the sun.

I drove quite slowly at first, I imagined myself as peter Fonda in Easyrider but I was a long way from achieving that. I had to be careful especially after a momentary lapse of concentration and a slide onto the wrong side of the road. I have always advised my children not to use these things and I was feeling a complete hypocrite. Kim had suggested a scooter but that was too much for me, I have seen too many people wandering around with open flesh wounds and scabs on their legs from falling off to convince me. I would only do it if I had a full set of TT grand prix leathers and even then I doubt I would get above twenty kilometres an hour!

It took about forty minutes to reach Vathi where there was picturesque beach and harbour with expensive yachts moored up or anchored out in the bay. It was a get away from it sort of place where pretentious rahs and hooray henry’s were busy bragging away to each other about their lives. We didn’t stay long and after we had walked the beach and had a mid morning drink we set off again for Chryssopigi just a few kilometres away.

The little church over a bridge was very busy this lunchtime and more and more people were turning up for what was clearly going to be a wedding. Like everything else in Greece it was a friendly laid back affair with guests dressed casually and enjoying each other’s company as they waited for the bride. It was a complete contrast to the stressful, tight arsed, stuffed shirt weddings we have back home and I thought this was so much better. Kim didn’t agree with me and while she waited for the bride I got fidgety and wandered off. At the entrance to the monastery there was a fabulous argument in full flow. Two women were shouting at each other and gesticulating wildly and using the diplomatic services of a priest as an umpire. He wasn’t doing terribly well and I was sure that they would eventually come to blows. They didn’t but it lasted a full ten minutes and although I had no way of knowing what it was about I enjoyed every minute of it.



After the arrival of the bride we went to the rocks for a swim and we glad to get into the sea because it was by now a very hot day. Everyone was telling us that the weather would change again tomorrow and the winds would be back but that didn’t seem very likely right now as we swam for several minutes and then dried off on the rocks in perfect conditions for sunbathing. When we were dry we left and continued to our final destination of Kastro, which is the old capital on the opposite side of the island to Kamares.

When we arrived the town was quiet in a cathedral sort of way so it felt rude to talk in anything but a whisper but it was quite perfect. There were cats on every corner just minding their own business and waiting for the tavernas to open and meandering alleys and crooked streets that all led eventually to the castle at the top of the town. The narrow streets were shady and we were glad of that because this was becoming one of the hottest days of the holiday and we were glad of the cool spots and the shadows of the houses. We were hungry so we stopped a taverna with an elevated view over the redundant terraced fields and the little port below and we had a lovely meal of lamb cooked in lemon sauce and after we had finished we left and explored the village on foot.

Kastro is a traditional whitewashed Cycladic cubic village where most of the local council’s money must go on white paint and where people live in houses on the edge of the world in a cosy huddle of homes, shops, churches and pretty shaded squares with hospitable tavernas and everywhere pots full of blazing geraniums outside intense whitewashed houses with brightly coloured balconies and staircases 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 blue ‘belts’ around buildings, which supposedly provide protection against evil

It was late afternoon now so after a final mythos it was back to the hotel at Kamara and the bike was driving really smoothly now. There was a warning notice near the ignition that said that it shouldn’t be operated after drinking alcohol but to be honest I have to say that it seemed to handle a whole lot better after a couple of beers.

The rest of the day was squandered away sitting on the terrace, admiring the view and disbelieving all the weather warnings, even from the Greek lady next door who was clearly in a better position to know than we were. I enjoyed watching the ferries coming in and going out and it suddenly occurred to me that I was beginning to recognise them and there was a familiarity about them that accompanied my increased desire to visit more and more Greek islands. There are approximately one thousand four hundred islands and islets and I have visited only twenty-four so it is unlikely that I will ever run out of new places to visit.

Later the elderly couple next door said they had seen a quad bike outside so there must be a young couple in the hotel, we told them it was ours, they were impressed and we were flattered.

Greece 2009, Day 3 Serifos, Hora

The next morning the anticipated spectacular sunrise just didn’t happen because although the sun arrived as regularly as it ever does its first appearance was obscured by a hill on the other side of the bay and then by an inappropriately placed building opposite the hotel. This meant that we would have to wait until we would be in Folegandros in a few days time where we knew we could rely on the early morning solar experience. It was a bit windy still and while we had breakfast on the balcony, consisting of pastry, fruit and an excellent cup of tea we could see the boats in the harbour moving about restlessly at their moorings in response to the swell of the sea.

Today we were planning to visit the Hora about five kilometres and a twenty minute bus ride away and by the time we pitched up for the ten o’clock ride the wind had dropped, there were no more clouds rushing in and the sky was an uninterrupted blue. The little green Mercedes bus was at least thirty years old (probably more) and the driver took the fares, blew his horn to indicate departure and set off on the only bus route on the island. Every seat had retrospectively fitted seat belts but this must have been only to satisfy some EU directive because it was impossible to use them because they were neatly strapped up and secured with those little plastic ties that can only be released by cutting through them completely.

So without the security of a seat belt we travelled to the top of the mountain through several hairpin turns and going back and forth across the face of the mountain until we came to a spot where the bus was able to turn around and leave the passengers at the entrance to the lower square of the village. There was an alternative way of reaching the Hora but that involved an arduous climb along a mule path which interlaced several times with the road but it looked like hard work and so definitely worth the €1.40 fare on the bus to ride in relative comfort to the top.

After visiting the redundant windmills, now being converted into holiday accommodation, we followed the signs to the Kastro and passed through pretty streets where the walls of the buildings squeezed in close to the narrow lanes and tracks but then opened out into the delightful main square of St. Athanasios about halfway to the top that was a complete contrast to the agoraphobic streets that led to it from all directions. Here was the immaculately whitewashed church, the neoclassical town hall, which was in need of a bit of attention, a traditional taverna called Zorba’s with blue doors and windows and Café Stou Stratou a trendy ouzerie across the square selling coffee and traditional Greek snacks to a handful of customers. We passed through without stopping and continued towards the top and the little church of Church of Agios Konstantinos from where there was a terrific view in all directions and especially down and over the port of Livadi stretched out below.

The Hora of Serifos is one of the most spectacular and attractive in the Cyclades, it is how I imagine Ios might have been if it hadn’t been discovered and turned into a Euro pleasure zone because here there are no bars or nightclubs and best of all no shops either. On the way back down we passed by renovated houses which shared the streets with various abandoned properties where a glance inside revealed the truth of a hard life without utilities from only a relatively short time ago. In the gaps between the buildings there were great views over the barren rust coloured hills that reminded me of the bodywork on my first car, a Hillman Avenger, and the now calm inky blue sea in the bay of the harbour that looked like a giant inkwell full of Quink.

After we had circumnavigated the town we returned to the main square, which was by now basking under a hot sun, and we stopped for refreshment and a rest. A nice feature in the bars and cafés in Serifos was the hospitable habit of providing customers with a jug 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! Well, how things change and now it appears to be safe to drink the water across the whole of the Eurozone without suffering ill effects or an upset stomach and this was certainly the case in Serifos.

After the stop we took the bus back to Livadi and made plans to return again the following afternoon. It was hot now so we rested and enjoyed the view from the balcony and then later looked for somewhere to eat. We quickly passed by last night’s disappointing restaurant choice and selected a traditional fish and meat taverna on the beach just beyond where the pavement ended and a dirt road began. Waiters crossed the street with trays of food, wine, and beer to customers who were dining by the sea. The restaurant was welcoming, the seafood was delightful, the staff were friendly and we were accompanied by a flock of gregarious ducks. We had made a much better choice than the previous day so thought we might return later.

In the afternoon we went for a couple of hours to an alternative beach behind the town where there was the welcome shade of the whitewashed armirikia trees but could have done without the booming music from the beach bar that spoilt the otherwise ‘get away from it all’ mood of the place.

In the early evening we sat on the balcony and watched the lights in the bay twinkle into life and as the main street started to get busy with the first of the evening’s diners we returned to the friendly taverna on the edge of the town and had a second good meal of the day. At the end of the second day we were in full holiday mood now and beginning to enjoy Serifos and although we agreed that we probably prefer Sifnos (our next stop) we were able to reassess our unnecessarily negative first day thoughts which now seemed to have been a little bit hasty.