Greek Island Hopping, Santorini to Paros

We had a really early start, it was still dark when we got up and packed for the trip to the harbour. Then I had a panic attic when the transport didn’t arrive at the arranged time but the girls displayed admirable calm.

My low patience threshold was tested and after phoning the apartment owner (waking him up!) and just about to drive to the port myself in his car the driver turned up twenty minutes late and reeking of last night’s alcohol excess in Thira.

I spent the short journey constantly checking my watch and we arrived at the ferry with just about ten minutes to spare and that was close because these boats, believe me, don’t wait.  Back to Blue Star today so a big boat to take us to Paros.

We cruised out of the caldera, past Thira and then Oia and this time we were accompanied by a sunrise instead of a sunset. I don’t understand why but a sunrise doesn’t stir the emotions like a sunset but they can be just as dramatic. This one leaked out over the town of Oia and spilled into the sea just as we were leaving the jaws of the caldera.

The water was calm and the day became progressively warmer as the sun rose in the sky.  We had a very good journey to Paros that took about four hours including a stop off in Naxos.  We finally disembarked at Parikia and found a taverna for food.  Now, if there was an Olympic event for serving the slowest breakfast then this place would win gold, silver and bronze but to be fair the town was only just waking up properly and it arrived eventually.

We arrived at the apartments and then things went badly wrong!  What a DUMP! newly built the web site said.  Newly built, my arse!  There was also a huge dog and an owner with a severe personal hygiene problem. This was the Greek equivalent of the Bates Motel and as we checked in I made a mental note to remember to sleep with one eye open tonight.

The apartments were not just next to a building site; it was a building site! and we are clearly the only mugs staying here, probably the only visitors all season!  The room was adequate but nothing special, the shower didn’t work and neither did the fridge so I had to call the owner in to make repairs.  It was one of those rooms that had electrical sockets in unusual places, some close to the ceiling and uselessly out of reach, and others with wires dangling alarmingly from the wall. The view from the balcony was not the sea as promised but a construction site with a mechanical digger moving rocks from one side to the other and then returning them back again to their original position again for no apparent good  reason!

I was seriously cheesed off.  I was convinced that I had let the girls down in some way.  And it was overpriced.  I tried to negotiate a discount but the owner wouldn’t budge so I had a deliberately untidy shower and nuked the bathroom so that he had to earn his extortionate room rate when cleaning up after me.

I won’t be recommending the Capricorn Apartments to anyone!  That’s the Capricorn Apartments on Paros!

The girls were good and tried to cheer me up and we went to the beach, which was a really very nice beach but it was very, very hot and I couldn’t settle down so I walked back to the apartment to get my snorkel and then went back to the beach for a bit of a swim and then I walked back to the apartment again to get my book and went back to the beach again for a bit of a read.

To keep going back was a big mistake because each time I just got more wound up about the place.  Then I had a brilliant solution, there was a hotel just down the road on the way back to the beach so I’d book in there and move out of this substandard shit hole.

I walked there and swept through the lush hotel gardens, past the fabulous Olympic sized swimming pool and the well stocked poolside bar and into the air-conditioned reception and enquired about the price of a room for three. One hundred euros, brilliant, this was a seriously nice hotel and my spirits were lifted immediately. “OK I’ll take one” I said and then my spirits were immediately dashed when the desk clerk said “sorry no availability”. With no result I had to return to the beach defeated.

So we decided to go back to Parikia by the water taxi to try and cheer me up but then we went and missed the first available taxi because the girls decided to go for a bit of shopping just to get a bottle of water without checking on the boat times.  I was so  irrationally pissed off by now and went to the bar to sulk alone and for a quick Mythos.

That helped and hey, what was the problem?  The next taxi arrived and we made the trip across the bay and everything seemed a whole lot better!

Parikia, it has to be said, is not the most picturesque of Greek island towns, it has a very functional appearance and the first and lasting impression is a harbour front given over to ferry booking operators and car hire offices.  But the streets leading off the busy front were much nicer and we found an agreeable bar with twenty minutes Internet with every drink so we bought three and the girls amused themselves for an hour.

Then we hired a car and went back to the Capricorn.

Well, the situation did start to improve I have to confess, I had a Mythos or two and sort of got used to the room and when I reflected upon the state of affairs this place did have a very good beach and the snorkelling was the best yet.  It wasn’t that bad after all and things always seem more cheerful viewed through the bottom of a beer bottle and this state of unfortunate affairs was no exception.

Then we got ready to go out and went back into the town.  It looked like there would be another good sunset so we sat in a seafront bar and watched the sun go down while the ferries came back and forth into harbour. No one came to take our order so once the solar entertainment was over I woke the girls up and we moved off to find somewhere to eat.

We left the town, stopping to buy some supplies, and we found a beach front taverna that looked very nice, so after a bit of a parking fiasco when I changed my mind at least three times, we pulled in and went inside.  It was a pizza restaurant with the compulsory cats for company. The food was very good; we had a substantial meal and free drinks to finish and then went back to the apartment.  And had another early night.

Greek Island Hopping, Naxos

I did my only important job of the day and got up early as usual, checked the sky and satisfied that the sun was shining sat on the balcony waiting for the others to join me.  I didn’t have to wait long and we had a breakfast in the hotel that was substantial and very good value at only €3 each. Joining us for breakfast this morning was the loudest cat in the world with a really shouting mew.   It liked the ham that Sally insisted on feeding it but not the children from across the road who kept on chasing it around!

After breakfast we took the bus into Naxos town.  This was a very nice place with cool quiet twisting narrow streets full of atmosphere.  We visited the Venetian castle, which had an interesting little museum with free admission and an ancient monument set on a headland just out of town, we liked it very much and all agreed that we would like to come back here.  The town had nice sea front bars too and of course we just had to stop for a Mythos.  Later we took the bus back to the hotel and prepared for sunbathing and swimming.

In the afternoon we went to the beach for the first time.  We took some courtesy umbrellas from the hotel and it took an age to get them to stay upright because there was a bit of a wind getting up. I used my limited construction skills to arrange some rocks left on the beach and eventually made an almost adequate structure to hold the umbrella upright and the girls managed to get underneath and out of the sun.  Later we all went for a swim and I went for a snorkel.

Sometimes children can be so badly behaved and Sally went off for a long swimming adventure without telling us where she was going.  After a few minutes I became convinced that she had been carried out to sea by a giant squid or some other equally disagreeable marine monster and I was pacing the beach staring out to sea like Robinson Crusoe looking for her.  Charlotte joined in.  I was so concerned that I nearly called the lifeguard to call out the emergency services.  I was beginning to wonder just how I would explain to everyone back home that I had lost Sally in the sea on the first dip.

Then she turned up without a care in the world, swimming along completely oblivious to the fact that my stress level was pushing my blood pressure way above recommended safety levels for a man of my age.  I issued a perfectly reasonable paternal instruction that she should get out of the sea immediately, she thought about it for about half a second and then turned and defiantly ignored me.  I couldn’t believe it!  Actually she only thought about it for a quarter second.

We went back to the hotel (via the Mythos supermarket) and chilled out around the pool. I found a good spot in the sun on the terrace and set about drinking the beer and reading my book. I chatted to the neighbours again and got respect and admiration for being on holiday with two young girls. After a while I eventually owned up that Sally was my daughter!

We had planned to finish the night with another meal on the beach but the wind was really quite strong now and tablecloths were thrashing about madly in the wind so we choose another taverna instead and sat inside and had a pizza and a big jug of white wine.  White wine is perfectly acceptable I suppose but I do prefer a nice fruity red but it was suitably cheap so who was I to complain? The scrounging cats joined us and were a bit of a nuisance and I tried to shoo them away so Sally stabbed me in the head with her fork (OUCH!).

I was feeling very chilled out now and I decided that I liked Naxos very much indeed.  Back at the hotel we sat on the terrace but due to the combination of the Mythos, the sun and the stress of almost losing my daughter in the sea I was very tired again. I bragged off that I could get to sleep in less than a minute and Sally challenged me to prove it. I accepted the challenge with some confidence and achieved it with several seconds to spare.

Greek Island Hopping, Piraeus to Naxos

I was aware that we had to get up very early and consequently I had a restless night and woke prematurely sometime before the alarm because it was on my mind that we had to catch the seven thirty ferry to Naxos.

It was still dark when I got up first at about six o’clock and then used my banging about and switching the lights on technique to wake the girls. Not very sophisticated I have to concede but it worked well enough. Packing a rucksack is quite straightforward and the girls had already perfected the back-packers art of cramming without folding so it didn’t take long to get ready.

The hotel staff arranged a taxi for us to the port of Piraeus and the driver took us straight to the ship.  The Blue Star ferry was much bigger that I had imagined it would be and we made directly for the top deck and found ourselves a nice seat next to a young German couple.

The ferry left precisely on time and cast off was accompanied by the sun rising majestically over the city.  Unfortunately as we left port it disappeared on the other side of the boat!  Being some time since I was in the Boy Scouts and not having a compass with me I had misjudged our position and direction of travel and set us down on the western side of the deck.  It was a bit chilly in the shade and we had to wait about two hours before the ferry and the sun synchronised their position in our favour and we were able to fully enjoy the warm rays of the morning sun.

It was a good journey and the German couple were very entertaining.  They were on their way to Santorini and had arrived the night before on a flight from Hamburg and had spent the night drinking in a bar in Piraeus, they hadn’t slept a wink and were in a very bad mood with each other. We couldn’t understand German of course but there is an international language of grumpiness and we could comprehend that well enough.  We had a good rambling gossip about them and then later realised that they could speak excellent English (doh!).

It took about five and a half hours to sail the one hundred and three nautical miles to Naxos including a brief stop off in Paros and it was a good journey except that there wasn’t any Mythos in the bar.  On the plus side Sally didn’t get bored at all which sort of surprised us all!  I struggled with sudoku and the girls plotted alternative routes around the islands using the island hopping guide.

Being on the top deck of the ferry had kept us quite cool but when we arrived in Naxos it was one o’clock and really very hot with mid-afternoon pizza oven temperatures.  We got off and ran the gauntlet of the frantically animated Greek apartment owners all imploring us to choose their accommodation.  The associated chaos was not dissimilar to a French bus queue and I’m not sure which part of ‘no thank you’ they didn’t fully understand but it was an entertaining passage from harbour to town nonetheless and we knew that we would have to go through the whole experience whenever we got off of a ferry again for the entire holiday.

The sun was strong and we walked into town and using tablecloths as a primary selection criteria choose a taverna with green check and I ordered a Mythos! To my complete surprise Sally and Charlotte choose a Greek salad so just to be different I had a Naxion salad instead. I don’t think I will be having another one!  It wasn’t inedible, it was just smothered in a sort of cottage cheese, which was a bit sticky and there was an awful lot of it!  I had to have another Mythos to wash it down!

We decided that it was time to find our accommodation so we looked for a taxi to take us there. We found one without any difficulty at all and after loading our backpacks in the boot I jumped into the passenger seat and burnt my bum on the red-hot vinyl that had been baking in the hot sun all morning.  Sizzle, sizzle no warning or anything! I felt like a griddled steak and I noticed that the driver’s seat had a towel strategically draped across the seat to offer protection but there was nothing for the passengers.

It was just a ten-minute ride to our hotel, the Agios Prokopios, which turned out to be really good.  Nice people and a very good room with balconies front and back so that we could get both the morning and the afternoon sun.  We quickly unpacked (well not so much unpacked but threw our bags untidily on the floor) and went to the pool where we chilled out for a while.

Only a short while because after Sally had got bored (only a matter of about five minutes or so) we walked down to the beach, which was close by and we paddled both ways along the waters edge. We sauntered back to the hotel and found a convenient little supermarket selling cheap Mythos and I bought some supplies.  Back at the hotel the girls sat around the pool and I sat on the rear balcony enjoying a beer and reading Bill Bryson and later I found some neighbours to chat to.

We chilled out for the rest of the day and practiced doing nothing until the sun went down and it was time to go out to eat.

In the evening it was back to the seafront and we found a taverna with tables on the beach, rather like Shirley Valentine.  I had a chicken souvlaki and the girls probably had a Greek salad but I can’t really remember because it had been a very long day and the alcohol was beginning to kick in.

After dinner we went back to the hotel and I had a very early night due to the consumption of six Mythos (give or take).  It had been a very good day but sitting on the terrace knowing that my bed was on the other side of the wall and only about four feet away was too much and I made my excuses, retired and crashed out!

Agios Prokopis Hotel

Greek Island Hopping, Preparation

“Somewhere…I once found a list of diseases… and among these occurred the word Islomania, which was described as a rare but by no means unknown affliction of spirit.  These are people…who somehow find islands irresistible.  A little world surrounded by the sea, fills them with indescribable intoxication. Lawrence Durrell – ‘Reflections on a Marine Venus’

Island hopping with a backpack was an immediately brilliant idea when Sally mentioned it in May and invited me to bring my credit cards along and join her for a week or two in the Greek islands.

Sun drenched beaches, friendly tavernas, Mythos and ouzo, I knew immediately that I would take up the offer but at first I was slightly wary of committing to a holiday with two girls addicted to the internet and who sleep with their mobile phones but I have always wanted to be more imaginative about my holidays and to take control and make my own arrangements rather than rely upon a holiday rep from Thomsons or Airtours and those tedious welcome meetings that seem to go on for ever in a dingy hotel lounge when all you want to do is get outside in the sun.

So the chance to do things my way was a real opportunity and I signed up.

Preparation involved booking the flights and finding suitable hotels on line. This, I later had to concede, turned out to be a bit of a cheat because proper back-packers, I am told, take their lodgings chances when arriving in port, but I just wanted to be certain of a basic level of accommodation.  I am fifty-two years old and have certain standards to maintain! I wanted Olympic size swimming pools, air conditioning as fresh as the mountain air and at the very least a minimum standard of bathroom facility!

Packing the rucksack was quite a challenge! There wasn’t a lot of room in there and it took a number of clothing/essentials trial runs before I achieved the perfect combination of items. I needed my snorkel and essential bathroom items and some books of course and after that I had room for some clothes. It was like doing the hokey-cokey, in, out, in, out and shake it all about until I got it right.

Like most people I always take too many clothes on holiday, that extra pair of shorts, another shirt just in case, and usually some items just go for the ride there and back, this time I was sure I had got it about right but for some unexplained reason I took some socks along for the trip. I didn’t wear them of course because all I had for foot attire was two pairs of sandals including my famous gladiators.

I have had the gladiator sandals since 1999 when we went to Rhodes and they have accompanied me abroad on every single beach holiday since. They are showing signs of wear and were not expected to see through this adventure. I have made it my mission to see how long I can keep make them last. I could have gone English of course and worn the socks but I don’t think the girls would have allowed such a sartorial transgression.

Footnote (please excuse the pun):

The Gladiators made it through the holiday and lasted another two years when an important part of the shoe infrastructure failed (one of the straps snapped) and they had to be thrown away soon after.

Greek Islands, Koufonisia – Beaches and Silent Relationships

Each time we travel to Greece for the island hopping holiday we have to make room in the itinerary for a day or two of beaches and by the second day in Koufonisia it was clear that this year this was it.

It was another fine morning and today the restless wind had blown itself away and as we ate breakfast on the balcony the temperature was already beginning to rise.  We planned a walk along the beaches this morning but before that I had to satisfy my Skopelitis ferry obsession and go along to the ferry booking office for a news update.

The news was terminal and immediately brought my obsession to a shuddering standstill.  The Skopelitis had not regained its operating license and would not be sailing the next day.  This was a shame because despite its dodgy reputation we had been looking forward to taking a ride on the old ferry especially because we nearly used it in 2008 but on that occasion managed to miss its departure from Naxos due to a misunderstanding on my part about the exact location on the harbour side.  Now it seems its days are numbered and we will never enjoy the experience of what is generally reckoned to be one of the worst ferries operating in the Aegean.  The good news was that there was an alternative boat which in theory would still make our connection in Naxos (tight, but with a few minutes to spare) and we could get a refund on our Skopelitis tickets.

Walking north from the village there was an almost continuous string of beaches like a rope of sand holding the island in place, a golden halo of wide open shore line punctuated with rocky coves and private sheltered spots and we walked along them from one to another until we found one that suited us where the ragged sand was the colour of a lion’s mane and where the water looked perfect for swimming.  The sea was clear  and the sunlight on the surface created leopard skin patterns in the wave wrinkled sand as we waded out into the vivid water, turquoise at first turning to violet and then almost mauve the further out into the distance and quite unlike any sea colour that I can recall elsewhere.

The swim was refreshing and cooled us down and after we stayed on the beach just long enough to dry off before resuming our coastal stroll.  We walked across family beaches where people had picked their favourite spots and were planning to stay for the day and a hippie beach where untidy looking people were living in makeshift bivouacs in the trees at the fringe of the beach next to the road where they were probably planning to spend the rest of their lives and then we stumbled across the nudist beach where naturists were shamelessly stretched out tanning parts of their bodies where the sun doesn’t usually shine and we dropped our walking pace to a crawl so that we could take in the sights and snigger.

Out of sight of the beach we found our own private rocky headland and made our way out as far as we could and did our own spot of shameless naked sunbathing before boredom set in and we made ourselves decent and made our way back the way that we had come stopping again at the seafood restaurant for a rest, a bit of shade and a Mythos.

We returned to the apartment and although it was now early afternoon a young French couple in the room next door were only just beginning to show signs of life.  They were like a couple of characters from a French movie – silent, quiet, moody and almost completely non-communicative as each did their own thing, he drinking endless cups of coffee and smoking his way through a packet of cigarettes, blowing smoke rings and contemplating the resulting shapes and she permanently connected to the internet through her laptop or staring blankly at her mobile phone.

Everyday there was a washing line full of clean clothes with what I for one thought included an abnormal amount of socks!  I am not against washing on holiday, I quite like the smell of Tide, but it seems such a waste of time to be carrying out chores normally associated with home.  My advice is to take two pairs of pants, wear the first pair for four days and then turn them inside out for another four and then put them in a dirty bag in the bottom of the backpack and repeat with the second pair!

There was enough material here for a complete Luc Besson trilogy, here was the first – ‘La Vacance de la Introvertis’ to be followed up I suggest with ‘La Maison de la Introvertis’ and finally ‘Le Jardin de la introvertis’. It’s sure to be a winner!

We spent the afternoon on the terrace and later I went to buy the ferry tickets at the office where a Canadian lady was trying to negotiate an exchange on the basis that yesterday she had to abandon her journey from Amorgos to Naxos on account of the high winds and rough seas which had made everyone on board the Seajet unwell and unable to continue she had made an unscheduled stop on Koufonisia.  She explained to me in graphic technicolour detail just how bad it was and I was alarmed to see that when I purchased our tickets I was handed vouchers for the very same vessel.

The day slid effortlessly into evening and we had a final walk around the village on our way to a restaurant that we had spotted earlier in the day where we liked the look of the menu.  It was back towards the beaches and from the outside it looked small but inside it opened up onto a wide first storey terrace that overlooked the sparkling sea that reflected the moonbeams and we had an excellent fish meal to finish our final night on Koufonisia.

If the ferry timings worked according to schedule tomorrow we would be moving on to Ios, one of our favourite islands.

Greek Islands, Koufonisia and the Search For The Meaning of Life

It must have been a rough night, weather wise, because the ferry quay was awash as waves slapped against the harbour side and we had to negotiate deep puddles of sea water to get to the car park to meet the owner of the Villa Maria Vekri for the transport to our apartment and as we drove past the beach we could see that it had had a bit of an overnight battering as well!

As it was so early and the previous guests had only just checked out we had to wait a short while for the room to be prepared but it didn’t take very long and soon we were shown to our ground floor apartment.  It was a very reasonably priced room and I soon understood why – we hadn’t paid the optional extra for a mattress on the bed and instead there was what felt like a slab of concrete where something soft should have been!

Actually, I am being unfair, it was very nice, no air conditioning but a ceiling fan instead with huge rotor blades that shook alarmingly and looked as though they had been salvaged from an army surplus Chinook helicopter.

At this early hour Koufonisia was desperately quiet, the mini-markets weren’t yet open so we had to go a bakery for a cup of tea and as we watched the inactivity and began to understand why everyone seemed to be in a rush to leave this morning and we began to wonder if we should have bypassed the island after all and continued straight on to Ios.

After breakfast we walked around the village but took care to do it slowly in case we exhausted everything there was to see and do too quickly.  We followed the coastal road past a derelict windmill and alongside the fishing harbour and on the way back to the Maria Vekri found the ferry booking office where there was still no news of the Skopelitis.

On the terrace of the room by late morning there were pizza oven temperatures and you could fry an egg on the patio table but there was also a battering ram wind that rattled through the garden and rearranged the furniture as it passed through and after deciding to spend the morning there I went to the shop for supplies.

Just as in Katapola the storekeepers pulled the short change trick but I was ready for it now.  The bill came to €8.55 and I handed over a €10 note and it was obvious that there should have been a rattle of loose change in the palm of my hand but all that was given back was a solitary 50c coin which looked lonely sitting there all by itself.  When I pointed this out there was no apology offered just a barely discernible little smile at the corners of the mouth which seemed to say ‘ok, you caught me this time, but I’ll get you later – come back and see me again when you have drunk those four cans of Mythos’.

After a couple of hours it was time to explore again so we backed our bags and made for the village beach and next to a crescent ribbon of caramel sand went for a swim to cool down in a translucent turquoise sea, quite different to the blue of Amorgos.  Not being that fond of beaches we didn’t stay long but left and walked along the coast and had lunch at a seafood restaurant before returning to the room.

To be honest, Koufonisia had been a bit of a shock earlier but seven o’clock in the morning is not the best time to make an assessment and we have learned not to make hasty judgements and by mid afternoon we were beginning to understand the appeal of the place.  Of all the islands that we have visited it reminded me most of Kimolos, a small island next to Milos and bypassed by the modern world.  Laid back, almost to the horizontal, this was clearly a place that was good for getting away from it all and for walking and swimming and laying on the beach and although we are not especially passionate about any of these activities we knew that we would be doing all of these over the next couple of days.

This was a place to relax, tranquil and slow, perfect for recovering from a nervous breakdown or contemplating the meaning of life and other serious matters; why women are hopeless at supermarket check-outs, how did the Trojans fall for that Wooden Horse Trick and just if moths only come out after dark why do they always fly to the light?  Here, I thought, I might find the answer to something that has always troubled me – how can I be sure that the little light in the fridge has gone off when I shut the door?  There was certainly time to give it full consideration without distraction.

In the evening we walked to the fishing harbour for the inevitable sunset pictures and after it turned dark we selected a taverna with brightly coloured tables and chairs and enjoyed a good meal, while, unbeknown to us at this time, the island’s mosquitoes nibbled away at the flesh in between the sandal straps on our bare feet and gorged themselves on the contents of our veins in exactly the same way that we enjoyed our evening meal.

Greek Islands, Katapola and the Chora (Amorgos)

“I would stare out the window at these telephone wires and think, how civilisation had caught up with me and I wasn’t going to be able to escape after all. I wasn’t going to be able to live this eleventh-century life that I had thought I had found for myself.” – Leonard Cohen

Katapola was tranquil, peaceful and perfect and at this precise time might possibly have been the most wonderful place on earth and we looked forward to our three days of perfection because apart from concrete, mobile phones and air conditioning this place probably hasn’t changed a great deal in a thousand years.

We were surprised to see the Express Skopelitis ferry in the harbour because it was supposed to be sailing today and later someone told us that it had a problem with its certificate of seaworthiness and had lost its licence to operate.  To make matters worse another ferry had failed to turn up and there was a lot of activity at the ferry booking office where the clerk was patiently trying to rearrange people’s disrupted travel itineraries.

I mention this because in five day’s time we were due to sail on the Express Skopelitis ourselves and I began to wonder if we might have a problem but then Kim reminded me that five days is a long time in Greece so for the time being we thought no more about it.

First we walked around the rather untidy beach and collected more debris and Kim was by now so enthusiastic about the project I had to insist that she show some restraint because the she was collecting far more than we could ever realistically take back home in our luggage if we were to take our clothes back with us as well.

The stroll took us around to the northern side of the bay and after we had walked through the streets and alleys we stopped for refreshment in the shade and agreed that for the remainder of the afternoon we would take a bus back to the Chora on the way back to the top of the mountain.

The Chora cannot be seen from the sea or from the harbour and this is where, in the past,  Amorgans lived, safe from the sea and from hostile attack.  From the outside it doesn’t look especially promising but once inside the walls of the town it is a different matter altogether.  The town turns in on itself in an introspective sort of way and inside there were narrow shady streets and lots of traditional cafés and tavernas.

It was a lazy place where time goes by slowly and no one is in a particular hurry about anything.  If this was Naxos or Ios the Chora would have been teeming with shops and fast food places but this was a local town for local people and completely unspoilt by the retinue of tourist shops that can be found on more popular islands.

We explored the streets and in a very stiff breeze climbed to the very top to the redundant windmills that overlook the town and the Venetian castle that is built on top of a rocky outcrop that soars above it and its mass of dazzling white buildings.

Descending through the mazy streets and alleys there was time for a drink in the main square where old locals were beginning to gather for an end of day chat.  I wondered where all the young people were and I think answered my own question – Athens probably.

There was a noticeable absence of English travellers but by contrast there were a lot of French people on Amorgos because this island was one of the locations for the Luc Besson film ‘Le Grande Bleu’ which the French rave about but which turns out to be one of those hard to understand surrealist French non-event movies that goes around in ever decreasing self indulgent circles until it finally disappears up its own aperture.

After we had taken the bus back and returned to the village we found a dusty mini-market because we wanted to buy some wine.  It was surprisingly expensive and the information on the labels hard to interpret but at the back of the shop a French couple were passing judgement on a home-made red poured from a plastic bottle.  They declared it to be acceptable so we agreed that if it was good enough for them then it would be perfect for us so based on this Gallic recommendation we purchased a bottle and took it back to the room and sat on the balcony for a couple of hours and sorted through the driftwood in a sort of quality control process.

We waited now until nearly sunset time and then as the sun began to dip, the hills turn purple and the valleys flood with shadows we took a walk along the southern shore of the harbour, past an inevitable white church and an unnamed statue where Kim captured more stunning sunset pictures and then we strolled back to the village stopping in again at the ferry booking office for information.  The clerk had clearly had a stressful day and wasn’t inclined to be too helpful but we gathered that she didn’t like the Skopelitis very much on account of the fact that it is heavily subsidised by the Greek government and she seemed to resent that.  We decided to leave and return tomorrow when hopefully a good night’s sleep might have improved her demeanour.

We had been looking forward to eating at a taverna called ‘The Corner’ (for no other reason it seems than it is indeed on a corner) but the danger with going back to somewhere that you have been before and enjoyed is that it may not live up to expectations and unfortunately this was one of those occasions.

It was a family run place and waiting on the tables were a couple of young children, clearly their parents were oblivious to presidential decree No. 62/1998, which sets the minimum age for admission to employment, including children in family businesses, at 15 years.  After the meal we visited the bakery to buy some calorie packed baklava to end the day and there was a young boy working there as well who served us with expert precision and we took the sticky purchase back to the hotel where we ate it on the balcony and washed it down with a final glass of local red wine from the plastic bottle.

Greek Islands, 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!  At every turn I hoped the village would get closer but around every turn was another expanse of steps and another receding view of the whitewashed houses and every plodding step brought yet more complaints!

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!