Free today - Kalo Taxidi: my Kindle book about my travels in Greece

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Taxidi-Notes-Greece-Greek-Islands-ebook/dp/B005CQ5WYQ

I wanted to download a copy of my own book, so i made it free for a day :-)

Kalo Taxidi - the sequel. Dorniers

I published my book "Kalo Taxidi - Notes from Greece and the Greek islands in July 2011. I am now working on my next book about Greece, and adding some extracts to my blog.

Naxos airport opened in 1992.  It is many years sicne I flew on one of the old Dorniers.

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Dorniers
　
In some ways ferry travel is one of the pleasures of travel in Greece: lazing on a sunny deck watching islands float by; getting up to watch the frenzy of activity at a port of call; then lazing again. In practice, ferry travel is not always idyllic. The sun does not always shine in Greece; sometimes the seas are rough. Ferries can be crowded. Back in the early 1990s, ferries were not as comfortable as they are today. Therefore, when Naxos airport opened in 1992, we were keen to sample the pleasures of air travel. I had know that the airport was being built and anticipated its opening with mixed feelings. Would fast travel mean that the island would become more touristy/ Certainly tourism has developed on Naxos since the early 1990s, but this can only be in very small part down to the airport. Most of the planes using the airport in the early days were 18 seat Dorniers. Some days a 50 seater was used. By the late 1990s the airport had been enlarged to take bigger planes (usually around 50 seats). However the numbers coming to Naxos by plane are very small when compared to those coming by ferry. But back to those Dorniers. You can still fly on Dorniers to some islands with small airports.

The aeroplanes are small, twin-engined, propeller- driven Dorniers. The planes are unpressurised, so that cloud sometimes seeps into the cabin. . Do not think that the planes are basic. They have a huge range of controls. Sitting behind the pilot (as one does, and the curtain dividing the passenger area from the cockpit is usually left open) you can see them all! I suspect that Dornier pilots need to be more skilled than those flying the larger planes are.

On our first flight from Naxos airport there was a minimum of formality (the airport has now been enlarged slightly, but not much Just before we were due to leave a police car arrived. The policeman got out a truncheon shaped detector, checked hand luggage, and drove off. The tiny terminal building then had about a dozen seats. The airport fire engine was a 1950-60ish machine - which looked as though it had been supplied by the local vintage vehicle club!

The seats are all singles except for one or two at the back; so most people get a window seat. The plane was unpressurised and cloud crept in through the emergency exit behind my seat. The views were excellent. The journey was very smooth apart from a bit of turbulence as we came round a mountain on the way into Athens. Baggage collection at Athens was very efficient. The little truckload of bags arrived before we did!
The problem with internal flights is that being so small the planes are often full. It is fine to book a ticket from Athens to your chosen island in advance, and to book your return ticket in advance if you know for sure which island you want to travel from. If you are island hopping, you can never be sure which island you will end up on. You can get to Athens by ferry more easily than you can get say from Anaphi to Naxos, so I do not usually book a return flight in advance. I have flown on internal flights a few times since; but usually the flights are all full.
　

Kalo Taxidi - the Sequel. Approaching Donoussa on the old Skopelitis

I published my book "Kalo Taxidi - Notes from Greece and the Greek islands in July 2011. I am now working on my next book about Greece, and adding some extracts to my blog.

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APPROACHING DONOUSSA (1990s)

At Donoussa, larger ferries use the new harbour. The Skopelitis uses the older, smaller harbour nearer to the centre of the village. The Skopelitis no doubt continued to use the older quay as it was more conveniently placed for deliveries, especially in the days when there was even less in the way of wheeled transport than there is today. There is still little in the way of transport on Donoussa, but more than there was a few years ago. [Note from England: in summer 1998 the Express Skopelitis was brought into service; being larger than the old Skopelitis, she uses the new harbour. The Skopelitis I refer to here is the old, original, Skopelitis.]
On other islands the Skopelitis docks by way of her "car ramp," on the side of the ship at the back. "Car ramp" is probably too grand a word for a ramp to an area of the Skopelitis that could in theory carry two small cars. In practice, the area is so crammed full of boxes, parcels, and (especially at Easter) slaughtered lambs packaged up like mummies, that there is no room for a car.

At Donoussa, a small gate on the front deck is used for embarking and disembarking. The locals and regular travellers in these parts know this know this. Most other people see what is happening. However I have known passengers wait around at the back of the boat for the ship to dock - when the ship has docked and undocked at the front. I remember that at Donoussa one English chap was most irate about it. As the Skopelitis was pulling away from Donoussa, he kept demanding that he be returned to Donoussa, and that the Skopelitis should dock 'properly'. He was told words to the effect of "hard luck mate, we'll take you to Koufonissi and you can come back tonight." He had wanted to get off at Donoussa but he stayed on the boat. The only way back was by the same boat on the return trip. It is easy to laugh - but everyone has to learn the ropes somehow. If I had wanted to get off at Donoussa the first time I was on a ferry that called in there, I could well have missed it! I thought about my first trip to the Cyclades, when I was hovering at the ‘wrong’ end of the Panagia Tinou waiting for her to dock, without realising that the other end of the ship was tied up to the harbour. At least that chap knew that the island was Donoussa. The islands do not have name plates like railway stations, and often novices have no idea where they are. One young girl asked me once as we approached Katapola "The boat, does she go on to Chora!" For those who do not know, Chora is inland and uphill.

It is easy to laugh... But... At Naxos, the Skopelitis usually docks at the small boat harbour. Once when I was waiting to catch a fast boat at 3.15 (I hang my head in shame, the Skopelitis left at 3) the Skopelitis was moored in the big boats quay. Confusing. I never discovered why, and if I had wanted to catch her, I might have waited in vain at the wrong quay. I kept my head down - as I felt like a traitor not going on the local boat - but arriving at 5.30 instead of about 10.30 is quite an advantage.
　

Kalo Taxidi - the sequel. A Final Encounter With An Andros Bus (late 1990s)

I published my book "Kalo Taxidi - Notes from Greece and the Greek islands in July 2011. I am now working on my next book about Greece, and adding some extracts to my blog.

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A Final Encounter With An Andros Bus (late 1990s)

8 a.m. Went to bus station to check the day’s timetable. Blow! Today's drivers’ schedule has a 7.10 to Gavrion, the composite an 8.45. I checked last night but yesterday's drivers’ schedule was still up and the office was shut so I could not ask. I will go down for the 8.45 and hope it runs. I wondered what a taxi to Gavrion would cost. I would be happy to stay here in Andros until the end of the holiday, but having taken the decision to leave, packed up, etc., I want to go. A taxi cannot be more than 5000dr, can it? If I had known there was no 8.45 bus today, but say, one tomorrow I would have been happy leaving tomorrow. Much as I have enjoyed Andros as I am all packed up, I want somewhere to go to! In a way, it is like going home. I enjoy my travels, but find the journey home tedious. If a magic carpet (Greek, not Turkish) could whisk me from my hotel in Greece to home, I would be more than happy to miss out the intermediate slow journey. I feel more impatient on a plane home than I do say on the oh so slow Skopelitis.

I bought a cheese pie for breakfast on the way back from the bus station. My view of Greek youth has changed. Two Greek youths came in the cheese pie shop after me and shouted out their order as soon as the prop. came through from the back room. I looked pointedly at my watch when the prop's back was turned as he was getting the lads' cheese pies out of the oven. I hope they felt suitably chastened. I wanted the youths to see me looking at my watch, not the prop. – the prop. was not at fault, as he did not see who came in first.I thought of the pleasure of buying hot bread (or cheese pies) from the bakery. English supermarkets now sell hot bread. A cynic like me suspects the supermarket bread is imported from elsewhere and ‘finished off’ at the supermarket. I also wonder if supermarkets have an aerosol of ‘fresh bread’ fragrance that they squirt around the shop. The bread on the shelves is cold or cooling, but the shoppers ignore it, waiting to pounce on hot bread as soon as it lands on the shelves. By the time they have queued to get through the checkout the bread will be cold, never mind when they get home. What is the fascination of hot bread? A primordial instinct. Does the fact that a woman has touched the bread when hot make her feel maternal and / or possessory towards it?I went to the bus stop for the 8.45. A number of other people were waiting including the Swedes I had met earlier. The bus was running (heave a sigh of relief). A group of French walkers (the fish-lovers) arrived with metal sticks, the full works. They were equipped to climb Mont Blanc, not go for a walk in Andros. Two of the group had got lost, and the rest insisted that the bus wait until they turned up. They had a huge wad of maps and notes each, yet could not find Chora bus station! We waited and left late - I almost missed the ferry! In Messaria a taxi reversed to let bus through. I wondered if the meter went backwards when the taxi reversed? There were plenty of seats in the bus, yet someone (Greek) chose to sit in the courier’s seat, and had to stand up each time someone wanted to get on or off the bus which delayed the bus even more. Would we reach Gavrion in time for the ferry? I should have guessed that I would not leave Andros without a last session of fun and games on the buses. The bus pulled up at Stavropeda. Another bus was parked nearby. The other bus was pointing towards Gavrion. Our bus was pointing towards Korthi. Alarm bells started to ring in my head. There was no 8.45 bus to Gavrion on the driver’s schedule. I am on the Korthi bus. I asked, yes, this is the Korthi bus. I quickly explained this to the Swedes (the French had already got off) and we went across to the Gavrion bus. We set off to Gavrion. That was not quite the end of the saga…………….. I soon became aware of a bus charging along behind us. A race? No, the Korthi bus was racing to overtake the Gavrion bus. Both buses stopped. A sheepish looking passenger (Greek!) got off the Korthi bus and came onto the Gavrion bus. Even Greeks find Andros buses confusing! I had my eye on my watch. The boat was due. We approached Gavrion; she had not yet arrived. I dashed into a ticket office. As I emerged, with wet ink on my ticket, the ferry was coming into the harbour.

Kalo Taxidi - the Sequel - And more on Andros Buses

I published my book "Kalo Taxidi - Notes from Greece and the Greek islands in July 2011. I am now working on my next book about Greece, and adding some extracts to my blog.

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And more on Andros Buses  (late 1990s)

Not only is there a composite bus timetable and a daily list that differs. The daily list lists all the buses by number. Some are 'off' on each day and each bus is allocated a driver. In addition, drivers are shown as switching buses. The mind boggles. The bus shown as going to Strapouries and Apikia...does it double back? I think there had been some new roads built that were not shown on my map. Even after bussing and walking in the area, I found it difficult to get my bearings. The bus to Stenies is at 13.50. When does it return? The bus goes to Syneti next, so it must return to Chora. It was difficult to understand the timetable after a week in Andros, when some of the abbreviations were recognisable to me as the names of villages. Imagine the depth of my confusion when I first arrived. I must learn to say in Greek "may I have a copy of the timetable for the week, please." Not that such a publication, if it existed, would be a practical proposition in Andros – the timetable would rival the bi-annual British railway timetable in size!

I decided to catch the 12.30 bus to Apikia. The buses have MANOUSSIS TOURS written on them. I think that is the name of the coffee roasting grocer’s shop. Just seen that the nice old boy who has been saying 'yassou' to me is the prop. of that shop. Strange, after all these trips to Greece, I still do not know which are the most common Greek surnames, the Greek Smith and the Greek Jones. A chap has just put the usual sized blue carrier bag containing one pair of trainers into the boot of the next bus. Why - do the trainers smell? I thought of the time when I hired a car in Crete with Graciela, an Argentinian lady (hello, Graciela!). Graciela soon insisted that I buy a pair of lightweight shoes. Graciela did not relish the prospect of sitting in a car next to my trainer-clad feet. Since then, I have learnt to avoid plastic trainers……………..

The bus engine has been running for 10 minutes. It was an old bus. There were a lot of fumes; it smelt as if the exhaust fumes were coming into the bus. Why was the engine left running? The driver eventually switched off the engine. The conductor walked through the bus and opened the windows. Now 12.40. Engine turned off. There is an ‘empty’ sort of sound when the driver seems to try to start bus. I think the battery was flat! We were given a push start! I am glad the engine did not stall on the hills as there was only me, the driver, the conductor, and one other passenger for the last part of the journey.

Three sweet girls aged about five got on the bus. I think they got on with their teacher (who did not travel on the bus) and the bus conductor 'mothered' them. The girls got off at different stops. One girl had a mass of blondish curly hair that the teacher kept stroking and admiring. At first, I thought that she was their mother. I thought of an incident in Lincoln, on the bus from Louth. A girl on the bus (probably in her late teens) had vivid auburn hair; an old chap said to her 'excuse me miss - but is that the real colour of your hair?' The young girl graciously did not thump him for his impudence and said that yes, it was the natural colour of her hair.

There were no further problems with the bus. The bus ride was spectacular. A far better 200 dr. worth than the trip to Messaria. As the bus wound up above the harbour, we passed a taverna, a pleasant old-fashioned looking taverna with a sea view. I made a mental note to call in there on the way back. (I am writing about the walk in the café next door, larger and with less character. The quaint looking taverna was shut when I got back). At the taverna I saw a number of tourists, red-faced and drinking. (That sounds ambiguous, I mean that they were red from exertion, not drinking!) As the bus went uphill, we passed sweaty hikers coming down. (Sweaty? Could I see sweat? Could I smell sweat?) Were there more of them and the red-faced drinkers than eight? There certainly seemed to be. I assume those that were sitting down were the quickest walkers! There must have been 30 or so hikers. It cannot just have been the French eight who abandoned the Akti as it had no fish. I hoped that the drinkers were not going to drink the taverna dry. Leave some beer for me!

The bus was timetabled to go to Strapouries and Apikia. The map shows Strapouries as a dead end, and Apikia on a road above. The bus went along a splendid road. If anything, Strapouries was even better situated than Apikia. Apikia is higher, but the view of Chora was obstructed by a ridge. We went up to Strapouries and to me we seemed to go far beyond that. I thought a new road had been built since the map was drawn and went from Strapouries to Apikia. Had we reached the end of the route? I did not want the bus to go back downhill with me on board. No. The conductor said, "wait." We retraced our route half way back to Chora (and a reprise of the splendid views) and up the Apikia turn that I had seen on the way up.

Kalo Taxidi - the sequel. Andros buses (late 1990s)

I published my book "Kalo Taxidi - Notes from Greece and the Greek islands in July 2011. I am now working on my next book about Greece, and adding some extracts to my blog.

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Andros buses (late 1990s)
　
Somewhere in Greece there must be a degree course on devising the Andros bus timetable! Each day there was a new hand-written schedule of the movements of drivers' and buses, that never tallied exactly with the other two timetables showing daily fixed departure times from Andros Chora to Batsi and Gavrion, and the other timetable showing a list of departures arranged by destination. What actually ran seemed to be something else again. Never before have I had to change bus in pitch dark on a deserted road, or seen even Greek passengers on the wrong bus, and a bus hurtling through the mountains after the bus that got away
To go back to the beginning, to my arrival at Gavrion, the port of Andros. I arrived in torrential rain. When it rains in Greece it reallyrains. There are no half measures. The rain in Gavrion was serious rain, and closely followed my wetter than wet experiences in Paros and Anti Paros. A leaking hotel roof, a collapsed building nearby, need I say more?

I had read that all ferries arriving at Andros were met by a Chora-bound bus, and I had not thought to question this advice. There were buses parked near the harbour. After all, Andros is a big island, and you would expect to find a good bus service.

How wrong I was, for I was about to be introduced to the mysteries of the Andros bus timetable. A man was sitting in the driver's seat of one of the buses. I asked him (in my best Greek) what time the bus left for Chora. "Epta," he said. I thought I had misheard.

"Epta." I counted on my fingers and reached seven. Seven? But it was only just after half past three. Surely, there was a bus before seven o'clock. I showed Mr Bus seven fingers, being careful not to produce anything that could be interpreted as a rude gesture. "Ne. Epta."

I went away and looked in my dictionary, knowing my numerical inadequacies in Greek. Yes, "epta" did mean seven. . No, 'epta' had no other meaning. Useful to know when I next wanted to buy a 7 star Metaxa. Not that useful to know when I wanted to catch a bus at half past three.. I went back to double check with Mr. Bus. He looked bored and said "epta" again. I wished my Greek had been good enough to ask why he was sitting in the driver's seat at 15.35 when the bus did not leave until 19.00. As far as I knew, the only bus route from the port of Gavrion went to Batsi and on to Chora. What was Mr Bus doing sitting in a bus that would not move for three and a half hours? Had he nothing better to do? Where was the bus going? All the time the rain was tipping down. This was my first introduction to the mysteries of the Andros bus timetable. Mr Bus looked bored. No wonder he looked bored if his task was to sit in the bus until 7 o'clock. How many Amstels could I drink by 7 o'clock? It would by then be dark. I would see nothing of the Andros countryside. A pity.

Things were happening; Gavrion was springing to life. At about a quarter to five the Superferry came in and two buses pulled up. There were now three buses at Gavrion. Surely, one of them would go to Chora before seven o'clock. Where else was there for buses to go to but Chora? One of the buses had a 'Bakoni' label stuck to the windscreen. 'Bakoni' sounded like a holiday company. The other bus had a 'Korthoi' sign. Korthi was the village beyond Chora I planned to visit. I went up to this bus - Mr Bus was sitting in the driver's seat. He said 'just a minute'. I brought my big rucksack across. I was getting somewhere, or so I thought until Mr Bus got into a taxi and drove off. Blow this, I thought - and asked another taxi driver the fare to Batsi.
　
And so I arrived in Batsi by taxi. Batsi is a few miles along the coast from Gavrion, the main holiday resort on the island and , importantly for me, on the bus route to Chora. Or at least, I thought that Batsi was on the bus route to Chora, but I am getting ahead of myself.

In Batsi I saw a bus timetable and wrote down the times. Those times must have been for the peak season only, for the 16.30 and 18.30 buses to Chora were not running. When travelling out of season in Greece it is annoying to find these seductive signs offering peak season treats such as plentiful buses and food in out of the way places. Often I have, hungry and thirsty, followed a sign to a taverna only to find the place bolted and barred. But I digress. I wondered later if there would have been an earlier bus if I had changed at Stavropeda but that is anticipating. On arrival, I had never heard of Stavropeda junction, the Crewe, or Clapham Junction of the Andros bus service. Somewhere I read that Stavropeda means junction. A place name with a meaning (as I suppose most of them do) like Karavostasis means boat stop.

The 19.00 met up with the boat from Rafina. The Andros bus timetable did not recognise the existence of the Haroula the vessel on which I had arrived. The Haroula was Rafina bound (I had caught her on Paros).
The shopkeeper in whose shop the timetable was posted saw me and said "Chora. Epta." Judging by the infrequency of the buses Andros seems to be an island of locals with cars and package tourists (who are driven from boat to rooms and sent on trips to line couriers’ pockets).

I lingered in a taverna waiting for the ‘epta’. Determined not to miss the long awaited bus I was out of the taverna by half past six. I sat on a seat near the bus stop, scanning the hills across the bay for signs of a bus. The rain had by now stopped. It was gradually getting dark. Seven o'clock arrived and there was still no sign of a bus. It was now impossible to tell if the lights descending the hill opposite belonged to a bus or a lorry, so I went across to the bus stop, or rather bus stopping place, for this was a patch of tarmac between the sea and the road, mostly filled with parked cars. I arranged myself and my luggage as best I could and waited. And waited. I began to think that after all my economy in waiting for the bus I would have to catch a taxi after all. No doubt, the taxi fare from Gavrion to Chora would be less than the fares combined from Gavrion to Batsi and Batsi to Gavrion. Oh, why had I been so miserly and not gone all the way to Chora by bus. I did not even know if I would like Chora when I got there. Of Gavrion and Batsi I preferred Batsi and might come back to stay for a few days later. After all this hanging around waiting to get to Chora I might get there only to find that I preferred Batsi.

I had been watching the darkening bay for the bus, then I saw two, and looked out for the third thinking that buses the whole wide world over travelled in packs of three like those in London reputedly do. One bus was on the coast road, the other on an uphill road. I assumed the uphill bus was taking tourists to the huge stepped monstrosity covering half a hillside on the Gavrion side of Batsi. Things were moving. I was about to be moving. At last.

At 19.20, a bus arrived in Batsi. I saw that it was labelled "Korthi", so I assumed that Korthi was reached via Chora and hopped on board. Niggling at the back of my mind was the thought that I had seen a 'Korthi' bus leave Gavrion hours before.......... The conductress asked me where I was going. "Chora," I said. I noticed that the conductress told the driver where I was going, but I thought no more of it. We drove for a few minutes, and then the bus pulled up. Were we at a bus stop? It did not seem to be a bus stop.

The Korthi bus had stopped just outside Batsi, and the conductress gestured me to get off. I emerged, visualising myself stranded with no luggage on a deserted hillside. What was going on? I was being initiated into the mysteries and intricacies of the Andros bus system. On the road ahead, another bus loomed out of the darkness. "Bus for Chora" said the conductress. The other bus waited for me and I caught it OK, thank you for your concern. After four hours of waiting for it, I was not going to miss it. Why two buses - neither of them full. One could have done the journey to the junction of the Chora and Korthi roads and then changed. Thinking about it afterwards, the main road goes above Batsi, not down to the harbour. One bus must have done the uphill route, and the other the downhill route. Going to Chora, I drew the short straw.

Certainly puzzling. I suppose some people wanted dropping off at the top of Batsi, and others down below, and both bus drivers did not want to do both routes. I had learnt that on an Andriot bus a passenger does not sit back, relax, and watch the scenery (or what passes for scenery in the pitch dark), he has to keep alert for little quirks in the timetable such as this.
　
　
　
　
　
　



Kalo Taxidi - Antiparos 1996

Antiparos 1996
On Poseidon Express 2 as usual I strolled around the ship to do some ship archaeology. I did not manage to discover whilst on board what she used to be, but now know that she was formerly the Dimitrios Express. One helpful young passenger, on seeing me trotting around, told me where she thought the reception was. I thanked her and said that I was just exploring. I stopped myself just in time from using the Turkish word arastirma.

It was not only the Ariadne that had Lincolnshire connections. On the Poseidon Express 2 I saw life raft tubs with "CoSalt" on them, and names of various towns and cities in Britain including Grimsby. I wondered at the time if she could be the sister ship of the old Tor Hollandia, the Tor Anglia - I had travelled across the North Sea in the late 1960s on both the Tor Line ships.

The poor old Poseidon Express (not called the Poseidon Express 1 as when she was afloat she had been the only Poseidon Express) had gone from Paros harbour - she had sunk after a collision, and the once splendid ship was a sorry site lying on her side. Luckily the ship was the only serious casualty in the collision.

I stayed on Paros harbour waving to a friend (who was travelling on to Piraeus) for so long that by the time I had left most of the room touts had gone. The port officials had kept the room touts well back from the embarkation and disembarkation area. A few years earlier I had wanted to go from Amorgos to Naxos, but the only convenient ferry went direct from Amorgos to Paros, missing out Naxos, so I had a few hours to spend in Paros waiting for a ferry to Naxos. Even after I had left my main luggage in a luggage store and was walking around with my smallish day bag I was pursued through the streets of Paros by room touts. This time one chap approached me in Paros, opened a folder and told me of his rooms at the other side of the island at Piso Livadi. Now I am sure that Piso Livadi is a very pleasant place (I have never landed there, only called in when the Skopelitis has had Paros on her Naxos-Amorgos itinerary) and that all its inhabitants love it dearly, but if I were to stay on Paros I would chose Paros Town. "Everywhere else is full" this persistent tout told me. Full indeed! In spring 1996 there were so few tourists in Paros that I am sure that rooms were to be had (if I had wanted one) in just about any establishment I chose. I thought of the Earnest Young German tourist on Anaphi, who had been told on landing at Sikinos that there was no accommodation in Sikinos Chora. His informant no doubt had accommodation to let in Sikinos harbour. I thought of the woman desperately trying to deter two tourists from boarding the bus up to Chora on Sikinos. Most Greeks I meet are scrupulously honest, but some room touts are not. Imagine a novice island hopper meeting this chap late at night and anxious about finding accommodation. Such a person could easily snap up this person's offer without even realising how far out of town Piso Livadi was.

I intended staying in Paros just long enough to get an idea of the onward ferry times and then catch the first bus down to Pounta, from where a ferry leaves for Anti Paros. I had read that there were buses every half hour to Pounta, and was not too concerned that a bus was just pulling out as I approached the bus station. I was happy to catch the next bus - not knowing that there would be a two hour wait. The bus stopped and the conductor jumped down from the bus and opened one of the compartments underneath for me to put my bag in. How sensible those compartments are. Afterwards I discovered that buses are only half hourly in peak season. In May they only ran every two hours.

A ferry was waiting at Pounta and left almost straight away. There were three ferries doing the run, the Agioi Anargiri, the Leukas and the Panagia Faneromene. I travelled on all three. The ferries were what I think of as a landing craft type of ferry. Larger versions of this type of vessel were (and probably still are) doing the Corfu-Igoumenitsa run. Smaller vessels (that is of the Anti Paros size or perhaps slightly bigger) do some of the routes in the Ionian. I think the Anti Paros boats were the first boats of this type that I have seen in the Aegean; probably the style is not suitable or comfortable for longer and rougher crossings. They all had a car deck with a passenger ramp around the side of the deck, and at the front cabins for passengers and an outside deck with seats. Each ferry was slightly different. Far smaller than the larger inter island ferries, they offer a quick and comfortable run to Anti Paros - if they link up with a bus. The journey took less than ten minutes. Hardly had we left Paros behind than Anti Paros loomed ahead.

My first impression was of a very low and flat island, at first sight a little like Koufonissi. As usual I was itching to start exploring this new-to-me island, but first things first. I needed somewhere to stay. I walked along the harbour and saw an old fashioned looking taverna with an outside terrace shaded by trees, and with a number of cats walking expectantly between the tables. I sat down and ordered an Amstel. When I arrive on an island I often head for a bar and order a drink, then leave my luggage at the bar whilst going to find accommodation. Here I had not realised that I had dropped in on a hotel and would end up staying upstairs.

I had not been approached by a single room tout as I walked from the ferry to the taverna. The islanders on Anti Paros (compared with those on Paros itself) are not very thrusting types except as regards rooms. They are not really that thrusting as regards rooms. I sat down on the terrace of the taverna, a very pleasant place in a battered old world sort of way, shaded by trees. Other people were eating lunch. With hindsight it is a pity I did not eat there then, as it was the only chance I had. Now I know that service is rarely very prompt in Greece, but after ten minutes I had not been served and was feeling thirsty, so I went inside and asked the woman on the till for an Amstel. I took the glass and bottle outside to my table myself (I usually do not do this until I am known or am ordering my second glass).

The Proprietoress came out to clear some tables, saw my large rucksack, and said "room?" I shrugged my shoulders and tried to indicate that I was just looking round. Again the woman came out "Room. Bath. 2000dr." After her first approach, when I had not even realised that the taverna had rooms (I thought that the rooms she was offering were somewhere else in the village) - I strolled round and looked upward and saw I was drinking Amstel at the Hotel Anti Paros which was shown on my map as a D class hotel. Hotel classifications, now they bring to mind one of my early visits to Greece. I was looking for a hotel in Ioannina and had found a place that looked decent enough from the outside, but it was class "gamma". I knew that hotels in Greece were classed from A to E, but gamma was G. I had read that in bigger cities even E class hotels can be rough (in smaller places they are usually fine) what on earth, or what in Greece, was a G class hotel like? I stayed in the G class hotel nonetheless and it eventually dawned on me that gamma is the third letter in the Greek alphabet. My supposedly G class hotel was a C class hotel. Now I had mentally marked this D class hotel in Anti Paros, the Hotel Anti Paros, as a place to stay. At Mrs Hotel Anti Paros's second approach I gave in! [2011 note - The "Hotel Anti Paros" was not the real name of this hotel.]

A pleasant old-fashioned hotel of faded charm. The rooms were reached by an outside staircase at the side of the taverna. My room at the front of the building had a sea view partially obscured by trees. Not that I am complaining about the trees, I love trees and they gave a pleasant rural feel to the balcony. The rooms at the back of the building had a less pleasant view, overlooking the buildings behind ((including the shut Zorba's Bar). There seemed to be only one other guest in the hotel, a chap staying in the room at the corner. My room was (as I then thought) excellent. It was in a provincial taste that I liked, and was cheap.

One of the first things I noticed was the way the floor tiles changed pattern, and a crack in the ceiling. I did some mental hotel archaeology and tried to visualise how the building had been built originally. Even in the middle of the day I noticed how dark the hallway was; the light bulb holders were innocent of light bulbs. I suspect that bulbs in rooms had "popped", and residents had whipped bulbs off the landing to put in the bedrooms. Still, I thought that whoever came up to clean (the rooms were very clean) would have noticed the lack of bulbs on the landing. The only other quibble was the lack of a table on the balcony. I made do with the second chair. I thought of the hotel I stayed at on Tilos which had a very narrow balcony. A Coca Cola crate was provided to do duty as a table. I thought of temporarily "stealing" a drink bottles crate from the taverna below but decided against it not being clued up on Greek criminal law. It would not do for an English solicitor to be charged with the theft of a Greek beer crate! Still, it was a pleasant enough place until........ I will let you wait and find out what happened a day or so later!

Installed, I set out to explore. I was not surprised to find many shops geared to tourists (including many shops geared to providing gear to tourists). Paros is so close that in season the island must be inundated with tourists. It would be unfair to say that the main street heading inland was saturated with tourism, but there was a fair amount of tourist related activity. Or rather inactivity. Being October some shops had shut for the winter, others were having closing down sales, others were having a siesta. There was a large supermarket on the harbour and smaller ones inland. The largest supermarket was much bigger than the population of Anti Paros could justify and must have relied on tourists for much of its custom. Antiparos is different to other small Greek islands, as Paros is so close. On Anaphi the shops were geared to locals. Here so many tourists (not many now) came across from Paros that the shops cater to their needs.

Later after I had visited Andros I compared the two High Streets. Andros Chora is a town; Anti Paros a village so a direct comparison cannot be made but there is so much more character in Andros. There is a much smaller percentage of places aimed at tourists in Andros (in fact hardly any).

In some books I saw Anti Paros harbour and the inland village described as separate places, but they are linked by buildings all the way up the main road. I found the layout confusing. There is a sort of cross roads in the centre of the old village, but with kinks in the roads radiating out, which I found made it difficult to see which one led back towards the harbour and my hotel. As the island is so flat at this end there was no inclination to give a clue. I was inclined to get lost. Another pirate deterrent? There is a kafeneion at this junction. The kafeneion was the one point I could easily recognise in what were then to me a mass of apparently identical streets. I kept going back to the centre and past the kafeneion until I got my bearings. The problem was that the lane back to the harbour had a dog's leg in it - and this was the last one I thought of taking. The locals looked up as I went past the first time; by the umpteenth time they seemed amused. I was not only a tourist; I was a lost tourist. After I had walked past him, to and fro, several times one local asked if I was looking for the beach! "Bagnio?" he suggested helpfully. Yes, I was heading for the beach in a way, but the harbour where my hotel was was at a different side of the village to the beach used for swimming. I could not ask for my hotel as I was then not sure how to say (or spell in English or Greek) the real name of what I have called the "Hotel Anti Paros". Perhaps with my comings and goings the denizens of the kafeneion thought that I was training for a marathon.

When I had found my way back to the harbour (it was easy to find my way once I recognised that dog's leg) I found that, like Katapola, Anti Paros has some ducks (and geese). I saw them snoozing and sunbathing on rocks around the bay. [2011 update. Katapola still has two geese, but I haven't seen ducks for a few years.]

My balcony was a pleasant place to sit in the late afternoon. From the balcony I heard the ducks and geese quacking loudly near a fishing boat that had recently landed. I don't usually think of ducks as sea birds, but they certainly are in Greece. Kastelorizo had a flock as well. In theory sitting on the balcony reading a book and making notes about the trip (I am always doing several things at once), in practice I was constantly peering around the fronds of tree to see what was happening on the harbour. I heard an engine throbbing down below, and at first thought that it was the engine of a fishing boat. Peering through the vegetation I saw that a fuel lorry was going round the boats in the harbour, pumping their tanks full of fuel.

When I first sat down on the balcony my mind was brimming with things to note down, but after so many interruptions (not that I was complaining - it is always better to keep abreast of what is happening in the here and now than to dwell on the past), those thoughts soon dispersed. The seeds had blown before I reaped that harvest. I thought of those mini tape recorder gadgets that record 10, 20 seconds or whatever of your thoughts. Whoever has such short thoughts?

In the late afternoon there were few tourists on Anti Paros. Many left on a tourist boat at 3 o'clock. Another tourist boat came in from Paros at about 5, but it seemed that that boat was not going to return to Paros that day. The cave (the sight that most tourists come to Anti Paros to see) was only open from 11.30 to 14.00 so most visitors would have left the island at 15.00.

The food on the menu at the taverna below had looked most inviting at lunch time, typical Greek dishes. My mouth was watering at the thought of the food and the antics of the cats (I phrased that wrongly, honest, I did not mean that my mouth was watering at the thought of eating them there cats). The taverna had been closed when I got back to my room in the late afternoon. I wondered what time it would open for dinner. I waited, feeling slightly peckish. As I knew I would be eating at the hotel I had not bothered looking around for any other likely eating places. Usually when I am in a new place I mentally size up the likely looking eating establishments in daylight hours. About eight o'clock I decided that the taverna was not going to open. I had noticed that there was a "for sale" (poletai) sign in the window. That explains why the building has a generally run down air. I have noticed that there seems to be little in the way of large estate agencies in Greece. I have seen the odd estate agency, but they seem to be independent concerns. A building sometimes has a "for sale" or "to let" sign, but no details of any agency to contact. The potential purchaser is expected to apply within. One newspaper shop I regularly frequent in Naxos has had a "for sale" sign up for years, yet is still there with the same people running it. [2011 update. The newsagents I mentioned in Naxos is no more, it closed many years ago. I later noticed that I was just reading the large print on the "for sale" and "to let" signs. There is smaller handwriting under the large print, often faded in the sun (or rain) stating exactly what is for sale or to let. I had made the mistake of assuming that the establishment sporting the sticker was for sale or to let.]

Mr and Mrs Hotel Anti Paros had not, I hoped, gone too far, as they had my passport. I walked along the harbour on both sides of the hotel, half expecting to find that my hotel had opened up by the time I returned. There were other hotels that looked as if they might serve food. They would do if I found nothing else, but were not the authentic style of Greek taverna at which I had been hoping to eat. There was nothing for it but to venture up to the main inland village. I managed to get lost in the daytime. How would I fare (and would I find any fare to eat?) at night time?

There were a number of bars along the main road heading inland, but of the variety that served snacks. "Try our cold draft beer" invited one. "American style hamburger, vegetarian sandwich, chicken nuggets" advertised another. No sign of any real food. Don't they realise this is not what we (I) come to Greece for? Perhaps some people do - or else why are they on sale?

One place looked so so, but in pride of place at the top of the hand written menu was "fried mushrooms." I do not think I had come across mushrooms in Greece before, and if that was the dish of which the management was most proud, it did not augur well for the rest of the menu. I did not fancy eating there. Nearby was a place selling doner kebabs type souvlaki, that filling Greek snack. Then I found To Steki in the centre of the village, large and busy and looking authentic. As well as a biggish inside dining room there was a large canopied area outside. I do not know how I failed to see it as I came and went past this area earlier in the day. Both locals and tourists were busily tucking in to large portions of food. I joined them.

I wondered if Kimolos was busy at this time of year. The set up on Anti Paros was in many ways reminiscent of Kimolos, but communications easier, Paros easier to reach than Milos, and many boats from Paros.

I noticed a neighbour eating a plateful of triangular cheese pies, arranged together on a plate to form a semi circle, and decided to buy some at the next opportunity.

To Steki was busy when I arrived. By the time I had finished eating and lingered over my remaining wine, the taverna was full. I wondered what happened when it rained. Was that canopy overhead waterproof? Or did customers grab their food and dash indoors and stand to eat it? Or did they rush in and muck in with the inside customers? I noticed a plastic draught excluder rolled up ready for use at the side of the outdoor seating area, a visible reminder that the weather in the Cyclades is not always clement. It was breezy outside, but pleasant. An octopus was hanging up in the taverna window. My only criticism was that the taverna sold no carafe wine and Kourtaki in .375, not half litre bottles! The wine seemed to evaporate as I was eating.


On Monday I had asked at one of the travel agencies about buses to the cave, but they were only interested in selling tickets for tour buses. I had read that tour buses on Anti Paros were an expensive rip off. I did not want to be ripped off so I decided to use the local bus, but that seemed to have no fixed departure times. I gathered the driver left when enough passengers had congregated (and I suspect that one year round Greek customer was a more valuable passenger to be accommodated than a transient here one day gone the next tourist. And why not?) I hovered near the bus stop but nothing was moving. It was a long walk to the cave, and the bus was unlikely to leave soon. As the cave would not open before 11.30 there was no point in the driver getting there any earlier. Yet I wanted to arrive at 11.30, and if I had to walk, I would have to set out a long while before any bus was likely to leave. I had not seen the Anti Paros bus, which did not help. Once on Symi I was staying in the harbour and wanted to catch a bus uphill. I waited at the bus stop (this was after dark). The bus did not arrive so I set out to walk. Next day I saw the same small van lingering at the bus stop. Only then did it dawn on me that this was the island bus. On Greek islands you cannot always count on a bus looking like a bus. I did not want to wait until say 11.15 for a local bus that might not leave so I walked.

Some of the books I had read suggested that there was no road to the cave, only a dirt track. The road was now surfaced all the way. The problem I had was not knowing where the cave was. Would there be a sign? It must be in a hill, but which one and how high up (my map was not accurate enough to show any of this). How far would I have to walk? How long would it take? I had to remember that I might have to walk back. The walk was easy going and pleasant enough apart from my anxieties about distance. On the way up I saw a couple of fields of pigs. Old travel writers saw many pigs in the Cyclades. I have seen the odd pen of pigs, but these are the first pigs I remember seeing in fields. They were free range pigs, rooting about in small fields. Were they bred to supply To Steki?

I eventually reached the cave.

At the cave there is a sign banning flash photography, graffiti and damaging of the stalagmites and stalactites. There were not many people in the caves but many of them were taking flash photos. There was a huge amount of graffiti on the rocks in the cave; much of it appeared to be felt tip, hence recent. Some graffiti was so high up that I wondered how it was put there. The cave was magnificent, despite these drawbacks.

I talked to an Australian couple (or were they Canadian, as I have mentioned before I am dreadful at accents) who said flash was OK so long as you did not point it in someone's face and cause them to slip, etc. They said that at home similar caves had guardians and rocks fenced off to prevent access and this sort of despoliation. The guardians at Anti Paros stayed at ground level chatting with the person running the small refreshment stall. There is a sign at start of the road from the harbour leading up to the village, "It is forbidden to drive through our village. Thank you for helping us to keep Antiparos quiet and safe." Despite this motorbikes (and perhaps cars) did drive through. Perhaps locals regard such signs as not applying to them. When I started jotting down my notes I was going to moralise on the effectiveness (or otherwise) of signs forbidding an activity. Do such signs put into otherwise empty heads thoughts that would not otherwise be there?

I prefer walking on footpaths to roads, but there was not much traffic. There may have been a footpath inland, but even though the island was fairly narrow I could not have been sure of finding the cave any way but by road. Once at the cave I did not feel confident of finding my way over the hills back to the harbour. Even now having once reached the cave on foot I am not certain that I could find the cave by any means other than road. I tried to imagine what access would have been like before the road was built; before the concrete steps and paths inside the cave were built; before the hand rails were constructed; before electric light was installed. At one point a small bus passed me; this was just as I was approaching the cave. I saw that the bus went on to a beach before heading up the road to the cave. I decided that I was too close to the cave to chicken out of the walk. The cave was not then in sight; if I had realised how steep the last part of the road was, I would have jumped on the bus. I would have liked to have come back by a different route - but without an accurate map and not knowing the layout of the island, I did not want to get lost that far from base. As the cave closed for the day at 14.30 there were unlikely to be any buses, tour buses or not, after then. The journey back was easier than the journey out; apart from the first part being downhill, I knew where I was going and eventually had the harbour in sight.

Back down in the harbour I saw that the hotel was now only serving snacks at lunchtime. Yes, I had managed to get back in time for a late lunch, if one was being served. I ordered a well deserved beer. Mr and Mrs Hotel Anti Paros spoke no, or hardly any, English. I wondered what they thought of their English visitor who sat on the terrace every lunch time drinking beer. Did they realise how far I had walked to earn my beer? Confession. That day I drank two lunch time beers. It was very pleasant sitting there and watching life pass me by. Not for always, just on holiday. There are two boat quays at Anti Paros, the tour boat quay just across the road from the Hotel Anti Paros, and the ferry boat quay a little way up the road. The ferry boat does the short crossing from Anti Paros to Pounta, about half an hour by bus from Paros Town. The tour boats go direct from Anti Paros to Paros Town, a much longer (and far more expensive) crossing. A ferry came in, and disgorged a group of teenage schoolchildren (there is a junior school on Anti Paros).

Tourists were milling around waiting for the tour boat to leave. I jotted down that they looked like snails with an overgrown shell, but cannot now recall what image I had in mind. Some of them may have been wearing voluminous shell suits puffed out by the wind. Two middle-aged Aussies trotted up (one in a maroon cardigan with bumbag beneath - does she know what shape she looks?) and asked for the "Paros" boat. A local gestures her to the trip boat quay. I grin at him and glance at the Pounta quay. I smile at them as they pass. They smile back, little realising what I have just written about them. Oh, you two-faced person, Susan. The fun of watching hommus (and femmus) touristicus! On the previous day the tour boat had been packed, now there were only a handful of passengers on the 3 p.m. boat. In the main street one shop was closing that day, 8th October; another was closing on 10th October. The season draws to a close. There would be bargains to be had in the closing down sales, if only the shops sold anything that appealed to me. They sold nothing I fancied, and even if they had I was watching my weight, no not my weight, the weight of my rucksack.

I thought of the differences between Tourists and Travellers. I like to think that I am a Traveller. Trippers / Tourists stay in hotels on Paros and come for a day to Anti Paros. Travellers stay on Anti Paros and think about spending part of a day in Paros! For the next day I intended going to Paros.

I spent a good hour on the terrace of the taverna supping beer and watching the world, then I went up the main street to buy a cheese pie only to find the bakery was closed. On my way back down to the harbour two sympathetic looking tourists said they had seen me walking back from the cave. 16 k.m. they said. I made an exaggerated gesture of tiredness. Only later did I realise that they must have thought I had only just got back!

Back in my rooms I had had to wash my shorts and T-shirt, and even the underpinnings. The reason? I wash them daily anyway, but the particular reason for washing was the sucking of a chummy white taverna cat. She had been sitting on my knee, sucking away, for most of the time I was sitting there. I did not realise just how wet my clothes were until I stood up! I usually think of things being sucked dry. That day all my clothes were sucked wet.

I went into one of the shops on the main street, one I had avoided previously as it was called (in English) "meat market". I envisaged a butcher's - but I now saw that it was a small supermarket with no raw meat in sight. I was served in one of the many small supermarkets by a girl aged eight or ten doing her homework! She served me (my purchases included wine), lifting her pen from her schoolbook to tap figures into the till. In England what she was doing would be illegal; she was under-age to work, under-age to sell wine. Here, apparently, "no problem." On one island I once saw a very young bus conductor, he could hardly have been more than about thirteen. And I think of the six year old waiter I saw on another island.

The Hotel Anti Paros was in autumn 1996 a good example of that disappearing breed, an old fashioned Cycladic hotel. As it was up for sale I would not be surprised if the new owners do not (may already have done) revamp it and make it a clone of the less characterful newly built hotels. The Hotel Anti Paros when I was there had a style all of its own, so I feel it deserves a specially detailed mention. "Old" for the Cyclades hotel probably means the turn of the twentieth century at the earliest; the Hotel Anti Paros is somewhat later. Until recently there would be no call for more than one hotel on all but the biggest and more popular islands.

I liked my room at the Hotel Anti Paros, yet objectively it was shabby. 10' x 10'. Full width 3' x 10' balcony screened by shoulder high partitions from neighbours. Floor, a marble "conglomerate". Colour changes across room - sign of earlier wall formation? Wardrobe with door. White - solid - hardboard. Dark brown writing desk - two doors. 2 blue plastic straw seat chairs - Plastic seat with padded back and seat. 2 twin beds (matching) - brown wooden headboards. Largish brown frame mirror. Electric "oil" lamp above (main light) - 2 twigs decoratively arranged. Bedhead light - lacks (working) bulb (one no bulb, other dead bulb). No bedside table (I put one of the chairs half over bathroom door, to act as a table). 2 plastic chairs (no table) on balcony. Bathroom - loo (clean), basin (waste drips). Shower. Huge tank of water. Water two shades of cold.

Sitting on the balcony I heard sounds or caught tantalising glimpses of Anti Paros life and trotted down to see what was going on. A noise like a siren that I heard whirring round the village turned out to be a device attached to a motor bike; the young rider was showing off. The slapping noise, as so often in Greece, was the fishermen slapping octopus on the harbour. I caught a glimpse of a priest sitting down by the harbour, facing the sea and intent on doing something. What was he doing? I went down, walked in front of him and glanced curiously but I hope discreetly. I should have guessed. Earlier I saw him carrying a plastic bag of fish. He was gutting them.

At To Steki the waiter put one of those paper tissue tablecloths on my table. I noticed that he positioned the map of Paros and Anti Paros on the map so that they were upside down from where I was sitting. Next door is "Stones Pub" (shut, I am pleased to say).

Wednesday. I had been to the cave. Anti Paros, though not unattractive, did not lend itself to footpath rambles. In saying that I may be doing the island an injustice. From the road to the cave (the only obvious way of getting to that end of the island) I had noticed no paths beckoning me to "come hither".

The weather was not the sort for countryside walking, nor the sort that GNTO adverts lead us to believe we will find in Greece; and I was glad that I had walked to the cave the day before. The clouds brooded dark and low. Rain was in the air and on the ground but not actually falling when I first peered out of the shutters that morning.

I had hung my washing on the line on my balcony, covered my bed with my sleeping bag, left other items dotted around as one does, as I do at any rate, some on the twin beds, on the floor, on a chair. Pardon me mentioning my domestic arrangements. You will see why later. Don't I tempt you to read on, don't I tease you, dear reader. What did happen? Like a detective story writer I have already given you a clue.

Before I set out for Paros, I wanted to get my passport back. I know that hotel and room owners need to see your passport to jot down whatever details they are legally required to jot down, but then most of them have this infuriating habit of hanging on to your passport until you leave. That is all very well if the hotel has a permanently manned reception desk, but very inconvenient if it does not. When I am staying in a place that looks likely to be manned at irregular hours I would far rather pay in advance and keep my passport, than have to dodge about trying to find the management to pay and recover my passport. I thought that as the Hotel Anti Paros was a hotel there would be no problem. How wrong I was! I wanted to pay for my room and recover my passport before I set out for a day in Paros on the Wednesday. The bar and hotel reception was closed from somewhere between four and five onwards. I did not know what time I would be back from Paros, and on the following day I wanted to leave early to go to Paros to catch a ferry from Paros to Andros. As I was on an island off an island it was more crucial than usual that I left on time the next day. Usually I am quite blasé about such things as after all I am on holiday and if I do happen to miss a bus I can always catch a taxi. Not from Anti Paros I couldn't. On the Wednesday I intended catching the 8.30 a.m. ferry across to Pounta, and wanted to pay for my room before then. I went down to the bar at about eight o'clock. The doors were open, and locals were sitting at the tables chatting, but not drinking the Greek coffees I would have expected to see them drinking. For Mr and Mrs Hotel Anti Paros were nowhere to be seen. Now I knew that my passport was kept in an unlocked drawer near the till. Passports are kept hostage to stop dishonest tourists making off without paying, yet if I had been a dishonest tourist I would have helped myself to my passport (and anybody else's, for that matter) and gone off without paying. The dishonest will always find a way. In desperation I would have taken my passport and left my money in the drawer with a note. I was not desperate. Yet.

I eventually found Mr Hotel Anti Paros and paid my bill. At first I had gone down for the 8.30 ferry, then noticed from the Pounta - Paros town bus timetable that no bus met that ferry, so I lingered longer on Anti Paros and caught the 9.30 ferry. Pounta is not an attractive place to linger, there is not even a village, just a shop / bar near the ferry jetty.

I had been to Paros on my first trip to Greece in 1981, in the late 1980s I had been on a day trip from Naxos to Naoussa, and gone on to Paros Town, and had had a few hours there in the early 1990s. I wanted to see how Paros had changed. Paros and Naxos, although in many ways so different, are in a way twin islands. I wanted to compare the effects tourism had had on each island. Naxos is certainly now well touristed. The tourism used to be more or less restricted to the new developments on the Agios Giorgios side of town, but has now spread over most if not all the town. I thought of Paros being more touristy than Naxos, and on my first visit I remembered seeing streets lined with tourist shops. There were then nowhere near so many tourist shops on Naxos. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Paros had changed for the better, the shops were mostly more upmarket and tasteful, not the ranks and ranks of gold jewellery shops that I was to find on Mykonos, but small shops that it was a pleasure to look at. Or would have been a pleasure to look at if it had not rained. And what rain! I have never known rain like it before. The skies opened and the rain deluged down by the bucketful. Huge splodges of rain fell in the downpour in Paros that morning, rain drops the size of fifty drachma coins. I soon felt like a prize contestant in a wet T shirt competition. The rain continued almost without intermission for the whole day. Locals made plastic carrier bags into nifty little plastic hats. I was reminded of a tourist who was given a plastic dustbin liner by a shop keeper in Apollonia on Naxos, one step up from a plastic carrier bag, but that was on the day in April when snow fell on the mountains of Naxos.

Apart from the rain, I was pleasantly impressed by Paros. In part that could have been because so late in the season so many of the tourist places were shut. There was a mix of upmarket shops and local shops. To add to the charm a local green grocer was making deliveries by donkey.

A few years before I had read that some Cycladic figures had been stolen from Paros Museum. Sadly they do not appear to have been recovered, the few small figures on display although interesting were not as wide ranging and impressive as those in Naxos Museum. I hope the security measures at Naxos Museum are intruder proof. I also visited the church and icon museum.

I caught a bus up to Naoussa. On my earlier visits there had been tourist development in Naoussa, but not on the scale I saw now. There was a huge amount of development outside old centre of Naoussa. The older buildings nearer the centre remained unspoilt, but with a larger percentage than in Paros Town devoted to tourist related business. I was pleased to see that the old harbour had kept its charm. I would have liked to sit outside by the harbour, but weather conditions being what they were I plumped for lunch at a taverna with a very sturdy and waterproof outside canopy.

The taverna was doing a roaring trade. Other customers had spotted the sturdy canopy. Not only the weatherproofing was good. The food smells and the food were good too. I had what has become my traditional lunch at Naoussa (and my favourite lunch any time) little fish and white wine. The fish were described on the English menu as "sardines"; I checked the Greek to make sure that they were really marides. On the way I passed a nasty looking accident just outside Paros - being squeamish I didn't look closely, but the front of the car was badly buckled. An ambulance and police car raced past the bus. On a smaller island everyone would have known from the car who the victim was, but here on larger Paros no one knew. Sitting at the taverna I saw a helicopter heading that way - which suggests that the victim may be alive, if badly injured.

I got back to Paros a minute or two too late to catch the 14.00 bus to Pounta, and had to wait for the 16.00. The rain was still coming down in torrents. I dashed from shop doorway to shop doorway, sought refuge in a pleasant coffee shop (but did not linger long as it was small and crowded with others seeking shelter from the rain), revisited the church, then sat under the large outside covered terrace of a cafe overlooking the harbour. No shortage of space there, even with many people seeking refuge from all that the elements threw on Paros that day. I have never before seen so many umbrellas in Greece, or at least umbrellas in use. In the Dodecanese I had been surprised by the number of shops selling mostly umbrellas (duty free in the Dodecanese). I naively assumed that people bought them just for show. Now I know otherwise. My ticket tomorrow is on the Haroula, a novel vessel looking like a hybrid ferry/ hovercraft. She has just come into port on her way out to Amorgos. I had wondered if she had outside seats. She has, but outside seats are an irrelevance in weather like this. This morning there were quick heavy storms. Now the rain is a little less heavy but consistent, oh so consistent. I am looking forward to getting back to the hotel and changing into some dry clothes. Yesterday the weather was boiling, hardly a cloud in the sky, and I was spraying myself with my cold water spray at the entrance to the cave. In Paros I was so wet, even my pen went through the paper I was writing on. I thought with envy of the chap we saw on Siphnos wearing a Barbour jacket and flippers. No doubt soon (as on Siphnos) the storm will be but a memory and hot sunny weather will return. A chap outside the harbour office was wearing a yellow oilskin or similar. My light nylon jacket is usually only a token jacket, for use at night at sea perhaps, and offered no protection in a storm such as this. The rain would have soaked straight through it. I had not even brought it with me. Although wet, I was not cold and the fewer clothes I had to dry the better. My jacket was more of a windcheater when worn in conjunction with other clothes than a keep-out-rain sort of jacket. I was thankful that the directors' chairs at the Cafe Milos near Paros harbour were dark blue in case my newly dyed shorts (Greek sun, when it shines, bleaches them pale), sopping wet from the rain, ran. These shorts have been on my last few trips to Greece. Elasticated waist, pockets, loose legs, were beige - but I like navy shorts (and my co-ordinated outfit (ha ha)) - and dyed them. Dye fading - I know faded shorts fashionable - but these were on the shabby side of fashionable - so redyed. They were then still releasing blue dye when washed. Reminds me - washing (i.e. my theoretical dry change of clothing) on line in Anti Paros.

I got back to the Hotel Anti Paros at five o'clock. Mr and Mrs Hotel Anti Paros had cleared off for the day. The rain had arrived on Anti Paros, had arrived in my bedroom. I saw puddles of water on the floor, saw puddles of water on the sleeping bag on my bed, I saw water everywhere. I looked up and saw a damp patch either side of the crack on the ceiling. The roof had leaked. It was not only the washing on the line that was wet. Everything was wet. The rain had stopped and the sun was weakly gleaming. The sun was at the back of the building, not on my balcony. The sun was shining on the steps to the hotel, so I put all my wet clothes, sleeping bag, sheets over the railings and on the line I rigged up there. They did not dry, but were less damp by the time I retrieved them. The sheets and other bedding I draped around the wardrobe doors. Luckily the second twin bed had not been leaked on so I slept in that bed that night. If Mr and Mrs Hotel Anti Paros had been around I would have asked for a dry room. It was lucky that this room had a solid wardrobe - it kept the rain off the contents. Now there is a use for a wardrobe that I had not thought of before. I can imagine the advert: "Solid wardrobe for sale, will keep clothes dry in the heaviest of storms."

By seven that evening the sky was cloudless, innocent, butter wouldn't melt in its mouth. Puddles in hotel. Wet mattress. Sheet, blanket, sleeping bag. Everything I possess wet, wet, wet.

Dinner at To Steki again. The previous night my retsina had been served in a small Greek tumbler; tonight the red Vin de Crete was served in a wine glass with a stem. So here it is the class of wine that determines the glass in which it is served. In other places the locals are given the tumblers, the tourists wine glasses. In "traditional" places wine is served in tumblers. Those aiming to be tourist chic serve locals with tumblers, and tourists with wine glasses. I prefer the tumblers. Like in England when drinks for ladies and gents are served in different shaped glasses. I prefer the gents' glasses! When in Greece I prefer drinking out of a tumbler except on the very rare occasions when I drink a really classy Greek wine, like a good vintage Chateau Carras. Another advantage of the humble tumbler is that they are more stable when it is windy - a determined Aegean wind can easily whip under a paper tablecloth. Having said that a "tumbler" is sturdy in a wind, how does the tumbler get its less than stable sounding name? Early tumblers had a rounded base so that they could not be put down until they were empty (perhaps they were stood upside down when empty).

The couple at the next table (I am not sure of their nationality) were playing with the cats and so was I. I grinned at them as we fed the cats - all I had to give the cats that night was the filo scraps from my cheese pie. After the meal they (my neighbours that is, not the cats) offered me a glass of Anti Paros ouzo. Delicious. I wished I had known about it earlier. On my first night I had asked about local wine. There was none. It had not occurred to me to ask if there was any other local tipple.

On the main street I had noticed a huge heap of rubble, a fallen house, that I had not seen before. Had the rain brought the house down? I slept uneasily that night and the crack in the ceiling above me grew larger in my dreams

Next morning I left a note in my room in Greek (I had to concoct it with the aid of my dictionary: phrase books do not run to such phrases as "there is a hole in your roof"). When I got downstairs at half past seven I found that the bar was open and Mr Hotel Anti Paros was there. The luck of the draw. If I had waited to Thursday to pay you can bet that he would not have been there. I explained in halting Greek and gestures what had happened upstairs. He smiled, looked apologetic, and said "sorry".

The weather has returned and I caught the Haroula in torrential rain. I had read that one of the new vessels in Greece was water powered; it may have been the Haroula, it may not. I went on board and saw torrents of rain cascading down the steps on deck. For a moment I thought that this was the way she was powered (and cleaned), sheets of water constantly rushing over the deck. I thought at first this was a facet of water power I was not aware of. I wonder how she does work? Then I realised that this was the rain. One deck was covered by metal frames from which blue plastic canopies were suspended, each of which had a not quite at the lowest point drainhole (like in Greek showers). The vessel swayed, a shower descended. One of the crew went around poking the canopies with a broom handle; more showers descended. I went on deck and dried a seat (seats have drain holes but again the holes are never at the lowest point), and had to abandon it when the sky opened. The Haroula was supposed to leave at 9.25. She arrived punctually, but at 9.45 she was still in Paros. Chaps in boiler suits were rushing up and down the ramp. Had she a mechanical problem? One of the crew was standing on a ramp (she had three) munching a cheese pie. There was no separate passenger ramp. Some ships do have separate passenger ramps, but I have rarely seen them used. Perhaps they are used in peak season. Coming on board the Haroula I automatically stepped aside when I heard a motorbike roaring aboard. It was within inches of me. If I had stepped other way I would have stepped into the swirling grey waters of Paros docks.

There seemed to be no urgency to get away.

I had not checked on the Haroula's arrival time in Andros, as I knew that she was a fast vessel. I found out that although she travels quickly she is timetabled as though she was a slow ferry, hence the waiting time in port. Not only that, she called in at Syros. A traditional ferry would have been as fast. Still she was very comfortable and I reached my destination without having to change vessels. I felt I knew her intimately before we had even left Paros. On ferries I have often not even managed to find my way on deck (ferries with outside steps are easy to navigate, but on an increasing number you are channelled past an internal ticket desk and through inside lounges before you find a way up to the deck) before the ship has left port.

The Haroula was very smart and during the frequent squalls I sat inside on a semi circular pink brocade sofa. One criticism I have of many ferries is the lack of luggage space. On some ferries there is a ground level luggage area in the car deck, where your bag will get covered in oil, rust etc. On others a luggage area is at the top of many, many, flights of stairs. The Haroula had an above floor level luggage store near the entrance ramp, but I did not see it until I got off! The loo on the Haroula had a large swing bin. How much more sensible than the itsy bitsy little bins that usually overflow their revolting contents all over the floor. She was new, on one of the davits I saw the date 18/10/95. As usual I was doing some ship archaeology, but on a ship that new there was not a lot in the way of archaeology to uncover. [2011 update. Most modern vessels have luggage racks in the car deck, or near the entrance on vessels that do not carry vehicles. Do be careful where you put your luggage on ferries with space for cars on more than one level. On one ferry there was a lot of luggage, so I put my bag further back than I usually do. I went down to the car deck to pick up my bag and disembark, and found that the ramp leading to the upper car deck had been lowered. My bag, and many others, was under the lowered ramp - and got not be reached until the ramp was raised. The crew nearby could see the problem, and gestured that we should wait. A message over the ship's loud speaker - "The ship is ready to sail. The ship is ready to sail. The ship is ready to sail. The ship...........". Eventually the ramp was raised, and we retrieved our bags. In July 2011 I travelled on a small catamaran, that did not carry cars. The day before I travelled there had been a union blockade of Piraeus, and on the two days before that there had been a national strike. So I was on one of the first vessels to leave for three days. Everyone had a seat, and there were a lot of luggage racks, but nowhere near enough for the amount of luggage. The luggage racks were all full; all but one of the ways into the back entrance were blocked by bags; there were bags on the floor of the middle of the vessel, around the side entrance - these were stacked floor to ceiling (luckily it was a very smooth crossing). When it was time to get off the vessel, I saw that the open back deck was piled high with luggage, leaving just a narrow gap to walk through. There was no space to store small bags near the seats. I had a seat in the middle of a row, and for six hours I sat with my rucksack on my knee. At Piraeus I noticed young couple with a rabbit in a carrying box, and a very large and shall cage covered in a blanket, obviously containing other animals. I wondered how they fared during the voyage.]

When the sun was out the spacious top deck was very pleasant. The Haroula is smaller than most ferries, but she has no central superstructure on the deck, so the deck seemed more spacious than most. I could not grumble that she has the biggest (and covered) lifeboats I have ever seen on a Greek ship - but they did obstruct the view somewhat.

I brought my rucksack on deck when the sky was blue and almost cloudless. Then the weather started to change. Dark clouds loomed.

"ANY GARBAGE DISPOSAL INTO THE SEA IS FORBIDDEN ACCORDING TO THE PROVISIONS OF ANNEX V OF MARPOL 73/78". I wondered if there was anything in Marpol about hanging washing out on a ship. The way the clouds were congregating it was time me and my luggage went indoors, so the question was academic.

We reached Mykonos at 11.30. At Paros a very smartly dressed young couple had boarded the Haroula. They had so much luggage, smart suitcases but of dimensions that I had not seen before. One case was almost as tall as the young woman. Why so much? Were they island hopping novices? Their luggage would almost have filled the "car deck" of the Skopelitis. They got off at Mykonos and I saw the young woman wait with the mega bags while the man went to find a taxi. The only vehicles waiting by the ferry at Mykonos were the little motorbike trailer combinations that I have only seen on Mykonos. They could not even have got one bag onto one of those trucks. The taxis were parked some way back.

We left Mykonos at 11.55. I read somewhere that the Haroula had an experimental schedule (or it may have been the Sea Jet I read about - but the Sea Jet - I travelled on her later- was very well timetabled). The Haroula travels quickly - but then there is a half hour wait before leaving port. There were few passengers/ vehicles, so the only reason for the delay was to stick to the timetable. At Paros the delay had been so long that I started to imagine she had mechanical problems - as chaps in boiler suits were fiddling round on the ramp and out of my sight inside the car deck. Although fast when actually travelling, Paros- Mykonos - Tinos - Syros - Andros is a roundabout route. A ferry from Tinos to Andros would be far quicker. It was going to be a long journey.

At 12.38 we reached Tinos. When I stayed on Tinos on an earlier holiday, one of the large buildings on the sea front had been derelict. Peering at it through my binoculars I was pleased to see that it had been restored, or at least the front and sides had been renovated, but it still seemed deserted. We left Tinos at 12.45, gosh. People rushed up at the last minute to catch her. At Tinos I saw the Express Apollon, then an Agapitos ferry, pull in. When I last saw her she had been a Ventouris boat. Now was she the Apollon Express that I had been storm-stayed at Syros on, the old Senlac. I am sure she was. I saw crew (bar staff perhaps) leaning over the rail wearing royal blue waistcoats and blue ties. How smart!

13.30, Syros. At Syros the travel agents are near the harbour, and I peered at the departure boards through my binoculars. We were due to leave at 13.55. We reached Andros at 15.30. 11.55 to 15.30, the journey from Mykonos to Andros via Syros on the fast Haroula had taken 3 hours 35 minutes. On the way back the ferry from Andros -Tinos - Mykonos took 2 hours 25 minutes. The wonders of high speed vessels, when they have a slow timetable and a circuitous route. I had already noticed that flying dolphins (that are more expensive than ferries) can offer a slower journey when they stop at all islands en route. Or when they go from Naxos to Amorgos via Santorini!


An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"

Kalo Taxidi - Electricity

Electricity
Electricity has now reached most places in Greece in which a tourist is likely to stay. I have never stayed anywhere in Greece without electricity. There is usually at least one power cut on each of my visits to Greece. I always travel with a torch. Apart from power cuts, these are useful at night e.g. for unlocking the door to your room if there is no outside light.

Sometimes power cuts can be at awkward times - e.g. at night when you are doing last-minute packing before catching a middle-of-the-night ferry.

Power cuts these days are usually only for half an hour or so. Shops now have far more in the way of frozen food than when I first came to Greece in 1981. In 1981 the electricity supply, in the islands at least, appeared to be not reliable enough for storage of frozen food. [2011 update. There are not so many power cuts as there used to be - although this year I have read of the possibility of strikes by electricity workers. A few years ago on one island I saw the machinery of the old power station being taken away on a ferry. On the same island I saw, posted days in advance, a notice warning of a future power cut.]


An extract from my book about Greece, "Kalo Taxidi".

Kalo Taxidi - Easter

Easter
The Greeks celebrate Easter with more gusto than we do in England. For Greeks Easter is a more important festival than Christmas.

* check the dates of Greek Easter - the dates are often different to the dates of western Easter (although some years the dates do coincide).
* many Greeks travel to their ancestral islands for Easter - so be prepared for busy and perhaps full ferries. There are likely to be extra ferries laid on in the run up to Easter, and some services cancelled on the Saturday and Sunday. Sometimes I have noticed that the last ferry in on Easter Saturday stays in port for some time, and the crew bring their families on board for the holiday trip. One Easter I spotted a lamb being roasted by the crew on a ferry car deck when the ferry was in port. There are usually signs in the car deck saying that smoking is prohibited, but there is obviously no restriction on roasting the Easter lamb! I have also seen firecrackers let off in a car deck. With the car ramp down, islanders amble on and off the ferry as if it was a temporary extension to the harbour side.
* The detail of the celebrations will vary from place to place, but this is an outline of what to watch out for.
* Good Friday. Christ's tomb, the epitafios, will be carried in a procession. Try to find out where and when, and join in. I have found that the procession usually takes place in the early evening, after dark, after a church service. You may find the route followed strewn with herbs, releasing a lovely smell as you walk over them. Householders may stand by their doors greeting the procession, and with houses decorated with candles and incense.
* Easter Saturday. There will be a church service, culminating at midnight with cries of "Christ is risen" and often fireworks. Take along a candle, everyone lights one after (and sometimes during) the service. How long the candle stays alight depends on the wind! Note that Greeks take along decorated candles. Before I realised this, I went along carrying a basic white candle I had bought from a hardware shop! Candle wax drips, so take something along to protect your candle carrying hand. Islanders improvise various holders. Not elegant, but I have worn a sock as a makeshift glove for my candle-carrying hand! Greeks traditionally eat mayiritsa (a soup made of chopped lambs' entrails) after the midnight service. I am sure that the soup is delicious, but I have not been tempted to try it! [2011 update - I have now eaten this soup several times. If you try and not think too much about what goes into the soup, you might even enjoy it!]
* Easter Sunday. Lamb is traditionally eaten for lunch. See if there is any public lamb roasting going on near where you are staying. One Easter Sunday a small Greek cruise ship was moored on the Greek island where I was staying. The local council provided for everyone, islanders, Greek visitors and tourists a most memorable lunch of roast lamb, and later local folk music. Another Easter Sunday the family I was staying with invited me to join in their Easter lunch - another enjoyable and memorable meal. Another Easter I was invited, with other tourists, to join the local police for a meal.
* Monasteries and walking with icons. Check if there are any local Easter activities, especially if there is a monastery on the island. Monks sometimes walk with icons around an island - and participating in these walks is great fun. You get to meet the local people, and see parts of the island you might not otherwise have seen. And residents en route may provide refreshments for the pilgrims.
An extract from my book about Greece, "Kalo Taxidi".

Kalo Taxidi - Dripping in the Night

Dripping in the Night
There are people in the next room. They have been here for over three weeks. I do not want to be a nuisance and make a noise and disturb what must be their idyllic spot. I heard a dripping in the night. The fridge makes a dripping sound when switched on - I had switched the fridge off for the night.

I found that the tap in the wash basin was dripping - turned off properly but dripping. But that was not the noise that I heard.

The kitchen sink tap is not dripping. The sound is from outside. I did not think of rain - my first thought was of water dripping from the air conditioning, even though I had not used the air conditioning. I quietly opened the door. The dripping noise came from near the air conditioner - but it was rain, dripping onto a flat surface at the junction of a waste pipe.


An extract from my book about Greece, "Kalo Taxidi".

Kalo Taxidi - Donoussa - Spring 1993

Donoussa - Spring 1993
I went from Naxos on the Skopelitis (fare 913dr). I left Naxos at 3 p.m. and reached Donoussa at 8 p.m. The boat was carrying huge quantities of building materials (thin marble slabs, bags of cement, and large sheets of wire mesh) and the loading and unloading of these delayed us somewhat.

I had called in at Donoussa on many occasions, but this was the first time I had landed. The village was larger than I expected, and I had not realised that there were buildings on both sides of the beach. The beach then acted as a track between the two sides of the village.

I was half expecting accommodation on Donoussa to be primitive, but after my "luxury" find on Iraklia I also half suspected that standards could be good - and they are. More luxurious than Iraklia in fact. People with rooms met the boat and I chose a very pleasant lady who spoke just enough English for us to get by. She lives in a house through a stained wooden door off the beach just beyond the Taverna Aposperitis, but the rooms are not in there. My room was one of a block of three - across the beach, up the track to the left and about half way up the hill on the right hand side of the road - be warned that the hill is short but very steep, especially when carrying a rucksack and wobbly kneed after a long trip on the Skopelitis. Other rooms seemed to be under the same management.

I had a twin bedded room, with modern furniture and even wicker lamp shades and a lace curtain; private bathroom with WC, shower, and basin - again very clean and modern; constant hot water to the shower; and in the lobby area between the bedroom and bathroom a kitchen area with full size fridge, electric hotplates, and sink unit - plenty of crockery but only a frying pan to cook / boil water in - but at 2000dr a night I was more than satisfied. Particularly as outside there was a spacious terrace with sea views. It is easy to spot the building from outside - there is an open air shower (not needed) in the garden. Incidentally the water supply was brought to the cellar by a green hosepipe, and then pumped round the buildings. I don't know where the pipe came from and it may sound Heath Robinsonish, but there was no problem with the supply whilst I was there.

Another good point about my accommodation. I was to catch the Skop. at 7.30 p.m., and intended negotiating with my landlady for the use of the room during the day. On my last morning, before I had chance to ask, she said I could stay in the room until 5 p.m. without any extra payment, i.e. to give her chance to turn it round for new arrivals.

One sore point about Donoussa. A taverna in the middle of the beach. The taverna was just getting ready to open up for the season when I arrived, and the music (Greek) was belting and thumping out at what sounded like disco levels in my room (half a village away), and could be heard all over the village. It was on and off spasmodically throughout my stay, from breakfast to mid evening. I never ate at that taverna (I hadn't brought any ear plugs!).

A guide book had mentioned a 5 hour walk to Kalotaritissa - I walked halfway there (the uphill half) in about an hour and a half, with several camera and binocular stops. It was an easy route to find, and not too strenuous to walk, through attractive countryside. There were more buildings in Kalotaritissa than I expected to see but I did not see any signs of life (peering from above through binoculars!)

On my first night only To Kyma was serving food. To Meltemi had opened by the third night, there was movement and signs of the Blue Lagoon getting ready for opening, and there seemed to be another eating place between To Kyma and the Blue Lagoon. The General Store had a table and chair outside for drinking at, but the signboard showed that food was served, presumably in peak season only. Whatever used to be to the east of To Kyma has gone - there is a huge hole in the ground.

I liked the atmosphere at To Kyma. The couple running it were very pleasant as was young Maria, aged about 12, who may have been their daughter or grand-daughter - on my first night she had been helping my landlady tout for customers, was then waitressing as well as carrying boxes of supplies up from the harbour and re-arranging furniture, and when I left at around 11pm was doing the washing up. Quite a live wire! The local fishermen gathered there and they were very friendly and tolerant of the tourist intrusion - although there were only a handful on the island. Once I was bought a drink, and at lunchtime the fishermen shared food with me. The old boy in the General Store was also very friendly. I went in to buy some cans of drink to take on a walk and he would not let me leave until I had sat down and drunk another (which he would not let me pay for).

I was surprised at the range of food on sale at the store at To Kyma - small by e.g. Amorgos standards, but you would not starve if you were self-catering. Shoppers were staggering out with bags of aubergines, and the fishermen were joking that everyone would be having moussaka for dinner.

I didn't notice a bakery on the island, but throughout my stay I noticed people buying both long sticks of bread and small rolls - which suggested that it hadn't all come off the Skop.

I had an early dinner at Meltemi whilst waiting for the Skopelitis (which arrived promptly at 7.30 p.m. - the restaurant started serving at around 6.30 p.m.). There was quite a varied menu but a slight problem - all the "exotic" i.e. meat, items, were to be delivered by the Skopelitis which I was leaving on. I later saw Mr. "Meltemi" dragging away from the Skopelitis a huge cardboard box, presumably full of meat. I doubt if the Skop has refrigeration facilities for use during the 5 hour journey!

[2011 update - too large to travel on the new Express Skopelitis, but a prominent feature of the car park in Katapola are large refrigerated lorries - which are used to transport food on the larger ferries.]




An extract from my book about Greece, "Kalo Taxidi".

Kalo Taxidi - Dolphins - leaving Fourni

Dolphins - leaving Fourni

Fourni and Lipsi had both been on my holiday agenda. I had done my homework on the GTP and knew the times of the ferries and the dolphins. At least I knew the times of the more or less reliable Nissos Kalymnos. The dolphins were later to prove less predictable.

The one fixed item in my firmament was my flight from London. I was flying Virgin Atlantic from London to Athens International, arriving at about four in the morning. Then I had an onward flight from Athens Olympic to Samos. There was an earlier flight, but I knew I could never get from the International airport to the Olympic airport to catch a flight leaving less than an hour after I landed, so I booked the later flight. [2011 update - that trip was over ten years ago, before the new Athens airport opened. The new airport is on one site. The old airport had three separate terminals, one just for olympic flights, another for other flights, and in peak season a third terminal for charter flights. The new airport is much further out of the centre of Athens, but the bus connections are much betetr than they were at the old airport. It could take ages (waiting for a bus and travelling) to get by bus from one terminal to another.]

My notes were on the basis that I would catch the 3 p.m. Nissos Kalymnos on to Lipsi, or perhaps to Agathonissi. I would get to Fourni later in the holiday. There was a dolphin at 8.15 to Fourni from Pythagorean, but I could never catch that. I would still be in Athens at 9 a.m. Read on.

I arrived at Heathrow to find that my Virgin Atlantic plane was unwell and would be delayed. By four hours. I would be lucky if I caught the 9 a.m. Samos flight. I was not best pleased, and asked at the info desk what they could do to put me on a later Samos flight. Nothing. I should get to Athens before my flight was due to leave, so what was the problem. My protestations that there were two separate terminals at Athens airport, irregular buses and at times long queues for taxis fell on deaf ears. I was not a happy bunny. I left home early so that I had plenty of time in hand. The train and tube journeys went smoothly; so I would have had plenty of time to kill even if the plane had been on time. The check in girls muttered that vouchers for food and phone calls would be forthcoming, but not yet. I went over to another terminal and had a meal. Then back to the terminal the flight should leave from. I asked about vouchers - and got a handful in the departure lounge. Yes, the vouchers were valid for drink. I sat in the depths of the no smoking area of the bar with a glass of wine. Before I spent my remaining voucher on more wine I went out to check the departure screen. My plane was shown as cancelled. To cut a long story short, all of us Virgin refugees were thrust on an Olympic flight and I found myself at the Athens Olympic terminal at about 3.30 the next morning. I had a ticket for the 9 a.m. Samos flight. There was a 5 a.m. flight. Could I catch the five o'clock flight? Yes I could, and there was no extra charge. Things never run smoothly, and the flight was delayed because of bad weather. I landed in Samos at about 7.45 a.m., and soon after 8 was in Pythagorean. I tottered down to the harbour; a number of other people were heading that way. The evidence of the recent bad weather was on the ground. Huge puddles stretched across the harbour side; the result of rain or rough seas, I wondered. One dolphin arrived, closely followed by another. I paddled up to the first dolphin. No, the more distant dolphin went to Fourni. I waded through the even deeper puddles. Yes, the dolphin went to Fourni; the dolphin was about to leave. The engines revved impatiently, like an impatient motorist itching to get away from a red light. But where was my ticket? I had passed the ticket booth at the entrance to the harbour - closed. I could not come on board without a ticket. The ticket seller was next to the other dolphin. Now I could see him, surrounded by a throng of ticket buyers. I waded back. Would I be able to buy a ticket and get back to the dolphin before it left? I thought of my last minute plane escapade at Milos. At least I had caught the Samos flight without difficulty. It would be such a bonus to get to Fourni on the dolphin. I didn't fancy lingering round Pythagorean until 3 p.m. with no room……….if I had not caught the dolphin I would probably have got a room in Pythagorean and lingered a few days.

I did catch the dolphin, and before 9 a.m. (a time when I fully expected to be still in Athens) was ensconced in a pleasant room in Fourni.

Maria, my landlady was the G&A ticket agent; the agency was downstairs and I never saw it open. Maria went off to Samos the same day. Needless to say the departure times were out of date. The other agent was in an old style grocery store. I kept an eye open for departure times, and cross referenced the times he showed with those I had noted down in England and at the shut ticket booth at Pythagorean.

My holiday was upside down. I enjoyed Fourni - and to go to Lipsi would be back-tracking. I had a month in Greece, but was meeting Ken in Naxos after two weeks. I decided to go to Lipsi for a day on the Sunday. I was down at the harbour by half past eight. No dolphin. The sea was a little rough. I lingered until well after nine, then gave up. Other tourists chatted as they passed, and agreed that the weather was too bad for the dolphin to run. The grocer agent was closed so I could not ask. I spent the day on Fourni.

I enjoyed my stay on Fourni, but the time had come to leave. I went to the grocer agent on Tuesday evening and bought a ticket for the dolphin to Lipsi the next morning.

I was down at the harbour with my bags by half past eight. I had a sense of déjà vu. The large fishing boat I had seen on Thimena was in port; the Egyptian fisherman offered me some coffee. A number of people asked me where I was going. Lipsi I said.

A port policeman came across to me and said there was no dolphin - yet. Despite having bought a ticket the previous day, the times of the dolphin had changed. The dolphin would arrive at eleven and two - until the dolphin arrived at eleven the port official would not know in which direction the dolphin was travelling. I refrained from asking about modern aids to communication, such as the telephone, that were available even on Fourni. I would have to come back to the harbour, with my bags, at eleven, to see if the dolphin was going to Lipsi. I went back to my room, with my bags. Luckily the room was as I left at.

At half past ten I went back, with my bags, to the harbour. The port official told me that the dolphin would not be going to Lipsi until two. I headed back, with my bags, to my room. As I headed up the high street Nico, who owned room at which friends were staying, pointed to the dolphin on the horizon. "Ochi Lipsi, I said. Lipsi dia." I was back in my rooms again. About one I saw a dolphin coming in, and charged back to my rooms for my bags. This was not "my" dolphin. Or was it. A hundred or so people, professional looking Greeks got off. What was happening? An election was imminent, and these Greeks had come to Fourni to do a spot of electioneering. Was I to leave with them, or was another dolphin coming in? Another dolphin arrived. The dolphin lurched, as dolphins do, and I slipped on the dolphin wing. So I came to leave Fourni with the makings of a large bruise on my knee. "A tiring day" said the port official.
[2011 update. Until last week I would have written that I hadn't seen any of the "old" style flying dolphins recently, the sort that you board by climbing on to the "wing" and try not to trip on the "knobs" and other protuberances which no doubt have uses other than as a trap (or trip) for the unwary. Then last week I saw one of these vessels at gate 9 at Piraeus, when I was catching a catamaran (with easy to climb gangplanks). The flying dolphins were fast - i remember once describing travelling on one as being like riding a motor bike with flat tyres.]



An extract from my book about Greece, "Kalo Taxidi".