Greece in revolt over property tax
The prospect of stayung somewhere without power will put tourists off booking to go to Greece. But the revenue from the tax is needed. A difficult conundrum. Exempting tourist accommodation registered with the GNTO before, say, 1 August 2011 from power cuts might be the answer. Without a cut off date, every house in Greece might acquire overnight a spare room supposedly for letting to tourists.
Greece - Kalo Taxidi! Notes from Greece and the Greek Islands.
Showing posts with label book about Greece. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book about Greece. Show all posts
Saturday, 3 December 2011
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Athens News Strike Log
Athens News Strike Log
I found this useful table of strikes at the foot of the page "News bites @ 9 ", but don't know yet if that it its regular home.
I found this useful table of strikes at the foot of the page "News bites @ 9 ", but don't know yet if that it its regular home.
Monday, 26 September 2011
Kalo Taxidi - Buses
Buses
I am writing this in March 2005 in a small Greek island. Unusually for the winter season, there is a printed bus timetable. The timetable shows that on weekdays a bus leaves the port for Chora, about 6 kilometres away, at 10 a.m. on weekdays. The timetable is for the week ending 18/02/05. Today is Monday. On Thursday the bus left at 11 a.m. What time will the bus leave today? [The answer? Probably 7.45 a.m. and 4.30 p.m.! The following Thursday the bus left at 11.30 a.m.]
On the same island, this time probably in the autumn, a bus was parked in the usual stopping place, with a timetable stuck on the windscreen. The timetable showed that the bus left the port for Chora at 11.30 a.m. A small cluster of people stood around the bus and waited. 11.30 a.m. came and went. 11.35 a.m. came and went. 11.40 a.m. came and went. No-one was too concerned, we were on holiday and in Greece. 11.45 a.m. came. The bus driver appeared, ripped the timetable off the windscreen and replaced it with a timetable showing the bus leaving at 1.30 p.m.
Some tips for using buses:
* always have a Plan B, both for what to do if the outbound bus doesn't leave, and for getting back to base if the return bus doesn't materialise.
* if you want to travel to another port, is there a ferry you can use for one or both legs of the journey?
* check the phone numbers of the island taxis!
An extract from my book about Greece, "Kalo Taxidi".
I am writing this in March 2005 in a small Greek island. Unusually for the winter season, there is a printed bus timetable. The timetable shows that on weekdays a bus leaves the port for Chora, about 6 kilometres away, at 10 a.m. on weekdays. The timetable is for the week ending 18/02/05. Today is Monday. On Thursday the bus left at 11 a.m. What time will the bus leave today? [The answer? Probably 7.45 a.m. and 4.30 p.m.! The following Thursday the bus left at 11.30 a.m.]
On the same island, this time probably in the autumn, a bus was parked in the usual stopping place, with a timetable stuck on the windscreen. The timetable showed that the bus left the port for Chora at 11.30 a.m. A small cluster of people stood around the bus and waited. 11.30 a.m. came and went. 11.35 a.m. came and went. 11.40 a.m. came and went. No-one was too concerned, we were on holiday and in Greece. 11.45 a.m. came. The bus driver appeared, ripped the timetable off the windscreen and replaced it with a timetable showing the bus leaving at 1.30 p.m.
Some tips for using buses:
* always have a Plan B, both for what to do if the outbound bus doesn't leave, and for getting back to base if the return bus doesn't materialise.
* if you want to travel to another port, is there a ferry you can use for one or both legs of the journey?
* check the phone numbers of the island taxis!
An extract from my book about Greece, "Kalo Taxidi".
Kalo Taxidi - Andros Café Cats
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Andros Café Cats
One day when I was sitting at the café in the square outside the museum the cats began to sing, and made me think of the music thought originally (but not now) to be by Rossini. I had heard the song sung at the previous year’s last night of the Proms. That mock spitefulness - the cats were just right! Another cat arrived and they caterwauled. Quite cute - both wailed - rubbed - or nearly rubbed - noses; then put one ear near the other's ear. A person wearing a stripy long jumper at the neighbouring bar came across and looked, fascinated, as I was. Then a chap came out of the bar and said in good English "Stop that noise, you cats." The cats obviously spoke English, understood, and departed.
The cats (in Andros Chora in general, not just at the taverna) were all so healthy that I wondered if a shipping magnate had endowed a vet and paid for all the necessary treatments. There were lots of well-fed cats. Down one back street I saw a pot (an old handleless frying pan) full of water and another of full cat biscuits. One cat pulled a biscuit out of the pot with his paw, so carefully, then ate it. The fastest things in the vehicle-free Chora are on four legs.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Andros Café Cats
One day when I was sitting at the café in the square outside the museum the cats began to sing, and made me think of the music thought originally (but not now) to be by Rossini. I had heard the song sung at the previous year’s last night of the Proms. That mock spitefulness - the cats were just right! Another cat arrived and they caterwauled. Quite cute - both wailed - rubbed - or nearly rubbed - noses; then put one ear near the other's ear. A person wearing a stripy long jumper at the neighbouring bar came across and looked, fascinated, as I was. Then a chap came out of the bar and said in good English "Stop that noise, you cats." The cats obviously spoke English, understood, and departed.
The cats (in Andros Chora in general, not just at the taverna) were all so healthy that I wondered if a shipping magnate had endowed a vet and paid for all the necessary treatments. There were lots of well-fed cats. Down one back street I saw a pot (an old handleless frying pan) full of water and another of full cat biscuits. One cat pulled a biscuit out of the pot with his paw, so carefully, then ate it. The fastest things in the vehicle-free Chora are on four legs.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Kalo Taxidi - Andros - Taverna with no food
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Andros - Taverna with no food
Andros - the smell of food for the evening cooking yet nothing available to eat. I sat on the taverna terrace, hungry, as tantalising smells of unobtainable food wafted past. On my early visits to Greece most places would offer to rustle up an omelette if nothing else was available, but more recently I have found "eating" places at which nothing to eat is on offer.
I had walked a long way across Andros. I had passed a number of tavernas - all closed. I was thirsty. I was hungry.
Eventually I reached Ipsilou which not only had a taverna that was open, but a spacious rear terrace, with a glorious view down over Chora. The Ipsilou bus stop was just up the road; right next to the taverna was a path that seemed to head chorawards. Delicious smells were coming from inside the taverna. I was going to like Ipsilou! If the taverna was in serving mode, I would indulge. The taverna door was open and I went through to the terrace at the back. The taverna was open. My taste buds quivered. I asked for an Amstel, wanting to quench my thirst before ordering any food. The prop. was apologetic, saying that he had only just put the Amstel in the fridge and it was still warm. Would I like a different make of beer? I plumped for the warm Amstel (the beer was not that warm) and enjoyed the view from the terrace as I sipped it.
The smell of food wafting out from the taverna was irresistible but I had to stay hungry. Food was served only after 7 p.m. at the Ipsilou taverna - and there were no evening buses from Chora to Ipsilou! The smell was most delicious. I supposed I was lucky they were open to serve beer. When dark, there would be no view (only lights) to enjoy, and perhaps it would be too cold to sit outside. The irony of sitting, hungry, with the delicious food smells wafting over me. Not even an omelette was offered yet the props. seemed friendly enough. I thought of the bar on Serifos, with nothing on sale although outside was a huge pile of beer crates. The person in charge of the Serifos non-bar dipped a glass into a bucket of water and offered it to me. He would not accept payment. The hazards of travelling out of season.
Hungry still but no longer thirsty I set back for Chora, having taken the precaution of checking with the prop. that the path beneath the taverna was the right path. It was.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Andros - Taverna with no food
Andros - the smell of food for the evening cooking yet nothing available to eat. I sat on the taverna terrace, hungry, as tantalising smells of unobtainable food wafted past. On my early visits to Greece most places would offer to rustle up an omelette if nothing else was available, but more recently I have found "eating" places at which nothing to eat is on offer.
I had walked a long way across Andros. I had passed a number of tavernas - all closed. I was thirsty. I was hungry.
Eventually I reached Ipsilou which not only had a taverna that was open, but a spacious rear terrace, with a glorious view down over Chora. The Ipsilou bus stop was just up the road; right next to the taverna was a path that seemed to head chorawards. Delicious smells were coming from inside the taverna. I was going to like Ipsilou! If the taverna was in serving mode, I would indulge. The taverna door was open and I went through to the terrace at the back. The taverna was open. My taste buds quivered. I asked for an Amstel, wanting to quench my thirst before ordering any food. The prop. was apologetic, saying that he had only just put the Amstel in the fridge and it was still warm. Would I like a different make of beer? I plumped for the warm Amstel (the beer was not that warm) and enjoyed the view from the terrace as I sipped it.
The smell of food wafting out from the taverna was irresistible but I had to stay hungry. Food was served only after 7 p.m. at the Ipsilou taverna - and there were no evening buses from Chora to Ipsilou! The smell was most delicious. I supposed I was lucky they were open to serve beer. When dark, there would be no view (only lights) to enjoy, and perhaps it would be too cold to sit outside. The irony of sitting, hungry, with the delicious food smells wafting over me. Not even an omelette was offered yet the props. seemed friendly enough. I thought of the bar on Serifos, with nothing on sale although outside was a huge pile of beer crates. The person in charge of the Serifos non-bar dipped a glass into a bucket of water and offered it to me. He would not accept payment. The hazards of travelling out of season.
Hungry still but no longer thirsty I set back for Chora, having taken the precaution of checking with the prop. that the path beneath the taverna was the right path. It was.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Kalo Taxidi - Andros Chora - General Impressions
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Andros Chora - General Impressions
My first daylight view of Andros Chora. I was impressed. Old fashioned shops, some smart, some small village like. Impressive large nineteenth century type buildings, yet not out of scale. I said nineteenth century type as if they had been in England the buildings would have been 19th century. Later I saw that the library which I had taken to be in a nineteenth century building had a "1919" date plaque. Andros was behind mainland west European styles in architecture. I was reminded of what I had read about fashions in previous centuries in England; ladies in the provinces dressed in what had been fashionable years earlier in London.
A marbled main street, in theory pedestrianised, but in practice not always, but then this is Greece. To be fair most of the few vehicles using the street were commercial vehicles making deliveries; many of the deliveries were made by a chap pushing a large wooden barrow.
The town is built along a finger of a peninsula. When I first arrived last night and saw Chora at night I did not realise how narrow the peninsula was. In the dark I went for a stroll down towards the end of the peninsula but did not quite reach the end. I was almost at the square of the Unknown Sailor, but had not realised it. With hindsight I should have guessed from the swirling wind how narrow the peninsula was.
That first morning in Andros Chora I was thinking about an imaginary computer programme into which I could feed all the bits I liked about Greece to produce my perfect Greek place. Something like Andros Chora would emerge (and then I had not even started to discover the delights of the Andros countryside). Sorry my old friends Amorgos and Naxos, but sometimes I feel that you are getting a little too spoilt [2011 update. I wrote this fifteen years ago, have not been back to Andros, and visit Naxos and Amorgos three or four times a year!] All the time I am aware that in the Greek islands so much of what one sees and one's impressions depend upon the specific conditions at the time of one's visit. If I saw Andros in mid August I might revert to favouring my old favourites, but in mid August they too would be under siege from tourists both Greek and foreign.
Some general impressions of Andros Chora. Sea, lashing against rocks; cliffs; houses overhanging cliffs; a Venetian castle; pedestrianised main street; old fashioned; few tourists and not tourist dominated; handsome buildings; a lighthouse perched precariously on a rock; a church on a rock; friendly cats; a good wine shop; great cheese pies; smart hotel with marble staircase and decorative hand-rail overlooking main pedestrianised street; the fishmonger below my room with plump attentive cats - what more could I want? A large Goulandris endowed museum - it would be too greedy to ask in my computer programme for three museums / galleries! And you have Andros Chora. Not to mention the Nautical Museum, and the library. If I plugged all this into a computer programme I would feel greedy and that no real place could possibly offer so much.
Going back to my imaginary computer programme, admittedly, I would like a nice taverna serving good food with a sea view, and good walks without the need for a bus. I later decided that my complaint about not being able to start a walk from Chora was unjustified. I can expect that from a village, but not from a town. In fact you can start a walk from Chora, but I do not like walking uphill! The bracing seaside walks from Chora are marvellous.
With its museums and art galleries I may have given the impression that Andros Chora is a sophisticated place. Not entirely true, unless the presence of donkeys and the absence of cars is taken as a sign of sophistication. I saw a donkey (doey eyed, as usual) being saddled. First on went a pink flannelette sheet, carefully positioned and then I think a blanket - no saddle sores on that donkey. I was reminded of a monk from Hozoviotissa monastery on Amorgos whom I saw on a ferry clutching a new donkey saddle frame in that traditional Greek saddle shape. I wonder how old some of the donkey frames still in use are? The design seems to be timeless.
The people here look prosperous, but not showy. Comfortable, not peasant types. I don't want to be rude about other inhabitants on some of the smaller islands, in situ they are lovely people and totally in harmony with and at peace with their surroundings, but transplant one to Andros and he or she might look a little out of place.
One of the delights of Chora was the abundance of small old-fashioned shops. I found myself wishing that nothing would ever change, but of course Chora is a living small town and is always changing; it is just that all these changes sum up to a marvellously homogenised whole.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Andros Chora - General Impressions
My first daylight view of Andros Chora. I was impressed. Old fashioned shops, some smart, some small village like. Impressive large nineteenth century type buildings, yet not out of scale. I said nineteenth century type as if they had been in England the buildings would have been 19th century. Later I saw that the library which I had taken to be in a nineteenth century building had a "1919" date plaque. Andros was behind mainland west European styles in architecture. I was reminded of what I had read about fashions in previous centuries in England; ladies in the provinces dressed in what had been fashionable years earlier in London.
A marbled main street, in theory pedestrianised, but in practice not always, but then this is Greece. To be fair most of the few vehicles using the street were commercial vehicles making deliveries; many of the deliveries were made by a chap pushing a large wooden barrow.
The town is built along a finger of a peninsula. When I first arrived last night and saw Chora at night I did not realise how narrow the peninsula was. In the dark I went for a stroll down towards the end of the peninsula but did not quite reach the end. I was almost at the square of the Unknown Sailor, but had not realised it. With hindsight I should have guessed from the swirling wind how narrow the peninsula was.
That first morning in Andros Chora I was thinking about an imaginary computer programme into which I could feed all the bits I liked about Greece to produce my perfect Greek place. Something like Andros Chora would emerge (and then I had not even started to discover the delights of the Andros countryside). Sorry my old friends Amorgos and Naxos, but sometimes I feel that you are getting a little too spoilt [2011 update. I wrote this fifteen years ago, have not been back to Andros, and visit Naxos and Amorgos three or four times a year!] All the time I am aware that in the Greek islands so much of what one sees and one's impressions depend upon the specific conditions at the time of one's visit. If I saw Andros in mid August I might revert to favouring my old favourites, but in mid August they too would be under siege from tourists both Greek and foreign.
Some general impressions of Andros Chora. Sea, lashing against rocks; cliffs; houses overhanging cliffs; a Venetian castle; pedestrianised main street; old fashioned; few tourists and not tourist dominated; handsome buildings; a lighthouse perched precariously on a rock; a church on a rock; friendly cats; a good wine shop; great cheese pies; smart hotel with marble staircase and decorative hand-rail overlooking main pedestrianised street; the fishmonger below my room with plump attentive cats - what more could I want? A large Goulandris endowed museum - it would be too greedy to ask in my computer programme for three museums / galleries! And you have Andros Chora. Not to mention the Nautical Museum, and the library. If I plugged all this into a computer programme I would feel greedy and that no real place could possibly offer so much.
Going back to my imaginary computer programme, admittedly, I would like a nice taverna serving good food with a sea view, and good walks without the need for a bus. I later decided that my complaint about not being able to start a walk from Chora was unjustified. I can expect that from a village, but not from a town. In fact you can start a walk from Chora, but I do not like walking uphill! The bracing seaside walks from Chora are marvellous.
With its museums and art galleries I may have given the impression that Andros Chora is a sophisticated place. Not entirely true, unless the presence of donkeys and the absence of cars is taken as a sign of sophistication. I saw a donkey (doey eyed, as usual) being saddled. First on went a pink flannelette sheet, carefully positioned and then I think a blanket - no saddle sores on that donkey. I was reminded of a monk from Hozoviotissa monastery on Amorgos whom I saw on a ferry clutching a new donkey saddle frame in that traditional Greek saddle shape. I wonder how old some of the donkey frames still in use are? The design seems to be timeless.
The people here look prosperous, but not showy. Comfortable, not peasant types. I don't want to be rude about other inhabitants on some of the smaller islands, in situ they are lovely people and totally in harmony with and at peace with their surroundings, but transplant one to Andros and he or she might look a little out of place.
One of the delights of Chora was the abundance of small old-fashioned shops. I found myself wishing that nothing would ever change, but of course Chora is a living small town and is always changing; it is just that all these changes sum up to a marvellously homogenised whole.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Kalo Taxidi - Anaphi 1996
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Anaphi 1996
I had often looked at Anaphi on the map. One day I wanted to go there but it seemed so far from anywhere, not on a main ferry route. When I realised in 1996 that a ferry went twice a week from Naxos to Anaphi I made my mind up instantly. Anaphi it was to be for my next stop.
The Express Santorini arrived at Naxos at 2 p.m. I had bought my ticket through to Anaphi from one of the agents on Naxos seafront, but the departure board only showed the stops as Ios and Santorini. I checked with one of the crew who told me that the ferry was indeed going on to Anaphi.
I had been on ferries that called in at Ios a few times, but had then never landed there. I had been put off by the reputation of the island as full of discos. It is strange how tourism has developed in different ways on different islands.
I went to Santorini on my first trip to Greece in 1981. In October the island had been fairly quiet, but even then I understood that things could get fairly hectic in mid season. As with Mykonos, I had been put off going back to Santorini by the comments I had heard and read about those islands being packed with cruise ship passengers and shops selling gold jewellery.
Heading up the stairs to the top deck of the Santorini Express I noticed the differing types of passengers on deck. As usual most of the Greek passengers were in the inside lounges. On the lower deck many of the seats were piled high with tatty bags and blaring ghetto blasters - I guessed the passengers on that deck were heading for Ios. On the next deck up were smarter looking passengers.
On the top deck there was just one other passenger. We started chatting and when I asked her where she was from, she said "US, but you can tell that". But I couldn't - I'm hopeless at accents. She was on her first trip to Greece and heading for Santorini. A Canadian man, also headed for Santorini, came up to look at the view and before long we were chatting about what we saw. Abandoned terraces, the traces left by the large self sufficient populations living on the islands in the past; boundary walls running for long distances across islands; and the Cycladic figurines found on the islands. On holiday I often find that I keep on meeting the same people in different places at points where our differing itineraries overlap. Sometimes I see the same people on later trips. Other times similar types meet - get on - part, never to meet again. I feel I know more people (or a higher percentage of the people I meet) on some Greek islands than I do at home.
The American and Canadian were both surprised that I was heading to Anaphi and both thought that the ferry only went as far as Santorini. As we came past the spectacular backdrop of the cliffs of Santorini the reassuring announcement came over the ferry's loudspeaker. Passengers for Santorini should disembark as soon as the ship docked as the ship would sail immediately for Anaphi. Most of the passengers got off at Santorini, and only a handful remained for the final leg of the journey to Anaphi. On a last leg you know that all the passengers on board will be fellow visitors on your island and I try to size them up. They looked OK.
It was one of those days that are perfect for sea travel, when the sea was perfectly smooth and the sky sparkling blue. The perfectly smooth sea looked oily calm. To anyone who does not know Greece this expression would suggest a dirty sea. The sea is not dirty - but shiny clean with a shimmer like oil on the surface. "I wish I could go on cruising," the American woman said as we approached Santorini.
The crew seemed somewhat grumpy on this journey. Normally the ferry only went as far as Santorini, but twice a week did the trip to Anaphi and back. I suspected that the crew regarded the time spent on the trip to Anaphi as an infringement of their free time. I tried to go into the lounge. One of the crew was hoovering and said, "outside please." I went up on deck; one of the crew was swilling the deck down with a hosepipe, "downstairs please". I retreated to a deck at the front of the ship were most of the passengers had been chased to.
Santorini grew smaller behind us, Anaphi loomed closer ahead. The tingle of anticipation, the challenge, of having a new island to explore. What would I do when I had visited all of the Cyclades? There are many other groups of islands in Greece to explore but I have and always will have a soft spot for the Cyclades.
My concern on Anaphi was that according to one guide book I had read there was no bus up to the Chora. Another book mentioned a "pint-sized bus". How small? Would we all fit in? The harbour sounded from what I had read (and this proved to be the case) little more than a boat stop. I wanted to stay in the Chora. The Chora was a long uphill walk from the harbour, a gruelling walk with all my holiday possessions on my back. I need not have worried. Behind the little knot of passengers waiting on the harbour I saw a decent sized bus, and not only a bus but also some minibuses. I am ambivalent about transport on Greek islands. I would like to stay on an island without motor vehicles, yet I want to be transported uphill and be able to buy and eat a range of good food when I get there.
I gathered up my bags and went down to the car deck. None of the bustle you find when arriving at a larger island. Few passengers, even fewer vehicles. I was surprised to see a GB registered car down there. I later discovered that an Englishman had rented a bar by the harbour for the season.
An earnest young German man chatted to me as we waited for the ferry to dock. He had been staying on Anaphi but had moved on to Sikinos on Saturday. On Sikinos he had been told that there was no accommodation in Sikinos Chora, so he had stayed in the port, only to discover that there was nowhere to eat in the harbour and he had to go up to the Chora to eat. Cynic that I am, I wondered if he had been told that there were no rooms in the Chora by someone who had rooms to let in the harbour. He had been lonely on Sikinos and three days later here he was back on Anaphi where he had enjoyed himself so much on his first visit. I pondered on how gossip spread amongst travellers can affect an island's reputation. The earnest young German told me that the accommodation on Anaphi was good.
The bus was slightly shorter than a full size bus, with two seats on one side, one on the other - but more than adequate, at least at this time of year. Often I find that an island has a larger bus in reserve for use at busier times of the year.
I had noticed a Greek woman with a young daughter by the harbour. I suspected from the way she was sizing up the new arrivals that she had rooms to let. I was right. Rania, sitting on the seat behind me on the bus, offered me a room. Rania's English was less good than my Greek but we got by. I had had my eye on the "Panorama" pension - as from the map it seemed to be in the best position. The Panorama had a minibus (reminds me of the stream of minibuses heading up hairpin road from Santorini harbour). I was put off - thinking that if the Panorama had a minibus it must be very touristy. Later saw that the Panorama was being extended, noisily extended. Rania's rooms, Paradise Rooms, were the next on my mental list - but I did not know that Rania's rooms were "Paradise Rooms" when I agreed to follow Rania and have a look.
There I was, established in my comfortable room with a view. There were three rooms leading off a terrace with beautiful views over the hills to the sea and mountain top monastery beyond. The terrace and room were paved with a sort of crazy paving (obviously local stone) that I had not come across before. The stones in the room were varnished. The room was furnished with new pine furniture, including a writing table and stool, and even a wardrobe with a door (unusual in Greece when so often there is an open fronted cupboard. The bathroom was luxurious by island standards, and even had a shower tray (often Greek showers drain to a hole in the floor). Even better there was hot water and excellent water pressure. It is a rare Greek set of plumbing that does not have at least one drawback. I soon found out, after a copious shower (I used less water afterwards, honest!) that if I turned the water on too fast a puddle formed on the bedroom floor. Outside there were plastic tables and chairs on the terrace.
There I was, clean and settled in, and itching to see Anaphi and get some dinner. By the time I emerged from my room it was dark, so it was not too easy to orientate myself. I would have to wait until the next day for a proper exploration.
Somewhere in the distance (but I knew it could not be far away) I could hear some music. Where was it coming from? I wondered if the music would stop at siesta time. I later found that the music came from To Steki taverna that was only open in the evenings. It was off the main track. On my first exploration I did not spot To Steki and ate at Alexandro's taverna.
The taverna was on the main street (more of a path than a street) running through the village. I enjoy eating in the restaurant on the main path through Amorgos Chora because of the fun of watching the locals pass by. Sitting outside here I got something of the same atmosphere, and the bonus of a sea view (a night time view of a black sea and a black sky) on the other side. The priest and many locals walked past on their evening rounds. The food was good, a large pork chop with boiled/ baked potatoes and 1/2 litre of krassi. I fondly imagined that this was Anaphi wine and similar wine was served in both tavernas. One day I had a close look at the reddish plastic barrel it came out of and found that it was Santorini wine. This was the best meal I had at Alexandros. For some reason To Steki was far more popular and was always packed. I was the only person eating at Alexandros. Much as I enjoyed this first meal I later found that because of lack of custom he had a very limited menu (one night just string beans) so I, too, was tempted away to eat more often at To Steki. A vicious circle. I had a soft spot for Alexandros as his was the only place open in the Chora for a lunch time drink.
Most Greek islands have lots of cats. Anaphi has lots of dogs. I like dogs after a fashion, but I like to be sure that they are friendly before I let them get too close to me. One guide book had a map of Anaphi Chora showing "Baskerville Alley". On my explorations I tried to find the dead-end alley shown on the map, but at the same time did not want to find myself cornered in an alley by a savage hound. Dogs patrolled up and down the footpath outside the taverna. They all seemed harmless enough, and sometimes curious. There were few cats. In Greece you get used to cats begging at tavernas. Anaphi has canine cats. A white dog with ginger spots seemed to have adopted me. "My" dog sat by my taverna table and stared at me with large reproachful eyes, then gave up and wandered away when I did not throw him any titbits. There were occasional dog squabbles in the street. An elder would tap a walking stick (on the ground, not at the dog) and the dogs dispersed.
The first cat I saw in Anaphi was halfway up a telegraph pole. The culprit who chased him there was a brown dog. When his master approached the dog slunk to the ground, his master tapped him on the shoulder - and the ginger cat jumped down.
Next morning I was woken at about five o'clock by the sound of a dog barking. A normal bark followed by a long drawn out "wo-ooooooooooooooooo", a really drawn out "ooo" sound. Yet a gentle, long drawn out sound, not a howl, not a grating sound.
So that must be Baskerville. That was the only morning I was woken by him, perhaps my subconscious ignored him on future mornings in Anaphi. I heard his distinctive bark on other occasions but never managed to see the mutt whilst he produced the bark (and I wouldn't want to unless Baskerville was tied up). I wondered if Baskerville belonged to a fisherman or farmer. No doubt going with minder to work on terrace or catch fish. I once saw a sturdy flat fronted brown and white dog down in the harbour (looking as if butter would not melt in his mouth) that I suspected might have been Baskerville.
A new day, a new island to explore, but first breakfast. I set off intending to buy some yoghurt, thick creamy Greek yoghurt, but soon discovered that the shops were not geared to tourists, and the locals did not care for yoghurt (or if they did had cleared all supplies from the shop fridges). How used we become to well stocked shops, and how quickly unused to them! There was a small general store and a bakery. There was no sign of any honey on sale. I later saw lots of beehives, perhaps you need to know a beekeeper to buy honey on Anaphi. The only preserves I saw on sale were sesame paste, praline spread with chocolate, and orange marmalade. For future reference I noted the wine that was on sale, just Bon Viveur and Caligula. I stuck to taverna barrel wine.
The bakery sold brown bread as well as white bread. You do not often see brown bread on sale in Greece (though I do see brown bread on sale more often now than I used to). I bought a loaf of brown bread which was very rough textured and looked as if everything that grew in the grain field was thrown into it. It was very good bread, though. I eked out the two "individual" portions of honey I had bought in Amorgos.
Eating breakfast on the terrace outside my room I saw islands floating like meringues above the sea. Without studying a map it was difficult to judge how far away they were. In the morning sunshine the distant land appears blue. Light blue distant sky - dark blue sky above, dark blue sea, and even darker blue land. In the afternoon the sun would be off the terrace and after my walk I would be able to sit in the shade in a delicious breeze. The monastery was perched on a peak and was just visible from behind a mountain. How high up was it? Would I be able to get there?
Anaphi Chora has very much the feel of a small agricultural village. The architecture is distinctive. Most of the houses have large outdoor ovens. Later I found that some of the deserted houses in the countryside had two, sometimes three, ovens. Why all this cooking, I wondered? At first I mistook the barrel vaulted Anaphi houses for churches - I realised just in time as I was about to walk into the grounds of a house thinking that it was a church. As in Santorini the houses are built in this style to help make them more resistant to earthquakes.
The village was quiet and uncommercialised although as on all Greek islands I wondered how different it would be in peak season when there were far more tourists about. At present the handful of tourists seemed not to disturb the routine of island life. I noticed a number of tourist orientated establishments (shops and bars) that were shown on my map but had not yet opened up for the season. I noticed one bar (closed when I arrived but showing signs of being opened up by the time I left) advertising "electronic games" and one or two other places that would give the island a more commercial flavour in peak season. But so few tourists anywhere that I wondered how busy peak season would be.
Even in mid morning it was very hot, the heat of the sun being made more intense when reflected off the white walls of Chora. Many of the women were wearing large straw hats, I had not seen similar hats elsewhere at least not in such quantity and wondered how many of the ways of Anaphi were still unaffected by contact with the outside world.
And so to explore. I had a small scale map of the island. On the wall outside Alexandro's taverna there was a more detailed map, but no copies were on sale. I marked some of the footpaths I was likely to use onto my own map. I wanted to find the site of old Anaphi at Kastelli, and perhaps walk to the monasteries along the coast. I had read that an overnight stay on the beach was recommended if you visited the monasteries such was the distance involved. I did not fancy that so gave the monasteries a miss. This first day I just wanted to get the feel of the island and strolled around paths in the valleys on all sides of the Chora. A pleasant rural island. At first I was puzzled by the odd yellow coloured terrace and then realised that this was a ripe crop of barley. Later on both Anaphi and Kimolos I saw donkeys carrying a thatch of newly harvested barley.
Anaphi Chora is a maze. A small hill towers above the Chora on a gentle hill. I wanted to go up there to watch the sun setting over Santorini. I found my way through the tangle of paths and, after a few false turns, climbed to the hill top. I went close to Baskerville alley but neither saw nor heard the hound. After sunset I walked down and found a number of island women sitting on a wall lower down the hill. They had been watching the sunset too.
That night I went to eat at To Steki, sitting on the outside terrace. The tables along one side were doing duty as a kafeneion, locals came and went clacking their worry beads. At times there was a positive chorus of worry beads.
When I arrived there was a good view of the sea from the terrace but darkness soon fell. Before long it was so dark that I could not see the nameless little island in the distance.
I still do not know the times of the boats back, I assume it is just Saturday and Tuesday at 7 in the evening. In guidebooks I had seen mention of post office boats doing the trip from Santorini to Anaphi on days when the ferries were not running. I did not fancy that crossing in anything other than a full size grown up ferry. Usually there would have been twice as many ferries at that time of year, but one ferry was in the ship casualty ward after her encounter with the now deceased Poseidon Express (she had been the fastest ferry in the area, but was then lying on her side in Paros harbour). I offered a mental prayer for the continued well-being of the Express Santorini. If she too succumbed when would I get away? I visualised news headlines. "Tourists stranded on remote Greek island. No yoghurt. Beer running low."
Friday, the day for decisions. There were just two ferries a week in May from Anaphi to Santorini, on Saturday and Tuesday. Shall I catch the ferry on Saturday or shall I wait until Tuesday? Is it a mistake to go to Kimolos this trip? I was enjoying Anaphi so much that I was afraid that Kimolos might seem an anti-climax. I would hate to move on to another island and then wish I was back at the island that I had just left. That had never happened to me. That is what happened to the Earnest Young German. Did I want to return to Naxos/Amorgos at the end of the holiday, those two old favourites that are always beckoning me to return? If I wanted to go to Naxos/Amorgos and Kimolos, it would be best to leave Anaphi on Saturday. Or if I was not going to Naxos/Amorgos, I could go to Kimolos, and then on to Siphnos or Serifos. Saturday was too early to leave, yet Tuesday seemed too late. By Tuesday I would have exhausted the delights of Anaphi. There comes a stage when however pleasant an island is, I feel that by lingering I am lazing and enjoying, not learning and exploring and enjoying myself. When I ask myself questions like this I also ask myself just what holidays are for.
"When are you leaving?" asked my landlady. I decided to leave on Tuesday. In she bustled, cleaning my room, and giving me a bunch of flowers.
On Saturday the wind howled. The boat was due in around seven in the evening. The arrival of the ferry is a social event. I walked down to the harbour to watch. At that time of the year the bus only met the ferry. The bus was already down there when I arrived. A cluster of people were in the taverna, the ticket seller was open, and the bus was by the harbour. Suddenly the bus pulled away and dashed uphill. Those of us left down on the harbour gathered that the boat was not coming. I walked uphill. Perhaps the boat will come tomorrow.
I was happy waiting until Tuesday, but had visions of a storm setting in on Tuesday, If there was a boat on Sunday I would like to catch it. I started to walk up the mule track to Chora. On the way I caught glimpses of the bus wending up the much longer road. The Earnest Young German was bounding down the mule track towards the harbour. "You try to go? No boat. No, no luggage. You not go. You stay. You find Old Anaphi, yes?" No, I told him wishing that I could make myself understood so well in German, I did not find Old Anaphi. I had been on a couple of very pleasant walks trying to find the site but had not managed to find it.
"Old Anaphi, it is easy to find. You take the path above the beach in the direction of the monastery. You know."
Yes, I knew the path well, an attractive path I had been on a few times.
"You walk along that path, you come to a valley with some wellies and some flowers."
A picture of wellington boots filled with flowers flew across my mind and I suppressed a smile. Then I visualised the wells in the flower filled valley the path went across. Should I correct his English or not? Yes, I knew valley with the wellies, I said.
"You walk past the wellies and you see a church, a church with one olive tree, just one tree. You know?"
No, I didn't know, but I might have passed it.
"You will know the church when you see it, just one church with just one tree. Near the church there is a path. Follow that path and you find Old Anaphi."
I thanked the Earnest Young German for his detailed instructions. The next day I would try to find Old Anaphi. Now I knew just where to look how could I possibly miss it?
On Sunday I set out to find Kastelli. It was still windy. I could see the white horses out at sea. I thought it was unlikely that the ferry would come. I crossed the valley with the flowers and the wellies and before long saw a church and a conspicuous solitary tree. I followed a nearby path, still not too sure where the site of Kastelli lay. By the path I saw another deserted house with a large and small outside oven. Even the smaller oven was huge. The two ovens were attached to each other and together they were bigger than the house. Inside the house was a large fireplace. Nearby was an old church with a carved stone container, a coffin perhaps, outside. I meandered up, over and around stones and rocks and eventually came upon the rambling overgrown ruins of Kastelli.
I met the Earnest Archaeologist on old Anaphi - a young Greek girl, probably in her early 20s. I had previously met the Earnest Archaeologist in the village. She shouted to me from high up on Kastelli. Later she gestured wildly towards me. I trotted over the stones and undergrowth towards her. Knee deep in nettles we shook hands and introduced ourselves! Preserving old fashioned formalities whilst being stung with nettles. I would hardly have been surprised if she had produced a glass of water and saucer of preserved fruit, the traditional Greek welcoming treat, out of her rucksack.
"Have you seen any torses?" I was thinking of wellies. Torses? What were torses?
"Tortoises?" I ventured.
"No, not tortoises, torses. Come and I'll show you."
The Earnest Archaeologist pushed aside a cluster of nettles and revealed the headless busts of two stone statues. Later I realised that it was my English that was lacking and that "torse" is the technical word for these stone figures. I would have said torsos. Later the Earnest Young German asked me if I had seen the torses at Kastelli. If I had not met the Earnest Archaeologist I would not have known what he was talking about! I would have again guessed tortoises!
The Earnest Archaeologist told me that people had come with yachts and stolen some of the torses. A pity. I was pleased to see that some remained, but would have preferred to see them taken away for safekeeping in museums. In the meantime a delight for honest tourists to walk around. I had also read of thefts of Cycladic figures from museums in Greece, so not even items in museums are safe. And be careful what you pick. Picking up (heaving up) a torse is obviously theft. Less obviously so is picking up a bit of pot, or even a pebble if it is on an archaeological site. I have read of visitors to the Acropolis who pocketed a pebble or two being held overnight in a cell before being fined.
Back in the Chora I walked through to the end of the village and looked out over the sea to Santorini. This must be what people did in the olden days, go and look over to Santorini with binoculars and look for a boat. If boat is on its way, flee downhill, and hope you arrive in time. At least I know that the tub leaves Piraeus at 8 a.m. and Naxos at 2 p.m. On second thoughts, storms could mean a re-arranged schedule. The ferry is normally due here at 6.45 p.m. If I had intended catching a ferry that day, I would not have gone to old Anaphi, or at least not gone there and lingered. I could see no sign of a ferry. Would a ferry come today? Probably not. Would a ferry arrive next Tuesday? Probably, weather permitting. There were so few passengers on the boat out I did wonder if the ferry company would decide that it was not worth coming out to Anaphi even if the seas had been calm.
I did not scan the horizon with binoculars - but it would be good artistically to say that I did. Around five I got back to the village and was drinking a beer at the only place open. I caught the words "Santorini Express" and "five" and "this afternoon". It was 5.15. Yes, the boat was coming. The bus had already gone. I would have to walk down. I flew back to my room, packed, paid my landlady, and trotted at high speed down the muletrack. If this was a false alarm I would have to walk back up to Chora. With my bags. If there was no boat there would be no bus. On my way down I saw the bus going down the road. A good sign. Going down the muletrack (a superior sort, concreted and stepless for most of the way. Not scenic, but easier to walk on than the authentic cobbled sort, especially when you are laden down with bags.) Other people with bags in the harbour. I bought a ticket. The boat must be coming. With a ticket in my paw I felt more secure. And there she was. There is no shelter at all at Anaphi harbour, and the ship leant sideways coming into dock. The boat was only fastened to the harbour with one rope. But at least I was on board and on my way.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Anaphi 1996
I had often looked at Anaphi on the map. One day I wanted to go there but it seemed so far from anywhere, not on a main ferry route. When I realised in 1996 that a ferry went twice a week from Naxos to Anaphi I made my mind up instantly. Anaphi it was to be for my next stop.
The Express Santorini arrived at Naxos at 2 p.m. I had bought my ticket through to Anaphi from one of the agents on Naxos seafront, but the departure board only showed the stops as Ios and Santorini. I checked with one of the crew who told me that the ferry was indeed going on to Anaphi.
I had been on ferries that called in at Ios a few times, but had then never landed there. I had been put off by the reputation of the island as full of discos. It is strange how tourism has developed in different ways on different islands.
I went to Santorini on my first trip to Greece in 1981. In October the island had been fairly quiet, but even then I understood that things could get fairly hectic in mid season. As with Mykonos, I had been put off going back to Santorini by the comments I had heard and read about those islands being packed with cruise ship passengers and shops selling gold jewellery.
Heading up the stairs to the top deck of the Santorini Express I noticed the differing types of passengers on deck. As usual most of the Greek passengers were in the inside lounges. On the lower deck many of the seats were piled high with tatty bags and blaring ghetto blasters - I guessed the passengers on that deck were heading for Ios. On the next deck up were smarter looking passengers.
On the top deck there was just one other passenger. We started chatting and when I asked her where she was from, she said "US, but you can tell that". But I couldn't - I'm hopeless at accents. She was on her first trip to Greece and heading for Santorini. A Canadian man, also headed for Santorini, came up to look at the view and before long we were chatting about what we saw. Abandoned terraces, the traces left by the large self sufficient populations living on the islands in the past; boundary walls running for long distances across islands; and the Cycladic figurines found on the islands. On holiday I often find that I keep on meeting the same people in different places at points where our differing itineraries overlap. Sometimes I see the same people on later trips. Other times similar types meet - get on - part, never to meet again. I feel I know more people (or a higher percentage of the people I meet) on some Greek islands than I do at home.
The American and Canadian were both surprised that I was heading to Anaphi and both thought that the ferry only went as far as Santorini. As we came past the spectacular backdrop of the cliffs of Santorini the reassuring announcement came over the ferry's loudspeaker. Passengers for Santorini should disembark as soon as the ship docked as the ship would sail immediately for Anaphi. Most of the passengers got off at Santorini, and only a handful remained for the final leg of the journey to Anaphi. On a last leg you know that all the passengers on board will be fellow visitors on your island and I try to size them up. They looked OK.
It was one of those days that are perfect for sea travel, when the sea was perfectly smooth and the sky sparkling blue. The perfectly smooth sea looked oily calm. To anyone who does not know Greece this expression would suggest a dirty sea. The sea is not dirty - but shiny clean with a shimmer like oil on the surface. "I wish I could go on cruising," the American woman said as we approached Santorini.
The crew seemed somewhat grumpy on this journey. Normally the ferry only went as far as Santorini, but twice a week did the trip to Anaphi and back. I suspected that the crew regarded the time spent on the trip to Anaphi as an infringement of their free time. I tried to go into the lounge. One of the crew was hoovering and said, "outside please." I went up on deck; one of the crew was swilling the deck down with a hosepipe, "downstairs please". I retreated to a deck at the front of the ship were most of the passengers had been chased to.
Santorini grew smaller behind us, Anaphi loomed closer ahead. The tingle of anticipation, the challenge, of having a new island to explore. What would I do when I had visited all of the Cyclades? There are many other groups of islands in Greece to explore but I have and always will have a soft spot for the Cyclades.
My concern on Anaphi was that according to one guide book I had read there was no bus up to the Chora. Another book mentioned a "pint-sized bus". How small? Would we all fit in? The harbour sounded from what I had read (and this proved to be the case) little more than a boat stop. I wanted to stay in the Chora. The Chora was a long uphill walk from the harbour, a gruelling walk with all my holiday possessions on my back. I need not have worried. Behind the little knot of passengers waiting on the harbour I saw a decent sized bus, and not only a bus but also some minibuses. I am ambivalent about transport on Greek islands. I would like to stay on an island without motor vehicles, yet I want to be transported uphill and be able to buy and eat a range of good food when I get there.
I gathered up my bags and went down to the car deck. None of the bustle you find when arriving at a larger island. Few passengers, even fewer vehicles. I was surprised to see a GB registered car down there. I later discovered that an Englishman had rented a bar by the harbour for the season.
An earnest young German man chatted to me as we waited for the ferry to dock. He had been staying on Anaphi but had moved on to Sikinos on Saturday. On Sikinos he had been told that there was no accommodation in Sikinos Chora, so he had stayed in the port, only to discover that there was nowhere to eat in the harbour and he had to go up to the Chora to eat. Cynic that I am, I wondered if he had been told that there were no rooms in the Chora by someone who had rooms to let in the harbour. He had been lonely on Sikinos and three days later here he was back on Anaphi where he had enjoyed himself so much on his first visit. I pondered on how gossip spread amongst travellers can affect an island's reputation. The earnest young German told me that the accommodation on Anaphi was good.
The bus was slightly shorter than a full size bus, with two seats on one side, one on the other - but more than adequate, at least at this time of year. Often I find that an island has a larger bus in reserve for use at busier times of the year.
I had noticed a Greek woman with a young daughter by the harbour. I suspected from the way she was sizing up the new arrivals that she had rooms to let. I was right. Rania, sitting on the seat behind me on the bus, offered me a room. Rania's English was less good than my Greek but we got by. I had had my eye on the "Panorama" pension - as from the map it seemed to be in the best position. The Panorama had a minibus (reminds me of the stream of minibuses heading up hairpin road from Santorini harbour). I was put off - thinking that if the Panorama had a minibus it must be very touristy. Later saw that the Panorama was being extended, noisily extended. Rania's rooms, Paradise Rooms, were the next on my mental list - but I did not know that Rania's rooms were "Paradise Rooms" when I agreed to follow Rania and have a look.
There I was, established in my comfortable room with a view. There were three rooms leading off a terrace with beautiful views over the hills to the sea and mountain top monastery beyond. The terrace and room were paved with a sort of crazy paving (obviously local stone) that I had not come across before. The stones in the room were varnished. The room was furnished with new pine furniture, including a writing table and stool, and even a wardrobe with a door (unusual in Greece when so often there is an open fronted cupboard. The bathroom was luxurious by island standards, and even had a shower tray (often Greek showers drain to a hole in the floor). Even better there was hot water and excellent water pressure. It is a rare Greek set of plumbing that does not have at least one drawback. I soon found out, after a copious shower (I used less water afterwards, honest!) that if I turned the water on too fast a puddle formed on the bedroom floor. Outside there were plastic tables and chairs on the terrace.
There I was, clean and settled in, and itching to see Anaphi and get some dinner. By the time I emerged from my room it was dark, so it was not too easy to orientate myself. I would have to wait until the next day for a proper exploration.
Somewhere in the distance (but I knew it could not be far away) I could hear some music. Where was it coming from? I wondered if the music would stop at siesta time. I later found that the music came from To Steki taverna that was only open in the evenings. It was off the main track. On my first exploration I did not spot To Steki and ate at Alexandro's taverna.
The taverna was on the main street (more of a path than a street) running through the village. I enjoy eating in the restaurant on the main path through Amorgos Chora because of the fun of watching the locals pass by. Sitting outside here I got something of the same atmosphere, and the bonus of a sea view (a night time view of a black sea and a black sky) on the other side. The priest and many locals walked past on their evening rounds. The food was good, a large pork chop with boiled/ baked potatoes and 1/2 litre of krassi. I fondly imagined that this was Anaphi wine and similar wine was served in both tavernas. One day I had a close look at the reddish plastic barrel it came out of and found that it was Santorini wine. This was the best meal I had at Alexandros. For some reason To Steki was far more popular and was always packed. I was the only person eating at Alexandros. Much as I enjoyed this first meal I later found that because of lack of custom he had a very limited menu (one night just string beans) so I, too, was tempted away to eat more often at To Steki. A vicious circle. I had a soft spot for Alexandros as his was the only place open in the Chora for a lunch time drink.
Most Greek islands have lots of cats. Anaphi has lots of dogs. I like dogs after a fashion, but I like to be sure that they are friendly before I let them get too close to me. One guide book had a map of Anaphi Chora showing "Baskerville Alley". On my explorations I tried to find the dead-end alley shown on the map, but at the same time did not want to find myself cornered in an alley by a savage hound. Dogs patrolled up and down the footpath outside the taverna. They all seemed harmless enough, and sometimes curious. There were few cats. In Greece you get used to cats begging at tavernas. Anaphi has canine cats. A white dog with ginger spots seemed to have adopted me. "My" dog sat by my taverna table and stared at me with large reproachful eyes, then gave up and wandered away when I did not throw him any titbits. There were occasional dog squabbles in the street. An elder would tap a walking stick (on the ground, not at the dog) and the dogs dispersed.
The first cat I saw in Anaphi was halfway up a telegraph pole. The culprit who chased him there was a brown dog. When his master approached the dog slunk to the ground, his master tapped him on the shoulder - and the ginger cat jumped down.
Next morning I was woken at about five o'clock by the sound of a dog barking. A normal bark followed by a long drawn out "wo-ooooooooooooooooo", a really drawn out "ooo" sound. Yet a gentle, long drawn out sound, not a howl, not a grating sound.
So that must be Baskerville. That was the only morning I was woken by him, perhaps my subconscious ignored him on future mornings in Anaphi. I heard his distinctive bark on other occasions but never managed to see the mutt whilst he produced the bark (and I wouldn't want to unless Baskerville was tied up). I wondered if Baskerville belonged to a fisherman or farmer. No doubt going with minder to work on terrace or catch fish. I once saw a sturdy flat fronted brown and white dog down in the harbour (looking as if butter would not melt in his mouth) that I suspected might have been Baskerville.
A new day, a new island to explore, but first breakfast. I set off intending to buy some yoghurt, thick creamy Greek yoghurt, but soon discovered that the shops were not geared to tourists, and the locals did not care for yoghurt (or if they did had cleared all supplies from the shop fridges). How used we become to well stocked shops, and how quickly unused to them! There was a small general store and a bakery. There was no sign of any honey on sale. I later saw lots of beehives, perhaps you need to know a beekeeper to buy honey on Anaphi. The only preserves I saw on sale were sesame paste, praline spread with chocolate, and orange marmalade. For future reference I noted the wine that was on sale, just Bon Viveur and Caligula. I stuck to taverna barrel wine.
The bakery sold brown bread as well as white bread. You do not often see brown bread on sale in Greece (though I do see brown bread on sale more often now than I used to). I bought a loaf of brown bread which was very rough textured and looked as if everything that grew in the grain field was thrown into it. It was very good bread, though. I eked out the two "individual" portions of honey I had bought in Amorgos.
Eating breakfast on the terrace outside my room I saw islands floating like meringues above the sea. Without studying a map it was difficult to judge how far away they were. In the morning sunshine the distant land appears blue. Light blue distant sky - dark blue sky above, dark blue sea, and even darker blue land. In the afternoon the sun would be off the terrace and after my walk I would be able to sit in the shade in a delicious breeze. The monastery was perched on a peak and was just visible from behind a mountain. How high up was it? Would I be able to get there?
Anaphi Chora has very much the feel of a small agricultural village. The architecture is distinctive. Most of the houses have large outdoor ovens. Later I found that some of the deserted houses in the countryside had two, sometimes three, ovens. Why all this cooking, I wondered? At first I mistook the barrel vaulted Anaphi houses for churches - I realised just in time as I was about to walk into the grounds of a house thinking that it was a church. As in Santorini the houses are built in this style to help make them more resistant to earthquakes.
The village was quiet and uncommercialised although as on all Greek islands I wondered how different it would be in peak season when there were far more tourists about. At present the handful of tourists seemed not to disturb the routine of island life. I noticed a number of tourist orientated establishments (shops and bars) that were shown on my map but had not yet opened up for the season. I noticed one bar (closed when I arrived but showing signs of being opened up by the time I left) advertising "electronic games" and one or two other places that would give the island a more commercial flavour in peak season. But so few tourists anywhere that I wondered how busy peak season would be.
Even in mid morning it was very hot, the heat of the sun being made more intense when reflected off the white walls of Chora. Many of the women were wearing large straw hats, I had not seen similar hats elsewhere at least not in such quantity and wondered how many of the ways of Anaphi were still unaffected by contact with the outside world.
And so to explore. I had a small scale map of the island. On the wall outside Alexandro's taverna there was a more detailed map, but no copies were on sale. I marked some of the footpaths I was likely to use onto my own map. I wanted to find the site of old Anaphi at Kastelli, and perhaps walk to the monasteries along the coast. I had read that an overnight stay on the beach was recommended if you visited the monasteries such was the distance involved. I did not fancy that so gave the monasteries a miss. This first day I just wanted to get the feel of the island and strolled around paths in the valleys on all sides of the Chora. A pleasant rural island. At first I was puzzled by the odd yellow coloured terrace and then realised that this was a ripe crop of barley. Later on both Anaphi and Kimolos I saw donkeys carrying a thatch of newly harvested barley.
Anaphi Chora is a maze. A small hill towers above the Chora on a gentle hill. I wanted to go up there to watch the sun setting over Santorini. I found my way through the tangle of paths and, after a few false turns, climbed to the hill top. I went close to Baskerville alley but neither saw nor heard the hound. After sunset I walked down and found a number of island women sitting on a wall lower down the hill. They had been watching the sunset too.
That night I went to eat at To Steki, sitting on the outside terrace. The tables along one side were doing duty as a kafeneion, locals came and went clacking their worry beads. At times there was a positive chorus of worry beads.
When I arrived there was a good view of the sea from the terrace but darkness soon fell. Before long it was so dark that I could not see the nameless little island in the distance.
I still do not know the times of the boats back, I assume it is just Saturday and Tuesday at 7 in the evening. In guidebooks I had seen mention of post office boats doing the trip from Santorini to Anaphi on days when the ferries were not running. I did not fancy that crossing in anything other than a full size grown up ferry. Usually there would have been twice as many ferries at that time of year, but one ferry was in the ship casualty ward after her encounter with the now deceased Poseidon Express (she had been the fastest ferry in the area, but was then lying on her side in Paros harbour). I offered a mental prayer for the continued well-being of the Express Santorini. If she too succumbed when would I get away? I visualised news headlines. "Tourists stranded on remote Greek island. No yoghurt. Beer running low."
Friday, the day for decisions. There were just two ferries a week in May from Anaphi to Santorini, on Saturday and Tuesday. Shall I catch the ferry on Saturday or shall I wait until Tuesday? Is it a mistake to go to Kimolos this trip? I was enjoying Anaphi so much that I was afraid that Kimolos might seem an anti-climax. I would hate to move on to another island and then wish I was back at the island that I had just left. That had never happened to me. That is what happened to the Earnest Young German. Did I want to return to Naxos/Amorgos at the end of the holiday, those two old favourites that are always beckoning me to return? If I wanted to go to Naxos/Amorgos and Kimolos, it would be best to leave Anaphi on Saturday. Or if I was not going to Naxos/Amorgos, I could go to Kimolos, and then on to Siphnos or Serifos. Saturday was too early to leave, yet Tuesday seemed too late. By Tuesday I would have exhausted the delights of Anaphi. There comes a stage when however pleasant an island is, I feel that by lingering I am lazing and enjoying, not learning and exploring and enjoying myself. When I ask myself questions like this I also ask myself just what holidays are for.
"When are you leaving?" asked my landlady. I decided to leave on Tuesday. In she bustled, cleaning my room, and giving me a bunch of flowers.
On Saturday the wind howled. The boat was due in around seven in the evening. The arrival of the ferry is a social event. I walked down to the harbour to watch. At that time of the year the bus only met the ferry. The bus was already down there when I arrived. A cluster of people were in the taverna, the ticket seller was open, and the bus was by the harbour. Suddenly the bus pulled away and dashed uphill. Those of us left down on the harbour gathered that the boat was not coming. I walked uphill. Perhaps the boat will come tomorrow.
I was happy waiting until Tuesday, but had visions of a storm setting in on Tuesday, If there was a boat on Sunday I would like to catch it. I started to walk up the mule track to Chora. On the way I caught glimpses of the bus wending up the much longer road. The Earnest Young German was bounding down the mule track towards the harbour. "You try to go? No boat. No, no luggage. You not go. You stay. You find Old Anaphi, yes?" No, I told him wishing that I could make myself understood so well in German, I did not find Old Anaphi. I had been on a couple of very pleasant walks trying to find the site but had not managed to find it.
"Old Anaphi, it is easy to find. You take the path above the beach in the direction of the monastery. You know."
Yes, I knew the path well, an attractive path I had been on a few times.
"You walk along that path, you come to a valley with some wellies and some flowers."
A picture of wellington boots filled with flowers flew across my mind and I suppressed a smile. Then I visualised the wells in the flower filled valley the path went across. Should I correct his English or not? Yes, I knew valley with the wellies, I said.
"You walk past the wellies and you see a church, a church with one olive tree, just one tree. You know?"
No, I didn't know, but I might have passed it.
"You will know the church when you see it, just one church with just one tree. Near the church there is a path. Follow that path and you find Old Anaphi."
I thanked the Earnest Young German for his detailed instructions. The next day I would try to find Old Anaphi. Now I knew just where to look how could I possibly miss it?
On Sunday I set out to find Kastelli. It was still windy. I could see the white horses out at sea. I thought it was unlikely that the ferry would come. I crossed the valley with the flowers and the wellies and before long saw a church and a conspicuous solitary tree. I followed a nearby path, still not too sure where the site of Kastelli lay. By the path I saw another deserted house with a large and small outside oven. Even the smaller oven was huge. The two ovens were attached to each other and together they were bigger than the house. Inside the house was a large fireplace. Nearby was an old church with a carved stone container, a coffin perhaps, outside. I meandered up, over and around stones and rocks and eventually came upon the rambling overgrown ruins of Kastelli.
I met the Earnest Archaeologist on old Anaphi - a young Greek girl, probably in her early 20s. I had previously met the Earnest Archaeologist in the village. She shouted to me from high up on Kastelli. Later she gestured wildly towards me. I trotted over the stones and undergrowth towards her. Knee deep in nettles we shook hands and introduced ourselves! Preserving old fashioned formalities whilst being stung with nettles. I would hardly have been surprised if she had produced a glass of water and saucer of preserved fruit, the traditional Greek welcoming treat, out of her rucksack.
"Have you seen any torses?" I was thinking of wellies. Torses? What were torses?
"Tortoises?" I ventured.
"No, not tortoises, torses. Come and I'll show you."
The Earnest Archaeologist pushed aside a cluster of nettles and revealed the headless busts of two stone statues. Later I realised that it was my English that was lacking and that "torse" is the technical word for these stone figures. I would have said torsos. Later the Earnest Young German asked me if I had seen the torses at Kastelli. If I had not met the Earnest Archaeologist I would not have known what he was talking about! I would have again guessed tortoises!
The Earnest Archaeologist told me that people had come with yachts and stolen some of the torses. A pity. I was pleased to see that some remained, but would have preferred to see them taken away for safekeeping in museums. In the meantime a delight for honest tourists to walk around. I had also read of thefts of Cycladic figures from museums in Greece, so not even items in museums are safe. And be careful what you pick. Picking up (heaving up) a torse is obviously theft. Less obviously so is picking up a bit of pot, or even a pebble if it is on an archaeological site. I have read of visitors to the Acropolis who pocketed a pebble or two being held overnight in a cell before being fined.
Back in the Chora I walked through to the end of the village and looked out over the sea to Santorini. This must be what people did in the olden days, go and look over to Santorini with binoculars and look for a boat. If boat is on its way, flee downhill, and hope you arrive in time. At least I know that the tub leaves Piraeus at 8 a.m. and Naxos at 2 p.m. On second thoughts, storms could mean a re-arranged schedule. The ferry is normally due here at 6.45 p.m. If I had intended catching a ferry that day, I would not have gone to old Anaphi, or at least not gone there and lingered. I could see no sign of a ferry. Would a ferry come today? Probably not. Would a ferry arrive next Tuesday? Probably, weather permitting. There were so few passengers on the boat out I did wonder if the ferry company would decide that it was not worth coming out to Anaphi even if the seas had been calm.
I did not scan the horizon with binoculars - but it would be good artistically to say that I did. Around five I got back to the village and was drinking a beer at the only place open. I caught the words "Santorini Express" and "five" and "this afternoon". It was 5.15. Yes, the boat was coming. The bus had already gone. I would have to walk down. I flew back to my room, packed, paid my landlady, and trotted at high speed down the muletrack. If this was a false alarm I would have to walk back up to Chora. With my bags. If there was no boat there would be no bus. On my way down I saw the bus going down the road. A good sign. Going down the muletrack (a superior sort, concreted and stepless for most of the way. Not scenic, but easier to walk on than the authentic cobbled sort, especially when you are laden down with bags.) Other people with bags in the harbour. I bought a ticket. The boat must be coming. With a ticket in my paw I felt more secure. And there she was. There is no shelter at all at Anaphi harbour, and the ship leant sideways coming into dock. The boat was only fastened to the harbour with one rope. But at least I was on board and on my way.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Kalo Taxidi - Amorgos 1991 - The Church Mural Painter on Amorgos
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1991 - The Church Mural Painter on Amorgos
In 1991 we climbed over the ridge of Mavrovouno to Arkesini, where we turned into the taverna for a drink. Why do my trips to Greece read like a pub crawl? It is the heat that makes me thirsty, honest! I am not really an alcoholic. At the taverna, we chatted to a chap who turned out to be a travelling church mural painter, who offered to show us his work in Arkesini church. We eagerly took up his offer. He spent the summer months as an itinerant church painter, and in the winter painted icons in Athens. We found the church full of scaffolding, and the artist hard at work. We were surrounded by paintings of saints, martyrs, and angels in various stages of completion. He worked amazingly quickly, sketching in the basic design on the wall in black crayon, then filling in the background (mostly in dark blue), then the basic colour of the robes, the highlights and finally small details such as faces, hands and flags. He applied the paint in bold strokes; I got the impression that he did not pause to contemplate what he was doing, and had painted similar figures many times before. After all, a saint is a saint is a saint. The paintings were commissioned by parishioners, who pay for the paintings according to their size. I took some photographs of the icons, and showed them to an expert who said they were good paintings in the style of thirteenth or fourteenth century Byzantine work.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1991 - The Church Mural Painter on Amorgos
In 1991 we climbed over the ridge of Mavrovouno to Arkesini, where we turned into the taverna for a drink. Why do my trips to Greece read like a pub crawl? It is the heat that makes me thirsty, honest! I am not really an alcoholic. At the taverna, we chatted to a chap who turned out to be a travelling church mural painter, who offered to show us his work in Arkesini church. We eagerly took up his offer. He spent the summer months as an itinerant church painter, and in the winter painted icons in Athens. We found the church full of scaffolding, and the artist hard at work. We were surrounded by paintings of saints, martyrs, and angels in various stages of completion. He worked amazingly quickly, sketching in the basic design on the wall in black crayon, then filling in the background (mostly in dark blue), then the basic colour of the robes, the highlights and finally small details such as faces, hands and flags. He applied the paint in bold strokes; I got the impression that he did not pause to contemplate what he was doing, and had painted similar figures many times before. After all, a saint is a saint is a saint. The paintings were commissioned by parishioners, who pay for the paintings according to their size. I took some photographs of the icons, and showed them to an expert who said they were good paintings in the style of thirteenth or fourteenth century Byzantine work.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Kalo Taxidi - Amorgos 1996
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1996
It is on revisiting islands that one notices the changes. The two islands in the Cyclades that I have visited most are Naxos and Amorgos. Naxos is large, the largest island in area (although not in population) of the Cyclades. Amorgos is smaller, although there are many far smaller islands in the Cyclades.
Amorgos is perhaps not every tourist's glass of retsina, but I find it a charming place especially when there are few tourists about. Some tourists may want better and more accessible beaches, and more vibrant nightlife. I keep on going back to Amorgos as I enjoy the relatively unspoilt villages, the countryside and the friendly islanders.
The villages on Amorgos are small enough for the attractive countryside to be within easy walking distance. On larger islands unless you walk for long distances through dusty and sprawling suburbs, you have to rely on buses to reach the countryside. The buses are often overcrowded, and are understandably scheduled for the needs of mountain villagers heading into town to shop, not for tourists wanting a day in the countryside. Although the villages of Amorgos are small, they are large enough for the islanders to be busy with activities other than catering to the needs of tourists. Some of the smaller islands in the Cyclades (such as Iraklia, Schinoussa and Donoussa) have been on the verge of total depopulation. It is pleasant to see them still inhabited, but when an island depends solely on tourism for its existence it lacks the Greekness that a tourist likes to see.
There are two main centres of population on Amorgos, Katapola, Chora and the villages of Katomeria in the south; and Aegiale, Langada, Potamos and Tholaria in the north. Until recently the two halves of Amorgos were like two separate islands in that the easiest way of getting from one end of the island to the other was by boat. That is changing now that the road linking Chora and Aegiale has been improved, and, in 1996, tarmacked.In 1996 I overheard an American who had been in Aegiale twelve years earlier say: "Then the electricity was switched off at night. I hear there's a resort there now. Wow. I'm going there tomorrow. I wonder what it's like?" I did wonder if a foreign tourist who was in England during a power cut might think that power was always cut off at that time of day. I also thought of how little frozen food was available when I first visited Greece in the early 1980s. Years later, even small food shops sold a range of frozen food (and no doubt had a generator to cope with the rare power cuts).
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1996
It is on revisiting islands that one notices the changes. The two islands in the Cyclades that I have visited most are Naxos and Amorgos. Naxos is large, the largest island in area (although not in population) of the Cyclades. Amorgos is smaller, although there are many far smaller islands in the Cyclades.
Amorgos is perhaps not every tourist's glass of retsina, but I find it a charming place especially when there are few tourists about. Some tourists may want better and more accessible beaches, and more vibrant nightlife. I keep on going back to Amorgos as I enjoy the relatively unspoilt villages, the countryside and the friendly islanders.
The villages on Amorgos are small enough for the attractive countryside to be within easy walking distance. On larger islands unless you walk for long distances through dusty and sprawling suburbs, you have to rely on buses to reach the countryside. The buses are often overcrowded, and are understandably scheduled for the needs of mountain villagers heading into town to shop, not for tourists wanting a day in the countryside. Although the villages of Amorgos are small, they are large enough for the islanders to be busy with activities other than catering to the needs of tourists. Some of the smaller islands in the Cyclades (such as Iraklia, Schinoussa and Donoussa) have been on the verge of total depopulation. It is pleasant to see them still inhabited, but when an island depends solely on tourism for its existence it lacks the Greekness that a tourist likes to see.
There are two main centres of population on Amorgos, Katapola, Chora and the villages of Katomeria in the south; and Aegiale, Langada, Potamos and Tholaria in the north. Until recently the two halves of Amorgos were like two separate islands in that the easiest way of getting from one end of the island to the other was by boat. That is changing now that the road linking Chora and Aegiale has been improved, and, in 1996, tarmacked.In 1996 I overheard an American who had been in Aegiale twelve years earlier say: "Then the electricity was switched off at night. I hear there's a resort there now. Wow. I'm going there tomorrow. I wonder what it's like?" I did wonder if a foreign tourist who was in England during a power cut might think that power was always cut off at that time of day. I also thought of how little frozen food was available when I first visited Greece in the early 1980s. Years later, even small food shops sold a range of frozen food (and no doubt had a generator to cope with the rare power cuts).
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Kalo Taxidi - Amorgos 1985 - Trying to leave On April 1
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1985 - Trying to leave On April 1
The year is 1985, the year of my first visit to Amorgos. I arrived on the Marianna. Trips on modern Greek ferries are, in good weather, a pleasure. A trip on the Marianna in any weather was an experience, and in bad weather an adventure.
Marianna was the lifeline for the small islands between Naxos and Amorgos: Iraklia, Schinoussa, Koufonissi, and Donoussa; and even for Amorgos itself, for most of the day-to-day needs of the islanders were transported by the Marianna and not by the few large ferries that occasionally called. Even today, the name Marianna conjures up an image of a tossing boat in a stormy sea; and a small cabin down below, the only inside sitting area for passengers, redolent of cats and fish. Marianna (she had the appearance of being a retired Scandinavian trawler) was small by comparison with Piraeus bound ships, even by the standards of 1985 when ferries were far smaller than they are today.
Most of the older supply boats (like the Marianna, and the Kamelia from Paxos) have retired for good - or have perhaps taken up a new career in the third world. What they lacked in speed and comfort they made up for in character, and were always laden with supplies.
Fewer boats called in at the small islands than today. Contact with the other islands and the mainland was infrequent. My first trip on the Marianna gave me an insight into the isolation experienced by the inhabitants of these small islands. In 1985, I reached Amorgos after an eight-hour trip on the Marianna. Particularly memorable were the stops at the smaller islands of Iraklia, Schinoussa, Koufonissi, and Donoussa. I remember the look of glee on the face of one woman islander when she took delivery of a new broom, and a young girl sitting by the harbour avidly poring over a newly delivered newspaper. In 1985 these small islands were less visited than they are today. I have recently seen photographs of Koufonissi in mid season showing a positive crowd of tourists. In 1985, along with the rest of the passengers, I gaped in amazement at the two tourists who landed on one of the small islands. Not a single tourist embarked or disembarked at any of the other small islands. I thought of the small islands as being very primitive; no running water, no electricity; no tourist accommodation; no tavernas, no shops. How would those two manage? My image of the islands was coloured by what I had read in the few guidebooks to the Cyclades that were then available. Inevitably, even the best guidebook is out of date by the time it appears on bookshop shelves. It may be that those two did not have such a hard time as I imagined. By the late 1990s, and probably before, all those small islands were well on the tourist map.
I had few fellow passengers on board the Marianna. Most of my fellow travellers were sacks of oranges and potatoes (these grow on Naxos in abundance). When I reached Amorgos, I was to find few oranges, or indeed any fruit, on sale. A young Israeli couple caught the first boat away from Amorgos when they found that there were no tomatoes on sale [NB today, in 2009, there are no such problems on Amorgos]. Before long, I would be craving for a Naxos orange, big, juicy and melting.
I soon felt that I had been on Amorgos for ages, as I recognised so many of the people that I met when I strolled around; the crew of the Marianna, the regulars at To Mouragio taverna; other tourists.
I planned to leave Amorgos on the first of April. There was a strong wind blowing as I walked round the bay to the harbour for the scheduled 6 a.m. departure of the Marianna. The road round the large bay of Katapola has now been widened; in 1985 the road was fairly narrow, and I had to make a strong effort to plant my feet firmly on the ground to avoid being blown out to sea. I weighed less in those distant days, both body-wise and luggage-wise. In those early innocent days, I assumed that ferries always ran; I had never heard of a ferry being cancelled because of bad weather. The Marianna being such a small tub, she was far more likely to be cancelled than a larger ferry.
The crew of the Marianna, and a handful of passengers, were all in the taverna, To Mouragio, drinking cups of strong Nescafe and passing around the communal can of evap. milk (I did not then know that the main local brand is Nou Nou). The Marianna was moored nearby. Everyone was laughing. Six o’clock came and went. We all carried on supping coffee. "Big wind, no Marianna," said one of the crew. We tourists laughed, for it was April 1st. Half an hour and several coffees later, I realised that there was no joke - the trip was cancelled because of the storms. The Marianna was not leaving that day because of the storm. I went back round the bay to my room. I bumped into my landlady in the kitchen, and gestured to her that the sea was rough and the Marianna not running. “Ochi Marianna,” I said, almost exhausting my entire Greek vocabulary.
The next day the Marianna left, on another windy morning. I suspect that today even a large modern ferry would be unlikely to travel in such weather. The wide bay of Katapola was (relatively speaking) fairly calm. I was sitting on a lifebelt box on the top deck, near the front of the ship. Two German girls who had been staying at the same rooms were the only other passengers up there. As we pulled out of the bay the wind and spray lashed across my face. It was like being hit by the tail of a large fish. I learnt the hard way that in a storm, the bow is the most exposed part of the ship. The sea was rough, really rough, boiling and seething. It was too rough to stand upright. I lurched towards the centre of the deck. It was too windy to risk the stairs down below. The only seats up there were plastic seated metal leg jobs. Untethered, they flew around the deck. I lay down on the deck, with my back against a solid surface, probably the funnel. Not that I felt seasick. By lying flat, I felt that I was less likely to be blown overboard. I dug my fingernails into the gaps between the boards on the deck (if I had let go I would have been a woman overboard) and my feet fended off low flying chairs. More recently, on modern ferries, I have been surprised by the trend of replacing fixed seats with free-standing seats. Where do people sit during a storm? Not everyone likes to be cooped up inside a ship, even during a storm.
The journey was rough until we reached Aegiale. In those days my knowledge of the layout of the Cyclades was not as good as it is now. In 1985, I did not know that the sequence of the journey was Katapola, Aegiale, Donoussa, Koufonissi, Schinoussa, Iraklia, and Naxos. If there was a written timetable anywhere, I had not seen it. All I knew was that Naxos was my intended destination, and the last port of call. I did not know that the crossing was likely to be rough until Koufonissi, after which we would be more or less sheltered in the lee of Naxos.
I thought, should I get off at Aegiale? The only alternative I had to staying on the Marianna was to get off at Aegiale, and catch a larger ferry, the Naxos. The Naxos was due to leave Katapola on the next day or day after I forget which. I could not stay any longer, as I had to get back to Athens to catch my plane. Innocent that I was again, I never imagined that I would one day miss my flight home because of a storm! As the Naxos did not call in at Aegiale, I would have to get myself back to Katapola. In those days, the track from Chora to Aegiale was newly dug, and rough and stony. I had not seen any vehicle on it, so I would have to walk from Aegiale to Katapola. I had walked from Katapola to Aegiale, without luggage and did not fancy doing the journey in the reverse direction with luggage. I realised the problems faced by early travellers to Greece, who did not have the benefit of the internal combustion engine. I decided to stay on board the Marianna. The next hour or so was very rough, then the sea calmed down. I had brought a pot of Total yoghurt with me, and ate a late breakfast. The Marianna had a kitchen for the crew, but no refreshment facilities of any sort for passengers.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Amorgos 1985 - Trying to leave On April 1
The year is 1985, the year of my first visit to Amorgos. I arrived on the Marianna. Trips on modern Greek ferries are, in good weather, a pleasure. A trip on the Marianna in any weather was an experience, and in bad weather an adventure.
Marianna was the lifeline for the small islands between Naxos and Amorgos: Iraklia, Schinoussa, Koufonissi, and Donoussa; and even for Amorgos itself, for most of the day-to-day needs of the islanders were transported by the Marianna and not by the few large ferries that occasionally called. Even today, the name Marianna conjures up an image of a tossing boat in a stormy sea; and a small cabin down below, the only inside sitting area for passengers, redolent of cats and fish. Marianna (she had the appearance of being a retired Scandinavian trawler) was small by comparison with Piraeus bound ships, even by the standards of 1985 when ferries were far smaller than they are today.
Most of the older supply boats (like the Marianna, and the Kamelia from Paxos) have retired for good - or have perhaps taken up a new career in the third world. What they lacked in speed and comfort they made up for in character, and were always laden with supplies.
Fewer boats called in at the small islands than today. Contact with the other islands and the mainland was infrequent. My first trip on the Marianna gave me an insight into the isolation experienced by the inhabitants of these small islands. In 1985, I reached Amorgos after an eight-hour trip on the Marianna. Particularly memorable were the stops at the smaller islands of Iraklia, Schinoussa, Koufonissi, and Donoussa. I remember the look of glee on the face of one woman islander when she took delivery of a new broom, and a young girl sitting by the harbour avidly poring over a newly delivered newspaper. In 1985 these small islands were less visited than they are today. I have recently seen photographs of Koufonissi in mid season showing a positive crowd of tourists. In 1985, along with the rest of the passengers, I gaped in amazement at the two tourists who landed on one of the small islands. Not a single tourist embarked or disembarked at any of the other small islands. I thought of the small islands as being very primitive; no running water, no electricity; no tourist accommodation; no tavernas, no shops. How would those two manage? My image of the islands was coloured by what I had read in the few guidebooks to the Cyclades that were then available. Inevitably, even the best guidebook is out of date by the time it appears on bookshop shelves. It may be that those two did not have such a hard time as I imagined. By the late 1990s, and probably before, all those small islands were well on the tourist map.
I had few fellow passengers on board the Marianna. Most of my fellow travellers were sacks of oranges and potatoes (these grow on Naxos in abundance). When I reached Amorgos, I was to find few oranges, or indeed any fruit, on sale. A young Israeli couple caught the first boat away from Amorgos when they found that there were no tomatoes on sale [NB today, in 2009, there are no such problems on Amorgos]. Before long, I would be craving for a Naxos orange, big, juicy and melting.
I soon felt that I had been on Amorgos for ages, as I recognised so many of the people that I met when I strolled around; the crew of the Marianna, the regulars at To Mouragio taverna; other tourists.
I planned to leave Amorgos on the first of April. There was a strong wind blowing as I walked round the bay to the harbour for the scheduled 6 a.m. departure of the Marianna. The road round the large bay of Katapola has now been widened; in 1985 the road was fairly narrow, and I had to make a strong effort to plant my feet firmly on the ground to avoid being blown out to sea. I weighed less in those distant days, both body-wise and luggage-wise. In those early innocent days, I assumed that ferries always ran; I had never heard of a ferry being cancelled because of bad weather. The Marianna being such a small tub, she was far more likely to be cancelled than a larger ferry.
The crew of the Marianna, and a handful of passengers, were all in the taverna, To Mouragio, drinking cups of strong Nescafe and passing around the communal can of evap. milk (I did not then know that the main local brand is Nou Nou). The Marianna was moored nearby. Everyone was laughing. Six o’clock came and went. We all carried on supping coffee. "Big wind, no Marianna," said one of the crew. We tourists laughed, for it was April 1st. Half an hour and several coffees later, I realised that there was no joke - the trip was cancelled because of the storms. The Marianna was not leaving that day because of the storm. I went back round the bay to my room. I bumped into my landlady in the kitchen, and gestured to her that the sea was rough and the Marianna not running. “Ochi Marianna,” I said, almost exhausting my entire Greek vocabulary.
The next day the Marianna left, on another windy morning. I suspect that today even a large modern ferry would be unlikely to travel in such weather. The wide bay of Katapola was (relatively speaking) fairly calm. I was sitting on a lifebelt box on the top deck, near the front of the ship. Two German girls who had been staying at the same rooms were the only other passengers up there. As we pulled out of the bay the wind and spray lashed across my face. It was like being hit by the tail of a large fish. I learnt the hard way that in a storm, the bow is the most exposed part of the ship. The sea was rough, really rough, boiling and seething. It was too rough to stand upright. I lurched towards the centre of the deck. It was too windy to risk the stairs down below. The only seats up there were plastic seated metal leg jobs. Untethered, they flew around the deck. I lay down on the deck, with my back against a solid surface, probably the funnel. Not that I felt seasick. By lying flat, I felt that I was less likely to be blown overboard. I dug my fingernails into the gaps between the boards on the deck (if I had let go I would have been a woman overboard) and my feet fended off low flying chairs. More recently, on modern ferries, I have been surprised by the trend of replacing fixed seats with free-standing seats. Where do people sit during a storm? Not everyone likes to be cooped up inside a ship, even during a storm.
The journey was rough until we reached Aegiale. In those days my knowledge of the layout of the Cyclades was not as good as it is now. In 1985, I did not know that the sequence of the journey was Katapola, Aegiale, Donoussa, Koufonissi, Schinoussa, Iraklia, and Naxos. If there was a written timetable anywhere, I had not seen it. All I knew was that Naxos was my intended destination, and the last port of call. I did not know that the crossing was likely to be rough until Koufonissi, after which we would be more or less sheltered in the lee of Naxos.
I thought, should I get off at Aegiale? The only alternative I had to staying on the Marianna was to get off at Aegiale, and catch a larger ferry, the Naxos. The Naxos was due to leave Katapola on the next day or day after I forget which. I could not stay any longer, as I had to get back to Athens to catch my plane. Innocent that I was again, I never imagined that I would one day miss my flight home because of a storm! As the Naxos did not call in at Aegiale, I would have to get myself back to Katapola. In those days, the track from Chora to Aegiale was newly dug, and rough and stony. I had not seen any vehicle on it, so I would have to walk from Aegiale to Katapola. I had walked from Katapola to Aegiale, without luggage and did not fancy doing the journey in the reverse direction with luggage. I realised the problems faced by early travellers to Greece, who did not have the benefit of the internal combustion engine. I decided to stay on board the Marianna. The next hour or so was very rough, then the sea calmed down. I had brought a pot of Total yoghurt with me, and ate a late breakfast. The Marianna had a kitchen for the crew, but no refreshment facilities of any sort for passengers.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Kalo Taxidi - Accommodation
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Accommodation
In season, in many places room touts meet ferries. They can be very persistent and irritating, especially when landing on an island you know and when you know where you wish to stay. On the other hand room touts are a boon when you land in the middle of the night with nowhere to stay. You may find that day time room touts have rooms in out-of-the way parts of town that you would not wish to stay in. On the other hand I have returned many, many times to some rooms that I was led to by a tout over twenty years ago.
One useful tactic is to head to a cafe, buy a drink, and use the cafe as a base whilst looking for somewhere to stay.
In mid-season places can get full! I have heard of tales of travellers sleeping in the open air in mid-season. When I have asked room owners about this, they have sometimes said that rooms are available, but tourists do not wish to pay the mid-season prices. In theory there should be a price list on the door of the room. You will see how the prices are graded during the season, and how steeply the prices rise in mid season. The dates on the graded scale do vary from place to place.
On a very small island there may not be much accommodation, so the island could be full even out of high season. Demand varies from year to year. A glowing article on a particular island could lead to hordes of tourists descending on the place for just as long as the article remained in the memory.
On some small islands you may find that some or all of the people who provide tourist accommodation in summer do not spend the winter on the island. That accommodation would be completely closed in winter.
On some islands there are so many visitors that tourists are not allowed to land. I have heard of this happening in July and August on Lipsi, and also in Paxos.
Enough of the pessimism! I'm sure you'll have no difficulty finding somewhere to stay. For the only problems I have experienced, see my comments on Kalamos - a place that, when I visited, had no accommodation available.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Accommodation
In season, in many places room touts meet ferries. They can be very persistent and irritating, especially when landing on an island you know and when you know where you wish to stay. On the other hand room touts are a boon when you land in the middle of the night with nowhere to stay. You may find that day time room touts have rooms in out-of-the way parts of town that you would not wish to stay in. On the other hand I have returned many, many times to some rooms that I was led to by a tout over twenty years ago.
One useful tactic is to head to a cafe, buy a drink, and use the cafe as a base whilst looking for somewhere to stay.
In mid-season places can get full! I have heard of tales of travellers sleeping in the open air in mid-season. When I have asked room owners about this, they have sometimes said that rooms are available, but tourists do not wish to pay the mid-season prices. In theory there should be a price list on the door of the room. You will see how the prices are graded during the season, and how steeply the prices rise in mid season. The dates on the graded scale do vary from place to place.
On a very small island there may not be much accommodation, so the island could be full even out of high season. Demand varies from year to year. A glowing article on a particular island could lead to hordes of tourists descending on the place for just as long as the article remained in the memory.
On some small islands you may find that some or all of the people who provide tourist accommodation in summer do not spend the winter on the island. That accommodation would be completely closed in winter.
On some islands there are so many visitors that tourists are not allowed to land. I have heard of this happening in July and August on Lipsi, and also in Paxos.
Enough of the pessimism! I'm sure you'll have no difficulty finding somewhere to stay. For the only problems I have experienced, see my comments on Kalamos - a place that, when I visited, had no accommodation available.
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Kalo Taxidi - My first trip to Greece in October 1981
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
My first trip to Greece in October 1981
Friday:- Landed at Athens at 3 a.m. Extortionate taxi fare to hotel. Plagued by mosquitoes all night.
Set out next morning to see as many sites and sights as possible. Archaeological museum too big to see at one time. Must come back later. Acropolis - just like the photographs, only covered with scaffolding. Agora. I liked the Thesion especially. You could walk all over it, not like the Parthenon which was crawling with whistle blowing attendants. Greasy lukewarm moussaka for lunch. Kebabs for dinner. At least the grills are hot. Stocked up with pomegranates for tomorrow's trip.
Saturday. Down by underground to the port of Piraeus. At 9 a.m. caught the Panagia Tinoy for Mykonos. Large ship. Few passengers. Five hours basking in the sun watching the islands pass by. Called at Syros and Tinos. Mykonos looks too good to be true. Brilliant white buildings under a blue sky. Even the pavements are whitewashed. Book into Hotel Delphines. Visit museum and much-photographed windmills. Precarious climb inside ruined windmill. Dinner at Spiros on the seafront. Tsatsiki, grilled pork and retsina.
Sunday. 8.30 boat to Delos the birthplace of Apollo and sacred island of the ancient Greeks. An inspiring morning poking around the ruins. Midday boat (the only) back to Mykonos. Explore the town. Many intriguing alleys. Dinner at Spiros again.
Monday. Boat booked for Paros. Huddle of would be passengers scan horizon for boat. A dinghy towing a smaller boat comes into view. "That's it, third class at the back," shouted one wag. "And there's the food," added another as a polythene sack of oats landed at our feet. No need to have worried, though, as a small modern boat soon arrived.
I was in Greece during the week preceding the elections. Each of the eight or so main parties took over a café in each town. And pop music and propaganda were broadcast all day. Paroika sea front was full of these cafes, all competing to be heard. An off putting introduction to an attractive island. Booked into the Hotel Oasis near the Tourist Office windmill, and bus departure point. Caught bus to Marpissa on opposite side of island. Climbed hill to Aghios Antonios, an old monastery. View from summit good.
Bus back to Paroika, many sharp bends. Island very dry. Must come back in spring. Dinner in open-air restaurant, Diogenes. Started with huge mixed hors d'oeuvres washed down with retsina.
Tuesday Attracted by name of Petalhoudes, the Valley of the Butterflies. Caught first bus at 6 a.m. Only two buses a day. Wrong time of day or year for butterflies. An attractive walk back to Paroika down mule paths. Wished I had brought a cup and rope as one of the guide books recommended. To poach water from the numerous wells. Late breakfast. Bus to Lefkes, in the centre of the island. "Only one cobbled road running east from Lefkes" says the guidebook. I managed to find number two. And spent two happy hours roaming in an isolated valley. Back on my intended route. A very well preserved track, and bridge which I went down into a dry river bed to examine more closely. A Byzantine road, the main route across the island until the introduction of motor transport. Bus back to Paroika. Same restaurant as yesterday. Shops open 'til late so I browse.
Wednesday. Undecided as to what to do. Due to fly back from Athens on Monday. Is there time to go down to Santorini? Yes! Quick visit to Naoussa, a fishing port in the north of the island. Then on boat to Santorini. A tub of a boat, and overcrowded at the start. Then more passengers piled on at Naxos and Ios. Sat on floor of front deck exposed to the wind. And the huge waves which frequently broke over the bows. Passed a recent shipwreck. Looked suspiciously like the sister of our own boat. Pleased to see Santorini approach six hours later. The island is the remnant of an extinct volcano. The main town of Thira is built on the rim of the volcano. 600 odd steps up from the harbour. The only transport up the steps is donkey taxi. The boat landed at the new port of Athinios. Two buses waited. Hundreds of passengers and rucksacks clambered on board. Spectacular sunset as we wound up to Thira. Where would we all sleep? No need to have worried. Easily found a room for £3-00 a night. Kebabs, meatballs, salad and the local lava wine at Bobby's Taverna.
Thursday Breakfast on hotel terrace overlooking the sea. My room 100 steps below the reception desk. Bus to Akrotiri. Saw the impressive ruins of the Minoan site, buried by volcanic explosion in 1500BC. Bus to Oia in north of island. A small scale Thira. Few tourists. Walk down 500ish steps to the harbour. Dipped my toes in the sea, the only refreshment available. Back up top I bought some prickly pears from the oldest inhabitant. He was very insistent that I should not touch the unpeeled fruit. Then he gave me a cloth to wipe my hands on. Ouch! It was full of prickles. Went round the maritime museum. A very odd place. I remember seeing a stuffed white satin anchor. Back to Thira. A beautiful sunset. Then another dinner at Bobby's. The season was nearly over and many places were closed.
Friday. Bus to Kamari beach. Walk up mountain to site of old Thira. Missed the path and ended up crawling over loose lava. Hauled over wall onto the right path by a passing tourist. So hot. No refreshments. Not even a prickly pear. Set off for the next mountain, where there is a monastery, Profitis Elias. The highest point on the island. A military station, where photography prohibited. Monastery closed for a long lunch break. No food or drink on sale. Explore a church. Outside an open air shower. I try the tap. Not a mirage. I shower, fully dressed, and drink lots of water, not caring where it had come from. Passing soldiers are much amused. Back down a mule track to town of Pirgos built on a hill. Lots of nooks and crannies to explore. And a cafe. Saw bus leaving. Last one for hours. Resigned to long hot walk back to Thira. Taxi pulls up. Free lift to Thira? I jump in. Another beautiful sunset. And dinner, guess where?
Saturday . Catch bus at some unearthly hour for port. These buses must have elastic walls. Equally crowded boat. Hardly any standing room. The day before the election and the islanders are heading home to Athens to vote. Twelve hours of crush in a windy boat. Best forgotten. In Athens a dinner of kebab.
Sunday. Up early to see the changing of the guard at President's Palace. Then down to Plaka to see the flea market. Shops all closed and lots of puzzled tourists walking around. Shut for the elections. Look for breakfast. All cafes closed. Museums closed. At the Archaeological Museum I see a sign to the effect that open on Monday (the usual closing day). Take underground to northern suburb of Kiffissia. Not much to see. Most impressed by dolphins on cast iron lamp posts. Down to Acropolis. Site closed. See sunset. To Plaka. Find one restaurant, and that closed at 8 p.m. "We want to see election results."
Monday. Breakfast in cafe of one of the department stores. To Archaeological Museum. Still closed. Get in to Benaki Museum. Very good. So much to see in a non-institutional atmosphere. To Olympeion and other sites I missed in first day. Souvenir hunt. Early dinner and stagger with luggage to Syntagma Square for Airport bus.
[2011 update. On many (perhaps all) of my early trips to Greece I travelled by what was then the cheapest means - a charter flight. It was then a condition of charter flights that some sort of cheap accommodation was thrown in. In later years the accommodation was vaguely described, perhaps even non-existent. I remember one flight came with accommodation described as a camp-site in the Peloponnese. On these early flights the thrown in accommodation was real. On this first trip the hotel was in central Athens, near the meat market between Monastiraki and Omonia. I shared the taxi from the airport with a young chap I had never seen before and have not seen since (hello, stranger!). The "receptionist" at the hotel was pyjama clad, and tried to insist that we share a room. He spoke no English. I tried to explain that we did not know each other, and had merely shared a taxi from the airport. I remember walking out of the reception area with an exaggerated gesture and coming back in again, to emphasis that we wanted separate rooms. Eventually we got our two rooms. After two nights I left for Mykonos - only after I returned did I see a notice from the charter company asking people who were leaving Athens to vacate their rooms.
That first night in the hotel - in my notes I wrote " Plagued by mosquitoes all night." What I recall is the buzzing of mosquitoes all night. In the next room there was a family with a baby. The walls were paper thin. Each time I swatted a mosquito, the baby howled. I tried to swat quietly, but the baby still howled. The next morning my face was covered with bites, so much so that the area around my eyes was puffy. There may have been bites elsewhere, but I don't recall them.
Another early memory is the large number of Morris Minors that I saw in Athens.]
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
My first trip to Greece in October 1981
Friday:- Landed at Athens at 3 a.m. Extortionate taxi fare to hotel. Plagued by mosquitoes all night.
Set out next morning to see as many sites and sights as possible. Archaeological museum too big to see at one time. Must come back later. Acropolis - just like the photographs, only covered with scaffolding. Agora. I liked the Thesion especially. You could walk all over it, not like the Parthenon which was crawling with whistle blowing attendants. Greasy lukewarm moussaka for lunch. Kebabs for dinner. At least the grills are hot. Stocked up with pomegranates for tomorrow's trip.
Saturday. Down by underground to the port of Piraeus. At 9 a.m. caught the Panagia Tinoy for Mykonos. Large ship. Few passengers. Five hours basking in the sun watching the islands pass by. Called at Syros and Tinos. Mykonos looks too good to be true. Brilliant white buildings under a blue sky. Even the pavements are whitewashed. Book into Hotel Delphines. Visit museum and much-photographed windmills. Precarious climb inside ruined windmill. Dinner at Spiros on the seafront. Tsatsiki, grilled pork and retsina.
Sunday. 8.30 boat to Delos the birthplace of Apollo and sacred island of the ancient Greeks. An inspiring morning poking around the ruins. Midday boat (the only) back to Mykonos. Explore the town. Many intriguing alleys. Dinner at Spiros again.
Monday. Boat booked for Paros. Huddle of would be passengers scan horizon for boat. A dinghy towing a smaller boat comes into view. "That's it, third class at the back," shouted one wag. "And there's the food," added another as a polythene sack of oats landed at our feet. No need to have worried, though, as a small modern boat soon arrived.
I was in Greece during the week preceding the elections. Each of the eight or so main parties took over a café in each town. And pop music and propaganda were broadcast all day. Paroika sea front was full of these cafes, all competing to be heard. An off putting introduction to an attractive island. Booked into the Hotel Oasis near the Tourist Office windmill, and bus departure point. Caught bus to Marpissa on opposite side of island. Climbed hill to Aghios Antonios, an old monastery. View from summit good.
Bus back to Paroika, many sharp bends. Island very dry. Must come back in spring. Dinner in open-air restaurant, Diogenes. Started with huge mixed hors d'oeuvres washed down with retsina.
Tuesday Attracted by name of Petalhoudes, the Valley of the Butterflies. Caught first bus at 6 a.m. Only two buses a day. Wrong time of day or year for butterflies. An attractive walk back to Paroika down mule paths. Wished I had brought a cup and rope as one of the guide books recommended. To poach water from the numerous wells. Late breakfast. Bus to Lefkes, in the centre of the island. "Only one cobbled road running east from Lefkes" says the guidebook. I managed to find number two. And spent two happy hours roaming in an isolated valley. Back on my intended route. A very well preserved track, and bridge which I went down into a dry river bed to examine more closely. A Byzantine road, the main route across the island until the introduction of motor transport. Bus back to Paroika. Same restaurant as yesterday. Shops open 'til late so I browse.
Wednesday. Undecided as to what to do. Due to fly back from Athens on Monday. Is there time to go down to Santorini? Yes! Quick visit to Naoussa, a fishing port in the north of the island. Then on boat to Santorini. A tub of a boat, and overcrowded at the start. Then more passengers piled on at Naxos and Ios. Sat on floor of front deck exposed to the wind. And the huge waves which frequently broke over the bows. Passed a recent shipwreck. Looked suspiciously like the sister of our own boat. Pleased to see Santorini approach six hours later. The island is the remnant of an extinct volcano. The main town of Thira is built on the rim of the volcano. 600 odd steps up from the harbour. The only transport up the steps is donkey taxi. The boat landed at the new port of Athinios. Two buses waited. Hundreds of passengers and rucksacks clambered on board. Spectacular sunset as we wound up to Thira. Where would we all sleep? No need to have worried. Easily found a room for £3-00 a night. Kebabs, meatballs, salad and the local lava wine at Bobby's Taverna.
Thursday Breakfast on hotel terrace overlooking the sea. My room 100 steps below the reception desk. Bus to Akrotiri. Saw the impressive ruins of the Minoan site, buried by volcanic explosion in 1500BC. Bus to Oia in north of island. A small scale Thira. Few tourists. Walk down 500ish steps to the harbour. Dipped my toes in the sea, the only refreshment available. Back up top I bought some prickly pears from the oldest inhabitant. He was very insistent that I should not touch the unpeeled fruit. Then he gave me a cloth to wipe my hands on. Ouch! It was full of prickles. Went round the maritime museum. A very odd place. I remember seeing a stuffed white satin anchor. Back to Thira. A beautiful sunset. Then another dinner at Bobby's. The season was nearly over and many places were closed.
Friday. Bus to Kamari beach. Walk up mountain to site of old Thira. Missed the path and ended up crawling over loose lava. Hauled over wall onto the right path by a passing tourist. So hot. No refreshments. Not even a prickly pear. Set off for the next mountain, where there is a monastery, Profitis Elias. The highest point on the island. A military station, where photography prohibited. Monastery closed for a long lunch break. No food or drink on sale. Explore a church. Outside an open air shower. I try the tap. Not a mirage. I shower, fully dressed, and drink lots of water, not caring where it had come from. Passing soldiers are much amused. Back down a mule track to town of Pirgos built on a hill. Lots of nooks and crannies to explore. And a cafe. Saw bus leaving. Last one for hours. Resigned to long hot walk back to Thira. Taxi pulls up. Free lift to Thira? I jump in. Another beautiful sunset. And dinner, guess where?
Saturday . Catch bus at some unearthly hour for port. These buses must have elastic walls. Equally crowded boat. Hardly any standing room. The day before the election and the islanders are heading home to Athens to vote. Twelve hours of crush in a windy boat. Best forgotten. In Athens a dinner of kebab.
Sunday. Up early to see the changing of the guard at President's Palace. Then down to Plaka to see the flea market. Shops all closed and lots of puzzled tourists walking around. Shut for the elections. Look for breakfast. All cafes closed. Museums closed. At the Archaeological Museum I see a sign to the effect that open on Monday (the usual closing day). Take underground to northern suburb of Kiffissia. Not much to see. Most impressed by dolphins on cast iron lamp posts. Down to Acropolis. Site closed. See sunset. To Plaka. Find one restaurant, and that closed at 8 p.m. "We want to see election results."
Monday. Breakfast in cafe of one of the department stores. To Archaeological Museum. Still closed. Get in to Benaki Museum. Very good. So much to see in a non-institutional atmosphere. To Olympeion and other sites I missed in first day. Souvenir hunt. Early dinner and stagger with luggage to Syntagma Square for Airport bus.
[2011 update. On many (perhaps all) of my early trips to Greece I travelled by what was then the cheapest means - a charter flight. It was then a condition of charter flights that some sort of cheap accommodation was thrown in. In later years the accommodation was vaguely described, perhaps even non-existent. I remember one flight came with accommodation described as a camp-site in the Peloponnese. On these early flights the thrown in accommodation was real. On this first trip the hotel was in central Athens, near the meat market between Monastiraki and Omonia. I shared the taxi from the airport with a young chap I had never seen before and have not seen since (hello, stranger!). The "receptionist" at the hotel was pyjama clad, and tried to insist that we share a room. He spoke no English. I tried to explain that we did not know each other, and had merely shared a taxi from the airport. I remember walking out of the reception area with an exaggerated gesture and coming back in again, to emphasis that we wanted separate rooms. Eventually we got our two rooms. After two nights I left for Mykonos - only after I returned did I see a notice from the charter company asking people who were leaving Athens to vacate their rooms.
That first night in the hotel - in my notes I wrote " Plagued by mosquitoes all night." What I recall is the buzzing of mosquitoes all night. In the next room there was a family with a baby. The walls were paper thin. Each time I swatted a mosquito, the baby howled. I tried to swat quietly, but the baby still howled. The next morning my face was covered with bites, so much so that the area around my eyes was puffy. There may have been bites elsewhere, but I don't recall them.
Another early memory is the large number of Morris Minors that I saw in Athens.]
An extract from my book "Kalo Taxidi"
Saturday, 24 September 2011
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
KEP
I had seen a road sign in Katapola to the KEP in Chora, but never found (or even looked for) the KEP in Chora. For some reason I had in mind that that a KEP was a sort of centre for old people.
But this article in Kathimerini shows that a KEP is a Citizens' Advice Bureau.
But this article in Kathimerini shows that a KEP is a Citizens' Advice Bureau.
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Kittens
Two kittens photographed in Katapola, Amorgos.
http://www.photobox.co.uk/my/photo?album_id=831429627&photo_id=3093691797#3093691797
http://www.photobox.co.uk/my/photo?album_id=831429627&photo_id=3093691797#3093691797
Sunday, 10 July 2011
I've almost finished writing my book!
One of my reasons for coming to Greece this time was to knuckle down to working on my book "Kalo Taxidi - Notes from Greece and the Greek Islands".
Usually when I come to Greece I get so many new ideas that I want to completely revamp the book when I get home. This time I was determined to leave any new material for a later book. The basic content of the book was crystallised before I arrived on Amorgos. I tidied up the book, and added some 2011 updates. And now the book is almost finished. I just need to master the techniques of e-publishing, and "Kalo Taxidi" will be launched on the world!
Update 14/07/2011
After a lot of "fun and games" mastering the ins and outs of ebook publishing, "Kalo Taxidi" is now with Kindle "for review", and, fingers crossed, should be on sale in 24 hours.
My next book was going to be about old phrase books. Perhaps instead I should write a basic guide to epublishing!
Further update
"Kalo Taxidi!" is now publsihed, and is available on Amazon. At present the book is only available for Kindle; the paper version will follow asap!
Usually when I come to Greece I get so many new ideas that I want to completely revamp the book when I get home. This time I was determined to leave any new material for a later book. The basic content of the book was crystallised before I arrived on Amorgos. I tidied up the book, and added some 2011 updates. And now the book is almost finished. I just need to master the techniques of e-publishing, and "Kalo Taxidi" will be launched on the world!
Update 14/07/2011
After a lot of "fun and games" mastering the ins and outs of ebook publishing, "Kalo Taxidi" is now with Kindle "for review", and, fingers crossed, should be on sale in 24 hours.
My next book was going to be about old phrase books. Perhaps instead I should write a basic guide to epublishing!
Further update
"Kalo Taxidi!" is now publsihed, and is available on Amazon. At present the book is only available for Kindle; the paper version will follow asap!
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