Weekly Writing Challenge: A Splash of Color

Blue is used everywhere in the Cyclades, church cupolas, windows, doors, walls, staircases and fences which provide blue ‘belts’ around buildings, which supposedly provide protection against evil. Turquoise stones on jewellery, belts and weapons are put there to safeguard people, animals and even plants.  Blue ‘eyes’ and blue stones mounted on gold and silver are presented to babies and small children as a talisman for protection and in the Greek Boy Scouts all the boys where a sky-blue scarf around their necks for this very same reason.

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Purple

Folegandros Cat on a Purple Door

This cat was trying to find a way inside by jumping up the door and looking for an open window.  He tried it several times but the window was closed.  I thought cats were cleverer than that!

One thing for sure is that Greece has more than its fair share of cats and it is almost impossible to have a meal at a pavement taverna without a feline or two as a dining companion.

Relations between Greek people and cats are different than in the north of Europe as explained by the German photographer Hans Sylvester writing  about the cats of the Cycladic islands:

“These cats, that are domestic cats, are not abandoned, neither wild, they live for centuries with the humans. The Greek people of these islands like them without really liking them, they take care of them without really taking care of them; but they accept them totally. These cats are part of daily life, they’ve always been here, like the wind, the sun, the sea, the day and the night.”

Les Chats du Soleil, 1993

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Fleeting Moment

Folegandros Hora

What a fabulous island Folegandros is and completely safe in my top five list of personal favourites.

We first visited in 2007 and the village squares were colourful, vibrant and bursting with an eclectic energy that spilled into the streets from the balconies and terraces of the bars and restaurants.  It was an enchanting place with picturesque settings plucked straight from the pages of a travel book, pretty squares with restaurants under trees where visitors were struggling to make menu selections next to local people just sitting and talking and passing the evening away.

The streets were alive with friendly people and there was an unspoilt ambience that drew us down twisting side streets and through narrow alleys that led always to even more clusters of inviting tavernas that made choosing a dining venue very difficult indeed.  Eventually we selected a table at the side of the main square and we enjoyed excellent food and amused ourselves people watching as there was a constant stream of local people and holiday makers moving continuously through the pretty square.

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My Personal Greek A to Ω – X (Chi) is for Χώρα or Chora

On holiday on the island of Amorgos we went early one day to the Chora and when the bus arrived in the port it immediately turned round and struggled back up the hill to the top.

The Chora cannot be seen from the sea or from the harbour and this is where, in the past, Amorgans lived, safe from the sea and from hostile attack.  From the outside it doesn’t look especially promising but once inside the walls of the town it is a different matter altogether.  The town turns in on itself in an introspective sort of way and inside there were narrow shady streets and lots of traditional cafés and tavernas.  It was a lazy place where time goes by only very slowly and no one is in a particular hurry about anything.  If this was Naxos or Ios the Chora would have been teeming with shops and fast food places but this was a local town for local people and completely unspoilt by the retinue of tourist shops that can be found on more popular islands.

We explored the streets and climbed to the very top to the redundant windmills that overlook the town and the Venetian castle that is built on top of a rocky outcrop that soars above it and its mass of dazzling white buildings.  There was a good view over most of the island and it was revealed as dusty, barren and devoid of vegetation with a desolate landscape that had been beaten relentlessly into total submission by the scorching summer sun.

Descending through the mazy streets and alleys there was time for a beer with tasty canapés and after that we ambled through the corkscrew streets returning several times to exactly the same place passing by several churches, the castle, blue doors, blue sky, shady vines and friendly cafés and I knew that this was my kind of town.  In and around the tavernas there were lazy cats, which in between trying to look cute for diners with leftovers were concentrating on looking for a shady spot and simply snoozing the day away.

Through the Chora we passed by a charming collection of houses, some old, some new and most with dazzling blue doors.  Some of the older houses had precarious balconies that I wouldn’t trust and it seemed to be sensible to pass by quickly lest they fall at that very moment.  The crooked alleys took us around in circles past kittens playing in a garden and stone walls that looked as though they had been carelessly assembled but had a most pleasing appearance and everywhere vivid red geraniums growing in ad hoc containers of various sizes and descriptions in stoic defiance of the heat and the neglect.

There was a welcoming bar in a little square with rattan cane tables and chairs under leafy trees with books and backgammon available for customers to sit and enjoy and idle some of the day away.  As we were getting accustomed to this pace of life we drank beer and ordered baklava and stayed a while until it was time to go back.  Amorgos is a dreamy timeless sort of place in a sort of 1960s time warp and all around there were lots of aging beardy hippies with ponytails, wearing white linen and flip-flops and carrying sketchpads.  All that was missing was the joss sticks and the candles, the flowers and the guitars.

Before we took the bus back to the village we found a dusty mini-market because we wanted to buy some wine.  It was surprisingly expensive and the information on the labels hard to interpret but at the back of the shop a French couple were passing judgement on a home-made red poured from a plastic bottle.  They declared it to be acceptable so we agreed that if it was good enough for them then it would be perfect for us so we purchased a bottle and took it back to the room and sat on the balcony for a couple of hours and like the island cats wasted the rest of the day away.

My Personal Greek A to Ω – Φ (Phi) is for Φολέγανδρος or Folegandros

Folegandros is a fine island, firmly in my top five and far enough away from the main holiday islands to have an air of exclusivity and it is definitely on my list to return to.

We were staying at the Hotel Vrahos again, the hotel mini-bus was there to greet us and at the reception Anna, the owner’s daughter was there to welcome us back. It’s a good job that Anna works in the family business because she is the only one who can speak English. Her father is a friendly man but only has two phrases to rely upon: “Anna will explain”, and “Anna will be back soon”.  We had chosen to stay there again because we especially liked one of the rooms and we were relieved when Anna confirmed that as we had requested it had been reserved for us again this year.

The hotel is in the little port of Karavostassis, which is not an especially attractive place surrounded by salt and pepper grey hills, a small stony beach, a harbour and a crescent of white cube houses and holiday lets. Not the most picturesque place in the Aegean it has to be said but I like it just the same and it is cheaper than staying in the boutique hotels in the Chora. In the harbour the European Union funded work that had been in progress last year had been completed but hadn’t seemed to make that much of an improvement and had the sort of finish that I would call the contractors back to put right if it was my own driveway at home.

The main settlement on Folegandros is Chora, which is a few kilometres into the hills of the interior and this evening we took a bus ride there to see if it lived up to its guidebook rating as one of the best places in the Cyclades.  The engine groaned and the gear box complained as it was compelled to make the steep ascent to the top and I am certain that I heard it sigh with relief when it pulled into a small square and after we had all got off it was allowed to rest for a while before making the return journey.

What a fabulous place this turned out to be, the village squares were colourful, vibrant and bursting with an ethnic energy that spilled into the streets from the balconies and terraces of the bars and restaurants.  It was an enchanting place with picturesque settings plucked straight from a travel brochure, pretty squares with restaurants under trees where visitors were struggling to make menu selections next to local people just sitting and talking and passing the evening away.  The streets were alive with friendly people and there was an unspoilt ambience that drew us down twisting side streets and narrow alleys that led always to even more collections of inviting tavernas that made choosing a dining venue very difficult indeed.

After dinner we took the bus back to the port where a full moon was decorating the inky water with silver glitter that shifted constantly and broke and reassembled like a kaleidoscope image on the surface of the water that undulated with a gentle ebb and flow and that reassuring sound of tiny waves lapping the shore and percolating through the sandy gravel.  From the hotel balcony there was a good view of the night time harbour that was peaceful and serene with the lights of the buildings reflecting off the surface of the water and providing an idyllic image of the Cyclades.

We woke early to the most stunning sunrise leaking like liquid amber through the open shutters and into the room.  The sun was only a few minutes old and was a ball of white light with a yellow halo rising through a fiery sky that was sizzling with anticipation for the new day.  A bright yellow slash of solar reflection sliced through the surface of water and the whole bay was so intensely bronze that it was as though the sky had ignited and poured its flames into the sea.  Slowly the orange sky retreated and was replaced by a reassuring blue and the sea turned from umber through purple to its more natural marine blue and everything was prepared and ready for another perfect day.

After breakfast in the harbour we waited for a bus at the terminus at the harbour and when it arrived it turned round and struggled back up the hill to the Chora at the top.  In the daylight there was a good view over most of the island and it was revealed as dusty, barren and devoid of vegetation with a desolate landscape that had been beaten relentlessly into total submission by the scorching summer sun.

At the top there was a long walk to the Kastro, a white church standing at the pinnacle of the hill and approached by a hair pin concrete path that seemed to go on forever and which was enough to make Kim complain all of the way to the summit.  At the top the building turned out to be a bit of a disappointment but the stunning views of dramatic cliffs rising out of the blue sea were adequate compensation.  Built on the top of a craggy rock like an eagle’s nest, the islanders of Folegandros claim that the Chora is the prettiest village in the Cyclades and after Oia on Santorini they may well be right.

We returned to the village and passed by a charming collection of houses, some old, some new and most with dazzling blue doors.  Some of the older houses had precarious balconies that I wouldn’t trust and it seemed to be sensible to pass by quickly lest they fall at that very moment.  The crooked alleys took us around in circles past kittens playing in a garden and stone walls that looked as though they had been rather carelessly assembled and everywhere vivid red geraniums growing in ad hoc containers of various sizes and descriptions.  As we were getting accustomed to this pace of life we drank beer and ordered baklava and stayed a while until it was time to go back.

It was very hot again with no breeze at all and the day meandered slowly through the afternoon and we did exactly the same things as the day before.  Walked to the beach, swam and snorkeled in the warm sea, had a drink at a beach bar and finished off on the balcony with a beer and a good book.  Later with only limited dining opportunities at the port we returned again to the Chora and investigated the streets that we had missed earlier.

It was a warm evening and after we had taken the bus back to the port there was a pleasant stroll along the sea shore, a long climb up the steps back to the room and a glass of wine or two watching the sleepy harbour resting below.

My Personal Greek A to Ω – Σ (Sigma) is for Σίφνος or Sifnos

The boat arrived in the port of Kamares early in the afternoon and the apartment owner met us in the busy main street and drove us no more than five hundred metres to the hotel and without any fuss showed us to our little room at the top of the pretty little hotel complex.  It was absolutely delightful with traditional decoration and furniture and a terrace with a glorious view over the beach and the surrounding countryside and although I cannot adequately explain why we felt immediately at home.

It was a beautiful day and from the balcony there was an unbroken blue sky and we were surrounded by scrubby hills that were not attractive at all but paradoxically very attractive indeed.  Apparently the whole of the summer through late July and August had been spoilt by continuous gales but today there was not a hint of wind and the place was simply idyllic.

After we had settled in we wasted no time in going back to the harbour where there was a good selection of tavernas set along the side of the water with the sea lapping gently in a soporific sort of way and an enormous amount of fish swimming around in the expectation of being thrown chunks of left over bread. Kamara is a lovely sort of shabby chic village with a strip of lively, colourful shops on one side of the main road and temping tavernas and bars on the other.  It is all nicely understated and feels warm, friendly and safe.  We choose a table at the water’s edge and had a leisurely meal that probably included Greek salad and calamari but I was just so relaxed that I simply cannot remember, I was so happy it was like being wrapped in a comfort blanket.

Later we walked back to the port and we ate in the harbour of course, at a taverna with green tablecloths and a traditional rustic menu and we spent a whole evening eating, drinking and feeding the fish with the over generous portions of bread that were served with the meal.  We both liked Serifos but we liked it here better, it seemed more relaxed, more friendly and best of all less expensive.   When we had finished our meal we climbed the hill back to the apartments and sat on the balcony with a bottle of red wine until very late.

The next day after breakfast on the balcony we caught the ten o’clock bus at the stop just outside the hotel for the short trip to the capital of Sifnos, Apollonia.  The trip took about fifteen minutes and the bus dropped us off in the busy main square.  Apollonia is in the middle of the island and all of the roads pass through this hectic spot and all around there was snarling traffic in a crazy traffic dominated street where it was important to keep our wits about us if we weren’t to smeared into the road and become permanent residents of Sifnos.

We disappeared as quickly as we could into the back streets of the town where the peace and tranquillity of the narrow shady lanes was in complete contrast to the main road.  It was already very hot and there was a long steep climb ahead of us as we made our way towards the blue domed cathedral at the top of the hill.  Stopping regularly to poke into hidden corners and side streets we met an Italian who was resting half way up the hill and he explained how he had set out with the objective of walking right across the island but at this half way point he was thinking of changing his plans and finishing the journey by bus.  I agreed with him that this seemed to be a good plan.

At the top there was a panoramic view of most of the island and we could see the sea in the east but mountains blocked the view to the west.   Below us was all of the capital, which is in fact made up of four separate villages that as they have grown have simply merged into one big town.  There were a lot of blue domes scattered along the streets and I counted twenty-five churches, which seems rather a lot for a town that only has a population of about a thousand permanent residents and by my calculation that is one church for every forty people.  There was no alternative but to walk back the way we came and once back at the main road we stopped at a trendy taverna and had an expensive mythos (€4), you know, one of those served in a posh glass and with an unnecessary bowl of peanuts which seems to justify the inflated price.

There was no wind at all anymore and with a cloudless sky it was really very hot.  After returning to the room and an hour on the balcony we walked down to Kamara and explored some of the back streets that are tucked away behind the busy main road from where steps rise steeply with a giddy speed that quickened the pulse rate and brought us out in a sweat so we were glad of the air conditioned shops where we searching for take home souvenirs amongst the pottery for which Sifnos is famous.

It was a lazy finish to the day as we sat on the balcony, read our books, drank wine and chatted to the nice couple in the next apartment.  When the sun went down there was an excellent sunset and after it went dark we returned to the little port for evening meal at one of the little tavernas by the water.

My Favourite Pictures of the Greek Islands – 15

Fishermen’s Houses on Milos

First we stopped at the seafront village of Klima, a little fishing community with gaily-painted boat garages cut directly into the rocks.  The season was finished now and the village was strangely quiet but I imagine this place would be busy in summer with lots of activity, busy bars and cafés and the aromatic smell of fish cooking on the grills at the sides of the streets. 

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My Favourite Pictures of the Greek Islands – 12

Fisherman on the Island of Ios

The road out of the village runs past the business end of the harbour and there were some brightly painted boats that had just landed their overnight catch and were negotiating sales with local people and restaurant owners in a babble of animated activity.  It looked like a good nights work and the trading was brisk.

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My Personal Greek A to Ω – Λ (Lambada) is for Λιβάδι or Livadi, Serifos

The ferry arrived at eleven o’clock and we were surprised to find the port of Livadi unusually quiet and without the normal reception committee of dozens of noisy apartment owners trying to find a customer.  It was all very lethargic as we left the windy ferry port and set about locating our hotel.

This didn’t take long and we found the Hotel Naias one street back from the main port road and it turned out to be a traditional little place, basic and clean but without any frills and a nice balcony with a good view over the port and its crescent shaped beach with caramel brown sand the colour of a lion’s mane  and fringed with cafés and tavernas.

Outside it seemed to be getting windier and shutters were rattling, furniture was being rearranged and the taverna umbrellas were flapping madly as though going through some pre take-off routine.  We left our bags, closed the room and went immediately to the harbour to get acquainted with the place.

Whilst these string of Cycladic islands are all the same they are all completely different at the same time and Livadi had a unique quality that set it aside from other places we have visited.  Serifos is not a popular holiday destination for overseas visitors and a bit like Amorgos (in my opinion) a place that the Greek people have sensibly kept back for themselves because close to Athens it is convenient to reach and it doesn’t suffer from the excesses of, say, Santorini or Mykonos.

Later we were planning to visit the Hora about five kilometres and a twenty minute bus ride away and by the time we pitched up for the local bus the wind had dropped, there were no more clouds rushing in and the sky was an uninterrupted blue.  The little green Mercedes bus was at least thirty years old (probably more) and the driver took the fares, blew his horn to indicate departure and set off on the only bus route on the island.

So we travelled to the top of the mountain through several hairpin turns and going back and forth across the face of the mountain until we came to a spot where the bus was able to turn around and leave the passengers at the entrance to the lower square of the village.  There was an alternative way of reaching the Hora but that involved an arduous climb along a mule path which interlaced several times with the road but it looked like severely hard work and so definitely worth the €1.40 fare on the bus to ride in relative comfort to the top.

After visiting the redundant windmills, now being converted into holiday accommodation, we followed the signs to the Kastro and passed through pretty streets where the walls of the buildings squeezed in close to the narrow lanes and tracks but then opened out into the delightful main square of St. Athanasios about halfway to the top that was a complete contrast to the agoraphobic streets that led to it from all directions.

Here was the immaculately whitewashed church, the neoclassical town hall, which was in need of a bit of attention, a traditional taverna called Zorba’s with blue doors and windows and Café Stou Stratou a trendy ouzerie across the square selling coffee and traditional Greek snacks to a handful of customers.  We passed through without stopping and continued towards the top and the little church of Church of Agios Konstantinos from where there was a terrific view in all directions and especially down and over the port of Livadi stretched out below as the island dozed in the midday sun.

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

It was pleasant to sit at the top completely undisturbed and enjoy the spectacular view and to the south we could see the island of Sifnos and we looked forward to travelling there on the next day.  We dawdled about the lanes and enjoyed getting lost now and again before we emerged back in the attractive main square where we stopped for a while before going back to the bus stop and the return to Livadi.

When we arrived back the place seemed practically deserted and it was too hot for almost any activity.  The sea was still and the boats were relaxing on water that had no energy at all even to break into a tiny ripple and the reflections of the gaily coloured boats remained almost completely undisturbed.  Even the normally raucous donkey in the field next to the hotel was silenced this afternoon.  I walked down to the harbour to check the ferry times for the next day but there was nothing going on, the booking office was closed and just a sign in Greek that I couldn’t read but wouldn’t be surprised to learn that it said ‘Serifos is closed for the afternoon, do not disturb’.

My Personal Greek A to Ω – K (Kappa) is for Κουφονήσια or Koufonisia

It must have been a rough night, weather wise, because the ferry quay was awash

Every time we travel to Greece for the annual island hopping holiday we have to make room in the itinerary for a day or two of beaches and in 2011 we chose Koufosinia and we travelled there from nearby Amorgos on a six o’clock ferry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Koufonisia doesn’t quite make my top five list of Greek Islands but it didn’t miss it by a great deal despite the mosquitoes.