Skiathos, Greece – Final Days

As the afternoon slipped into evening we left the balcony and wandered into the town and walked for a while around the harbour until we came across a small restaurant busy with local people.  This is always a good sign so we went inside and selected a place well away from the men who were smoking and coughing in the corner.

It was busy and at the next table was a middle-aged man who was alone and wanted to talk about island hopping.  I think I could travel solo if I had to and I don’t imagine the days would be too difficult but it might become a bit tedious at night when it comes to dining and drinking alone so we were happy enough to chat along with him for a while and keep him company.  

But after a short time it became clear exactly why he was travelling alone because it has to be said, he was rather boring .  He was a total anorak who had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the Greek island ferry schedules and he was able with complete accuracy to tell us the names of all the ferries, the sailing times and the names and addresses of the crew members on the boats that he thought we might find useful if we were travelling onward.

He was a helpful sort of chap but he had strange advice about wine and recommended buying it in quarter litres to save having to waste any if half a litre may be too much.  Before we could explain that there really was really no chance of that he finished his meal, excused himself and moved on.  More people to bore solid in the bar down the street I suspected.

In the morning I negotiated the sale of the water that I had unnecessarily purchased the previous day with the owner of the rooms.  I made a significant loss on the deal but at least I got some of my money back and I was happy with that and as part of the deal she let us keep the room for an hour or so after official check out time.  We used it to sit again on the balcony and enjoy what little weedy sunshine there was.

In Greece they do this to stop dogs urinating up the door. The reflection puts them off apparently, they can see for themselves just how ugly they are.  What a shame it is necessary to take such trouble.  Dog owners everywhere are so inconsiderate.

After leaving the room and upon recommendation we found a simple gyros bar and before catching the ferry back to Skiathos enjoyed one of the finest street food meals of the week.  Maybe of the last twenty years in Greece.  I may have to think about that.  A chicken gyros with all the trimmings.  Cheap too.  I liked that.

Well, this was absolutely divine and I am not knocking all of the restaurants and tavernas that we had eaten in so far but it just might have been the best meal of the week.  We drooled over it, we described it to each other in ever-increasing gastronomic superlatives and we mopped our plates clean.  Then we moved on.

The two islands are very close but we left Skopelos in sunshine and arrived back in Skiathos under heavy grey skies.  No rain though so that was a bonus.  After taking the bus back to the apartments we just squandered the rest of the day away, reading, playing cards and surveying the skies in the way that English people do, obsessed with the weather as we are. 

We dined at the taverna on site.  Not on the menu but I had asked if there was a possibility of lamb chops and the owner had made a special shopping trip to accommodate me.  I really like those skinny lamb chops that you get in Greece and tonight I wasn’t disappointed.

Final day.  Sun shining.  What a relief, this is what we travel to Greece for, blue skies, crisp views and gentle waters.  We took the boat taxi into town for a final time.  A little more expensive than the bus but worth it for the views.

Land of the Giants…

We steered clear of the main street with all the shops, even Kim was all shopped out by now and strolled once more through the crooked streets of the Plaka, the old town, looking for door picture opportunities.  After we had completed our mission we had a leisurely drink at a harbour side bar and then walked the two and a half miles back to the accommodation, enjoyed lunch, wasted the afternoon away and waited to be transported to the airport.

Back home, we prepared our expenses claim and submitted it to travel company TUI.  To my amazement they settled up for our essential item purchases in just a few days including the wine and beer.  I guess no one was available to translate the mini market receipt printed in Greek.  I wished that I had bought more.

One follow up story.  I told me son about the holiday and the hotel and gave it my recommendation.  Four weeks later he booked a holiday there.  On arrival he texted me to say that he had been given a room upgrade when he told them about our visit and the owner had been so happy he made the switch.  That is Greek hospitality for you.  I did leave a very good review so  perhaps that helped.

It is unlikely that I will ever  go back to Skiathos but twenty-three years later I had enjoyed my second visit to the island.

 

More Doors of Skopelos – Detail

Skopelos provided a fine collection of doors…

Skiathos, Greece – A Previous Visit

“Here water and cypresses and shade give one back a sense of plenitude and peace – particularly on Skiathos, the beauty of the group, whose perched capital neatly divides a harbour…its dazzling white houses built as if from lump sugar, its labyrinth of quizzical churches”,   Laurence Durrell

After redundancy and in between jobs I went to this little island in the Sporades in the summer of 2000 for a two week holiday with my brother Richard and his family and found it noisy, cramped and with just too many people around.  This was late July and peak holiday season.

Durrell wouldn’t recognise it now because Skiathos is an airport island and therefore a package holiday destination, which brings in the football shirts and late night clubbers and I generally try to avoid these islands now.  It was lively and mad and these days I prefer laid back and languid.

Luckily this time in May it leaned towards the latter.

Read the full story Here…

Ferry Ride to Skopelos, Mamma Mia in the Rain

“Happy is the man, I thought, who before dying, has the good fortune to sail the Aegean Sea” – Zorba the Greek, Nikos Kazantzakis

The missing luggage finally arrived in the early evening of day three.  It had been taken by road from East Midlands Airport to Birmingham Airport and brought to Skiathos on a Jet2 flight.  At least they had arrived safe and sound, a bit battered and rather dusty but thankfully intact.

Now that we had our full range of Summer sunshine clothes we looked forward to the following day properly attired for the hot weather.

We planned to take a ferry to nearby Skopelos (the Mamma Mia island) and stay overnight.  A little bit of island hopping, a little bit of nostalgia reliving our adventure days in the Cyclades.  I have to say that we were not at all interested in Mamma Mia.

Sadly, the next morning it was raining and not anticipating precipitation in Greece in May we didn’t have any appropriate clothes.  I wondered if we could stretch the essential items compensation to a raincoat and an umbrella but I didn’t have the stomach for more shopping so we just made do, got wet waiting for a bus to the town and made our way to the port, purchased our tickets and made our way upon the big Blue Star ferry.

We were travelling economy class of course but this is the best place to be – sharing the open top deck with silver haired hippies with pony tails revisiting the 1960s, back-packers wearing creased clothes who haven’t washed for a fortnight, sun-seekers, thrill-seekers and nostalgia-seekers, bench-hogging sleep-snatchers, ageing grey-beards in open toed sandals and sun kissed show-offs strutting their stuff.  

As the ship left the port the engines throbbed reassuringly and black diesel smoke leaked from the exhausts; on the bridge and down below I imagined a frenzy of activity by the crew but on top it was lazy, languid and  laid back.   The ferry joined a line of boats leaving the port, rather like the start of a marathon race with dozens of competing ships looking for the best channels and tides.

On the old boats it is possible to move freely from deck to deck, get close and see inside the bridge and see the captain at work and then at the other end watch the crew at labour at the back of the boat and a mad rush of activity whenever they come in to a port and then leave again shortly afterwards.  It was noisy and fun with creaking ropes and rattling chains and the men looked like real sailors with salt streaked beards and grizzled faces.  This was an old boat.  Thankfully. On the new boats there is only a monotonous hum from the efficient engines and the crew, dressed in smart corporate uniforms who don’t really like you leaving your seat and wandering about unless you are going to the overpriced bar.

It was only a short crossing, an hour or so and on the way the clouds broke and the sun came out so it was a real pleasure to be sailing the Aegean again.

We arrived at the Aggadi Studios shortly after lunch and met by the host who showed us to a simple Greek room at a good price.  It wasn’t the Ritz but she was proud of it and eager to please but after I had paid she dropped the bombshell.  There was no water, the supply to the whole town had failed and no one knew when it would be restored.

This was becoming some sort of  holiday curse: no luggage, no electricity, no sun and now no water.  Full house!

After approving the accommodation we set out to walk the back streets of the town starting at the port looking for somewhere suitable for our evening meal later, we always like to sort that out well in advance, and then climbing steadily to the top.

I liked it immediately.  Compared to Skiathos it was more sedate, casual, at ease with itself, less cosmopolitan for sure but that just added to its laid back charm.  It had a sense of community as though the town belongs to the people who live there rather than the tourists who descend upon it in the Summer.  As we explored I sensed the smell of fresh lamb moussaka and Tide washing powder oozing  out like lava from behind the windows and doors and leaking away into the streets and alleys. 

Back at the room there was still no water so I was dispatched to the shop to bring in supplies.  I felt like the boy in the water aid appeal on TV.  Poor Andrew has to walk a hundred miles a day to fetch water from a dirty well. 

Maybe I overdid it…

So we sat on the terrace in the weak sunshine, at least it wasn’t raining and admired the town rising behind us like a tower of terraces, a bank of balconies, a pastel avalanche sliding inevitably towards the sea and we were glad that we had temporarily  interrupted our stay in Skiathos to spend this time away.

As it happened, I had overdone it, the water came back on an hour or so later.  I was annoyed with myself, I could have bought ten litres of Mythos instead.

Skiathos, Greece – Shopping and Sightseeing

“ Skiathos, the beauty of the group, whose perched capital neatly divides a harbour…its dazzling white houses built as if from lump sugar, its labyrinth of quizzical churches”,   Laurence Durrell

So, we had managed for two days without luggage but on the third morning I received a further email from TUI with the good news that our bags were definitely being flown in today.  The bad news was that they wouldn’t be able to deliver it to the hotel until they day after and not before five ‘clock in the evening.

I was not impressed but was expecting it,  there were thousands of pieces of delayed luggage to process, almost everyone we met was telling the same sorry story, but Kim was very annoyed, angry even, she was fed up watching me sitting on a sun lounger in my underpants so she planned for another shopping excursion.  Oh, deep joy.  Nothing to do but grin and bear it  I suppose.

After a very fine breakfast in the hotel taverna we made our way down a very steep path to the beach where every hour there was a water taxi to the town which arrived on time and transported six passengers to the port.

On the way we passed the old town which looked spectacularly dazzling viewed from the sea in this way.  I thought that we might make our way there later so long as the shopping didn’t take too long.

Once on dry land Kim made straight to the shops like a pirate on a raiding mission.  I got sorted satisfyingly quickly but then I am not too fussy:  Tee shirt, yes that will do, pair of shorts, just the job and a beach towel and I was finished in under half an hour.  I was hopeful that we would be in a bar in the old port by midday.

No chance of that.

Kim is a lot more thorough than I am when it comes to shopping, she is a professional and we walked the main street several times, searching, touching, trying, comparing, deciding and undeciding.  What a nightmare morning.

Eventually we came to Riddle of the Sphinx, the Rubic’s Cube of shopping when Kim held up two items and asked me which I preferred.  All men have been confronted by the shopping question which is impossible to answer.  “The blue one” I blurted out, “What’s wrong with the green one?”. “OK, the green one”, “actually I prefer the blue one”, she says.  You just cannot win, it is a lose-lose situation.

After an hour or so I was worn down, my shopping shield no longer worked, I even caught myself looking in a jewelers window,  I couldn’t understand what was happening to me.  On this morning I did more shopping in one day than in the last ten years combined

Finally it was all over and I could sit down and relax with a Mythos beer at a bar by the side of the port.

After that well earned drink we made our way into what you might call the old town.  That part of town where local people live, eat and sleep. The Plaka  was tranquil, peaceful and perfect and at this precise time might possibly have been the most wonderful place on earth because apart from concrete, the internet and air conditioning this place probably hasn’t changed a great deal in a thousand years.

Washing lines were being loaded and cranked into position high up across the alleys and lanes and strung outside windows like bunting as though in anticipation of a parade or a carnival, stretching across the streets, smelling sweetly of soap powder, dripping indiscriminately and swaying gently backwards and forwards above the secret doorways and back alleys.

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

We walked around the steep and narrow streets and arthritic crooked alleys as far as the abandoned windmills and through the shops that line the main street through the village and then back to Homer’s Inn down the dusty track and after a short sojourn went for another walk to the harbour and along the coast road to the little church on the headland.

Shopping and sightseeing over we wandered back to the old port and took the boat taxi back to the beach, made our way back to the hotel and settled in to wait for the luggage to arrive.  Fingers crossed.  Now I had a pair of shorts I didn’t have to sit on the balcony in my underpants.

Kim’s new dress. I chose the colour because I thought it suited her and because it is Leicester City blue…

Skiathos, Greece – Blue Doors and Windows

The widespread use of blue paint emanates from an ancient belief that the colour has the power to keep evil away.  It is believed that the radiation of the colour composes a sort of invisible shield, which prevents the approach of bad spirits.

Read the full story Here…

Skiathos, Greece – Lost Luggage, From Bad to Worse

“It takes a lifetime for someone to discover Greece, but it only takes an instant to fall in love with her” – Henry Miller

Next morning without essentials we took a walk to the nearest supermarket which was rather like climbing Mount Everest, to purchase tea bags.  Back at the room – no electricity so no cup of tea.

At least the sun was shining.

After climbing Mount Everest for a second time we took the local bus into the town to purchase more essentials.  Tee shirts, swimming gear and a dress for Kim, luckily all over in thirty minutes or so.

As we stopped for breakfast, a cup of tea and a Greek cheese pie I read about some of the legends of the island of Skiathos.

Before I get to that however, I return to the matter of tea.  Based on official statistics one third of all visitors to the island are from the UK where we drink lots of tea so, you would think wouldn’t you, that the island cafés and restaurants would be aware of this and have it on their menus.  Not so, you can get all sorts of rubbish teas – camomile, green, mint and then almost every variety of fruit in the World but black tea is curiously missing.  We had the foresight to bring our own tea bags so we just paid for a cup of hot water each.

Back to the legends now…

Every Greek Island has its own ancient Diety, they are shared out among them in a sort of, appropriate for Greece, democratic process  Skiathos has Dionysus, the god of wine and pleasure, which once again is quite appropriate for what is mostly a Summer party island for young people.

These folk don’t seem to be having a lot of fun.  Maybe they have lost their luggage as well, they don’t look happy…

But now I come to Saints and as some of you will know I do like an unlikely Saint story.

According to legend, one night in 1650 a monk called Symeon, who led a disciplined and  ascetic life was intrigued to see a twinkling light in the forest.  Upon approaching it, the light receded, only to reappear and disappear again several times so that he was unable to see exactly what it was.

Intrigued by this he stuck around to investigate and after fasting and meditating for several days (fasting always helps it seems) he finally saw that it was a small icon of the Virgin Mary swaying away in the top of a tall pine tree.  As they do.

Convinced that he had witnessed a miracle he rushed back to report the incident to the priest in his village.   The next day, the excited villagers followed Symeon back to where the mysterious light had been shining. Legend has it that the light grew brighter and brighter, the closer the people got.

When they all saw the icon hanging from the tree a young priest climbed up to retrieve it, placing it in the chapel where Symeon served.  It would later be placed in the Three Hierarches church of Skiathos town for safe keeping.

Here it is…

The Holy Monastery of Evangelistria was built in honour of this miraculous event, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary as the island’s patron Saint and protector.

Once every year the icon is removed from the Cathedral in Skiathos and paraded through the streets and taken on a ten mile pilgrimage to the monastery.

It was possible to take a bus to visit the monastery but with the sun shining, the temperature rising and without suitable holiday attire we chose instead to return to the hotel for lunch.

There is another legend/story about the The Holy Monastery of Evangelistria which concerns the flag of Greece.   Leading Greek fighters of the 1821 Revolution against Ottoman rule in the Greek War of Independence met at the monastery in Skiathos to discuss tactics and over a glass of ouzo or two designed, adopted and raised the flag as a symbol of Greek nationalism.

Originally it was blue with a white diagonal cross which was symbolic of the Christian faith but the cross has now been moved to the upper left corner to make way for the horizontal stripes.  Being a seafaring nation, the blue of the flag represents the colour of the sea.  White is the colour of freedom, which is something that is very important to the Greeks after years of enslavement under foreign domination.  The nine stripes of the flag each symbolise a syllable in the Greek motto of freedom – E-LEY-THE-RI-A-I-THA-NA-TOS, which translates literally into ‘Freedom or Death’.

After lunch we simply let the day slip away as we sat on the terrace in our underwear.  The electricity supply was restored late afternoon and we occasionally checked our phones for any updates on the missing luggage.  It came through late in the evening.  The bags would be arriving in Skiathos the following day but it would take the airport another day to sort it all out and deliver them to us but as recompense compensation was now increased to £250 per suitcase.

“There is always a flip side to a dud penny” – John Corden

Kim made plans for a second day of shopping and I wasn’t going to get away with just thirty minutes this time that was for certain..  Oh Joy.

Other Unlikely Saint Stories…

St Edmund, the Patron Saint of Pandemics

Saint James and Santiago de Compostella

Saint Patrick and Ireland

Saint Spiridon and Corfu

The Feast of Saint Paul’s Shipwreck

Saint John of Bridlington

Santa Eulalia and the Thirteen Tortures

Saint Lucy of Syracuse

 

 

Skiathos, Greek Islands – Not a Great Start

The hardest crusts always fall to the toothless” – Cypriot proverb

Last year we went to Portugal with holiday company TUI and they inconvenienced us by making several changes to the flight schedules which resulted in the loss of a complete day of the trip. We said that we would never go on holiday with TUI again.

Six months later we broke that vow and booked a holiday to the Greek island of Skiathos in the TUI January sale.   A noisy fun island which attracts young high spirited people in high Summer but we gambled that it would be less frantic in early May.

After breezing through the check in and the security processes we settled in to wait for the call to the departure desk.  Once on board we waited in eager anticipation for the pilot to confirm take off.  Suddenly there was a crackle of intercom and the introduction from the pilot and then some unwelcome news.

It was raining in Skiathos, the short runway, which is apparently notoriously difficult, was wet and the plane was too heavy to land safely.  The TUI solution was to offload half of the suitcases from the hold and promise that they would follow on tomorrow.  I had some medication in my bag ( a couple of epi-pens in case of an allergy emergency) and was allowed off the plane to retrieve them so grabbed a few items that I thought might be useful such as phone chargers and sun lotion and returned to my seat in the certain knowledge that mine was one of the one hundred.  We hoped that Kim’s might still be on board.

Half way into the flight more news and an apology and a caveat to the earlier promise, this time the pilot said that they would do all they could to get our luggage to us as soon as possible and later still this was watered down again to the company hopes to get our bags to us some time next week.

This has happened to us before when we flew to Reykjavik with British Airways and Kim’s luggage went missing for five days so our optimism was beginning to sink to our boots. 

The aircraft landed at Alexandros Papadiamantis Airport, named after one of the most famous writers in all of Greece who was born and lived on the island of Skiathos.  Later in the week I visited his house, a museum now and purchased a translation of one of his short story novels.

At the baggage reclaim we optimistically watched the conveyor belt complete about five full cycles, maybe six, maybe seven, and a forlorn pink suitcase go round at least four times, when it slowly began to dawn on us that the bag probably wasn’t going to come through the little hole in the wall where the luggage came from. I had a last look through the heavy plastic flaps to see if maybe it had fallen off the belt before coming through but it was hopeless.  We had to concede the inevitability of our predicament that we were completely without luggage except for my epi-pens and the phone chargers.

It was nine o’clock in the evening, the supermarkets were shut so we were forced to take a taxi (I hate taking taxis) and ask the driver to find us somewhere where we might be able to purchase essentials.  He took us to a mini-market where Kim concentrated on shampoo, deodorant and soap and I looked for a couple of bottles of wine.  We continued to the hotel in stunned silence.

At the Agnadi hotel and studios there was happily something to smile about, the location was excellent, the rooms were very good in that very simple Greek style and after we had settled in (quite a short process of course with no luggage to unpack) we returned to the hotel bar and small restaurant and enjoyed a really rather fine Greek meal.  We looked forward to a confirmation e-mail that the luggage would be delivered the following day.  I confess that I didn’t go to bed in an especially optimistic mood.

Sometime during the night I received an e-mail apologising for the problem with the luggage and explaining that due to logistical issues the bags wouldn’t be arriving today after all. Apparently they were being taken from East Midlands airport to Birmingham.  I wasn’t especially surprised about that I have to say.  It thanked me for my understanding and patience which I thought was rather presumptuous because I was neither.  It was a no-reply email so I was unable to tell them that.  On the positive side it offered financial compensation 0f £50 for each bag on production of receipts for essential items.  As far as I was concerned everything in my bag was essential so £50 wasn’t going to adequately cover it.

My heart sank for a moment but it lifted immediately when I opened the door of the room and I was rewarded with a most wonderful view.

Greek A to Ω – P (Rho) is for Ρόδος or Rhodes

The island of Rhodes is one of the most interesting and has been inhabited for six thousand years and due to its geographical position on the major Mediterranean Sea trade routes is situated at a natural crossroads between Europe, the Middle East, and Africa and this has given the city and the island many different identities, cultures, architectures, and languages over its long and varied history.

Read the full story Here….

Greek A to Ω – Π (Pi) is for Πειραιάς or Piraeus

A bus ride to Piraeus is a truly unique experience.

The roads were busy but the driver of the blue Solaris flexibus seemed totally oblivious to other vehicles as he charged along at high speed, switching lanes, clattering over tram lines and tossing the passengers about like the Saturday night lottery balls on hard unyielding plastic seats.  Luggage flew out of the overhead racks and passengers not gripping on tightly were thrown from their seats.  Suitcases were scattered along the floor and little children were thrown into the air.

Read the full story Here…