Approaching the tiny harbor at dusk.
On the way to Anapolis, rising some 2,000 feet through a gorge and out of a ravine, with a 'backdrop'.
Since arriving in Greece, we are on high alert. It’s not because of bullets flying in shopping malls (deep regret about the USA), but something equally dangerous. So we walk on tiptoes, always vigilant, always on the watch. What is it you might ask? “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts”. We remember history, not much but some. Thus far, no presents have been offered but it could occur. We remember what happened to the Trojans when the Greeks bestowed a gift upon them. In the meantime, our calves are sore and stiff because of our modified gait.
Heading towards the White Mountains of Crete.
Our new hotel, well it’s not new at all, is in the middle of the small town of Hora Sfakion. Access is via a restricted road. The road passes alongside restaurants and shops and in fact, looks as if it goes in-between the tables and chairs of the outside patio of the hotel. In Europe generally, and its small towns in particular, driving and parking a car therein is quite an experience—it can be frustrating and elucidating, at the same time. The last hurdle toward our hotel requires one to accelerate smartly in order to have the momentum to reach the top of the ramp but not too much, so one does not knock over the front desk and back wall.
Jenni on trail to Loutro from Hora Sfakion.
Phew! Up and over. One of about 24 climbs in the Illingas Gorge. More excitement than in the Samaria Gorge.
The operators, and they sure look like operators from the old school, Costas, Nick and Zorba (names have been changed to protect us from any future visit from their friends), only take cash. They also don’t give receipts. We understand it’s because they are eco-friendly and are saving paper and hence, trees. Notwithstanding the ‘boys’, who of course, wear ‘wife beaters’ which don’t cover their chest hairs, the scenery is gorgeous. The contrast of the White Mountains and harsh desert like conditions on one side and the blue waters on the other make for breathtaking vistas. Add in a sunset and one can’t ask for more beauty in a relatively small area.
Jen on the way down but never out.
As we 'go round the bend', the village of Loutro appears.
Last ferry of the day sails into the sunset.
Back to the ‘boys’, especially Mr. Stavris. He’s a nice old gentleman although he could be younger than us. We do not try or succeed in making fun of anyone especially the Greek community who we enjoy very much. In fact, some of our best friends are Greeks. Huh! That should read Jews not Greeks—I got it mixed up. Anyway, back to Mo, Larry and Curly. Mr. Stavris spends much time on the patio observing the world rotate on its axis. Currently, we wish we were in hot water. Alas, there’s a problem with either the electricity, the solar system or something we cannot quite fathom. It’s a bit Greek to us. In a moment of clarity, he did say that the cold water is making me look beautiful. Of course, our editor was peeved by the comment as well as the lack of heat.
…to be continued.
From the cliffs above, a nervous editor asks, "Why didn't we go Kayaking today?"
Facing away from the nudist beach we just passed. We saw no point in hanging around, especially as we wore the wrong attire.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
Proving the rule: 'A black sheep in every family or group'. The land is harsh, stony and dry.
"You listen to me, son. You go tell your boss I'll make hot water when it suits me. In fact, you play me wrong and I'll
make matzos ball soup from your body parts."
'Yes, Mr. Stravris, sir.' (This is a job for an editor. As usual, subjects unaware of a lurking photographer.)
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