10 May - A proper Adventure today; just enough danger and scariness to make me feel I've really Done Something. Up at 7.30, no, up at 6.30 and on the road by 7.30. I'd decided to go see the two kouros figures near Melanes, out in the countryside, today, and dutifully set off on the main road out of Hora. The first hour was pretty grim, of a grimness only commercial Greeks can manage, but after the grime and confusion of the outskirts, True Country set in again, in fact it was the first time for me that Naxos itself has felt truly like the Greece I am familiar with - all the mad confusion of roadside wildflowers, cultivated fields for contrast, at last lots of olive trees.

I walked and walked, taking photos of the drystone walls made entirely of pure white marble slabs, of the chunk of Roman aqueduct that was revealed when they chopped-through it with the road, stopping to enjoy the wonderful views down the valley.

Felt I was making pretty good time and had passed Ayios Thalleleos before I began to get confused. There was a sign to an "Ancient Quarry" but the signs for the kouros pointed on down the road I was on, so I followed them, even though the figure is supposed to be in situ in an ancient quarry where it was left when a flaw was discovered in it while it was still only roughly cut. Took a 1 km detour into Melanes itself, thinking I'd get a Greek coffee before going on, but the only cafe I could see was closed and the only two women I saw, sweeping some steps, were less than friendly, though they did respond to my 'Kalimera Sas' (good morning) with a grudging 'sas' in return. (I've noticed that on Naxos the usual Greek greeting of 'ya sas' becomes 'yas-s' - I've heard it three or four times now, perhaps it's a Greek version of Estuary English) So, back to the main road, more confusing signs, but it seemed wisest to follow the side turning to a place called 'Kouronochori' for obvious reasons. It was getting hot by now, and I trudged up through Kouronochori, seeing nothing to guide me, though everyone I asked said in various forms of Greek, straight on, you'll see the signs. (NOT) I sort of trudged back and forth - one lady, high up on the hill side of the road, called down to me was I looking for the statues, and then vanished into her garden before I could reply. I went back the way I'd come once again and asked four middle-aged men sitting at a cafe table (I knew better than to ask for a coffee there, as a single woman; they'd have probably had fits). But none of them spoke much English and all four were talking and shouting at once at me in Greek, and I began to feel I'd never find the statues. I started back up the road, almost in tears. I'd already walked about ten kilometres and would have hated to have to give up and walk back without seeing them. I felt - unfairly of course - that everyone was conspiring to make certain I wouldn't find them and it was all beginning to seem a very wasted effort. But as I stood looking at my (admittedly excellent) map and wiping away a tear or two of pure frustration, the lady on the hillside above called down again, and said come up and fill your water bottle and I'll explain. I swarmed up her long flight of stone steps to her eyrie (her view over the valley was breathtaking) and she gave me a long elaborate explanation, of which I got at least the first, important, part. She told me she's from Berlin and spends quite a lot of time in her Naxos house in the cooler seasons. We exchanged email addresses and she showed me where to fill up my water bottle, thank goodness. It doesn't do to be over ten kilometres from home with an empty water bottle under blazing sun. I set off again, feeling much better, and got along pretty well for another ten minutes or so, then started again to have Doubts. Went one way, then decided that it couldn't be right because my friend from Berlin had said Keep Going Downwards into the valley. So I turned back towards a rough track I'd seen leaving the paved (concrete) way. A little way down this, I suddenly came upon a group of elderly Canadians, led by a pretty young thing, who asked me if I were looking for the Kouros. I explained my confusion, and the girl who was leading them up out of the valley said the paths had changed since the last time she'd led a group there, so she was taking her Canadians round the longer but more reliable way. I asked if I could tag along and was welcomed as if I were a long-lost family member. So I trotted along behind them like an obedient dog, till one of the ladies turned around and said comfortingly, "You don't have to actually tag along behind, you can join in!" So I did, and had various short conversations with various members of the group. They were a really intrepid lot, probably about ten years older than me on average, most from various parts of Western Canada except for one lady who was from New York. They'd already visited the island of Tinos and were going on, after Naxos, to Santorini. They were somewhat taken aback to find that I'd walked from Hora, and even more impressed when I said I'd come to Naxos overland from the UK. By the time we finally reached the Kouros I was beginning to feel like a Genuine Traveller, basking rather unjustifiably in their admiration.

And the actual statue was SO worth seeing - really elegant Cycladic lines, reminding me a little bit, in its pose, of the (attributed) Donatello David in the Washington DC National Gallery. He lay on his back in a small cleared area on a wooded hillside, in cool dappled shade.

As people finished doing their photos and looking him over, I asked if they'd all pose for a group photo for me to keep a record of my 'guiding angels' - which they very obligingly did, and then one of the men offered to take my photo with the kouros with my camera, which I thought was especially nice and thoughtful.

Then we trooped along to the 'other' Kouros (very glad I saw both) which was about ten minutes up the hill in the sun - not quite as elegant, also of course broken; the guide (whose name I never learned) and I had a joke that we'd have liked to hear the workmen's words when the first one broke, and did they say when this one broke, "Damn! Did it again!" Comment was then made that they probably got lucky the third time as there isn't a third broken Kouros. (She said they were cut and roughly prepared before delivering - probably to Delos as they appear to be statues of Apollo [the guide pronounced it 'A-POLO', with a long 'O'], then fine-finished on site.) In the distance you could get a wonderful view of a marble quarry that was obviously still being worked, looking as if some giant had taken a huge bite out of the mountainside.

After we'd had a good long look I said I was going back to the little Paradise Garden Cafe - just an outdoor setting with a few tables and a sort of shed for storage, near to the first statue - for a Greek coffee so I'd say goodbye and thanks again. Of course when I got to the Paradise Garden there were two ladies of the group having a drink. They were (really too much) impressed when I ordered in Greek and had an actual conversation with the odd little lady who ran the cafe (she looked Peruvian, maybe partly cos she was wearing a heavy, thickly-knitted cardigan, whew, in that heat). I explained about the three kinds of Greek coffee and how it's boiled-up three times before serving and other fine points, like not drinking it all the way down to the dregs. When it was time to go and I went to pay, I was very conscious of them being, again, really unnecessarily impressed by me also asking in Greek for a bottle of water and understanding how much in Greek numbers. (It was a real ego trip for me, I tried not to let it go to my head. Just felt that all those hours spent walking the Cornish coast paths reciting Greek numbers to myself had paid off)

The Canadians were all trekking-on to Potamia for lunch and I wanted to start back to Hora. I think I could have hitched a lift home if I'd gone with them to Potamia but I didn't want to eat anything and I was afraid that if I sat down for any length of time I'd seize -up and not be able to move again. Anyway I really did want to see if I could do the round-trip all on foot. The guide went over the best route with me on the map - a concreted path that became unmade for a bit before rejoining the Ghilinado road, which ran back into the road I'd taken out of Hora. So my route would be a sort of circle rather than just a reverse of the way I'd come out. When I got back I worked out that it was about 21K and that doesn't count the wandering-about when I went wrong. Anyway the last four or five kilometres were pure torture- my legs were really telling me that they didn't want to do this anymore. Fortunately I'd had the foresight to put big plasters on my blisters and to wear socks (note to self: socks are brilliant. I may have been sore when I got home but it wasn't from blisters.) The final part of the 'unmade' track back to the main road - it's a dotted line on the map - was very dotted...

I lost it altogether towards the end and had to wander across an olive orchard with two (fortunately chained) barky dogs. Got to the road but couldn't work out how to get through the fence till I realised I was trying to open the gate at the hinged end (In Greece it's often hard to tell). Once back on the road I was happy, though I didn't realise how far I still had to go, but I just kept-on keeping-on and just before I got back to the studio I stopped and bought an ice cream from my favourite 'supermarket' - the lady behind the counter was awfully nice and impressed when I said I'd walked to Melanes ("and back"). It was probably the most delicious ice cream I've ever had.

Ho hum I did take my paints along on the walk but forgot water and a cup so even if I'd had the opportunity I couldn't have done anything. Tomorrow I'll have an early swim and then paint. On my way home today - along the rough track bit - I picked up two stray pieces of marble, flat on both sides, which I'll scrub and use for crushing garlic. I'm MAD, taking stones home when I'm trying to travel light, but they'll be so significant to me...

Shan't even go out to eat tonight; I've just finished-up things I had here. When I got in from the walk I had to wash everything I'd had on, it was all just soaked in sweat. (I may not have lost any real weight today but I've made up for a good few missed gym sessions with that walk.) Most of it, now, just a few hours later, is already dry. I do love this climate.