13 May - Awful time getting to sleep last night; it was terribly hot in the room but I dared not open the windows because of kounoupi (mosquitoes) and then when I finally got to sleep, one little devil got in and bit me on the eyelid and on the cheek before I woke up again. I turned on the light and hunted him down, squashed flat. But of course the damage was done by that time and not only was my eye itching, but every time I tried to sleep I’d imagine hordes of mosquitoes homing in on me. I tried to read Herodotus but none of his stories seemed the least bit interesting at three a.m. Thought I’d try the air conditioner; if I could get the room cool it might make them a little slower, but fiddle as I might with the control, I couldn’t get it to work at all. (I noticed on the back of the control it said “Room 3” and as I’m in Room 7 that might explain it. I guess as long as they have air conditioners they can put it in their advertising blurb; they don’t have to work). So I then took out the mosquito repellent machine and plugged it in, but the smell of it in that close room (I still didn’t dare open the windows) was so revolting that I unplugged it again. I think I’m being an awful wimp about it. Anyone with more fibre would just sleep through the night, mozzies or not.

Ho hum. Well, I finally got to sleep though I can’t say it was awfully restful, what with the mosquito bites and my (yes) sunburn, and when I woke just now at 6.30 my eyelid was so swollen up and the eye in consequence half-shut. Putting cool stuff on it helps a little, but I do feel like walking-wounded today.

I sorted out a box of stuff to send home; a conundrum since it’s safest to send it registered and that will require a signature at the other end. I could perhaps send it care of a friend’s address and collect it when I get back. Sending home the things I don’t need will make the return journey so much easier - well...a little easier anyway.

I’m contemplating finally getting that early swim I keep going on about. There’s an old chap staying in the hotel across the street who goes out every morning early in his swim trunks and I see him coming back later in wet trunks and a towel over his shoulders. What have I got to lose?

Later - another first. I’ll do that every morning I think. As Karen Blixen (Isak Dinesen, the Danish writer) said somewhere, “Salt is the answer for all problems: sweat, tears, or the sea.” And of course she is right: not only is my eye a lot less puffy after a swim, but (why didn’t I think of it?) my sunburn hurts less too. It’s shallow so far out in the bay that you have to walk out and walk out before it’s deep enough to launch yourself, but once you’re in and moving around, your pores close and it doesn’t feel cold anymore, just soothing. Almost silky.

I’d have swum longer but for a dog someone was walking along the beach, it was lolloping and frolicking along and came to where I’d left my towel and wrap on the sand in a neat pile (with my room key). He leapt on the bundle and started shaking it in his mouth as dogs will do. I said, from out on the water, “Hey!” in a carrying voice and the woman walking behind him came up and casually put the stuff back in a pile, waved at me in a laconic way and walked on without a word. But the dog lay on the beach about five yards from my bundle, watching me as I came out, just looking so guilty and sorry that though I said a thing or two to him I couldn’t feel too angry. He was so obviously wanting to show remorse. I shook the sand out of my stuff and found the key and decided I might as well come back to the studio. But it’s such a nice feeling! I had the entire sea to myself as well, and the beach too, apart from a couple of people sweeping-out the Paradise Cafe nearby.

Now back on my balcony wrapped in my fleece and waiting for the sun to come around to this side of the building.

Two things I forgot to write before: coming back from Hora last night just as the sun was setting, sinking into the sea behind the boats in the harbour like a perfect orange flame-hot ball, and the sky shading from lambent blue above, down through pearly-mauves and pinky-reds, all so clean and pure and placid.
　
2nd thing - on my walk on Monday to Melanes, as I was leaving town on the busy part of the road, the oddest roadkill I’ve ever seen; wish I’d taken a photo of it:

it looked like a sea bass...

Nearly 3 p.m. - Set off at eleven and walked all the way to Ayia Anna (beyond Ayios Prokopios) and the tiny chapel of St Nicholas on the point. It was hazy most of the way with a hot wind and overcast sky, not very nice walking. I tried to concentrate on roadside flowers and took lots of pictures. The land flattens out along there - which of course must be why the airport, such as it is, is located there - and there’s a large area of salt pans just by the side of the road, with a lagoon-y beach on the sea side and most of the growth is sort of sour sea-meadow stuff. Saw my first samphire on Naxos and also my first sighting of sea holly which seems to thrive, as why shouldn’t it? Then the terrain rises up in piles of rocks and the road twists and turns around them.

I missed the proper turning to Ayios Prokopios and came out on the coast just above Ayia Anna - not a very pretty approach, but the further you get towards the harbour itself the more traditional it gets, and the beach gets prettier and less grotty.

The little chapel, out on the point past all the other development, sits in its own walled courtyard, all beautifully newly-whitewashed, but alas padlocked.

It sits looking out to sea on the living rock, appropriate as St Nicholas is the patron saint of fishermen. I sat out on the breezy rocks as the wind brought in more cloud and it began to get cool. Watched a little fishing boat go by with a few blokes out for a joyride. There was an odd-shaped rock that some wag had turned into a shark by inserting a lot of pebbles into its 'mouth'.

Then a few drops of rain, and I was starting to feel a bit cold, but there was a man nearby with his fattish, bored-looking wife, who had perched himself on a neighbouring rock and was looking intently across the bay at something through his binoculars. His wife just stood there, “impatience posing as patience”. I wanted them to go and leave me peacefully on my own, and I did manage to outlast them, though by the time they went I decided it was too chilly to linger any longer and set off back towards Hora. It always seems less distance back, once it’s a Known Road, but in trying to take a shortcut along Laguna Beach and back past the Paradise Cafe, the way I went for my swim in the morning, I got so lost I almost ended up back on the main road and wandered about for an extra quarter hour getting all hot and bothered in the close still air, feeling as if I were lost in a labyrinth and going in circles. Finally I went back to the beach and found my way to a road I recognised and got home at last - the whole walk took three hours and I reckon it was about 14k, counting the extra wandering-about. The best part of it was the chapel, I'd have liked to share its spare clean restfulness with someone. The rest of the walk was at least informative in that I now know I'd prefer not to stay in either of those two villages (too touristy). There was just one private house, white with pale blue shutters and gate, that I could have borne being a guest at: out on its own between the two beaches and really lovely with big windows with no doubt wonderful views. (It occurred to me that although my German friend's house in Kouronochori has fabulous views of the valley, how could anyone bear to live on an island and not have a view of the sea?)

I tried to have a nap after my Greek-salad lunch, but was woken by some Greek bloke shouting up the stairwell; as it's all marble it echoes a treat - it sounded like the God of the Underworld summoning someone. And just now across the street one of the cleaners is having a real go at someone's room - she can't seem to do any of the chores without a LOT of noise: scraping of tables and chairs, bang-bang-banging of windows and shutters - do they not feel the job's properly done if they haven't, in doing it, managed to disturb everyone within a half-mile radius? I try to be amused at this very characteristic inclination of all the cleaners to crash about - if I weren't so sleepy it wouldn't bother me so much.

7.30 - I made a pasta tonight - clove of garlic, a chunk of red onion, a gorgeous tomato plus some macaroni and the last of the kephalotyri (what Lawrence Durrell calls 'head cheese' - perhaps the name's because it resembles a brain).After so many days of cold suppers it was delicious. After I washed up the dinner things I noticed that the backs of my hands were itchy and when I looked it was hives - couldn't think what can have caused it; I've done, eaten or touched nothing out of the ordinary. Thought it might be The Last Straw of too much sun, but the rest of me is in that same boat, and is okay. Urticaria, it's called, I suddenly remember, nettle rash (as if). It's stopped itching now but the lumps are still there.

I did three paintings today - one before my walk and two after. I remember that in Kalami I was cross after three days not to be producing anything decent, then realised that I hadn't even tried doing a sea picture, it had all been trees and so forth. And the minute I started doing water the paints just took over. In two weeks I did forty-nine paintings, about half good enough to show (and sell). This time, I've done nine in six days, not quite the production rate I'd like but then it was a better situation in Kalami, with my private little balcony where I could sit and paint all afternoon.