7 May - Wonderful sleep and no problem getting to the ferry - I just asked the chap at the front desk to call a cab. He said 'It is only five minutes' and I said just this once I wanted to be driven there. I was so happy not to have to do that walk in reverse - in fact it was a bit complicated and further than I remembered.
Reflecting on this travelling business, I begin to comprehend the real benefit of coming across country instead of flying - it slows down the need for fast assimilation. And instead of being 'herded' for most of one's journey, as it is when you fly, you're only 'herded' at selected points - boarding trains, etc. - and even those aren't without the personal touch (as the events getting settled on the Paris-Bologna sleeper proved). It's like a friend once described when he changed from racing dinghies to a larger cruiser - he said he suddenly realised he could stop throwing himself from one side of the boat to the other every time they came about, because it all happened so much more slowly.
It's much too interesting down there where they're loading the ferry with the lorries and cars that are travelling with us, for me to concentrate on anything else. The traffic's beginning to thicken up along the street that runs alongside the terminal and through Piraeus. I boarded around 6.30 and am standing on the rear deck looking back and down at all the activity onshore. The sun has just come up between two tall buildings as if it were a stage set, burning orange and clear, and I think of Nielsen’s Helios Overture and how perfectly it depicts that moment when the sun appears over the horizon and says 'I am here'.
Now a little dog has come on board and has been let out of his box by his owner. He's barking excitedly (the dog, not the owner) and looking about, telling us all about it and what we should be doing, sorting us all out...
Later - We left about ten minutes ago and I watched Piraeus sink away and the surrounding hills come into view as we moved away from shore. I think I picked out the Acropolis, shrouded in mist (or is it fumes?) in the distance. From the sea it used to be that in ancient times you could see the tip of Athene's spear on a clear day. As we left, I was suddenly filled with excitement again, this time to realise that I was actually, myself, leaving Piraeus on a ferry for an island, something I had always feared I couldn't do. Not only that, but by myself, another thing that had always seemed utterly impossible. How much more in life will I discover is not impossible?
Everyone is quite helpful, though I can't say much for the friendliness of the Blue Star staff on board, at least compared to the Superfast ferry that took me from Bari to Patras. In fact the people who dealt with looking at my ticket were a bunch of po-faced miseries. But I daresay they've done it all so often that it's just a wearisome tediousness for them. It would be foolish to let them spoil my excitement. I wonder if the hotel man will be there to meet me as he promised?
Half-past nine, I think we stop first in Paros. The sky is clear and the sun out - I’ve just moved up a deck to get a seat in the sun; it’s a bit chilly once the boat is out on the water though there are plenty of people in short sleeves and some even in shorts, looking not the least bit uncomfortable. I must just be getting colder as I get older. The wake foams white behind us and people are beginning to strike up conversations with each other. I’m wearing my you-can’t-see-where-I’m-looking sunglasses which enables people-watching. The crowd aboard today is a mixed bag - students, Greeks, quite a few Greek men who smoke and talk in loud voices (smoking is so much more in evidence in Greece, it’s as if the whole pc/health thing has passed them by) or stand by the rail and look out ponderously as if contemplating weighty matters. Maybe they are; it’s the Big Businessman look all right. Then there are the young women, almost universally a bit overweight below the waist but nonetheless a confident bunch generally - the way they dress, jeans and close-fitting tops, is almost a uniform. (One of the crew in full uniform has just walked through the crowd sitting on this deck, pausing to make sure we all admired how good he looks) Generally the ‘types’ on this voyage don’t seem as colourful as the ones on the Patras boat, but it’s a different destination and these are mostly holiday people. There is a woman just across the way telling two people at her table an interminable story, leaning forward earnestly and gesturing with both hands; they are attending politely but I can already see them beginning to think ‘how are we going to get away from her?’
There’s a young man one table away who seems to be travelling on his own; khaki shorts, navy sweatshirt, sunglasses, half-empty rucksack. A sort of Matt Damon lookalike - Ipod plugged-in, suncream on, cropped hair, trainers. Good legs. If I were quite a few years younger I’d find some way to speak to him.
An island is heaving into view; it might be Paros. It’s only a quarter to ten so it can’t be Naxos yet. Looking at it I was reminded that what looks like not much of a distance on a map is actually usually a long way in reality. And I imagined myself asking the locals on Naxos about taxis and buses and so forth to get to some of the places too far to walk to, something I’ve been too shy to do on other holidays, and realised that this is another perk of having done it yourself, you know already that you’ve done something a bit different, and it gives confidence about forging-ahead in other areas. We’ll see.
I’ve just affirmed that the itinerary of this ferry is Paros-Naxos-Santorini. So this may be the ferry I’d have taken from Santorini if I’d flown there for Naxos (you can’t fly direct from the UK, though Naxos does have a small airstrip of sorts). A Greek lady, rather forceful, and an American man got into a deep discussion earlier at my table, she advising him what islands to go to. He had told her that he and his wife had come with an open mind and were trying to decide how best to spend their time, on which islands. She insisted that Santorini was absolutely the best, he said they’d also thought of Folegandros and she said o well that’s really very small blah blah blah Santorini Santorini Santorini, and then when he asked her to recommend a place to stay on Santorini she admitted she hadn’t been there for ten years....I sat quietly, hearing it all but not daring to comment. I could see that she had actually travelled-about in Greece quite a bit and wanted always to be the one who Knows More, and anything I might offer would be qualified by her opinions.
We’re lucky with the weather - it’s such a smooth trip so far that you’d hardly know you were on the water.
I’ve been trying to re-read Herodotus as my travel book, informative enough if you can keep awake. But it’s like trying to listen to one of those busy-minded elderly women who start telling you a story and have to fill in all the peripheral details, who-was-his-father, and how the control devolved by complex and unimportant machinations and then wanders off on a side-road explaining a finer point of that, and further side-shoots appear, more elaboration, until you can’t recall the names of the original protagonists or what on earth they had to do with what he’s talking about now or what the original story was even about. And he plods on, telling us all the things that are no doubt important details to modern historians and in fact the only source of a lot of things we know about that era, but it is rather, shall we say, DULL or at least when you have no visual aids, maps, illustrations, it’s awfully difficult to keep one’s attention focussed. Looks like Paros coming up now...
Wonderful colours in the churned-up water as the ferry turned to come into port - ice-white mixed with mint-turquoise. As we left again (we only stopped for maybe fifteen minutes) the wind was ferocious and surprisingly cold, but now we’re on our way again it’s getting truly Greek warm.
Later - nearly two pm - Have finally ARRIVED. Taken by brusque taxi man to the hotel/studio; it appears to be a most tangled route from the port but I daresay I’ll find I get used to it. It’s a decent studio in a largish house, perfectly well-equipped and a dear little balcony alas with only a snip of a glimpse of sea. I must go out at once and buy some food. There seems to be no-one in the next-door studio which is good as the two studios share the balcony (though there is a waist-high railing between the two). It’s not as nice as other Greek studios I’ve had on other islands, but on the plus side everything’s blindingly, Cycladically whiter-than-white and the sun is shining from a clear blue sky. I’m off to find food and perhaps a cafe elleniko (Greek coffee).
Just back: came back laden but still forgot honey, bread, cucumber, salt, olive oil, coffee and a towel. But lovely to have cheese and tomatoes and olives again after my long fast! Then an orange and some chocolate; I must be in Greece.
I’m trying to get used to the ‘giz’ of this place - think of it more as a village atmosphere and try not to be too sad about the lack of view. This whole chunk of the town seems very new and is primarily holiday places, interspersed with motorbike rental shops and food shops and gift shops. Civilisation-as-we-know it peters out quite soon after you pass our street on the way out of town, and then you’re at the beach - Saint George’s beach, or Agios Yeoryios. I only walked far enough to find a shop that sold the basics - especially fresh fruit and vegetables - but fortunately the lady behind the counter gave me a free map of Naxos that also has a roughly detailed map of the port area and the main town, so later I’ll go explore more of it - it’s only just after three now though it feels much later. Strange when in fact we’re two hours ahead of the UK here, so really it’s only just after one pm. I’m struck by the dearth of floral embellishment here; used I suppose to the Ionian islands and the Venetian influence, though Venice had plenty to do with Naxos as well. Must remember that Cycladic = spare. But in Ithaca, for example, there’d be a plant either growing on a trellis overhead or in a big pot making a colourful statement. But I mustn’t judge too soon.
GOOD: the balcony gets the afternoon sun - probably at least until five o’clock. Looks a pretty good little estiatorio (restaurant) up the road, offering such delicacies as “boiled goat”, but they can probably supply me with a decent Greek coffee if I need one in the morning. I’m off out to explore. Should have brought a really lightweight skirt after all. It’s always so hard to believe it’s going to be this warm.
Bedtime - it’s not far to the main harbour area, and there are lots of nice places to waylay you on the way. There’s a quirky little shop quite near here where I will probably buy most of my presents for them-at-home. And in the twisty lanes around the fortress in the main old part of town I found a fascinating textile place where the owner, such a nice Greek lady who spoke Australian English and knew she had a sucker in me, opened-up her bigger shop around the corner so I could look -wonderful Aladdin’s cave of every kind of textile and embroidery you could imagine, and I ended up getting a new cushion cover for my sofa at home. I know I will be back there before I leave Naxos...then I stumbled on a better map of Naxos in another shop along the waterfront, that had all the elevations and much more detail of roads and paths and when I went in to buy it, the guy behind the counter said he had an even better one and showed it to me (he had all the finer points at his fingertips, a real map geek) so I've now got one that's waterproof, tear proof and hugely detailed - I'll have to come back several times to Naxos to use it as much as it deserves...
I also found a postcard shop where as well as the regulars they sell old-photo postcards from the 30s-40s-50s-60s so I got a few of those and stamps as well, then found a lovely old-fashioned kafenia (cafe) where it was just me and about seven old men (they clearly didn't really approve of me coming in on my own but I did get them to let me take some pictures of them), ordered a metrio (Greek coffee with a little sugar) and sat there savouring it and the accompanying water while I wrote the postcards. Went to find a postbox when I'd finished my coffee and ran across my map man again who saw the cards in my hand and gestured to a nearby postbox (saying "I am your angel, see!") and then I realised I was very near the Portara, the great marble portal dating from ancient times, standing on its own on a little island linked to the town by a paved causeway and the symbol of Naxos. It greets all the ferries that arrive in the main port. So I went up to explore that in the westering sunlight. It's lovely, an easy walk and a path of broad, flat stone steps. The little island (Plateia) is covered in what smells like curry plant, plus some succulent that was just coming into flower, plus what looked like some sort of glasswort. I haven't brought my Mediterranean wild flowers book this time - too heavy - so I have had to guess. The Portara itself is huge, imposing although not particularly beautiful or even aesthetically pleasing. Funny knobs on its front face, looking rather like tab A waiting for slot B. But I was lucky to have it to myself the whole time: the low sun meant I got one or two evocative pictures. Then back to the studio via another 'supermarket' (how NOT like UK supermarkets, more like a corner shop and much friendlier) to get salt and olive oil and bread and the stuff I forgot before. Honey. Cucumber. Back to the studio, glass of ouzo and bread and olives, then my favourite, a Greek salad that tasted just perfect. It never tastes the same in the UK. It's the tomatoes I think. Then a shower - hot water in the evening! A first for any Greek studio - often in the past in order to get a hot shower you had to be back by three pm when the sun-heated water was at its hottest for the day. This one was bliss after the salt of the ferry crossing. And now I'm boss-eyed with exhaustion, Time for bed.
Reflecting on this travelling business, I begin to comprehend the real benefit of coming across country instead of flying - it slows down the need for fast assimilation. And instead of being 'herded' for most of one's journey, as it is when you fly, you're only 'herded' at selected points - boarding trains, etc. - and even those aren't without the personal touch (as the events getting settled on the Paris-Bologna sleeper proved). It's like a friend once described when he changed from racing dinghies to a larger cruiser - he said he suddenly realised he could stop throwing himself from one side of the boat to the other every time they came about, because it all happened so much more slowly.
It's much too interesting down there where they're loading the ferry with the lorries and cars that are travelling with us, for me to concentrate on anything else. The traffic's beginning to thicken up along the street that runs alongside the terminal and through Piraeus. I boarded around 6.30 and am standing on the rear deck looking back and down at all the activity onshore. The sun has just come up between two tall buildings as if it were a stage set, burning orange and clear, and I think of Nielsen’s Helios Overture and how perfectly it depicts that moment when the sun appears over the horizon and says 'I am here'.
Now a little dog has come on board and has been let out of his box by his owner. He's barking excitedly (the dog, not the owner) and looking about, telling us all about it and what we should be doing, sorting us all out...
Later - We left about ten minutes ago and I watched Piraeus sink away and the surrounding hills come into view as we moved away from shore. I think I picked out the Acropolis, shrouded in mist (or is it fumes?) in the distance. From the sea it used to be that in ancient times you could see the tip of Athene's spear on a clear day. As we left, I was suddenly filled with excitement again, this time to realise that I was actually, myself, leaving Piraeus on a ferry for an island, something I had always feared I couldn't do. Not only that, but by myself, another thing that had always seemed utterly impossible. How much more in life will I discover is not impossible?
Everyone is quite helpful, though I can't say much for the friendliness of the Blue Star staff on board, at least compared to the Superfast ferry that took me from Bari to Patras. In fact the people who dealt with looking at my ticket were a bunch of po-faced miseries. But I daresay they've done it all so often that it's just a wearisome tediousness for them. It would be foolish to let them spoil my excitement. I wonder if the hotel man will be there to meet me as he promised?
Half-past nine, I think we stop first in Paros. The sky is clear and the sun out - I’ve just moved up a deck to get a seat in the sun; it’s a bit chilly once the boat is out on the water though there are plenty of people in short sleeves and some even in shorts, looking not the least bit uncomfortable. I must just be getting colder as I get older. The wake foams white behind us and people are beginning to strike up conversations with each other. I’m wearing my you-can’t-see-where-I’m-looking sunglasses which enables people-watching. The crowd aboard today is a mixed bag - students, Greeks, quite a few Greek men who smoke and talk in loud voices (smoking is so much more in evidence in Greece, it’s as if the whole pc/health thing has passed them by) or stand by the rail and look out ponderously as if contemplating weighty matters. Maybe they are; it’s the Big Businessman look all right. Then there are the young women, almost universally a bit overweight below the waist but nonetheless a confident bunch generally - the way they dress, jeans and close-fitting tops, is almost a uniform. (One of the crew in full uniform has just walked through the crowd sitting on this deck, pausing to make sure we all admired how good he looks) Generally the ‘types’ on this voyage don’t seem as colourful as the ones on the Patras boat, but it’s a different destination and these are mostly holiday people. There is a woman just across the way telling two people at her table an interminable story, leaning forward earnestly and gesturing with both hands; they are attending politely but I can already see them beginning to think ‘how are we going to get away from her?’
There’s a young man one table away who seems to be travelling on his own; khaki shorts, navy sweatshirt, sunglasses, half-empty rucksack. A sort of Matt Damon lookalike - Ipod plugged-in, suncream on, cropped hair, trainers. Good legs. If I were quite a few years younger I’d find some way to speak to him.
An island is heaving into view; it might be Paros. It’s only a quarter to ten so it can’t be Naxos yet. Looking at it I was reminded that what looks like not much of a distance on a map is actually usually a long way in reality. And I imagined myself asking the locals on Naxos about taxis and buses and so forth to get to some of the places too far to walk to, something I’ve been too shy to do on other holidays, and realised that this is another perk of having done it yourself, you know already that you’ve done something a bit different, and it gives confidence about forging-ahead in other areas. We’ll see.
I’ve just affirmed that the itinerary of this ferry is Paros-Naxos-Santorini. So this may be the ferry I’d have taken from Santorini if I’d flown there for Naxos (you can’t fly direct from the UK, though Naxos does have a small airstrip of sorts). A Greek lady, rather forceful, and an American man got into a deep discussion earlier at my table, she advising him what islands to go to. He had told her that he and his wife had come with an open mind and were trying to decide how best to spend their time, on which islands. She insisted that Santorini was absolutely the best, he said they’d also thought of Folegandros and she said o well that’s really very small blah blah blah Santorini Santorini Santorini, and then when he asked her to recommend a place to stay on Santorini she admitted she hadn’t been there for ten years....I sat quietly, hearing it all but not daring to comment. I could see that she had actually travelled-about in Greece quite a bit and wanted always to be the one who Knows More, and anything I might offer would be qualified by her opinions.
We’re lucky with the weather - it’s such a smooth trip so far that you’d hardly know you were on the water.
I’ve been trying to re-read Herodotus as my travel book, informative enough if you can keep awake. But it’s like trying to listen to one of those busy-minded elderly women who start telling you a story and have to fill in all the peripheral details, who-was-his-father, and how the control devolved by complex and unimportant machinations and then wanders off on a side-road explaining a finer point of that, and further side-shoots appear, more elaboration, until you can’t recall the names of the original protagonists or what on earth they had to do with what he’s talking about now or what the original story was even about. And he plods on, telling us all the things that are no doubt important details to modern historians and in fact the only source of a lot of things we know about that era, but it is rather, shall we say, DULL or at least when you have no visual aids, maps, illustrations, it’s awfully difficult to keep one’s attention focussed. Looks like Paros coming up now...
Wonderful colours in the churned-up water as the ferry turned to come into port - ice-white mixed with mint-turquoise. As we left again (we only stopped for maybe fifteen minutes) the wind was ferocious and surprisingly cold, but now we’re on our way again it’s getting truly Greek warm.
Later - nearly two pm - Have finally ARRIVED. Taken by brusque taxi man to the hotel/studio; it appears to be a most tangled route from the port but I daresay I’ll find I get used to it. It’s a decent studio in a largish house, perfectly well-equipped and a dear little balcony alas with only a snip of a glimpse of sea. I must go out at once and buy some food. There seems to be no-one in the next-door studio which is good as the two studios share the balcony (though there is a waist-high railing between the two). It’s not as nice as other Greek studios I’ve had on other islands, but on the plus side everything’s blindingly, Cycladically whiter-than-white and the sun is shining from a clear blue sky. I’m off to find food and perhaps a cafe elleniko (Greek coffee).
Just back: came back laden but still forgot honey, bread, cucumber, salt, olive oil, coffee and a towel. But lovely to have cheese and tomatoes and olives again after my long fast! Then an orange and some chocolate; I must be in Greece.
I’m trying to get used to the ‘giz’ of this place - think of it more as a village atmosphere and try not to be too sad about the lack of view. This whole chunk of the town seems very new and is primarily holiday places, interspersed with motorbike rental shops and food shops and gift shops. Civilisation-as-we-know it peters out quite soon after you pass our street on the way out of town, and then you’re at the beach - Saint George’s beach, or Agios Yeoryios. I only walked far enough to find a shop that sold the basics - especially fresh fruit and vegetables - but fortunately the lady behind the counter gave me a free map of Naxos that also has a roughly detailed map of the port area and the main town, so later I’ll go explore more of it - it’s only just after three now though it feels much later. Strange when in fact we’re two hours ahead of the UK here, so really it’s only just after one pm. I’m struck by the dearth of floral embellishment here; used I suppose to the Ionian islands and the Venetian influence, though Venice had plenty to do with Naxos as well. Must remember that Cycladic = spare. But in Ithaca, for example, there’d be a plant either growing on a trellis overhead or in a big pot making a colourful statement. But I mustn’t judge too soon.
GOOD: the balcony gets the afternoon sun - probably at least until five o’clock. Looks a pretty good little estiatorio (restaurant) up the road, offering such delicacies as “boiled goat”, but they can probably supply me with a decent Greek coffee if I need one in the morning. I’m off out to explore. Should have brought a really lightweight skirt after all. It’s always so hard to believe it’s going to be this warm.
Bedtime - it’s not far to the main harbour area, and there are lots of nice places to waylay you on the way. There’s a quirky little shop quite near here where I will probably buy most of my presents for them-at-home. And in the twisty lanes around the fortress in the main old part of town I found a fascinating textile place where the owner, such a nice Greek lady who spoke Australian English and knew she had a sucker in me, opened-up her bigger shop around the corner so I could look -wonderful Aladdin’s cave of every kind of textile and embroidery you could imagine, and I ended up getting a new cushion cover for my sofa at home. I know I will be back there before I leave Naxos...then I stumbled on a better map of Naxos in another shop along the waterfront, that had all the elevations and much more detail of roads and paths and when I went in to buy it, the guy behind the counter said he had an even better one and showed it to me (he had all the finer points at his fingertips, a real map geek) so I've now got one that's waterproof, tear proof and hugely detailed - I'll have to come back several times to Naxos to use it as much as it deserves...
I also found a postcard shop where as well as the regulars they sell old-photo postcards from the 30s-40s-50s-60s so I got a few of those and stamps as well, then found a lovely old-fashioned kafenia (cafe) where it was just me and about seven old men (they clearly didn't really approve of me coming in on my own but I did get them to let me take some pictures of them), ordered a metrio (Greek coffee with a little sugar) and sat there savouring it and the accompanying water while I wrote the postcards. Went to find a postbox when I'd finished my coffee and ran across my map man again who saw the cards in my hand and gestured to a nearby postbox (saying "I am your angel, see!") and then I realised I was very near the Portara, the great marble portal dating from ancient times, standing on its own on a little island linked to the town by a paved causeway and the symbol of Naxos. It greets all the ferries that arrive in the main port. So I went up to explore that in the westering sunlight. It's lovely, an easy walk and a path of broad, flat stone steps. The little island (Plateia) is covered in what smells like curry plant, plus some succulent that was just coming into flower, plus what looked like some sort of glasswort. I haven't brought my Mediterranean wild flowers book this time - too heavy - so I have had to guess. The Portara itself is huge, imposing although not particularly beautiful or even aesthetically pleasing. Funny knobs on its front face, looking rather like tab A waiting for slot B. But I was lucky to have it to myself the whole time: the low sun meant I got one or two evocative pictures. Then back to the studio via another 'supermarket' (how NOT like UK supermarkets, more like a corner shop and much friendlier) to get salt and olive oil and bread and the stuff I forgot before. Honey. Cucumber. Back to the studio, glass of ouzo and bread and olives, then my favourite, a Greek salad that tasted just perfect. It never tastes the same in the UK. It's the tomatoes I think. Then a shower - hot water in the evening! A first for any Greek studio - often in the past in order to get a hot shower you had to be back by three pm when the sun-heated water was at its hottest for the day. This one was bliss after the salt of the ferry crossing. And now I'm boss-eyed with exhaustion, Time for bed.
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