18. Babies, Paros and a very Greek experience on Naxos

15th - 22nd November 2008

We arrived at the main town on Paros to a reception. Here at Parikia, there is a small fishing harbour with a few spaces for visiting yachts. Already there were five or six, moored stern to and mostly occupied. Each one of the occupants wanted to help us moor next to them! New blood syndrome perhaps. We did not take up our first offer because we did not like the position near the entrance of the harbour and found a space next to an occupied Italian Jeanneau one side and an unoccupied motor yacht the other. The Italians spoke no English but seemed friendly. Our lines were caught by Melanie who appeared from nowhere but told us she lived on the smallest boat in the harbour – a 31 foot, 30 year old, steel Dutch built sailing yacht. “Oh, the one with the baby?” I asked as there was a pushchair on the deck. “Yes, and the two dogs”!

Later we had tea and cake on board their boat with Melanie, Kenneth, 5 month old Fritzie and the two large dogs. Melanie and Kenneth are updating the German pilot for Greece and had met Wolfgang, Bettina and Klaus at a previous island, so we had a point in common. They are a lovely couple but mad to be travelling with so many in such a small space! They are, sensibly, looking for a larger boat as they have 1-2 years more work to do on the books.

They told us a classic story. On the East of Paros there is a lovely bay. When Melanie and Kenneth arrived they found that there were some mooring buoys laid, and knowing the Greek laws regarding private moorings (they are not allowed) they decided to pick one up rather than anchor. They were well settled when a German boat approached and started to yell at them – “Get off that mooring. It is private here. You cannot stay. You must go”. Kenneth told them that no, he would not move his boat, he was happy here and it was a public harbour. The Germans were not happy but in the end had to accept this and picked up another mooring. Later another person, Greek this time, came to yell at them but K&M stood their ground.

It turned out that these people had bought houses in the mountains above the bay, had laid the moorings and spent their entire summer telling people they were not allowed to enter “their bay”. Every time a boat appeared Melanie told us they would see the Germans jump in their little car, drive down the mountain, get in their tender and yell at the new boat, telling them to leave. Most complied. One time Melanie and Kenneth watched incredulously as they made a small fishing boat leave in a meltemi – a very high NW wind that blows up in the summer months – when it came in for shelter! The Germans told M & K that they only sailed in May and October as they were afraid someone would take their mooring. “We do not like other boats in our bay – especially those charter boats”. Melanie went to the Port Authority to ask about the private moorings in the bay. “What private moorings – there are none”. We agreed with Kenneth when he said they should sell their boat and get happy.

November 21st 2008

After Parikia on Paros we had a very lonely night at Naoussa, though bizarrely as we arrived the Italian guys from the boat next door in Parikia drove up to the quay, got out of the car, caught our lines and then returned to their car and drove off! Only hours earlier, after several phone calls and waiting from the appointed time of 9am for two hours for the water-man to come and unlock the tap for us, these same Italians decided to come to our rescue and managed to break into the water-mans box. Just as we started to fill Deep Blues tanks, to much hilarity of everyone along the quay except the waterman himself, the blessed man arrived. He took my money and left in disgust without giving me my change – leaving all the other boats to fill their tanks for free! The Italians and we exchanged gifts as we departed.

Yesterday we had the strangest but best Greek day! We are now on Naxos, the largest of the Cyclades Islands and also the most mountainous. Two big low pressure weather areas are expected and so we are here until after the high winds (45knots are forecast) have passed. We feel fairly safely tucked up here – all our fenders out, tethered to a large fishing boat, anchor down and every other line we own to the shore - but I am a bit nervous after our last experience of high winds on Syros. The glass is dropping dramatically and the wind is already windsurf-able. But yesterday was a beautiful day and so we decided to hire a car to explore the interior of Naxos and climb the highest mountain Zeus. The lovely lady from who we hired our “fun car” was a mine of information and suggested a route for us – including somewhere to eat in the evening on the way home. We followed her suggested route and very lovely it was.

The interior of Naxos is beautiful, with fertile valleys between the many mountains and craggy hills. Much of the rock is the famous white marble which has for centuries been exported around the world. Thousands of years ago the marble was used for making the enormous, larger than life, Kouros that wealthy Greeks had made for their tombs. The rough shape of the male figure was made at the quarry and then the stone – weighing many tons – was transported to its destination eg Delos or Athens. Sometimes they broke and so were abandoned – now excavated and on display at random places over the island. Naxos is a tidy and clean island. Bins everywhere actually seem to be used and nearly every property, new or tumbling down, is newly whitewashed. The interior is not very touristic though everywhere was well sign-posted (probably as the result of several millions of European Euros – how have these guys managed to get SO much money!).

The climb up Mount Zeus, after a very substandard lunch – the one bakery we had found had run out of everything with which to make a picnic and we made the mistake of choosing the only restaurant aimed at tourists in the only small town we found with any shops – was magnificent. The path was well maintained and well marked, albeit by at least three different people with different briefs regarding the correct markings to use. I think that a lot of the path was an ancient one though there was a very steep part where the path suddenly just went straight up – the marker that day obviously decided that the path was not macho enough, no pansy zigzagging here! The climb from the road was for us fit, fast, athletic sorts, just 1 hour though it was advertised as a 2 hour climb. At the top we had the most wonderful view of most of the Cycladic islands – Zeus was kind to us and the weather was remarkably clear. As we clambered down, the sun fairly low now, a man appeared from nowhere above us and disappeared over, what looked to us, the edge of the mountain. Further down again we heard whistling and calling and across the valley we could see a shepherd behaving like one of those mad fell runners running down a sheer valley face to herd his goats and gather the stragglers. We tried to see where they were all making for but could not see any sign of buildings. The goats had responded to his calls and bells tingling, had climbed up the valley then, in a line, filed purposely somewhere out of sight. The shepherd had obviously to scrabble back up the mountain to see to his goats – something he must do every day of his life. Amazing – now that is what I call fit! We could hear other shepherds in the distance and the bells of other animals. To my ears it sounded like the bells were a different pitch.

The sun was beginning to set so we made rapidly to the 700 BC Dimitras temple – getting lost and finding ourselves at the bottom of a flight of steps in the car, an experience that was going to repeat itself later, though next time it was the top, the Greek signposts, though prolific, are not always consistent. The temple was later converted to be one of the first Christian Churches and had great views over to the sea, though 6 kms from the coast. We watched the sun set through the ruins.

All roads lead to Chalki, the most central town and as both a taverna and a distillery had been recommended there we decided to park and find them. The town seemed like it was falling down. It also seemed to be more of a hamlet than a town, consisting of two streets. Poverty was very much in evidence. The few people we saw in the street were definitely strange. The town was closed for business except for the towns’ one shop which was in the centre, alongside the closed distillery and the recommended taverna. We decided to enter. The very elderly lady behind the counter grinned widely at us as her equally elderly husband scurried away. She was selling a packet of cigarettes (a Greeks best friend) to a young girl of perhaps 9 years old. The shop smelt strongly of cat wee. The lady and her husband looked like something out of a Dickens book - badly dressed, dirty and toothless. The shop was packed, floor to ceiling, with anything and everything household you could ever want to buy – alcohol, animal food, fruit and vegetables, household cleaning chemicals, dried beans, cereals, kitchen hardware, tins, sweets.... a real jumble. Most of the stock looked almost as old as the proprietors. The lady was obviously very pleased to see us and started to dust with her sleeve the bottles of Citron liqueur that we had hoped to see being distilled next door. She chatted away to us in a tiny high pitched voice – we did not understand a word she said until, after we paid, she suddenly said, very deliberately, with a large toothless smile .. “merci beaucoup”. We made our escape in stitches.

Our car lady had recommended a restaurant in a place called Melanes which, from where we now were, was only reachable by “dirt road”. We decided to give it a go as we were hungry. Without too much difficulty we found the village. It was perched on the side of a mountain and looked half built. This is not too unusual as even on Naxos the developers seem to have ideas above their ability – starting ambitious projects and then running out of money half way through, leaving a legacy of building shells dotted all over the island in all the prettiest places. We arrived at the top of the town. The road turned to furrowed concrete and went straight down the mountainside. We followed it down until it ended in a car-park behind an unfinished church (there appears to be a huge church building project throughout Greece) and a “no entry” sign. We were unsure of where we should “not enter” but turned round and our poor little car struggled back up the concrete road. There were no people or other vehicles and it was by now completely dark. The only other option for us was to drive into the narrow street at the top of the town. At the “no through road” sign I said “no.o.o!” but Andy, who was driving, decided he did not believe the Greeks. The road got narrower. It was marble and slippery. People had built their front steps into the street and corners of buildings protruded out making the street suddenly even narrower. Steps the width of a car went down to lower parts of the town – our street tipping towards them. The street twisted and turned, went up and down like a fair-ground ride. I had my eyes closed – how were we going to get BACK!!?? Then the street ended in an “up” flight of steps.

Andy went into reverse. My eyes were still closed. We came to the part of the slippery marble road where we had to negotiate at the same time a bend, a steep short hill, a protruding house making the street just narrow enough for the car to get through and the wide “down” flight of steps, the top of which was on the bend at the bottom of the short hill – the road camber sloping towards the steps. The car made it half way up the slope and we came to a sliding stop – the front of the car now pointing towards the “down” flight of steps. I came to my senses – “there is a roof at street level back near the end of the road – we could use it to turn round”. Gingerly we edged back forwards and managed to turn round. Even in first gear we needed two goes at getting up the hill and round the corner at the “down” steps – the clutch making an interesting smell. We found another ridged concrete road and went careering down it ... and there at the bottom was a restaurant. We were summoned in as soon as we got shakily out of the car – like we were expected. We were the only customers in a very large room. The proprietors were an interesting looking couple (League of Gentleman came to mind) but turned out to be very generous. There was no menu and the choice was casseroled rabbit (Andy) or rooster (me) – both grown by our hosts. We also had Greek salad (grown by our hosts), a very tasty local cheese, good local wine which tasted like sherry (we needed it) and excellent bread. By the end of the meal we were stuffed, Andy was drunk because our host plied him with “complimentary” beer and I had to drive home. With me behind the wheel our journey home was somewhat more sedate. After a very Greek day and a small glass of the Citron Liqueur (very lemony) we collapsed exhausted into bed.