Journey to the 'True Crete'

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Jumping on a bus to Kolymbari the next morning we aim to escape the afternoon insanity on the beach at Agia Marina.



We pass the built up area relatively quickly and are soon bowling along passing dry fields and scattered houses and villas.



George, from the caravan bar on the pebbly beach, advised us that if you didn't like the big resort hotel further back in the little town the best option from admittedly very scant choices was Hotel Dimitra at the back of the harbour. It was hot, very hot and the cool, dark panelled hotel was just what we needed. Eresmia, had not heard us come in and we knocked on the kitchen door where she was busy arranging some salt to dry. We found a common language in German and soon secured a room. This was not hard, we did not see another visitor while we were there apart from a resident who works in a local HR office.



What to do in Kolymbari? We walked up to the Gonia monastery where an unfriendly priest walked past us without a glance. He swooped out of a doorway like a tall, black vulture without a long bare neck. The 16^th century building was quiet but unwelcoming with a bright, somewhat garish orthodox chapel. And, no, I was not wearing shorts but had covered myself with a thoughtfully provided sarong at the entrance.



A swim in a rockpool down from the botanical garden we discovered to the side of the Ecclesiastical Academy provided welcome relief from the hot, dusty specimins we had seen.



The clear water was obviously a local hangout. Swimming in our hats Graeme rescued a hapless bee and perched it precariously on my brim to dry out. Jokes around 'You've got a bee in your bonnet,' provided us with endless giggles until the creature decided to peer around the edge. Once safely on land we left him to an uncertain future and hotfooted it off the very hot rocks.



We walked past the six or so restaurants along the front who tout for customers by waving menus at them or engaging them with friendly remarks uncannily addressed in the correct language. The tourists stroll along in their evening finery, as we had just thrown a spare pair of underwear, swimmers and a few t-shirts into a bag, we were not some of these!



We felt sorry for a young couple and his wife as they had no customers. We bravely sat down hoping that this was not the worst cooking in the world and within a minutes three other tables filled . One large group of French were behind us and I marvelled at how fluent the owners were in German/Spanish/French/English and Greek of course. Makes one cringe really when you ponder how many hospitality workers in England or Australia could do the same?



'Oranges grow sweeter on the coast,' so said the barman in the bar in Tavronitas as we waited for a bus to the South Coast, to Paleochora. Maybe they do, the fresh squeezed juice was certaily welcome.



Modern coaches ply the Western Crete area of Xania. Comfortable, cheap and air-conditioned, they might not supply the colourful experience of South American or Indian buses but are certainly a luxurious way of getting from A to B. Graeme had thought a moped would be fun, zipping along hair-raising mountain roads. But there are limits to my adventurous spirit. Remember the disaster when I pushed my qualms aside and took the dog sled ride in Siberia? She would not be moved.



The old, snazzily-dressed gentleman was not impressed that I wanted to sit in the empty seat next to him and he grudgingly got up leaving me a few centimetres to squeeze past him. He held himself tightly. Didn't like women? Didn't like tourists? Possibly both reasons.



We passed through the martyred village of Katapetros where we had been informed the whole village had lost their lives during WW II in a German reprisal for sheltering some resistance workers. We dropped down into the historical gorge of Kandanos, home of the world's best moussaka, proudly advertised in the central square.



It really was the best time of day to travel. 37 to 39 degrees outside so no walking of any gorges today.



Kantanov, Kakodiki, Kalamos, Ligia, Floria-all small little outposts tossed among the steep hills with their olive and orange trees clinging valiantly to the sides. I mused on how the olives might be collected but saw how some nets were placed underneath, the trees shaken or just left for a few days to collect up the haul.



A rather rotund lady clutching her black hat to her ample bosom genuflected constantly. It wasn't the driving, I don't think, it may have been the numerous little shrines at the side of the road, testament to the careless driving maybe of local residents.



We drove through a Eucalypt tunnel into Paleochora and arrived at another beach with sand too hot to bear. There were rows of umbrellas and beds here too. I sighed. Was this still not the real Crete? The bakery in Tavronitas had supplied pizza, a spinach and fetta puff together with some sinful almond and mixed nut filled and honey-soaked pastries. A handful of small plum tomatoes and a juicy peach completed our picnic under the thatched umbrella.



The wind picked up broiling the sea into molten pewter. Time to find lodging. Our first night's choice was not good. The apartment hotel was smart and clean but oh so hot. The air conditioning didn't work well and the snowcreted walls retained the day's heat radiating it into the room all night. I tried my favourite trick, wet a sarong or scarf and laid it over my body. In this heat it dried off incredibly quickly and multiple wettings were needed to gain any sleep at all.



Walking the next morning we found the other side of the promontory had a pebbly beach, a small dock and the most glorious cove with beds, hammocks and a tree house which you didn't have to pay for! Behind this we had breakfast at the Water's Edge and pondered our next lodging. A small apartment block with characteristic blue shutters caught our eye and we thankfully moved into this cooler abode with a view out to the cove.



This was more like it. Restauranteers and shopkeepers recognised us from the day before and called out greetings as we traversed the cobbled streets keeping to the shady side.



Returning from our evening meal we swam in the smooth Mediterranean, oily in its smoothness, lying back sculling, viewing the Milky Way and shooting stars. We were really liking Paleochora!

The next day's adventure found us walking along the rocky beach to Anidri. Once over the difficulty in making it into the water the swims were magnificent as we made our way to the increasing umbrella size at our destination. Anidri was not really what we had thought. Another crowded beach . Our splendid lonely swims off the rocks were what I enjoyed, the only others around were a couple residing in a small tent under the trees. True Crete? Maybe, but I prefer a shower in the evening after a hot sticky day in the sun if not the sand.

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Photos

George's caravan
Cafe in Kolymbari

Kolymbari
From the swimming hole

Walking to Anidri
Paleochora in the distance

Comments

[Jacki M.....]

I want to go to Crete.....
...so enjoying your "reckies" around the globe. Hope to see you Xmas before you guys return to Aussie:):):)