Greece 19 - Koroni/The Eyes of Venice/The cat and the lizard and the nuns in a corner /The Scops Owl

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Our next destination wasn’t too far away . So where is Suzy parked. She is somewhere known as the Eyes of Venice. The Venetians built their castle here at Koroni in order to survey the shipping lanes between the Adriatic and Crete. What a wonderful shipping lane it was too. The sea crystal clear aquamarine with tiny fishes swimming. The sand pristine. Guarded by a castle it is described as a town with steep streets leading to the castle.



Koroni was one of Venices longest held possessions. Important for the production of siege engines. The fortified bluff commands grand views across the Messinian Gulf. It’s streets are stepped and ramped and all lead uphill. They have little changed since the Venetian occupation.



The Michelin Guides does no justice to describing what is a pretty town. It fares less well in the DK book . A few words describe the town - white houses along a promontory with a castle on the end.

Campsite Koroni was welcoming . Well the owner positively gushed when we arrived . Kalimeera Kalimeera she said . I show you the site. She went round showing me the chemical toilet facility, explained what to do with grey water and took me into the cold showers and pointed me in the direction of the warm ones. 17 euros ACSI, park anywhere you like . We had heard some of the plots were small and were prepared to pay extra for a larger one but it was not necessary. We found a good one with both shelter and shade and a place in the sun. We found the washing machine. The chores still need doing and paid our 5 euros to use it. The clothes could dry while we investigated the town.



We walked along the clean beach and onto the main street with areas right up to the sea where you could eat . A young lad came over to us . Give me five minutes he said . Look at my menu. We had heard that the waiters get paid by the number of people they persuade to eat in the restaurant. He was not going to earn much today as there were only us and three others eating. We chose a greek salad to share and souvlaki with a carafe of very acceptable wine.

After our lunch we walked through the deserted streets. The supermarket was closed. It was siesta time. The small gift shop dark and looked closed. We climbed higher and higher , past churches closed and a bakery doing good business . Like most continental countries bread is a staple and the bread shops do roaring trade . The bread only lasts a day so every day there is welcome business available .

The tiny houses had immaculate gardens full of bourganvillea which tumbled over every wall or fence. Angel Trumpets larger than I have ever seen before. A more exotic plant that we can only grow for a short time as an annual . It will not survive our northern winters. Pelargoniums as big as small shrubs . Red everywhere. It was a gardeners delight.

Arriving at the castle we were shocked . It was free. A chance to see something for nothing was not to be missed. From the top we had a full view of the lovely town below and the sea. Again we kept pinching ourselves. We cannot believe we have come here. We never intended to . It was always the plan for retirement when we had more time. Time though stops for no man so one morning the decision was made to take the bull by the horns and come all this way. Was it worth it? As we stood inside this Venetian castle the answer had to be yes.

Inside are bastions and walls. Houses still inhabited . Tiny vegetable plots with potatoes and beans growing. Roses rambling over the walls. Everyday life going on in this tiny enclave. As we stood a cat brushed past us . At first he or she walked slowly . All of a sudden it flew into life, raced across the cobbled lane and launched herself at the stone wall. The cat had caught a lizard as it made its way up the wall in the sun. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time. A minute either way and we would have missed it.

We stumbled on a tiny church. I ventured inside. It was dark within but opened out onto a pretty garden full of lavender and roses . I was in a world of my own when out of a dark corner came a nun dressed in black . She offered me Turkish Delight. I took a piece and went in to her tiny shop. Once inside I realised it was not that tiny but full of icons and worry beads all for sale . In the corner sat another nun. She smiled . I bought a magnet with an icon on it . They both laughed and gave me the biggest smile I have ever seen. I could have been spending 100 euros rather than the 2 for the magnet . They called Glenn over to offer him Turkish Delight. It was such a moving experience to talk to them.



Further down in a tiny corner of the castle was yet another church. This time it was surrounded by graves . White marble bleached like bones in the sun they stood it and gleamed. Traditional crosses and angels on some graves more elaborate white boxes on others. The slabs of the boxes were covered with artificial flowers and candles and the shelves above mementos of the deceased person and a photograph. Photos of elderly greek women in black dresses, young men and boys and children. It was another moving experience to see the love and dedication of the families keeping the memory of their loved ones alive.

We did not sleep as well as we expected . We were kept awake by the hooting of the Skops owl in the tree above us. Owls might be wise creatures but this one was near to being strangled as its single hoot which sounds like the radar on a submarine echoed over the campsite.



In the morning we walked back down to the beach. We visited the supermarket to buy steaks for the BBQ and pork for home made souvlaki. We bought a few magnets .The shop owner welcomed me like a long lost friend . He would not stop thanking me for buying from him and told me he felt I brought him luck as I was his first customer of the day. I got the impression he did not get many shoppers this time of the year.



.As we left the campsite we found ourselves following a very overloaded tractor. Full to the brim and some more with hay had it been at home it would have taken off the road and the driver prosecuted. The son behind drove an old dilapidated scooter belching out fumes and smoke . It would hardly have passed its MOT . The driver rode it with one hand. The other carried some kind of farming implement. More and more we have seen young men without helmuts riding bikes and scooters with one hand and sometimes the other hand carrying cups of coffee. All precariously balanced to great effect. Our next stop if Sally Sat Nag could find her way was to the Other Eye of Venice the tiny town of Methoni .

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