Let’s Order the “Yoghurt (Unpleasant)”

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Today we’re planning to catch the bus to Plaka Beach which is on the island’s west coast about ten kilometres south of Naxos Town.

We’ve learned all of about three words of Greek since we got here, and it seems that we‘ve not even done that particularly well, or in this case should I say I’ve not done that particularly well. The Greek word for good morning is “kalimera”, well I think it is, but as I pass one of the hotel staff I bumble out “calamari”. At least she has the good grace to just smile and respond with the correct version of the greeting. Issy’s meanwhile trying to pretend she’s with someone else.

We make our way round to the bus station next to the port. We were expecting to be sitting in an oven hot cabin full of half-broken grubby plastic seats with chewing gum stuck under them, but it seems that Aussie commuter bus companies could learn a thing or two from their Naxos counterparts. We mount our fully airconditioned chariot to find it equipped with very comfortable clean airline type chairs (yes, I know that’s a contradiction in terms), fold-down tray tables, overhead luggage racks, and a large suitcase storage compartment under the cabin. The downside is that we do then spend half the trip stuck in reverse gear because the road’s too narrow and there are cars coming the other way. I guess that might at least partly explain why the fare’s so cheap.

In contrast to the pleasant although grey and slightly sticky sand of Saint George Beach in front of our hotel, Plaka is about three kilometres of pure gold. We made sure we got here early so we could be certain of snagging a couple of sunlounges. I think we could have stayed in bed for a few more hours; the beach is packed with lounges and they’re all empty. But no, sleeping on would have been a mistake; it seems that nearly all of them are reserved. I spent several hours yesterday trawling the internet for ways to reserve these things and all I came away with were scam warnings and messages to try again later, even if I wanted to book for the middle of winter. I now vaguely remember glossing over a site that was all in Greek, so maybe that was it. We do eventually manage to secure a couple in the back row, which might end up being a blessing. A large speed boat cruises past generating a tsunami and the beds closer to the front, some of which were already partly in the water, are now in real danger of ending up on a neighbouring island. The water’s quite cool and refreshing, and it’s very relaxing in the shade on the sand.

As we noticed when we were in Europe in 2019, the countries of the globe seem to have reached agreement on the delineation of beach duties. If you come from east Asia you give massages, and if you come from the subcontinent or anywhere in Africa you sell things - sunglasses, hats, jewellery, corncobs, floating plastic toys and large colourful plastic pegs that keep your towel in place on your sunlounge (I had to ask Issy about that last one). I don’t know what the penalty for breaching this agreement is, but it must be pretty severe because we’ve yet to spot an infraction. A young Asian lady asks Issy if she wants a massage, and of course she can’t refuse. I wait for her to start, but no, her job is just to tee things up and take the money, it’s her young muscly husband who’s the masseur. This is a bit worrying. I thought I’d been doing a masterful job of tending to my beloved’s sore back for the past few days, but I think I may need to work on my technique. She seems to be enjoying this way more. I hope it wasn’t just the sight of the muscles…..

So it’s off to lunch at the cafe above the beach. I think the Google translator might have been working overtime on the menu. Issy asks me what she might expect if she orders “fresh strawberries, blueberries, blackberries and yoghurt (unpleasant)“, but I’m too busy being intrigued by “chicken rooster” and “lamp (sic) in the oven”. We’re sitting under military style camouflage, so we should be relatively safe if Mad Vlad decides to launch an attack. I’m not quite sure why anyone would attack a beach, but I suppose they don’t call him Mad Vlad for nothing.

Back in town again we decide to swap our routine of dining on our quiet beach for a restaurant on the waterfront in town. It sure is a lot more crowded and frenetic in here. Restaurants that we scarcely believed could ever fill up when we wandered past at lunchtime a few days ago are now packed to overflowing. I love Greek food. I haven’t seen any advertisements for heart surgeons since we arrived here, but I can hold on no longer and order the saganaki. And I think I may have discovered my new favourite dish on the planet, the local take on the humble spud - the Naxian Fried Potato. We’ve got to find the recipe for that when we get home.

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Comments

[RENanDREW]

Naxos
I've been wondering what you thought of the food. I think we need to put Naxos on the list if we are ever back in the Cyclades!

[DaveandIssy]

Naxos food
I think I could live on Greek food and the Naxian version was no different. Standout was the humble Naxian Fried Potato. Plenty of souvlakis, dips, etc as well.