Organised Chaos

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We’re not quite sure what we’re going to do today, but after a day of doing absolutely nothing yesterday we’re both keen that it include at least some form of exercise. The church and archaeological museum in Naxos Castle were both closed when I made the steep climb up there a few days ago, so I decide to get my quota of exercise by trying again. Issy says she’s going to leave me to it and get her quota by indulging in some shopping down in the town. Apart from going to the supermarket, the only shopping I do on a regular basis is late in the evening on Christmas Eve. This requires sprinting between stores to try to find what I’m looking for, which is usually made more difficult by me having no idea what this is. That sort of shopping involves very rigorous exercise; I’m not so sure about the version that Issy’s got in mind this morning.

I‘m an absolute sucker for Greek churches; they all look so dark and mysterious with their distinctive icons. It seems however that the Castle’s church isn’t Greek at all, it’s Catholic, and was built in the thirteenth century when the Venetians ruled Naxos. It still looks a bit dark and mysterious, as if both sides have had a go at the decor over the centuries. I think I may be destined never to see the archaeological museum. It’s closed in the afternoons which is when I was here the other day, so I made sure to get here early today. Unfortunately it’s also closed one day a week, and yep, that’s today, Tuesday. The “door” is just one of those ribbon contraptions that they use at airports to keep everyone from queue jumping. I can see the exhibits all there just on the other side of it, and the temptation to just release the strap and barge on in is almost overwhelming, only almost.

I meet Issy back at the port/bus station where we decide to catch a bus up to Filoti village in the middle of the island. We passed it on our tour a couple of days ago but didn’t get to stop for a closer look. Issy got to the port a few minutes before me and she’s been observing proceedings. A ferry just arrived so there are passengers with suitcases everywhere. There’s also a large fleet of taxis waiting hopefully at the end of the jetty, and a long line of would be travellers queued up outside the bus ticket office; and then there’s the buses themselves. Issy describes all this as organised chaos. She says that there are some guys in uniform who look like they might be policemen trying to direct traffic, but not everyone seems to be taking all that much notice of them. Still, all the pushing and shoving of both vehicles and people is gentle, and no one seems to be yelling or getting angry or sitting on their horns.

Our bus arrives and the driver marches down from his cabin with fire in his eyes. It seems we may have found the inevitable exception to every rule. He roars at everyone queued up to get on to move back to clear a path for the other buses, and then looks daggers at anyone with the temerity to ask him where his bus is going. As we set off there’s a major traffic jam in front of us, but that’s not stopping him from waving his arms and yelling angrily at every other driver. When he gets tired of that he decides to park his hand on the horn as if this is somehow going to make the jam of vehicles magically disappear. I think maybe someone got out of bed the wrong side this morning?

As was the case with the villages we visited a couple of days ago, Filoti is impossibly cute. The main square is on both sides of the main road, and is fully occupied with cafes shaded by some impressively large trees. In keeping with the reputation of the island’s mountainous interior, it’s obviously been raining and there are storm clouds about. We wander uphill through the back alleyways, past all the usual generous helpings of whitewashed houses and churches with blue trimmings. We’re sort of trying to follow the start of the trail up to the top of Mount Zas, but we’re a bit too busy taking in the scenery to be too worried about exactly where we’re going. Several wrong turns and dead ends later and we’re finally on the steep rocky path up the side of the valley towards the summit, with mountain goats for company. The scenery is stunning, and as we discovered a couple of days ago, there don’t seem to be too many rocky peaks around us that don’t have distinctive white with blue dome churches perched precariously of top of them. We’re both wearing sandals which is probably just slightly less than ideal for the steep and rocky path. It’s three more hours to the summit and the bus back to town leaves in one, so we decide to satisfy ourselves with making it half way up, OK well maybe more like a quarter of the way up; at least we tried.

Back by the coast again we dine on the sand near our hotel. I decide on an alcohol free night, but if Issy’s behaviour’s anything to go by she’s had more than enough for the both of us. She seems to think it’s very amusing to use her straw as a pea shooter and I narrowly avoid getting one of my eyes taken out. So childish.

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Photos

Church above Filoti
That the one that the whole village visits on a special day each year

Comments

[RENanDREW]

Take me back!
The more I read of your Naxos blogs, the more I miss the magic of Greece :)