Post by Baz Faz on Jun 10, 2018 11:29:56 GMT 2
On Friday we took the bus from Chipping Sodbury to Bristol, then the bus to the airport and caught the EasyJet flight from Bristol to Athens. All went according to plan. At Athens airport we strolled from the plane to the terminal building and were through passport control in a flash. However we had deplaned (as the jargon has it) at the extreme end of the terminal building. To get to baggage claim (we had none) and then exit the terminal took travellator after travellator - 7 minutes we were told. Then to the bus pick-up point and a short wait for the minibus to the Avra hotel in Rafina. I had chosen the Avra for its free transfer and also because it is right by the harbour. People moan on Booking.com that the rooms are small. So what? Do you go to Greece to sit in your room and watch TV?
We went straight out, wandered along the waterfront, noted where we would buy tomorrow's ferry ticket, chose our taverna on the infallible principle that the place with most locals was the best choice. And it was. Friendly welcome, table outside to people-watch and observe a ferry manouevre and leave, enjoy our first Greek meal and retsina.
Another reason for choosing the Avra was that a buffet breakfast is served from 6 am as so many guests are catching early ferries. Our ferry left at 7.30. And it did, to the minute. We sat inside (nearly all the seating is inside but with good views out). I told Mrs Faz about my first time in Greece (1957). Two women at University had a small (5 metre) boat they were sailing round the Greek islands. They had a succession of 2 men to come and crew for them. So my introduction to Greece was sailing from the island of Skyros (where the English poet Rupert Brooke is buried) to Andros. We set off from Skyros at dusk and did the crossing overnight. I had never sailed before but didn't disgrace myself. Penny and I had the watch from midnight to 4 am but so enjoyed it we kept going until landfall some time after 7. The scary thing about the night sailing as not the waves (just adjust the bow at the last minute to point into the wave) but the cargo ships. When you are in a 5 metre boat at sea level these freighter look vast. We shone a powerful flashlight on the sail and at what seemed the last minute the freighter would veer away.
We arrived (this is 1957) at Batsi but instead of going into the tiny harbour we dropped anchor and ran the boat up to the beach. A smartly dressed figure in white uniform appeared and walked along the sand to us, followed by a dozen or so curious villagers. He was the harbour master.
Harbour master (in Greek): Who is the captain of this boat?
Penny (in Greek which she had picked up sailing the previous year): I am.
Murmurs from the villagers at the thought of a woman captain.
Harbour master: Who is the crew?
Sally: These men are.
More murmurs from the villagers.
That evening we went to the taverna that was built on the beach. It was packed except for one table left free for us. Then a succession of plates of food and copper mugs of retsina arrived with the compliments of this and that man. A fine evening was spent. I am so lucky to have known Greece as it used to be.
Back to this Saturday. We caught the bus from the port of Gavrio, passed through Batsi where I was able to point out to Mrs Faz where our little boat had beached and exclaim how the place had changed beyond recognition. Now it is a resort and built up everywhere though I am sure it is touted as being an unspoilt fishing village. On the bus went for an hour until we arrived at the Chora. Chora in Greek means main town or capital (its population is 1200). The bus stopped about half way into the little town because the rest is pedestrianised. The town is built on a promontory with a sandy bay on either side. At its tip is a small island where the Venetians built a castle in 1140. It can only have been a small fort and it is even smaller now because in 1943 the Germans bombed it.
With a bit of luck (and common sense) we found our room. It is by the water's edge with a fine view of one of the bays, the lighthouse and the ruined castle. My rudimentary Greek is being put to the test as the charming old woman in charge speaks nothing but Greek. The room has an attached bathroom and also a kitchen corner (fridge, microwave, coffee maker). There is a terrace outside with a fine view, also a garden of sorts with a hammock. It is just what I like on a Greek island. I cannot understand why tourists want to stay in 3 star hotels catering only to foreign tourists. I suppose they feel more secure.
Yesterday afternoon we had a good explore of the town. It is charming. A number of Greek ship owners have built summer mansions here and decided they do not want their little town to be turned into a tourist place. There is one hotel on the road coming in - an attractive low key place. In the town proper there are just apartments and rooms to rent. Half the town has been banned to cars and the streets are laid with marble. The ship owners have competed in donations for restoring old churches and opening museums. We'll get to visit those later. Yesterday the only jarring note was when we came to the square at the tip of the promontory. In the centre is a statue to the Unknown Sailor. Frankly it looks as if the sculptor took his inspiration from statues he saw in the old Soviet Union. Yesterday it was made even worse by a woman stretched out on its plinth and sunbathing. She must have been a foreign tourist. She was face down, wearing a bikini with the top off. Even on the beach she would not have been a pretty sight (not a sexy young lass). Here she looked awful.
It is good to have something to moan about.
We went straight out, wandered along the waterfront, noted where we would buy tomorrow's ferry ticket, chose our taverna on the infallible principle that the place with most locals was the best choice. And it was. Friendly welcome, table outside to people-watch and observe a ferry manouevre and leave, enjoy our first Greek meal and retsina.
Another reason for choosing the Avra was that a buffet breakfast is served from 6 am as so many guests are catching early ferries. Our ferry left at 7.30. And it did, to the minute. We sat inside (nearly all the seating is inside but with good views out). I told Mrs Faz about my first time in Greece (1957). Two women at University had a small (5 metre) boat they were sailing round the Greek islands. They had a succession of 2 men to come and crew for them. So my introduction to Greece was sailing from the island of Skyros (where the English poet Rupert Brooke is buried) to Andros. We set off from Skyros at dusk and did the crossing overnight. I had never sailed before but didn't disgrace myself. Penny and I had the watch from midnight to 4 am but so enjoyed it we kept going until landfall some time after 7. The scary thing about the night sailing as not the waves (just adjust the bow at the last minute to point into the wave) but the cargo ships. When you are in a 5 metre boat at sea level these freighter look vast. We shone a powerful flashlight on the sail and at what seemed the last minute the freighter would veer away.
We arrived (this is 1957) at Batsi but instead of going into the tiny harbour we dropped anchor and ran the boat up to the beach. A smartly dressed figure in white uniform appeared and walked along the sand to us, followed by a dozen or so curious villagers. He was the harbour master.
Harbour master (in Greek): Who is the captain of this boat?
Penny (in Greek which she had picked up sailing the previous year): I am.
Murmurs from the villagers at the thought of a woman captain.
Harbour master: Who is the crew?
Sally: These men are.
More murmurs from the villagers.
That evening we went to the taverna that was built on the beach. It was packed except for one table left free for us. Then a succession of plates of food and copper mugs of retsina arrived with the compliments of this and that man. A fine evening was spent. I am so lucky to have known Greece as it used to be.
Back to this Saturday. We caught the bus from the port of Gavrio, passed through Batsi where I was able to point out to Mrs Faz where our little boat had beached and exclaim how the place had changed beyond recognition. Now it is a resort and built up everywhere though I am sure it is touted as being an unspoilt fishing village. On the bus went for an hour until we arrived at the Chora. Chora in Greek means main town or capital (its population is 1200). The bus stopped about half way into the little town because the rest is pedestrianised. The town is built on a promontory with a sandy bay on either side. At its tip is a small island where the Venetians built a castle in 1140. It can only have been a small fort and it is even smaller now because in 1943 the Germans bombed it.
With a bit of luck (and common sense) we found our room. It is by the water's edge with a fine view of one of the bays, the lighthouse and the ruined castle. My rudimentary Greek is being put to the test as the charming old woman in charge speaks nothing but Greek. The room has an attached bathroom and also a kitchen corner (fridge, microwave, coffee maker). There is a terrace outside with a fine view, also a garden of sorts with a hammock. It is just what I like on a Greek island. I cannot understand why tourists want to stay in 3 star hotels catering only to foreign tourists. I suppose they feel more secure.
Yesterday afternoon we had a good explore of the town. It is charming. A number of Greek ship owners have built summer mansions here and decided they do not want their little town to be turned into a tourist place. There is one hotel on the road coming in - an attractive low key place. In the town proper there are just apartments and rooms to rent. Half the town has been banned to cars and the streets are laid with marble. The ship owners have competed in donations for restoring old churches and opening museums. We'll get to visit those later. Yesterday the only jarring note was when we came to the square at the tip of the promontory. In the centre is a statue to the Unknown Sailor. Frankly it looks as if the sculptor took his inspiration from statues he saw in the old Soviet Union. Yesterday it was made even worse by a woman stretched out on its plinth and sunbathing. She must have been a foreign tourist. She was face down, wearing a bikini with the top off. Even on the beach she would not have been a pretty sight (not a sexy young lass). Here she looked awful.
It is good to have something to moan about.