It didn't seem a particularly amusing or eventful holiday, this time, perhaps the all-pervading Orthodoxy restrained us, or it was because our accommodation was not within a village. However for my loyal reader, here are a few musings.
We had to spend a night in Samos in each direction as the scheduled afternoon hydrofoil had failed to run all summer. As it happened the weather was so windy that hardly any hydrofoils ran all the time we were there so we would have had to use the ferry any way. As it happened the morning hydrofoil did run but took a long way round and an hour longer to avoid the swell.
Our complex was called the Nine Muses, nine units, studios or apartments scattered on the hillside between Sapsillion and Grikou in the South of Patmos. We were at the top with the best views. The Greeks invented mathematics: ours was Erato, number 11! Our overnight complex in Kervelli on Samos was 50 units. We were in number 328! As there was no nearby shop or taverna near the Nine Muses a substantial breakfast was provided. The accommodation was more luxurious than we are used to so we were relieved to see the Greek tradition of broken loo seats was upheld. I don't want to dwell on Greek sanitary facilities (some of you may be eating) but it struck me that one of the reasons Greeks are keen on basketball may be because the notorious used paper bin is not always within reach and Greek loo paper being soft, and in holiday accommodation one-ply, a paper aeroplane is out of the question. A slam-dunk is better.
There was a tiny beach below, overlooked by a seminary for prospective monks. We didn't use it as we feared the sight of our knees might have caused some to give up their vocation! The village of Sapsillion (mostly holiday units, no shops or tavernas) with a scruffy beach and harbour was about 10 minutes away and Grikou, several tavernas, beaches and a kiosk, but no shop, about 15-20. That is on foot. We didn't have a car so foot and the local buses were our means of transport. The wind meant that all the small boat trips to beaches weren't running. Grikou looked best at night, the modern brutalist accommodation was mostly closed up for the season and one former state Xenia hotel was derelict. The Colonels relaxed a lot of planning laws during their regime and some of these hideous overdevelopments are now rotting away, but, being earthquake proof, no-one is willing to demolish them. We saw others in Samos Town and there is one in Kalymnos at Kantouni. Petra beach, sheltered, a small cantina, was a further five minutes walk but worth it.
        The bus service was reliable. Once we had worked out the timetable (it needed a spreadsheet, flow chart, map, astrologer and several days' observation to decipher the system) we took advantage of it to get to the Chora (a steep climb to 300 metres) where the monastery of St John and old buildings were and to Skala, the main port (a half hour's fairly flat walk from our accommodation). The fare was 1 euro anywhere, but nothing after 8pm! There was only one bus and one driver. He was very helpful and we got our own back for the timetable confusion by confusing him. Having established where we were staying he tried to put us down as near as he could, depending where his route was going. As we were sometimes going into Grikou to eat, we didn't always want to do that, so he often saw us walking away in the "wrong" direction after he'd put us down! One time the lad who was sometimes with him let us all on the bus in Skala, took the fares and even started the engine before phoning Yanni to wake him from his siesta to come and take the bus out!
Nothing much musical to report, one night walking back in the dark from Skala to Sapsillion we heard a lone bouzouki and passed a small house with a man quietly playing for his own amusement on his front porch. While we were in Patmos there was a week-long sacred music festival on (free, thanks to EC, Ministry of the Aegean and Municipality of Patmos cash) and, no, we weren't asked to perform! We went to one concert with an unaccompanied mixed Corfu choir singing a mass followed by a Corfu brass band. We caught the only available 'bus up to Chora hoping to have time for a quick meal before the 8.30 start time. As luck would have it we picked a slow taverna and while waiting we watched (without sound) a documentary on the tv about the Mount Athos helicopter crash in which a senior Orthodox dignitary from Africa was killed. This seems to have been a big story in Greece as the government delayed any news for several hours and the cause seems a mystery. So, when we finally picked our way in the dark
down the rough cobbled path from the Chora to the Cave of the Apocalypse, outside which the concerts were held, we could hear the choir voices floating magically up to us through the night air. The sunset was spectacular, too. We knew it didn't matter if we arrived late, the audience was moving chairs, coming and going and ignoring bans on mobile phones and flash photography. We stayed for one of the brass band pieces, too, apparently, brass band church procession music, along with cricket, is the UK's legacy to Corfu!
Then we had to go down the rest of the path to Skala and fortify ourselves with a coffee and brandy before the half hour walk to our villa, avoiding maniac taxi drivers (one always seemed to delight in driving as close to us as possible, even when we were on the other side of the road). The placement of street lights seems random, sheer drops, uncovered storm drains are unlit while safe stretches have lighting, probably because some friend of the mayor expects to build near there soon! Zebra crossings seem to be a place for Greeks to park and drivers to speed up!
        We had splendid views of the bay, there were always large ferries and cruise ships coming in and hordes come ashore are taken in coaches up to the monastery and the cave, get a quick tour a time for shopping down in Skala, then back on board and the island breathes a collective sigh of relief until the next batch! We had visited on a day trip from Lipsi a few years ago but visited the monastery again to do it at more leisure. We had to play "dodge the tour party" in most of the rooms, though in the main chapel we latched on to a French-speaking group to get some of the approved information.
        Otherwise, apart from having some excellent food, we walked or bussed to beaches. The pebble ones were best because of the wind, and most had solid wood sunbeds available. They were also mostly deserted at this time of year, I'd hate to be there in high season. Sadly, the tavernas, too, deserved more custom, most had an extended family of 5 or 6 serving one or two tables, but we got bonus puddings and drinks for keeping some of them in business! An old priest arrived to eat at one and the whole family came out of the kitchen to kiss his hand before dusting off a chair for him! Apparently, on Kambos beach one Wayne from Canvey Island does a traditional English meat pie, a culinary delight we found it easy to avoid!
        Ornithologically, the highlight of the holiday was a whole flock of bee-eaters (over 60 at one time) gathering each evening on the telephone wires by the seminary below our accommodation. Sitting on a lounger, glass and binoculars in hand, is the best way to birdwatch! They also attracted the attention of 3 Eleanora's Falcons which kept swooping around them. We also saw a flamingo, (I was stone cold sober, honest) in a cove en route to Psilli Ammos, the only really sandy beach at our end of the island and about an hour and a half's walk, mostly over a rough stony goat track. We were scrambling on hands and knees down a particularly steep bit and were mortified to be passed firstly by a man carrying a shopping bag, then by a girl in flip flops! On the way back we passed a man on a horse leading donkey loaded with tomatoes and water bottles for the beach taverna there which is otherwise supplied by boat.
        A concrete path below our accommodation ended in an impressive set of gates. Adjacent was a path (PRIVATE painted on it in English) leading to the next door block of apartments. Beyond that was a dirt track to the Seminary beach. Blocking the way was a triangle of land with a rough garden fenced off with bits of old wire and an old surfboard with notices saying "private no exit" in Greek. With a bit of squeezing one could get past , otherwise it was a ten minute walk up the headland and down the road to the same beach. Two men came to plant agaves and prickly pear and add water tubes. Then one day while they were working a policeman turned up, lots of arm waving ensued between him, someone from next door and a lay figure from the seminary garden below while the gardeners took a ciggie break.
The upshot was that the garden was demolished, a wall established along the line of next door's drive and the plants relocated to run alongside it, the rest of the triangle flattened out so that vehicle access was possible to next door from the rough track and pedestrian (but not vehicle) access restored to our property.
        Another strange phenomenon we spotted was a local shepherd who without dogs was keeping his flock together in a bunch on a field. Was it "One Man without his Dog" practice? Is synchronised sheep herding coming into the next Olympics? Ovine "Line Dancing? We worked out they were feeding on gleanings after the harvest and he was working sections of the field systematically without benefit of electric fences.
        Question of the week: Do Greeks worry less because they use worry beads? If no, why do the most laid-back race in Europe need them? And if they do work, mine must be broken, can I get my money back?
        Question of last week: Why do Greeks need mobile phones when they can shout across whole villages quite adequately?
        We noticed a convoy at different times: a plain "jeep" style vehicle leading a saloon car, followed by an identical "jeep" with police markings, in close order. The white jeep was parked outside a taverna one evening and two obviously plain clothes (smartly pressed, almost identical leisure clothes, short hair, constant checking mobile phone messages, only drinking water) were eating there. When they finished their meal they just went and sat in the vehicle, waiting instructions, presumably. We heard later that the King of the Belgians had been to the monastery and to one of the concerts, so he had probably been touring the island. I gather Tom Hanks has relatives by marriage there and brings his friends over. (Tom Hanks, Brad Pitt, the Aga Khan [also has a house there], King of Belgians and ME, the Patmian girls were spoiled for choice this year, but strangely, I got no offers).
        I said that Sapsillion had no beach tavernas. It did, however, have a roadside Greek-Floridian-run restaurant which was reputed to be the best on the island. We went one night as it was only 10 minutes walk from our apartment. They asked "have you booked?" despite an empty outside eating area. Five minutes research revealed they could just squeeze us in (there were still empty tables when we left!). Sheila feels that my appearing with a grazed hand and blood oozing through the slightly torn knee of my trousers as I had slipped in a hole at the side of the road (see Street Lighting: lack of, above!) and landed on the only patch of loose gravel for several yards on the way may have caused them some alarm! However, it was an excellent meal, though the service was a bit too formal (Sheila dropped her napkin, a fresh one was brought on a plate!). A free grappa at the end of the meal fuelled our walk home. I noted it had cost us four times the usual taverna price, but translating it to UK prices it was still very good value.
        Home via Samos (Samos town this time) and the ferry stopped at tiny Arki (which we've visited on a day trip in the past) and Athagonissi, another very small population, most of whom, including a priest on a moped and a 6-man army garrison to greet a returning colleague, turned out to meet the ferry which is their lifeline. A large lorry and an army truck disembarked and a bulldozer embarked. When the sailor threw the monkey's paw line it was caught by an excited Alsatian (German Shepherd) dog and the doctyard matey had to wrest it off him. When they threw it back on the ship the dog almost dived after it!
        I won't say anything about the hotel in Samos, it was large and OK for one night but we were in Room 101: 'nuff sed! Christmas decorations were already (or still) up in Samos town!
        Questions for next week: Greeks invented logic. We got to Samos airport to find the Gatwick flight was on time and the later Manchester flight was delayed by a further hour. Guess which check-in opened first! The sole screen giving information was broken. Two men with a ladder, a plug-in keypad and a sheet of instructions arrived to fix it with much head scratching. The one with the bit of paper wore a T-shirt advertising "Ensuring Air Traffic Safety World Wide". Did this fill me with confidence?

RtS
(I'll add some photos to my Photobox site later for addicts)