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BS: Postcard from Agistri (Greece) 2024

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Stilly River Sage 21 Sep 24 - 05:10 PM
DaveRo 21 Sep 24 - 03:11 PM
Roger the Skiffler 21 Sep 24 - 11:06 AM

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Subject: RE: BS: Postcard from Agistri (Greece) 2024
From: Stilly River Sage
Date: 21 Sep 24 - 05:10 PM

That was interesting. Were there any more stops on this trip?


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Subject: RE: BS: Postcard from Agistri (Greece) 2024
From: DaveRo
Date: 21 Sep 24 - 03:11 PM

Thanks for going to the trouble of writing all that. I've sailed past Angistri several times but never set foot on it. Aegina was overrun with Athenian motor boats last time we were there; we couldn't get into the harbour to buy food.
One of the beaches had been closed by the mayor and cordoned off as the path had become too eroded. A guy in hi-vi was sitting there on a folding stool reading a book and making sure no-one risked it.
Paths being closed is common, especially near "nice houses". Paying someone to stop people using it is new. Do you think the major has a plan involving this now-deserted beach?

We liked the Sardonic and Alcoholic gulfs, as we called them. We renamed Methana 'Mordor' because it was always covered in forboding dark cloud.


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Subject: BS: Postcard from Agistri (Greece) 2024
From: Roger the Skiffler
Date: 21 Sep 24 - 11:06 AM

Last year we went to Aegina and could see the smaller wooded island of Agistri. This year we stayed on Agistri itself- about 10 minutes further on, on the fast ferry from Piraeus. We didn’t have the stormy journey of last year. Agistri is only five square miles, low hills and mostly pine forest with five small villages, mostly on the coast. The full-time population is only a thousand and it seems like that number of visitors pour off the various sized ferries each day- small ones with foot-passengers from other islands and large vehicle and foot ones from Piraeus and the Peloponnese. Its proximity to Athens means there are many day visitors, some on “sailing” two-masters (thankfully none adorned as pirate ships), other pouring off the big ferries. Many Athenians have second homes there so Friday afternoon they arrive and on Sunday evening the ferries are crowded as they return.
        Our ferry docked at the main village, Megalochori, which despite its name only boasts 500 permanent residents, and we were met by the hotelier and transferred to Skala. The hotel was larger than we normally go for but had a good breakfast selection and a helpful staff. As usual the menial tasks behind the scenes were done by migrants. Our room maid was Albanian, working to send money home to two children. The hotel had a pool at the front although it was only a couple of metres to its own sandy beach covered in sun loungers and umbrellas with an attendant to take the money (no concession to resident guests, though you could reserve them).   Some guests bagged theirs and the ones round the pool before breakfast.   We found a small pebble beach between Skala and Megalochori which was only 10 minutes walk and offered sun loungers and umbrellas free if you used the taverna behind which was very good, and rarely crowded except at weekends. One day we saw cyclist with all his gear in panniers come off the ferry, parked his bike near the hotel, spotted the poolside outdoor shower, stripped off to is shorts, shampooed his heir and had a good wash! We guessed he had been rough camping on beaches. The hotel staff didn’t notice or care.
        The only building of interest in Skala was the modern church of Ayios Anagyroi (SS Cosmas and Damian) whose priest, once he had tidied the churchyard in the morning, walked briskly to the other villages (about two hours each way) every day.
        The village houses were modern and undistinguished. We had a corner room with a dual aspect balcony so we had a view of the fishing boat harbour, ferry dock (if we leaned out) and the wooded hills over the rooftops of the village. Behind the coastal road lined with bars, cafes, restaurants and gift shops down side roads and a back road were the doctor, pharmacy, cake shop, bakery and police station (conveniently across the road from the baker for those donut runs!).
The first weekend we were there there was a wedding in the church and from our morning coffee stop we watched the florists and organiser argument about placements on the church steps. One vase in particular kept falling over each time they stepped back to admire it.   At one point the organiser came into the café and dispatched two large men on motorbikes to fetch more flowers. In the evening the wedding party took over one taverna and had a live band of guitar, bouzouki and fiddle- the only live music we heard during our stay.
        At weekends there was a two-horse carriage offering trips round the village which only took about 15 minutes and added to the traffic carnage when ferries disgorged people walking in the middle of the road, cyclists, electric and pedal, scooters ditto and cars and lorries. At 21.30 the coast road was closed to traffic and notices warned people using the carpark that it would be closed from then till 01.30. At weekends a police car blocked the carpark exit and the policeman made motorcyclists get off and push.   At other times it was self-policed (ie ignored) any parkers moved the barriers to exit the car park.
        I didn’t see too many menu howlers this year: we enjoyed the cheesy mouse and the familiar roast lamp. Apart from samphire there were other salad ingredients unknown to my dictionary “brine” and “sheepfold” were the nearest I was offered.
        It clouded over very darkly one afternoon and we left the beach early. We had just got back to our room when the heavens opened and we had a thunderstorm. A couple of days over the second weekend it was windy and the Megalochori sailing club regatta took place which involved a long trip round other islands, returning late afternoon.
        One cloudy day we walked towards two beaches which were supposed to be reachable by steep paths, passing some nice houses and an abandoned hotel covered in graffiti. One of the beaches had been closed by the mayor and cordoned off as the path had become too eroded. A guy in hi-vi was sitting there on a folding stool reading a book and making sure no-one risked it.  The other one was small, quite busy but we didn’t risk joining them: 60 years too old to scramble down. On this walk we did investigate the woodland paths. Maps showed that most didn’t actually go anywhere and the promised waymarks were not in evidence. The forest floor was bare rock where the pine needles had worn away and slippery and there were loose boulders and also hidden disused quarries and pits so we abandoned our idea of forest walks to other villages. In any case the temperatures were in the 30s and the 10 minute beach walk, or 20 minute walk to Megalochori was enough. We visited the latter on a cloudy day. It did have some older buildings, many derelict and the sole surviving windmill, now a house. We had a quick peep in to the older cathedral (Zoodochos Pigi) with its naïve frescoes, but a baptism was in progress.
        There was a single bus (only just able to negotiate some of the narrow roads and sharp bends) which left Skala every hour until the evening. It took 20 minutes to visit all the other villages and then turned round and came back. It only cost 2 eu to go to the end of the line.   We took it one day and got of at the last village Aponissos and had a coffee in its taverna where we overheard a young woman asking for a Greek salad with no cheese, no tomato and no olives! On the other side of the little harbour was an islet reached by causeway and its steep sides were terraced for sun loungers. It was privately owned and access cost 6eu. There was a long list of regulations, followed by a welcome! We declined! Outside the village was our destination, a large lagoon supposedly rich in bird life. We saw nothing! When the next bus appeared, we caught it.
        We tried most of the eateries in Skala and to be fair, never had a bad meal and we chose to return to those with best selection, friendliest staff and best organisation. Most evenings we went to the same café after dinner to have a coffee, ouzo or Metaxa, with sometimes a cake or ice depending on how full we were.
        All the tavernas specialised in locally caught fish and seafood. The one we went to most often had the octopus rack and grill front and centre manned by a young man whose sole job was to keep the fire going and to grill and chop up the octopus. Unfortunately, this also made him the first staff member visitors saw, so was always being asked about tables, specials etc which he had to refer to more senior staff members. One evening a couple sat at the table next to us, ordered four starters and went to choose a fish. Then they decided not to have the fish and luckily it hadn’t reached the grill and they ordered another starter instead. The they left the table with half the food and most of the wine and went to sit on a nearby wall. The table clearer saw the empty seats and started to take everything away. Some Greeks always seem to leave half of their meal (which, as someone who remembers post-war food rationing always annoys me). They came back before he got to the wine and the table had to be re-laid and some of the starters reinstated.
        I try to find dishes I haven’t tried before. Agistri was very good for this: I had gripped octopus on a bed of fava dip, aubergine with a stuffing including tuna, a slow-cooked pork dish in a broth of celery and greens and most lunchtimes in the beach taverna we had a salad of cherry tomatoes, samphire, soft cheese and spinach leaves.
        The windy weather whipped up the surf and rearranged the shingle on the beaches. Some large Greek ladies had difficulty keeping to their feet while coming ashore from a swim and sometimes their friends coming to help fell over as well- much shrieking and laughter which reminded us of Joan Sims in Carry On Abroad (“Don’t start me orf”). Increasing age (and injunctions) have put paid to my annual swimwear survey but one can’t help people watching. I observed that warm seas seem to have a strange effect on young couples leading to indulgence in what one could describe as Tantric calisthenics that they would not otherwise perform, in public.
        These days I dread the actual journey but we had no hold-ups at either airport and the ferries were on time, though our return flight arrived in Greece about half an hour late. Our taxi driver from the airport to the ferry and back (the same one) was Cretan and had done his National Service in Kos so we had a lot of common ground. He gave us plenty of information, linguistic, historical and (Orthodox) theological during both our transfers.

Next year , possibly another Saronic island? Watch this space.
RTS


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Mudcat time: 22 September 4:53 AM EDT

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