Here are five shots of the Kali Strata I took on my way down a few days ago. They are appropriate because of something that happened…
Bear with me…
Last night, our niece and her husband arrived to stay for a few days. They are staying in an Airbnb in the village and had someone meet them from the boat and bring them up. ‘Here’s your front door. Have a nice stay.’ The property is near a church in the middle of the village bowl. That’s not to be confused with the Hollywood Bowl, which is something else. I refer to the way the village dips from the Castro, down and back up again to Ag Triada. They are right in the middle of it, about five minutes walk from the village square – if you know the way. They were due to meet us just after seven, and by the time it got to eight, I thought I should go and search for them. They’d sent us a photo of the front door as supplied by the property owner, and because I recognised it, I went there, but all was in darkness. I then came back via the most obvious route by which time news had spread through the square that these people were missing. (Why is Joe Public such a collective drama queen? Calm down, gurl, they’ve got Google maps. Haha.) They eventually turned up having found their way to the road, and followed it to Yialos because that was the way they’d been driven up, and they had searched the harbour square for ‘Rainbow’ because that was where we were waiting, and eventually found the Kali Strata and their way back up where they found us by accident. (It’s a good job they work as personal trainers and physios.) So, that was that, and we had a quick dinner at Georgios where, apparently, if you ask for ‘Mia patatas’ the waiter hears ‘Beef Metaxa’ and you get an extra plate you didn’t want and then get severely scowled at for insisting you didn’t order it, and get it dumped and left on your table. I’m surprised we’re not still there this morning under the instruction that, ‘You’re not leaving this table until you’ve eaten it, young man.’
After that debacle, I walked the couple to the property with the door in the photo only to find out it wasn’t that one at all – bloody Airbnb! It’s no good sending people a shot of a doorway when they’ve not been here before and there are… how many doors in the village? They remembered their driver had told them to follow the signs to the museum but don’t actually go to the museum, and so I took them back down past the museum, back towards the village square, and on the way, they somehow recognised a turning and said it was up there, so we went up there, and then they thought it was across that way, so we explored across that way, and finally, we found the place, and I’ve never seen a door look less like a door in my life, but at least they got home. As did I several thousand steps later, and so, I went to bed. Have a good weekend. Here are some photos. Thank you. Bye.
