Upper Horio
I took some shots while walking through the village on New Year’s Day on our way to lunch in upper Horio. I don’t know if that’s its official name, but that’s’ what we tend to call it around here. It’s been a while since I’ve walked through the lanes after the rain, and as it turned out, through them in the rain, late at night, and you get a very different atmosphere up there in the winter than you do in the summer.
The rain leaves the paintwork looking fresher, and the stones smell damper than usual. You do have to watch out for slippery fallen fig leaves at this time of year, and they’ve not slipped off naked statues or anything, simply off the trees, and there are many wild fig trees around. At other times of the year, the paths are blackened and sticky with fallen fruit. At this time of year, it’s a case of being careful where you tread so as not to catch a large leaf on the edge of a step, go arni over titlos and injure yourself. (Arni is lamb, and titlos is title, but you can see what I was trying to do.) Luckily, we didn’t title our lamb and ended up at our destination safely. We managed to reach home without mishap, though I did get stuck in a lane when my umbrella caught on the walls either side; these lanes were not made for umbrellas, and many are narrow because of lack of space to build and also as a security measure, apparently, to make it more difficult for invaders to get from A to C while bashing the B out of people they met along the way.
Advice for exploring the village after dark is always to take a torch and, if you get lost, head downhill as you will eventually come to the sea and know where you are. Okay, so you may go the wrong way and end up in the wrong place, but on the way, you’ll find a landmark or view you recognise. Seriously, it’s fascinating, just walking around the lanes and ruins, houses and squares; just watch out for slippery fig leaves.
