Paleochora
Home from Crete this afternoon, and feeling really relaxed. A week's escape in the southern Cretan village of Paleochora - a population of about 2000 swollen by visitors in the summer from all parts of Europe and beyond was just what the doctor ordered.
Spent days sitting on the beach in the shadows of the umbrellas, and reading the surprisingly good Watchmen, and listening to audiobooks. The sun was incredibly hot, and the stones and sand were painful to walk on as they were so hot. Broke off from this periodically to swim over the rocks of the eastern pebbly beach.
There was beautiful snorkeling to be had. The shallow sea floor was boulder strewn, at first glance looked like some kind of lunar landscape. But they when you looked it was full of life: old gold coloured anemones with libidinous pink tips waving in the current, and spiky dark stars of sea urchins wedged in between the rocks. And at least a dozen species of fish, gorgeous brightly coloured wrasse, forktailed black damsels, shoals of small fish that I think were small mullet, even an evil-faced eel, and hundreds of plum coloured crabs with duck egg blue markings on their carapaces and cream spots on their long legs, which fed continually on the boulders and, as you approached, glided effortlessly away from harm.
I swum about happily for about two hours a day doing this, and was often accompanied by Lorraine, who taught me to spit onto the glass of my facemask, and I could hear laughing through her snorkel on seeing a hermit crab for example.
Drifting among small shoals of fish and observe their behavior first hand is one of my favourite things of all. I wanted to be a marine biologist when I was a kid. I was put off by the then A level requirements: German, Physics, Mathematics and Chemistry - as well as biology too. I ended up having several aquaria during my life, and an endless fascination. But being able to swim with them in the sea is much, much better.
On land, there was lots of knife and forkwork to be had. I am very partial to simple Greek salads, and food such as spanakopita (spinach and feta pie). Mythos beer is good too, and a very cold one is a fabulous way to wash the salt water away after snorkeling. Ouzo too is a fine thing, and I had two or three of these and a bottle of retsina during my stay. Otherwise a fairly restrained time of it. Breakfasts of thick Greek yogurt, fresh peaches drizzled with Greek honey were delightful.
Last day went on a dolphin spotting voyage, but dolphins there were none. Perhaps they had overheard me denouncing their relaxation CDs, but it was a beautiful journey into the bluest sea I have ever seen, with rugged and mountainous Crete looming behind.
I find this kind of thing absolutely hypnotic, and I can drift off into a poetic reverie easily just by watching the boat pass through the water. The trip finished at sundown, and we returned into a fiery orange sunset.
On returning to Paleochora there was a powercut. Our last night was spent sweating in a blacked out and baking room, but it was well worth it. Typically I got burnt on my last day, with the sun even managing to burn me through a fairly substantial teeshirt.
Flights were fine too, and the journey fairly effortless all told. A really pleasant trip, but also very nice to be back at home.
Below a few early snaps for your delectation: a view of the village from the old fort; a lady setting out her stall in a back street of the village; a poster; a chair on a wall; doves; the chief dolphin lookout who sang to himself under his breath throughout much of the latter part of the journey; approaching Paleochora after sundown - and finally some accidental surrealism: a table with its chairs held in place by what looks like logs.
Home from Crete this afternoon, and feeling really relaxed. A week's escape in the southern Cretan village of Paleochora - a population of about 2000 swollen by visitors in the summer from all parts of Europe and beyond was just what the doctor ordered.
Spent days sitting on the beach in the shadows of the umbrellas, and reading the surprisingly good Watchmen, and listening to audiobooks. The sun was incredibly hot, and the stones and sand were painful to walk on as they were so hot. Broke off from this periodically to swim over the rocks of the eastern pebbly beach.
There was beautiful snorkeling to be had. The shallow sea floor was boulder strewn, at first glance looked like some kind of lunar landscape. But they when you looked it was full of life: old gold coloured anemones with libidinous pink tips waving in the current, and spiky dark stars of sea urchins wedged in between the rocks. And at least a dozen species of fish, gorgeous brightly coloured wrasse, forktailed black damsels, shoals of small fish that I think were small mullet, even an evil-faced eel, and hundreds of plum coloured crabs with duck egg blue markings on their carapaces and cream spots on their long legs, which fed continually on the boulders and, as you approached, glided effortlessly away from harm.
I swum about happily for about two hours a day doing this, and was often accompanied by Lorraine, who taught me to spit onto the glass of my facemask, and I could hear laughing through her snorkel on seeing a hermit crab for example.
Drifting among small shoals of fish and observe their behavior first hand is one of my favourite things of all. I wanted to be a marine biologist when I was a kid. I was put off by the then A level requirements: German, Physics, Mathematics and Chemistry - as well as biology too. I ended up having several aquaria during my life, and an endless fascination. But being able to swim with them in the sea is much, much better.
On land, there was lots of knife and forkwork to be had. I am very partial to simple Greek salads, and food such as spanakopita (spinach and feta pie). Mythos beer is good too, and a very cold one is a fabulous way to wash the salt water away after snorkeling. Ouzo too is a fine thing, and I had two or three of these and a bottle of retsina during my stay. Otherwise a fairly restrained time of it. Breakfasts of thick Greek yogurt, fresh peaches drizzled with Greek honey were delightful.
Last day went on a dolphin spotting voyage, but dolphins there were none. Perhaps they had overheard me denouncing their relaxation CDs, but it was a beautiful journey into the bluest sea I have ever seen, with rugged and mountainous Crete looming behind.
I find this kind of thing absolutely hypnotic, and I can drift off into a poetic reverie easily just by watching the boat pass through the water. The trip finished at sundown, and we returned into a fiery orange sunset.
On returning to Paleochora there was a powercut. Our last night was spent sweating in a blacked out and baking room, but it was well worth it. Typically I got burnt on my last day, with the sun even managing to burn me through a fairly substantial teeshirt.
Flights were fine too, and the journey fairly effortless all told. A really pleasant trip, but also very nice to be back at home.
Below a few early snaps for your delectation: a view of the village from the old fort; a lady setting out her stall in a back street of the village; a poster; a chair on a wall; doves; the chief dolphin lookout who sang to himself under his breath throughout much of the latter part of the journey; approaching Paleochora after sundown - and finally some accidental surrealism: a table with its chairs held in place by what looks like logs.
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