Skiathos–The End

Well, it’s over for another year, I’ve even actually gone back to work.

As it turns out the holiday on Skiathos was just lovely.

We went every day to the beach – a lovely quiet pretty beach, and swam in the sea. The tradition on the beach is that people build little shelters to protect from the wind and the mid-day heat, and then leave them for the next occupants. Our shelter was a real work of civil engineering, with walls and a partial roof. We stayed in there and sunbathed, and it kept us cool (well, cool-ish). Our contribution to the structure was to build a seat in front, which is ideal for sitting and reading, or just sitting and putting your shoes on.

We went out for dinner and lunch everyday, went to do a bit of shopping (we didn’t manage to buy much), and went to the open-air cinema once  - that was it. We still managed to come back entirely spent up, which just shows that it was a great holiday.

 

Skiathos 2011 VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Greece has become very expensive. You only get  about 1 euro to the pound at tourist rates (in fact the rate in Skiathos was better than the rate in the UK), which makes a 25 euro lunch quite expensive – never mind - you’re not paying for the lunch you’re paying for the sunshine! And the sun did shine, all day, every day.

I remember the first time Sally and I went to Greece, in 1979 to Corfu; the holiday was quite expensive (£400 each for a fortnight, before the days of cheap air travel), but it was extremely cheap when you got there.

In those days, everything was less internationalised, so buying food was a bit of an adventure. We got our vegetables and fruit from and old man who seemed to be selling things from his own (very small) house. I never saw him wear anything but a vest. He would offer a slice of tomato for you to try before you bought. (This way of doing things was topped a couple of years later when we went to Crete, where the man selling vegetables insisted in offering glasses of raki whenever I went to buy spuds!)

We went into Corfu town on the bus, still with no Greek, but having worked out that “ΣΤΑΣΙΣ” meant “bus stop”, we were able to get about We saw the place where the Duke of Edinburgh was born and the Corfu cricket pitch. The woman who ran the local bar didn’t speak English at all (now, they all do) so buying things was a bit hit and miss. Fortunately, there was a Londoner of Cypriot descent staying who was able to translate for us in the bar at least. We had a major issue buying meat – which looked altogether too meat-like for our refined western tastes – but we got buy.

I remember the smells and the crickets and how dark it was without street lights. The houses all seemed unfinished (it’s to do with the Greek National Sport – avoiding taxes!). There was an Orthodox monastery on a causeway that you could only visit if you were properly dressed (Sally couldn’t get in in her shorts!); and I remember a small island (which I think is called “Pontikinissi”, which I think means “Mouse Island”) .

And you know what, we had a lovely time then, and we had a lovely time this time, just 32 years later.