This morning I decided we should go for a walk, to absolve our sins for eating too much Greek food and too much alcohol yesterday.
I got out of bed at 7.45, and after a quick cuppa and a banana for breakfast, I was ready to go. However, Tim is not so agile in the mornings, and it took another two hours before he was ready to go ashore. The coolness of the morning had passed, and I was turning into Mrs Grumpy.
This time, I chose another walk from the comedy guide book that I have been using all week, but one which I was certain that Tim had not done before. Read about our our previous walk here. This would ensure that there were no comments such as – “I’ve already been in this little church …..” or – “there’s a really good view from up here”, or “you must take the footpath to the right…” I like to find these things out for myself!
I wanted to go to the deserted village of Kambos Korah, via a house with llamas, an old stone hut, a wooden hut, and a modern hut, all of which were directions on the comedy map. I always think a deserted village sounds romantic – why did the inhabitants desert it? Did they go suddenly and have to leave all their possessions behind? Would we find half eaten meals on the table, clothes in the cupboards, the radio still on? Did anyone decide to stay, and still be living there?
As expected, the map was practically useless. We found paths that were not on the map, and couldn’t find paths that were marked. We virtually were stumbling blind through olive groves and across piles of rubble, masquerading as old walls. One path was blocked, as a new villa had been built across it. We walked along the side wall, but it was a dead end. While Tim went ahead to see if the path joined elsewhere, I suddenly spotted a snake. I like snakes, I find them interesting. I like lizards too. The snake was a lovely khaki green colour with a yellow belly, no more than three feet long . He slithered along the bottom of the wall, and disappeared into a hole. “Snake!” I yelled. Not because I was scared, but because I wanted Tim to see it too.
An old Greek man suddenly appeared the other side of the wall. He was toothless, and more worryingly, carried a shotgun. “Snake? ….poo ine?” he said in Greek. I pointed to the pile of rocks where it had gone. I thought it was a bit one sided to use a shotgun on the snake, which was the same length as the snake itself! I hope the snake escaped. I took the opportunity to ask the way to the ruined village, but he told us there wasn’t a road here, it was blocked off. We carefully backed away from the man with the gun, said our thanks, and retraced our steps. Now we were more lost than ever. None of the directions in the comedy guide book made sense.
At various intervals I took out my iPad to try and establish our exact location with the GPS. But it didn’t tie up with the map. We walked past lots of ancient stone walls, and down some very stony, rough tracks through the olive groves. I expected to come across skeletons of past walkers who had lost their way, clutching the comedy map in their bony fingers…… At one point we saw the main coastal road, way down below us, but there was no way down the sheer drop, so we had to retrace our steps, and eventually followed a very steep, rough road, downwards, which was definitely not on the map.
We were thankful to have got back on the main road, but had a hot and dusty walk back to town. We never found the deserted village.
We wondered whether the author of the comedy guide book could ever leave his house due to the sackfuls of hate mail blocking his exit……