Earth 2010

Mexico and the Mayans

219 days since selling up. David Jones recording.

We are here in Mexico. Arriba! Arriba! For the last six days we've been relaxing in our condo overlooking the Caribbean Sea.

We've been sitting in the heat, listening to all the stories about snow in the UK.

We arrived in Mexico late in afternoon, and because all the world's environment ministers decided to choose the same week to have a climate change conference in Cancun, it took us two hours to get through the airport, past sniffer dogs and into a rental car, by which time it was pitch black. So the drive down the highway, through dozens of police and army check points was a bit hairy, but as soon as we got the condo we could breathe a sigh of relief. Lovely views, nice little beach resort, quiet, only the sound of the waves to lull us to sleep.

And the good thing about being in a touristy area is that there's always an English speaking doctor nearby. Having spent two weeks hoping the diarrhoea would go away Paul finally agreed to see a doctor, and has been on a nice course of anti-biotics for four days now. His only regret is that he can't put any milk in his tea for a week.

Anyway - digestive system sorted, we set out to see our first Mayan ruins. Just down the road are the picturesque remains of Tulum, an old port city, crumbling into the Caribbean sea.  

 

 

It's all very pretty and evocative, but it's a shame that the main ruins are well fenced off, so you don't feel like you can really touch or get up close to what's left.

They are, however, very popular. We got there early and by 10:30am all the tour groups were invading so we took off for the road into the jungle to see the lost city of Coba.

From the guide book's description we thought we might have Coba to ourselves - little bit off the beaten track, well inland and not the most spectacular ruin in the Yucatan. But we hadn't counted on the tenacious tour operators and their buses, which were all there lined up when we arrived.

Fortunately, Coba was a big city. And although only a fraction of the buildings remain they are well spaced out over a few kilometres, so it never felt that busy.

 

 

We shunned the official guides hawking at the entrance in favour of our own interpretation and stories, and enjoyed a good few hours walking along the jungle paths from ruin to ruin.

The great thing about Coba is that you can climb the big Pyramid - Nohoch Mul - which is the tallest pyramid in this part of Mexico.

The bad thing about Coba is that everybody else wants to climb the big Pyramid, and not all of them seem all that confident about it. Strewn all the way up are people sitting, crouching or crawling, hanging on for dear life, convinced they are going to throw themselves off like lemmings.

Thanks to the altitude training in Peru, we had no problems hiking up and down - here we are at the top!

It's been really nice to have our own place for a week, more than just a hotel room, swinging in a hammock, reading, with the Caribbean lapping away. We're going to be sad to leave tomorrow. BUT onwards: Arriba! Arriba! Next stop Merida - the white city - and capital of the Yucatan; plus more Mayan pyramids to climb! Such fun!

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m a celebrity get me out of here

216 days since selling up. David Jones recording.

We arrived in Iquitos, the jungle city, last Thursday. The unique thing about Iquitos is that everyone, and I mean everyone, owns a motorcycle or a motorcar, which is like a rickshaw but instead of a bicycle to drive it there’s a man revving on a motorbike. They seem to race each other, five a-breast, around the city like they’re in wacky races.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the first night we stayed in a B+B run by an ex-movie producer, called Walter Saxer. His big film was in the early 80s, a German-backed movie called Fiztcarraldo. Ever heard of it? We hadn’t.  But there were pics up in the open air bar of him with Mick Jagger and a clutch of actors we didn’t recognise. The film was set in Iquitos, and he obviously loved the frontier-town jungle so much he decided never to leave!

After a sweltering night in our 1970s/early 80s bedroom (and a decent Argentinian steak BBQ’d by Walter) we were picked up in the morning to go on our jungle trek up the Amazon! By trek I mean a two-hour speedboat ride, though it was like no speed boat we’d ever been in before. We had a short stop on the way to meet a local Amazonian tribe who decided they wanted to dance with us and then sell us their wares…

The Amazon lodge we stayed in 50 miles down river was very comfortable, and to our surprise had a swimming pool; though no electricity except between 6 and 10 at night. Our room had mosquito nets for windows, which allowed us to sleep hearing the noises of the jungle. Except in our case it was a party of marauding Peruvian school children on some kind of summer camp. We’ve heard more animal noises in our old house in Goring; normally a fox in the garden and the cat next door.

Speaking of comparisons to England; the jungle trek which promised much, turned out to be like any old walk in an English woods, except they have bigger, nastier ants in the Amazon, mosquitoes and admittedly impressively tall trees. We didn’t see one Anaconda (thankfully!) and only a distant monkey. But we did hear the distant noise, laughter and music of the Amazon tribes - or was it just the group of Peruvian school kids going on their trek in the opposite direction?

The next morning we were back on our boat on the Amazon, which has quite a romantic sound to it, but spent the morning fishing for piranhas in the heat of the sun and spotting Pink Dolphins native to the Amazon. Unfortunately luck was against us. The piranhas didn’t bite despite the large lumps of beef at the end of our hooks, and the dolphins shied away.

To wrap up our overnight adventure in the jungle, we were then speeded back to Iquitos on a tiny speed boat this time driven by the Evil Knievel of Amazon speedboat drivers, who delighted in dodging the floating logs and other debris coming down the river with the narrowest of margins. To make things even scarier we were accompanied on this journey by the ‘Mervyn’ of jungle guides (i.e. Mervyn the depressed robot from Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy). At the half way point of the journey he turned around, all of a sudden, and asked me if I was ‘happy’. I said, ‘yes’, thinking he was enquiring about how comfortable I was on the journey back (although it was the most uncomfortable journey ever). He replied that he wasn’t happy, and asked did I want to know why. Of course my counselling training came into its own and stupidly I said, ‘yes’. He told me the love of his life, a girl in the village, was marrying another man and he had had to cry himself to sleep last night. He then turned around with his back to us and didn’t say another word for the rest of the journey. Anyhoo we made it back safely.

 

 

We stayed one more night at the jungle B+B, and then left for our last night in Peru back in Lima, for which we had arranged a special treat in a five star hotel – it was so worth it. We had cancelled our hostel room; we thought we needed some pampering after our jungle experience. Next stop, Mexico! Such fun!

 

 

The flight of the condor

213 days since selling up. Paul Twocock recording.

We left the shores of Lake Titicaca on our first public South American bus, however, this was no chicken bus! The Cruz del Sur service to Arequipa, Peru's second city, was a big, modern double-decker, and to ensure we had maximum comfort for the six hour journey we paid an extra fiver each for VIP seats. This was a tip from my friend Louisa - thanks Lou - the seats really were like flying first class: wide, padded, reclining with a foot rest. The six hours sped by. Have a look in the album for a pic of the bus.

Anyway we arrived in Arequipa at 8:30pm, picked up by the manager of our hotel in the first comfortable, non-clapped out car we've been in in Peru. He told us about all the sights of Arequipa, which we had no chance of seeing, as owing to bus and train timetables, we only had a night in Arequipa. So that meant a thirty minute stroll around the Plaza de Armas by night, which was really pretty, and a well earned sleep before an early pick-up for our 2 day Colca Canyon tour in the morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The whole point of the tour was to see the Andean Condor - the largest flying bird in the world. There was no guarantee we'd see one - only 80 remain in Peru, and our guide told us that at this time of the year many fly down to the coast because its the season where Sea Lions give birth and the Condors are partial to their placentas; nice! Anyhoo we set off in a not so comfy minibus to climb into the Andes again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You go through a national park on the way up, where we got to see the very rare, cute and curious looking Vicunas - looks like an elegant deer, but is a distant relative of the camel. See the album for a pic. And we saw tons of Alpacas and Llamas, some Flamingoes and Andean Geese. We also reached our highest point of the whole round the world tour - 4,900m or 16,000 feet. Thanks to our altitude training in Cusco it was a breeze!

We finally arrived at our Colca Valley lodge in a place called Yanque at about 3pm. We passed on the three hour trek the lodge offered, but managed our own mini trek to see the fabulous scenery and cross a scary suspension bridge in high winds - see the pic of David holding on for dear life, the anxiety is real.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The Colca Canyon proper was another hour and a half's scenic drive: 6am start! The early worms catch the bird. Our guide tried to dampen our expectations on the way so we were resigned to gazing at a canyon for an hour and half and seeing nothing more than passing clouds. In fact for the first twenty minutes, that's exactly what we saw. Then suddenly the two Peruvian boys standing next to us whispered "Condor" excitedy and pointed to a far off point low in the canyon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 We felt lucky to see it swooping around far away in the canyon, riding the thermals. But nothing prepared us for the moment when it started heading towards us. There was a excited intake of breath all around as it approached, and then whoops as it flew right past us, and then came back again for another pass. As the French said, "C'est trés enorme!". It was awe-inspiring. We'd been lucky, in fact we were luckier than we thought. On the way back our guide told us that the reason the condors come so close is so they can frighten stupid animals who are standing close to the edge of the canyon; when they fall off and die, the condors have dinner for weeks. No wonder he looked right into our eyes! Such fun!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Train to Lake Titicaca and the floating islands

207 days since selling up. David Jones recording.

Where was Poirot we asked ourselves as we waited in the Peru Rail waiting room in wing-back chairs with the pan pipes playing. He never arrived before we boarded the Orient Express train from Cusco to Puno on Lake Titicaca. We were apprehensive about our journey as we had two seats at either end of the carriage and it was a 10 hour marathon. We had gone to the Peru Rail office the day before to see if we could change our seats. The lady said with a broad smile that the train was fully booked, but it would be possible to sort it out when we boarded the train. We left unreassured.

Once we boarded the train we found ourselves in the 1930s: a wood pannelled carriage with plump wing-back armchairs for seats, white tablecloths, table lamps and small vases with flowers.

 Although this scene sounds calm and idyllic, it wasn't. The carriage was full of frantic tourists trying to rearrange the seating. Nobody had been sat together. Thanks to the help of a friendly tour guide order was brought to the chaos and everyone ended up next to their significant other.

It was all with no thanks to the Peru Rail staff, although dressed to impress, they hadn't helped sort it out. But they had other things to worry about: somebody had forgotten to put the engine on the train. After a delay we headed on our way. We all sat back to relax on our long journey through the Andes.

All our earlier worries had dissipated because we were sitting together, thankfully sharing a table with a really nice American couple from St Louis, Missouri. We swopped stories, took pictures out the window and played cards (don't trust them at Hearts, the rules keep changing; no wonder they won - that's British humour by the way!).

Although Poirot had not arrived, during the journey we had a surprise visit from Agatha Christie, who was able to complete a chapter that had been playing on his mind.

 

All in all, despite me not eating my lunch because it was chicken covered in green gunk, we had a very lovely journey. The scenery was stunning, we had good company and so much so that when the train stopped at Puno, we didn't get off. But to be fair we hadn't been told we had arrived.

We took the train because it took us to the mystical Lake Titicaca. This morning we set out to discover the lake and its famous floating islands.

But as we're in Peru nothing is straight forward. We boarded our tour boat and set off. Within a minute the engine stopped and we floated like driftwood in the middle of the lake. El Capitan had neglected to put diesel in the engine! We were able to drift back to shore thanks to the boy who had a big pole to drag us there. And within five minutes a smily lady in a Panama hat came bounding along the quay with a big yellow jerry can.

The explorers were off again. We motored through reeds for a half an hour, before reaching the floating islands. There were lots of them, floating around; we headed for the Island of Santa Maria.

Once on the island we met some of the eight families that live on the island. They are all descended from the original Uros people who were here before the Incas.

We were given an informative talk by our guide on the history and traditions of the Uros people, and were shown how to make your own floating island; I'll let you know the secret when I get back, I've already got my eye on a pitch on the Thames.

Once the talk was over Gertrude and Marie came running over to us, each one taking one of our hands and led us off to their homes. Separated, Marie and Gertrude had a little chat with each of us in Spanish about their families and showed us their traditional wares.

The next bit of our tour meant getting on a traditionally made reed boat to be rowed across to one of the other islands. Against my better judgement I agreed to follow Paul onto the top deck up an unsecured ladder! But once up there, it was all quite pleasant floating around on a warm sunny day on Lake Titicaca. Such fun!

 

Cusco and Machu Picchu: adjusting to a traveller's life

204 days since selling up. David Jones recording.

As I lie here like Barbara Cartland dictating this blog from the day bed in our room, thankfully the brass band, clarinet players and the opera singers from the music school next door have all gone home for the night. They carry on until 6pm everyday, and they need the practice, I assure you.

It's been a tiring few days in the Andes. Yesterday we saw the spectacular ruined city of Machu Picchu, but to get there as independent travellers took a lot of shoe leather.

Let me set the scene. As I had previously informed you Cusco is 3300m or 10,000 odd feet above sea level, and despite being here for six days we've found it difficult to acclimatise, so everything takes a bit more effort than normal. Also for a vote of 'sympathy', I still have a cold (David says this in a pathetic voice!) so it seems to be making adjustment harder.

We planned to go to Machu Picchu on Thursday. The nice lady at the Peru Rail desk at Lima airport said that wasn't possible. So we booked a ticket with her for the Wednesday, but all she could give us was a ticket that meant returning by bus.

When we arrived in Cusco and had access to the internet, we discovered that there were seats available to return by train on Wednesday. We decided to visit the Peru Rail office in Cusco to change our ticket. When we got there the nice lady said she couldn't give us the return because the ticket was only available online. But she could refund our return ticket and let us buy a ticket using their computers just across the the way. Success, we thought. But does anyone know how to type an '@' on a Peruvian keyboard?

We then spent the next half an hour trying to work out how to put in our email address to buy the ticket. Eventually a kind Peruvian soul showed us how to do it. Success, we thought.

Then the printer wouldn't print the ticket! After queuing for another twenty minutes the nice lady at the desk printed the ticket off for us on her machine! Success, we thought.

Upon our return to the hotel we discovered you couldn't buy an entrance ticket to Machu Picchu at Machu Picchu. But from the web we found out we could get it at the cultural centre in Cusco town, just off the main square and a short walk away. Success, we thought.

We walked to the cultural centre only to find they had moved offices and re-located to the other side of town. So we started off for the new office, via the bus ticket office (yes you also need to buy bus tickets from the train station at Machu Picchu Peublo up to the ruin). Success, we thought. But no, guess what, they'd moved as well.

At last after several attempts we truly had success. Return train tickets to Machu Picchu, tickets for the bus to the ruin and our coveted entrance tickets.

It was an early start - 5:30am in a taxi with two Germans, followed by a very slow three and a half hour train journey down to Machu Picchu through stunning scenery. The windows in the roof of the Vistadome train really helped when we were travelling through valleys surrounded by high peaks.

It was raining when we got to Machu Picchu Pueblo, so we got to use our new breathable rain macks for the first time - they breathed.

The rain and misty clouds added to the mystery of the ruins as we climbed up a treacherous road in the bus.

And then there it was: Machu Picchu. As picture postcard as any picture postcards.

We explored the lost city with about a thousand other people. Each of us imagining we were Hiram Bingham himself: making up our own hypotheses about how the Incas lived. Some of our's were much better than his.

For example, we discovered the temple of the three windows was opposite the house of the virgins. Obviously designed to allow the priests to wave at the virgins across the square.

After two hours of running around ruins we descended back down and returned by train to Cusco.

The train had added delights on the way back, including the dance of a devil from a local festival, and even more curiously an alpaca knitwear fashion show, put on by our lovely hosts in carriage F. The man in his grandma-knit seaters seemed particularly pleased with all the limelight.

We've only got one more day in Cusco before we travel even higher (joy!) to Lake Titicaca. We're off to some more inca ruins tomorrow, and we'll have our last day overlooking the city. Let's hope my cold goes very soon as it's only 14 degrees in Puno, with even less oxygen.

Oh, by the way. I just thought I'd include this picture to show you how well Paul is getting on with the local ladies. They are always asking him for a photograph and offering him a massage, only 20 soles for an hour! Such fun!

 

Miami to Peru!

201 days since selling up. David Jones recording.

We had two fun packed days in Miami, going to our favourite places.  Mine is the Starbucks on Miami South Beach.  Paul's is the tapas restaurant in Espanola Way - Tapas y Tintos - but sadly no salsa classes this time.  We also also went to both of our favorites Jerry's Diner.  Have you noticed the pattern? Food and drink always seems to be involved.  We also stayed in a reasonably priced art deco hotel on the sea front "The Winterhaven".  We eventually got a seaview room as booked, but because of some difficulties were upgraded to a slightly better room on the top floor.  Ours is the one top floor left window.

 

 

 









From Miami we then flew on Taca airlines to Peru via Costa Rica, which actually is a really pleasant flight and easy transfer.  We arrived in Lima, a mad bustling "shanty town" of a city covered in desert sand.  We were met at the airport by the two lads from the hostel and their beat up old car to take us to our room for the night.  Everyone was very friendly and helpful and our room was cheap basic and clean, but we did have an ensuite and cable tv. We ordered pizza for supper and stayed in the room, behind the locked gates.  This suited me as I had managed to get a cold in Florida and wanted to rest before our flight to Cusco the next morning.  I have posted pictures in the album.

Cusco is 10,000 feet above sea level and the air is thin.  You notice as soon as you get off the plane.  You feel light headed, almost drunk and really breathless.  We again were greeted at the aiport and taken to the fabulous Casa San Blas, with stunning views of Cusco.  We had our coca tea to help with altitude sickness and lay on our own double beds and soft white linen duvets.  trying aclimatise.                                                              

I have included lots of photos in the album.  But the view is just stunning and you can lay in bed and see the view.  Which is really handy when you have a thumping headache and feel hung over! Who needs alcohol!

Then as the lights of the town come on room service deliver a hot water bottle to warm up your bed.  It's just wonderful!





 We have only been in Cusco two days the first of which was spent, lying around.  Apart from a mad taxi ride up into the hills looking for a railway station to get our peru rail tickets.  The driver mis-understood which station we wanted a before we knew it we were heading out of the town over the mountains.  Luckily Paul's spanish came in useful as always and we got the taxi driver to turn round and take us back to Cusco.

Today we went for a gentle stroll around the town. Looking at the ladies in there brown top hats and colourful dresses, leading Lamas or lambs around, always looking for a photo opportunity.  Cusco is a very beautiful city.

                                                                                

Over the next few days we hope to vist ancient Inca ruins and the famous Machu Picchu.  We have booked our tickets on the Orient express train for Wednesday.

I am sure we will have lots of tales to tell.

Such Fun!

By the way my cold's getting a little better and I no longer have a headache from the altitude.  Paul I think needs another day to adjust.



Orlando - theme parks, Harry Potter and Butterbeer

198 days since selling up. David Jones recording.

Well, blog fans we're back! We have started our grand anti-clockwise tour of the world. We have already had several setbacks during the last week and overcome them without difficulties. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arrived at our villa only to be woken up on our first morning by a workman dutifully laying paving stones around our pool. On further enquiry we discovered he was going to be there for the next three days. We immediately phoned the villa owner to inform her of our surprise that a man had been booked to work at the villa while we were there (setback 1).

After getting no joy from either owner or management company we decided to flee the scene (after negotiating a full refund) and seek refuge in the sprawling villa suburbs of Orlando. With our knapsacks on our backs we were greeted with open arms from a family and house full of Disney spirit. The family was Paul's cousins, Dean and Rosa, and the fairy princess Alicia A.K.A.

Liz Firecastle to her Pirate friends...

Question: how many times do you drive to Orlando airport to change a hire car in one week? 

Answer: setbacks 2, 3 and 4. Yes, that's right. The first time the car had a puncture; man came put on the temporary tyre and we went back to the airport to get a new car. And then on two consecutive days our new car's tyres just went flat and we had to return the airport for another new one each time.

But, if that's all that goes wrong with our trip, then bring it on!

We've had great fun at the theme parks. We did three Disney parks in one day including flying into space and to Mars at Epcot, experiencing cryogenic hypersleep, G-forces and weightlessness; which made up for the fact that the Space Shuttle launch we hoped to see was delayed until the end of the month.

At Universal we were magically transformed from muggles to wizards and were saved from Dementors by Harry and friends. We rounded our day off with a glass of Butterbeer in Hogsmead. Yes, it really tastes of butter! And it helped me stay off the hard stuff as its all strictly non-alcoholic.

Paul was too embarrassed to join the queue of little kids wanting to go in Ollivander's for a wand, but we did sit in a big tyre with the kids on Popeye and Blutos bilge rat barge river rapid ride... I got extreeeeeemely wet, and ended up catching a cold! Poor me! (setback number 5!)

 

 

Yummy! Butterbeer!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Splash!

 

 

 

 

We're now all packed and have moved down to Miami Beach: rain mack, anti-mosquito spray, first aid kit: all ready for the Peruvian Andes and the Amazon jungle! Such fun!

 

Mykonos: a faded 1980's gay disco

158 days since selling up.  David Jones recording.

We took our final ferry or seacat from Naxos to Mykonos.  The journey was a bit bumpy because it was a windy day and although it was only an hour and a half journey I was pleased to get off as I was begining to feel a bit queasy.  Once on dry land we were greeted by the owner of our next hotel who had come to meet us from the ferry in her batterred van.  Though this was not an exclusive trip, others had also arrived on the same ferry.  We were bundled in the van and made our way through the whitwashed streets up high above the town with our driver occaisionally pointing out that these (steep) steps leed straight to hotel.  Trying to convince all on board that the hotel was nearer to the centre of town than it really was.  As it turned out it was a gentle 15 minute walk down to the town and a heavy 25 minutes back with stops along the way to admire the view or was that just to catch our breath.

Mykonos is a pretty island.  White washed houses with blue wood work.  It was the home of the Shirley Valentine film. We were there at the end of the season and it seemed a bit tired and shabby.  The island was also famous for its gay clientele but that all seemed a bit dated now and really just encouraged people to charge more money for nothing special.

Once we had a car we were able to explore a bit more of the island and eventually found an unspoilt sandy beach.  Many of the famous beaches were set up with rows of sun beds and umbrellas.  They were also fenced in so that the only entrance was through the trendy taverna, kitted out with shabby chic sofa and chairs with white cushions and flowie curtains.  To me they resembled faded 1980's gay discos.

If you go to Mykonos take the time to get a ferry and visit the mystical island of Delos.  Here you will discover the ruin of an ancient holy greek city, with temples and houses and the famous row of Delian lions that look like monkeys.

Heres a picture of me with one of the lions.

We had a nice time on Mykonos. Paul would write in the morning and we would go to the beach in the afternoon.  All very civilised!

We are now back in the cold and rainy UK, but making plans for the final stage of our journey.  We go to the Americas and then on round the world from the 1st November.

I leave you with the sunset view in Mykonos from our hotel. Such fun!

 

Naxos, madness, blackouts and beautiful beaches

153 days since selling up David Jones and Paul Twocock recording.

After a two hour boat ride from Santorini we arrived at Naxos. Now experts at the Greek ferry experience, we clambered on with the others and left our bags on the car deck, following the dulcit tones of the Blue Star lady calling out "Naxos, Paros" and pointing to the port side. We were treated to another melody when we arrived, as the back of the boat opened about twenty feet away from the dock while the ferry was turning a full circle, the boat sang a Mister Whippy tune to all the eager backpackers - "Der, Do, Der, Do, Der, Doh Der Der Der, Do" a fanfare signalling we'd arrived at Naxos.

We were greeted with the view of the ruined Temple of Apollo and throngs of people trying to tempt us with rooms and taxis. We weaved through them and went off in search of a hire car instead.

It was here we committed the cardinal travellers' sin when arrived in a strange town, we just got into a car with a complete stranger who said he would would rent us the Fiat Panda he was driving at a good price. All looked promising until he got a phonecall and we were bundled out of the car, bags 'n all, and promised that another one would turn up in five minutes. It only took two and that became our little Naxos runabout!

Naxos turned out to be a beautiful, unspoilt (very few tarmac roads) island with very friendly people including the lovely old greek lady, dressed in black who quietly asked us while waiting for our car if we wouldn't prefer to stay with her in town rather than in the place we booked at Plaka Beach 6km away, "it's so far!". Unable to persuade us she wished us "good holidays".

Our first night at Plaka Beach we went to the nearest taverna, and were greeted by Aronis, the owner who looked like an old retired sea dog. He insisted we had the lamb from his own farm in the mountains - a "big plate". Next minute we hear him merrily chopping away in the kitchen with a meat cleaver. Next thing we know the big plates arrived with a bed of chips and a mountain of fatty lamb chops which we then spent the next hour trying to cut through and eat, washed down with penicillin red wine.

Things then started to hot up when more customers arrived. The same ceremonial chopping started up again, but that was topped by his wife, who had been all sweetness and light but suddely flipped, throwing pots and pans at the ninety year old helper in the kitchen. Not wishing to use my mental health skills we decided it was time to retreat to our seaview apartment. Aronis didn't want to let us go just yet, so he gave us another jug of the wine on the house. We drank it and ran.

For the rest of our time at Plaka we had to run past Aronis's to get to the nicer taverna a little further up the beach. This was lovely, despite one night having to eat our meal in darkness due to a blackout and fight off the cats who insisted on jumping up onto the table to share our dinner.

They tried puss in boots eyes but we ignored them so they went for drastic measures, and took the opportunity when the lights went out!

All in all we spent a lovely five days, lazing on the beach, driving around the island and Agatha got quite a few chapters written.

Such fun!

Santorini and the mists of Odysseus

149 days since selling up. David Jones and Paul Twocock recording. Our first joint effort, as we sit on our terrace in Naxos looking out over the sea awaiting the sunset, drinking cold beers.  Who knows how this will read. Lets get started.

Our last blog left us in Heraklion in Crete ready for our first Greek ferry experience.  We had planned our stay in Heraklion perfectly.  We had a lovely hotel within easy reach of the port.  We had arrived on time, us and 200 other people - mainly travellers, not many Greeks.  We were all asking the same questions of each other: "where is the ferry to Santorini?"

Bravely, I was determined to find out, so I got Paul to queue up and speak to the man in the kiosk.  Paul came back and said the man said "is coming!".

We joined the growing number of people and trucks on the dock side ever hopeful for a ferry.  Eventually a ferry arrived and we all clambered aboard any way we could, the whole crowd boarding through a tiny side door whils trucks and lorries drove off and on the ferry through the crowd.  Once on board we found our allocated seats, just above the engine in steerage, no view apart from the LCD TV playing some Greek melodrama - parakalo!  We decided to move from our allocated seats to a quieter area on an upper deck with a sea view. We found some nice wicker chairs (the sort you find in a 1970's conservatory:" do you like Demis Roussos?")

After 4 hours we arrtived in Santorini.

For those of you who haven't heard of it, Santorini is a trés chic, italian sounding island in the middle of the Aegean Sea. It's famous because it's the world's largest volcanic caldera - that's a volcanic crater to you and me, but because this island is so trés chic we all call it a caldera. It is actually spectacular, most of the caldera is submerged under the sea, and the island is a crescent moon shape with 300m high cliffs, all the villages cling to the sides. But every day thousands of tourists are sitting looking at the view oblivious to the fact this volcano will erupt again one day. We didn't feel any tremours while we were there, apart from the rickety wood floor of our mezzanine bedroom whenever somebody got out of bed.

No car in Santorini, we decided to walk everywhere, including a five mile walk to the village of Oia on the northern edge of the island. The views were amazing, and walking on loose lava and pumice sometimes hair-raising, but we felt a sense of satisfaction on reaching the other end. We had a lovely lunch and planned to get the bus back, not realising that was everyone else's plan. Two buses and not a chance of getting on one, we gave up and armed ourselves with water for the five mile trek back. Lucky we did though, as we passed a lonely little white church half way along the path we were greeted by a convoy of cars bibbing their hooters and then a bride wafting up the path to the church. It was like something out of Mamma Mia!

After all that we settled down to another of Santorini's famous sunsets through the volcanic mists that have been there since the time of Odysseus. What better than to see the show with a bottle of cava and some olives and feta. Such a hardlife, island-hopping! Such fun! Anyhoo, next stop Naxos. More of that in the next blog, coming soon! Here's a sunset, there are more in the Santorini album, take a look.