Preparing myelf for a disappointment... or between glorious self justification and the purgatory of homelessness

Today, we finally found a flat... or maybe we didn't. It seems that the fates intend to keep us swinging between glorious self-justification and the purgatory of homelessness for a time longer...

Maria was contacted today by sms, a rare response to our long running ad on the internet, about a flat that was available in the centre of the oberstadt. Not only was it a 2 room kitchen bathroom with balcony in such a location as to raise eyebrows, but from their method of contacting us we could safely assume that this was a private deal... without the kind of competition that we have found so... inconvenient.

Being a hardened old Wohnung-nik of three months service, I could not be moved by these details and read her email of our imminent viewing with forced detachment, focussing instead on the three lessons that I still had to plan... but it looked good and I did allow myself a brief recon. of the apartment block on the way back up the road from work, learning thus that it was indeed a location worthy of fantasies of self-justification.

Maria and I met outside the flat at 1 pm and went for the viewing and, from the moment they opened the door, it went exceedingly well. If we can be said to have a secret weapon as a couple, something so heart-warmingly charming that even the most stoney faced German has to yield, it must be Maria when confronted with a particularly cute young puppy... and this couple had a really, really cute young husky pup type thing with a full-on tilting head and waggling gait.

From thence on, as we intermittently broke off our viewing to pet and coo over this plasmataki (I feel the Greek word best here), things went well, so well in fact that we were offered the apartment there and then... and we took it.

Walking out into the sunshine again, it felt almost too normal, as if nothing had really happened, as if our nightmare was not yet over...

On parting from Maria I headed homeward for to waste my vacant afternoon sleeping, dreaming and reading. As for Maria, she headed back to work where she would receive confirmation from the landlord. It was somewhere in the middle of ceiling gazing whilst contemplating the fate of Chris McCandless that I got a terse sms from Maria stating only that you should "Read your email". The message I read as follows:

Fuck it! The owner wants to meet us and she is not giving the appartment until 15th of April for some reason. It was too easy to be true. And I've already cancelled Max, that house is gone. Hope she will like us.

I hope so too...

And who is Max?

Max is the owner of a cute little sunny apartment in the Sudviertel which we had good chance of getting if it weren't for the fact that we told him definitively that we were no longer interested in it on account of finding this other one.

FXXX !!!

Why should I camp in Greece

Here is a little piece I just wrote for a facebook group about camping in Greece. Kinda neatly sums up why I do it.

Why should I camp in Greece?

For me, the main advantage of Greece's climate is that one can spend time outdoors comfortably. Not only this, every little effort made to explore further off the beaten track rewards the visitor with inspiring vistas and the proximity of raw natural beauty. On the smaller islands in particular, the experience of living in a little tent on a quiet island beach can be magical. So if you think you might like to spend

A: your days fishing, walking, swimming or reading
B: your evenings in your 'local' beachside taverna
C: your nights sipping raki outside your tent under a dome of stars while listening to the waves breaking on your front porch...

... this might well be the kind of holiday for you.

Can I Free Camp in Greece?

Let's get the facts straight: free camping is technically illegal in Greece. In practice, however, the law is applied to prevent gypsy settlements, and summer camping is tolerated and even welcomed in quieter places (which means NOWHERE on places like SANTORINI, MYKONOS, PAROS, IOS etc.) as long as the following conditions are met:

A: You respect the locals which means no nudity, no drugs, no 'commune'
atmosphere. As a general rule, think scout camp; not peace camp.
B: It also means being discrete with your pitch. Seek out remote beaches
with few visitors and facilities. Don't pitch in the prime spot on the beach and if possible pitch off the sand. AND ALWAYS BE SCRUPULOUS ABOUT
GARBAGE AND MATTERS RELATED TO YOUR TOILET!!! Basically, the sea is for soapless bathing and tavernas, cafes, bars etc are for... well, I think you understand.
C: Relatedly, the money that you are saving by not paying for accommodation should go to the locals in the form of payment for coffees, drinks, meals, shopping and souvenirs. Free camping will only continue to be tolerated AND WELCOMED if you show the locals that you appreciate the beauty of their home and pay for the privilege of staying there.

And where can I free camp? Got any suggestions?

Yes. The following places are tried and tested. Here is my top 3.

1. Crete: Souyia, Agia Roumeli, Lendas, Gavdos. Many other places on the south coast in Heraklion province (esp. near Tsoutsouras and Keratokambos)

2. Donousa island, Kyklades (although definitely out of season as it can get quite crowded in high summer.)

3. Tilos, Dodecanese.

And what about organised sites?

If you have experience camping elsewhere in Europe, don't expect Greece to be the same. Most sites are simply no more that an olive grove with a shower and toilet block. Often times they are some way away from shops or places of interest and have no transport links. Having said this, there are some really beautiful sites in some really beautiful places. Again, if you like the simple life of walking, swimming, fishing, reading, eating, drinking all accompanied by heart-breaking beauty, these are the kind of places for you.

When and where should I go?

As a rule, avoid high seasons and popular resorts because the campsite will be so crowded and have such terrible facilities that you will feel like you are in "Bridge on the River Kwai". Here, again, are my top 5 sites (again all on islands).

1. Aegiali Camping, Amorgos, Kyklades.

2. The campsite called something like Stefanos Camping or Flower Camping on Patmos, Dodecanese.

3. The little site on the tiny island of Koufonissi, Kyklades.

4. Camping Paleohora, Hania Province, Crete.

5. Camping Rocks, Patitiri, Alonissos Island, Sporades.


If you want any further details, do not hesitate to message me. I am always happy to talk about this topic.

Happy camping and remember always to respect nature, your hosts and your fellow campers.

A

I take that back... competition is no longer welcome

So a week on and we are still looking for a flat. Maria viewed two at the beginning of the week but was unimpressed with the fact that they "looked like apartment blocks in Athens". I for one wouldn't mind living in an apartment block in Athens... but therein lies another story. At the moment, these two will suffice.

Wednesday and during dinner with a visting American guest, Maria mentions that she had been called during the day by an old lady who had seen our ad in the local paper and that she was offering us a 3 room flat in the oberstatd for 45o euros. More than this, we had an appointment the next day to view a flat in the river side area of Weidenhausen. All this, you must understand, was told to me over candlelight in a lively student bistro with much food, drink and high spirits to set the tone. We both agreed that we had turned a corner and would find something soon.

Morning brought the first viewing: a 2 room river-side flat, 1 floor up, in a old timbered building facing a central courtyard. Despite the timbered exterior, the flat was modern in appearance with a real cosy feel. I wanted it immediately.

But when the time came to talk business the owner revealed that he had already promised the flat to someone else. But if, for some reason, the other interested party should fail to sign the papers (if his hand fell off for example) he would definitely give us a call. (??!!)

Now I can see his side: he wanted to cover his back. But what about us? To drag someone away from their work and show them round a flat that they want only to tell them that they can most probably never have it seems a little off. Perhaps we wouldn't have minded so much if it weren't for the fact that we had made the appointment some days before. If he knew he had others coming to see the flat, why break our hearts by giving it already?

Bu that is not all: from the description of the landlord, we strongly suspect that the successful tenant is none other than he who beat us to the oberstadt flat.

That would make sense in world which, at the moment, seems divest of justice.

Then there was the old lady... with the old flat.

To be fair, she was very nice... in fact, she reminded me of my grandmother... but the problem was her flat was very old too... as was everything in it... and it smelled like a hospital...

... and it felt more like a tombstone in a graveyard that a charming timbered flat in the lively Marburg oberstadt.

Which is why I wouldn't mind living in Athens at all.

Flathunting in Marburg is a thankless task

So we decided about a month or so ago, in a flurry of hope and expectation, to move out of our shoe-box of an apartment... blissfully unaware of the nightmare that was about to unfold.

Being a student town, Marburg has A LOT of competition for apartments. In fact, it would be no exaggeration to say that a flat can be advertised and gone all within a matter of a few hours. So you gotta move fast if you want to get the opportunity even for a viewing.

Also, it seems that many landlords actively favour a student tennant, for reasons perhaps of the reduced rates that they might have to pay. So straight from the off, a fair number of decent places are unavailable to hard working tax payers like ourselves.

As if this weren't bad enough, it would seem that the student population have a system whereby they can preclude the possibility that anyone bar another student can move into a soon to be vacated flat. The devilry works like this:

1. Student couple want to move out
2. Student couple contact landlord who asks them to advertise the flat, attract a fistful of potential tenants and inform him of their intimate private details (professions, back account details, bra sizes, immunizations pending, etc.)
3. Student couple do as he says thus raising the hope of innocent lambs such as ourselves that they might just be able 'get the cute little house with the apple tree on the corner for their very own'
4. Student couple invite said lambs to their place and earnestly extol the virtues of the plumbing in great German detail whist assuring them also that they would get on very well with the landlord.
5. Student couple wave goodbye to lambs who now face an agonising week long wait where they dare not hope for fear that they will be disappointed... but what if...
6. Student couple close door and heartily recommend a student buddy of theirs as next tenant... as was their plan since before they decided to move out.

In short, the student population of this town has something of a monopoly on the housing situation, but fortunately there is the odd place that favours professional couples... it's just that the landlords here, paradoxically I would conjecture, wish to have one of your vital organs on ice as a deposit.

Enter Herr Miser... (the name has been changed to protect him from the shame that he would otherwise endure).

It was the first flat we saw, a turret tucked up on an old tiled sandstone building surrounded by a rose garden in an impossibly cute position on the corner of two Oberstadt alleyways. Temporarily agog at its niceness (and proximity to our current place; we can see it from the window) and naive at this apartment hunting business, we tripped in to chat with the current tenant all stupid grins and ignorant hope.

Our first disappointment soon brought us back down to earth: the owner, we were informed, wished at least a 2 year lease, which for a couple of foreigners bound to work for the moment in a small German town on variable salaries was not ideal. So we hesitated, held out for a less than 2 year lease, asked the current tenant to suggest this to the owner, and left... only to return ten minutes later with the news that we liked the flat so much that we would accept the two year minimum lease after all.

Maria had a good feeling about it from the off, and was even on the point of bringing me round when we received the news that we should write a letter to the owner, a fella by the name of Miser, in order that the parties should 'get to know each other'.

This caused a little stress on our part as it handicapped our chances by reason of the sole emphasis on the written word as medium of contact: neither of us are native speakers of a language renowned for its (unnecessary) complexity. Also, their were question marks too over the appropriacy of this request: none of our German friends had heard of such a procedure; but write it we did...

... not that it made a blind bit of difference. The very next day after we mailed it, Maria got a phone call from the current tenant informing her that Miser had made a spontaneous visit to Marburg and would appreciate the opportunity of meeting with all interested parties at the flat in question.

Maria was thrown. For her, it was a matter of pride, and this character appeared to be taking the piss. She got in touch with me to ask what we should do. As it turned out, I couldn't attend as I had an evening lesson, but I also thought that Maria should give him the benefit of the doubt and head along to the flat to meet up. Besides, she was more than capable of giving him a hefty tongue thrashing should he reveal himself to be... the arrogant c*** that he actually was.

So go she did, and indeed she came back with a positive feeling: the other interested parties didn't really amount to much and perhaps, just maybe...

He was to let us know by the end of the week.

The week past with an occasional 'what if' moment... but mostly I tried not to let myself get carried away. It was difficult though, and soon it came to the point where I just wanted to know one way or the other. After all, we had other places to see and to have this decision that we could not influence about where we might live for the next 2 years hanging over our heads was, to say the least, unsettling. Maria in particular had made up her mind that 'Herr Scheise' was playing silly buggers. She wouldn't live in his flat even if he paid her.

The 2 weeks passed with no news, not even when we re-contacted the current tenant and she regretfully announced that she had heard nothing. Then finally, on Monday afternoon of the next week, when we had alternately fretted and hoped ourselves worn for more than 2 weeks, when we were so poisoned against him and his fucking flat that it didn't matter a damn anyway, the shameless one phoned to let us down gently.

It was a low, low moment; not, in the end, because we didn't get it, but because of the journey from sugar coated hope for dream home to the grim reality of being played by a c***.

But there may just be some justice in this world...

... yesterday we went to look at a non-descript place down by the Elisabeth Church and who did we meet but one of the interested parties for the flat. In fact, it was the successful new tenant as we found out; but he wasn't happy. It seems Herr Scheise wants all but one of his vital organs on ice as a deposit before handing over the keys. It has, he said, become a matter of pride. He was once again on the look out for a flat.

Even the prospect of increased competition cannot make up for the satisfaction of knowing that someone bad has got their comeuppance.

A Tale of Two Dogs... OR Alonissos Travelogue Part 20

And so we come to the last post in what has become something of an epic travelogue of my time on Alonissos. Like I said a couple of posts ago, I never meant to write something as long as this. In fact, this whole thing began life a post holiday email to Dave and Gerry describing a couple of photos that I had taken whilst walking around their island. It only became a travelogue proper when they suggested including these comments as part of a 'visitor's travelogues' addition to their site, at which point I thought I should write something more befitting of the genre 'travelogue'.

In this, the last of my posts, I do not intend to describe a walk for the simple fact that there are no more to describe! I only did four routes of the many that are described in the two guides that I have mentioned... perhaps next time I will add to this tally. Instead, what I would like to do is tell you the story of how I left the island. I had to leave the island suddenly and before I had planned on account of receiving some bad news. However, the sadness of this time was offset by more than enough happiness... as is always the case provided we look hard enough.

* * *

As you may recall, my job, being that of an English teacher, allows me plenty of free time to escape Germany and live the simple life camping and trekking under the sunny skies of the Aegean. However, not everyone can afford the luxury of 6 weeks summer holiday every year - especially if they are a doctoral student of archaeology in the middle of their Phd - and it was for this reason that I was holidaying alone on Alonissos without the company of my wife. For Maria's part, she had decided four weeks was all she could spare from her studies and so would fly out two weeks after me when we planned to go on a kind of busman's holiday, touring the archaeological sites of Minoan Crete.

I completed the fourth walk, the walk through the Kastanorema gorge, some time early on in my second week on the island and although I had walked a lot, there was still a lot more walking to be done. Leafing through my walking guide late that evening whilst sitting in a taverna in Patitiri finishing off the last of my retsina, I considered my next outing... I had still to explore the western and northern regions of the island. Perhaps I could do a walk taking in the area around Megalo Horafi or Tourkoneri? Perhaps I could rent a bike again and drive up to the northern tip of the island to walk round Yerakas? Or perhaps I could take a boat to one of the satellite islands? I could easily spend another week here!

Rising from the taverna with a yawn, I started out on the walk back to the campsite stopping, as was my custom, at the phone box next to the ruined hotel Galaxy to give Maria a ring.

The minute she picked up the phone I could tell that something was wrong... I could hear from the sound of her voice that something very bad indeed had happened.

"What's the matter... what's happened?" I inquired.
"Lara died", the answer came back.

Lara was the family dog, a little tan coloured sausage dog who had lived with her at the family home in Athens since she was a child. Now that she lived abroad, she only got to see her during summer vacations when typically she would spend the whole morning lavishing attention on her velvet belly. Quite simply, she loved that little dog, as did the whole family, and this was going to be difficult, especially given that she was all alone up there in Germany.

It was frustrating. That it should have happened was bad enough; but for it to have happened when we were apart, just a matter of a weeks before we were due to visit the family home again was particularly cruel. It was a helpless situation... so we did the only thing we could do to take back some measure of control. She would change her ticket and we would meet in Athens in 2 days time.

This gave me one more full day on Alonissos, and I knew exactly what to do with it. Some days previously Dave and Gerry had asked me to get in touch with them before I left the island such that we could have a final lunch together. So I called them to tell them the news and arrange to meet them the next day in a restaurant near Paliohorafina.

It was always a pleasure to spend time with Dave and Gerry, not least of all for the insights they afforded me into everyday island life. But it was particularly nice to see them at this time. Not only did I need someone to talk to about our little tragedy, it turned out that they had some news for me to put things into perspective... they had just 'acquired' a little dog of their own.

As the reader of their website will no doubt know, like many of the ex-pats living on Alonissos, Dave and Gerry are actively involved in the local animal charity ASAP. More than this, if you get the chance to loiter in their yard, you might find yourself experiencing a little difficulty moving for the number of cats milling about! It was no doubt in their capacity as animal caretakers that they had begun to look after a very young stray dog that they had found scrounging for food with the cats outside local tavernas. It now seemed that they had finally taken her in as their own having assured themselves that she was indeed homeless and having just gotten her checked out by a vet.

And the name they had given to her? Zoe, a name which most readers will immediately recognise as the Greek for life.

It was a fitting end to my time on the island, to get a little boost just when it was required and under such poignant circumstances.

And with that, I bring this travelogue to a close.

A quick visit to Garbitses... Or Alonissos Travelogue Part 19

Leaving Mourtitsa at about 6 o'clock, I was still more or less on schedule for my evening ritual of showering, dressing for the evening, and sipping an ouzo outside my tent. But there was still one thing that I wanted to see now that I had the Vespa: the archaeological site of Garbitses.

I don't really know why: I knew and still know nothing about the site, despite numerous internet searches. So if anyone can illuminate me as to the significance of the site, I'd be grateful. But I think that I mostly wanted to see it because it was an archaeological site and my wife would be disappointed if I neglected to visit it.

Signed off the main road on the way back, I drove carefully up the dirt road on my trusty Vespa until I came to a sign by the side of the road directing me the last 100 meters or so through scrub and olive groves to the site itself.

I almost missed it. The fact of the matter is that there really isn't all that much to see, just these blocks:

And no matter how much I nosed around, overturing stones and parting the fronds of ferns, I just couldn't find anything else.

However, if the site wasn't exactly the most interesting that I have visited, I was compensated by the surroundings. Standing next to any ancient stones in the early evening, high up on a hill side facing the sea is always an experience.

And so is an alfresco ouzo back at your tent after a long day's walking... so with this on my mind, I left Garbitses and headed back to the campsite.

The Yellow Route: "I just did a little circle hereabouts"... OR Alonissos Travelogue Part 18

I didn't mean to walk the Kastanorema gorge... it just kinda happened.

You see, when I left Mourtitsa I was only curious to see what the gorge looked like. Besides, it was a little late to be attempting an unaccompanied 4 and half hour walk up a gorge. If I did choose to do it, I would get back to the campsite at something like 7 o'clock and that just wouldn't do. You see, as is always the case when camping on the islands, I had gotten into this comfortable routine. Morning and afternoon were for walking; but 6 o'clock and the softening colours of dusk were for showering, dressing for evening, reading the paper, listening to my little pocket radio, low key socialising round the communal fridges and, or course, libations. `So you see I really couldn't set out on this walk...

But it was a terribly nice path, heading north with the sea to my right and the mountains to my left. In short, it was a coastal path and therefore just the kind of walk a like.

And the landscape was just that little bit different. Gone were the pines and olive trees, to be replaced with low lying strawberry-trees and hollyoaks. And here in the northern half of the island was an unfamiliar seascape of scattered islands whose forms I hadn't yet encountered.

And there was this surprisingly appealing sense of isolation, made more intense with each step away from Mourtitsa.

In short, I wasn't focused on any goal and so time seemed simply to fly by until such a point when the landscape opened out in front of me to reveal an extensive area of flat pebble and boulder strewn land sandwiched between two low hills and the sea. I had reached the mouth of the gorge.

It occurred to me that now that I knew just how pleasant a walk it was I could come back next year with my wife and walk the rest of the way together. But I should probably find the onward path through this mass of pebbles and boulders to the start of the gorge proper, there had to be some way markers here somewhere. Perhaps if I follow the thin depression of the river bed?

Heading inland on the dried up river bed, the slopes of the low hills on either side of me gradually began to close in and rise above me. As they did so, the sound of the waves disappeared and the clicking-clacking of the bone dry pebbles displaced beneath each step I took got louder and louder. If silence can have a sound, this was it. There was no one, not a soul around.

Now this was beginning to feel a bit special, a bit like you feel while standing on a cliff top looking out to sea; a bit like being drawn inexorably into something wild yet totally alluring.

And it got better. Down in the gorge, things started hotting up as the walls closed in higher above me and the pebbles beneath my feet gave way to sheer rock face gouged and polished by heaven know how many years of flow, and it was round about when I took these two photographs that I decided to hang with the evening ritual; this was simply too special a walk to turn back on.

Stream channel, Kastanorema gorge.

Overhanging gorge wall, Kastanorema gorge

So I ended up adding the Kastanorema gorge to my list of conquests upon the island, and it was quite fitting that this last walk should be the most dramatic.

Other than extol the drama and thoroughly romantic sense of isolation that the walk engenders, I should probably give the prospective walker a rundown of highlights and advice:

1. The walking guides are right: once you are in the gorge there is no way you can get lost. Also, for the most part, the terrain is smooth rock or boulders. I walked up the gorge in a pair of trekking sandals so it really isn't the most demanding of walks underfoot.

2. There are snakes in the gorge. I disturbed a couple on my way up which slithered away as I clumsily came tramping through their domain. They looked to be the same species and of a light turquoise colour. I've just done a google image search to find out what species they are and if they are poisonous but to no avail. Very beautiful though.

3. At about the half way point, the stream bed becomes quite shallow with scrub and shrubs to the sides which at some points meet overhead forming a little arboreal tunnel for you to walk through. Further on, the stream bed becomes shallower still to the extent that you can see the landscape clearly on either side. At this point you should look out for a daub of red paint on a rock to your left indicating that you should leave the stream bed. It's quite obvious but best to be extra aware when the landscape starts to flatten out.

After this point, you walk through a little olive grove to emerge at a dirt road with a watering point for goats facing you. At this point, there is a sign post directing you up onto a little path which gently ascends the hill in front of you.

Now at this point I had been walking for about 3 hours or so having made good time in the gorge. I was, however, a little disorientated having been effectively blinkered by the high walls of the gorge such that I didn't know in which approximate direction the sea might be found. It was far from a worry however as the path was obvious as well as being periodically signposted.

In fact, it made the scene that greeted me as I rounded the crest of the hill all that more impressive for being unexpected:

As the landscape flattened out at the crest of the hill, I was greeted by this field of wild thyme and the realisation of just where I was. Here in front of me I could see the familiar form of Peristera: I had reached the top of the hill behind Agios Dimitrios, which was spectacularly confirmed when I walked down this path and looked down:

Like I said, Agios Dimitrios is best viewed from above.

If ever you find yourself on Alonissos with your own transport at dusk in late June, you could do worse than drive up here (a dirt road off the island's main road north terminates just beyond this point). If you do, I would heartily recommend a bottle of chilled white wine and the company of someone special to share the view and what must be a royal carpet of wild thyme in bloom.

The final leg, down off the hill and back to Mourtitsa where I had left the Vespa was accompanied by a song and the inquisitive looks of mountain goats. Slowly, the triangle of land that was Agios Dimitiris grew bigger and closer until I was a matter of minutes from the coast. Unfortunately it was at this point that the surrounding scrub grew tall and so thickly knit that the path was at some points virtually unpassable. But passable it was, and jumping down onto the dirt road along which I had driven about 3 and 3 quarter hours before, I met a Greek couple out for a stroll.

"Apo poy pidixes?" = "Where did you spring from?"

"Molis ekana ligo kyklo edho gyro gyro" = "I just did a little circle hereabouts..."

And with that they wished me kali ekdromi, took their leave, and left me to pick up the Vespa to drive back to Patitiri... by way of just one final distraction.