Today has been cloudy – apart from my first morning up in the hills, the first time I’ve seen cloud since I got here in mid-July. I suppose I can’t complain.  It brightened up this afternoon and I got to have my swim, finding myself the only person on the whole of the beach.  Kostas told me today that the wind was due to drop tomorrow – down to two “Beaufor” (cross your fingers and toes, please!).

Yesterday I caught the bus into town and had an impromptu bit of sight-seeing on the way back as the bus did a detour to the big church for Sunday day trippers getting off the ferries.

It has been blowy.  This is the very handy windsock at the helipad just by my bus stop.

The wind is from the north about 95% of the time, so I don’t know if there’s much point in it.

In town I shopped at the market for the first time (I don’t usually make it into town until early evening when the day is cooling down and the market is long shut).  The market is tiny and just a bunch of local farmers and smallholders selling their produce.  I felt a bit sorry for the guy who was just selling tomatoes – I selected three and put them in a bag – the guy weighed them, frowned then without a workd of explanation added a fourth and said “50 cents” .  I got a melon and some nectarines but couldn’t see cucumbers, so resorted to the supermarket for those.

On my way back from the supermarket I saw that the pelican was out for a volta.  He spends each night perched on a trellis in a small fishmonger shop but gets out and about during the day – he has a trick of reaching up to taverna tables and pinching the salt and pepper pots.

I found some halloumi in the supermarket (it’s from Cyprus) and decided to take a chance on the frying pan – the frying pan used to be non stick but has seen better days.  The cheese and I, with the help of a fish-slice were victorious.  Mmmmm – squeaky cheese!

and as I was finishing off the hoummus I made a couple of days ago it was quite a cypriot angle to the evening’s menu.

The wind got to me and on Wednesday I had a bit of a wobble.  The wind was stopping me having my swims.  I started to question why I’d moved apartments and was convinced that the last apartment and the beach was more sheltered.  I wondered if I should hop to another island that wasn’t in the cyclades and not subject to the meltemi wind.

I’d also got a bit stuck with the website I’m workng on.

I got a bit blue.

Thankfully it was temporary.  I think some kitten therapy helped.

I was delighted to wake up yesterday and not be able to hear the roar that has seemed to have been the backing track for over a week.  It was calm.  I was almost skipping to the beach for my swim.  The water was almost flat.

It was fantastic.  All was well again.

I bussed into town late in the afternoon, said a brief hello to Margit, did a quick shop and took a taxi home in time for another proper swim in the evening – the wind had come up a bit but it was still brilliant.

During the night the winds came back – not quite as bad as they’ve been, but I hope not to let them get to me again.

I do though, still have one impediment to my blogging  . . .

Late yesterday afternoon I caught the bus into town so I could shop to fill my fridge and cupboards. I knew I’d be buying quite a lot and knew that the return bus was quite a lot later – so was fully expecting get a taxi home.

After the supermarket I had a 300m walk to the bakery for a crusty loaf.

Rather than walk back down to the harbour to the taxi rank I decided to walk back to the apartment. It was then, exactly then that I should have listened to the little voice in my head saying that walking was a ridiculous thing to do.

What I haven’t mentioned is that the island is currently experiencing F7 gusting F8 Beaufort.

It’s about 2.5km.

The shopping weighed 15.5kilos and the bag handles did their best to cut my fingers off!

I’m still trying to justify this lunacy – telling myself that it was good exercise as I haven’t really been able to swim, just dip, in these conditions.

I moved apartments again today – back to Agios Fokas and the place with the adorable kittens (saying that, I haven’t seen any of them yet).

I had mixed emotions on packing up and moving out of Porto – I really did enjoy staying there and think I will miss it.

I had a phone call yesterday evening saying that the cleaner won’t get to clean up after the people moving out of the Agios Fokas apartment until 6pm – this is after arranging to move in at 1pm. I, of course, say that that will be fine – as long as I can put my stuff in the fridge and leave my bags. When I arrive and let myself in I find I’m actually quite shocked at the state that it’s been left in – every cup, glass and ashtray dirty and left out. It’s probably just a sign of how well I was brought up (not a hint of OCD, honest), but I wouldn’t dream of leaving any place in such a state.  I’m just now remembering the apartment Michael and I stayed at in Poros and that I was surprised that on the “do and don’t” list on the back of the door it said that the maid doesn’t wash up dishes.

I was, though, glad to sit out on the terrace and get briefly online (my broadband on a stick credit ran out yesterday afternoon) so that I could upload the latest versions of the web page I’m working on. Once that was done I walked 15 mins to the nearest taverna – I hadn’t eaten there before but decided it was time to try it.

I had the best melitsanasalata (aubergine salad, a baba ganoush kind of thing) and a fantastic grilled swordfish steak. A real treat, and considerably more than I’m used to paying when I eat out. I enjoyed watching and eavesdropping on a table of two middle-aged Irish couples – teaching each other please and thank you in Greek while demolishing some huge plates of grilled meat and filling their table with an admirable selection of empty glasses.

The signage on the toilet doors caused me to chuckle, and I just had to share why . . . .

After a lovely meal this evening (I am amazed at how I can finish a plate of greek salad, wiping the last of the oil, vinegar and tomato juices from the bowl with the last chunk of crusty bread, thinking ‘that was fantastic!’ – even after eating them almost daily for over a month) I walked down to the beach to look at the sky.

There wasn’t a moon, so I saw vast numbers of stars and I think the white cloudy bits that might be the milky way (Kieron, Maria, someone please help!)  the air just seemed so clear and sharp.  I resisted the urge to lie on the sand staring heavenwards for fear of finding myself there in the morning or waking to find my elbow in the grip of a member of the local constabulary on charges of vagrancy.

Back on my own balcony I took one last glance upwards before heading inside for the evening – and at that exact moment I had the thrill of seeing a spectacular shooting star.  I saw one rather meagre one (don’t get me wrong, it was still was a delight) the other evening. I’d posted that night on Facebook about my dilemma of whether to look out at the perfect sea with the reflected light of the almost full moon or to look north for shooting stars.  The suggestion that I go and find the nearest rotating restaurant did give me a good chuckle.

My lovely friend Darren is on a week’s holiday in the neighbouring island of Mykonos. He came over for a visit. The high winds delayed his fifteen minute trip on SeaJet by an hour.

I hired a car for the day and drove us up to Panormos where we had a fantastic lunch in the perfect setting. It was great to have a catch up and hear all about what’s been going at the branch of the charity we both volunteer for.

He told me that I looked like I’d lost a lot of weight so it seems that, as I’d hoped,   ,  and are doing me good.

We stopped briefly at my apartment before having a five minute dip at ‘my’ beach before heading back to the harbour – of course the SeaJet hadn’t caught up any of it’s lost time so we had the opportunity for a beer and a bit of people watching before he headed off.

Today is August 15th, Panageia Festival – the big day in the calendar of Tinos.

At Margit’s suggestion (almost insistence!) I went in to town yesterday evening and up to the big church – everything seems to always start the evening before the festival days with a vigil. The place was packed. Up by the big church there was an impromptu market hosted by the many visiting gypsies. The town was full.

I was delighted to find my apartment key had been found on the bus on Thursday and it was waiting for me behind the counter of the KTEL bus station.

An hour of town was enough for me and I hopped on the last bus back to Porto and tried a taverna near the beach – it was actually quite disappointing – I think they might have forgotten to put the fish roe in the taramasalata and it was more of an onion dip. I was initially pleased to see that it wasn’t Angel Delight pink as the best tarama I’ve tasted in Naoussa, Paros, wasn’t pink at all – but it was a disappointment. I did, though, enjoy watching the group of four north europeans at a nearby table – particularly the expression on the face of the woman who’d ordered a plate of spinach.

Today was the day for the big procession of the icon – at about 11.

This morning I got my self up early and had my swim and breakfast and trotted up the hill to the bus stop for the 9am bus – I was only just on time and was very surprised to find that there wasn’t a group of people waiting. I checked the timetable in the shelter – there is no flipping 9am bus. The service is hourly from 8am to 10pm apart from 9. Bugger! I picked up a couple of things in the minimarket (I spotted that the service in the big church was being broadcast live on TV) and walked back to the apartment and to cool down before a more leisurely walk up the hill for the 10am bus.

Well, if I thought last night was mobbed, this was something else.

All the way up megalohari there were people crowded into every patch of shade.

Every balcony and even some rooftops were being used for a good view.

I went about half way up and it wasn’t long before it all came down the hill. There were two bands. Most surprisingly there was quite a large group of Ethiopian women (would they be Coptics?) – joyfully singing and dancing along behind the stodgy bands and just in front of the serious-faced men wearing gilt embroidered tablecloths.

The procession was slowed by the fact that people were getting in line and ducking and pretty much getting shoved underneath the icon as it came down. Reminded be of the children’s game Oranges and Lemons (but without the head-chopping off bit).

There was of course the noise: every church bell in town (and there are many) and maroons were being fired from the navy boats. When the great and the good all reached the harbour there was a big sermon and then I think the Mayor spoke then it all went back up the hill (at at least twice the speed) and before you knew it it was all over. Many heading back to the ferry terminal (lots of gypsy kids jumping into the harbour wearing their underwear).

I hopped on the next bus back and was glad of the quiet of this place.

I’m really glad I’ve been able to see the festival, but somehow I think once will be enough.

This place looks the business, doesn’t it, with the bougainvillea? The cycladic ‘boxy’ style in whitewash with arches is often complimented with the details in local stone.

I haven’t see it in use, but there’s a woodfired oven-cum-barbecue (I guess) in the corner of the garden of my apartments.

Take a little stroll around the harbour – watch the SeaJet arrive and depart, have a look at the Oceanis 40 with the three extremely tanned Norweigans and wonder how they enjoyed the 7 Beaufort conditions today.

Watch some fishing.