Greetings from jaw-droppingly, beautiful Hydra, a small Greek island and adopted home of Leonard Cohen for many years.

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Our ferry from Pireaus (2 hours, €30 each one way) sailed in gorgeous sunshine into a crescent-shaped harbour with hills sloping upwards like an amphitheatre. As we waited to disembark, we could alreday smell the taxis that were waiting on the quayside, flicking flies with their tails -no vehicles or scotters are allowed on the island so the main mode of transport is donkey (and shank’s mare). We hoisted our small packs on our own backs and walked between donkeys, moored luxury yachts, water taxis (used to get around the island) and upmarket designer shops, in serach of somewhere to stay. We were almost spellbound by the beauty and soon breathless – there are steep steps everywhere, leading to a spider’s web of cobbled lanes with jasmine, bourganvilla spilling over balconies. We found a room with a little balcony in the Amyrilis Hotel which also had a large rooftop with 360^o views of the sparkling sea, barren hills and a small communal kitchen on the roof and a friendly owner (€40 a night after bargaining). Perfection! – a little tired looking maybe but exactlywhat we wanted. And full of interesting people like Fred from Nashville, a retired maths teacher obsessed with cats (definitely in the right place) and volcanos.

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There were dozens of pebble beaches, great diving from the rocks into deep blue water but the real charm was wandering the back alleys where everyday life went on away from the tourists in the port, where old ladies gossiped and struggled uphill with their shopping, children screamed in the schoolyard and workmen hammered and repaired roofs Upwards into the hills along steps, mule trails and stony paths, there were monasteries on hilltops and little blue and white churches everywhere – I’m convinced that there must be a church for every resident. An old lady in a red cardigan sat sunning herself at the gablend of her remote house with chickens clucking around her and dogs at her feet waved to us as we clamboured up a rocky slope. One day, after a strenuous hour and a half uphill hike, we stopped at a tiny church, the green field surrounding it stood out amongst the grey rock and spiny plants – the only green field we saw on the whole island. Inside amongst the icons and holy pictures, there were bottles of water, juice, crackers and – wait for this – a half-empty bottle of Powers whiskey (we didn’t partake – honestly). I couldn’t resist lighting candles in such a little sanctuary in the mountains (I have been accused of becoming a right Holy Joe). And everywhere, the slow pace and the silence where the main sound was the tinkling of bells around the necks of the donkeys and mules and the sound of the sea – without traffic – and the soft November light and the smell of the salt sea, jasmine and donkey dung.

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But as Leonard said ‘so you want it darker‘. There may be no vehicles on Hydra but there are exceptions – there are garbage trucks barelling along the port every morning taking rubbish to the dump in the east of the island and a fire truck -which was needed when a fire broke out in the dump on Saturday night sending ash and acrid smoke upwards. It was still burning and being sprayed by masked firemen on Sunday morning when we walked in that direction amid discarded plastic bottles and the coloured plastic bags blowing in the wind and caught on bushes like bloomimg fake flowers – many tourist mean more rubbish and oceans of plastic.. My new friend, a jeweler down the lane near our hotel and a fan of George Bernard Shaw, told me stories of greed and disputes amongst the islanders and cruelty to the overworked mules and donkeys. But she still bargained hard – admittedly with humour – when I bought a ring in her shop.

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This week we have seen such diverse scenery in Greece from the rural idyll of Arcadia to the tourist throngs at the Acropolis. We spent three nights in Dimitisana, a beautiful medical village spread over two hills in Arcadia and on the Menalin Hiking Trail. We expected a sleepy hamlet but we arrived to a village heaving with Sunday daytrippers.It was almost impossible to drive through between parked cars, tour buses and pedestrians. We stayed in Sophia’s Stone House which was a cosy warm bedsit over a traditional restaurant (with wild boar burgers and rabbit stew on the menu) and with fabulous views over the mountain – at laest most of the time. In the evening when we had the place almost to ourselves.

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The Mendalin Trail and we could have been in Ireland as we walked the section from Dimitsna to Stemitsana in bright cool weather with the golden autumn colours of the birch, oak and sycamore trees, the fallen leaves, moss -cloaked stones and peeping mushrooms but then there were the monasteries with black robed monks, the ruins of gunpowder mills that produced ammunition for the 1823 war of independence from the Turks. The following morning, our gorgeous bedsit view had dissappeared, hidden under a blanket of thick fog that didnt lift until nightfall (about 5.40 as the clocks went back here as well). No hiking for us that day although we dashed in full waterproof gear to probably the best bakery in Greece up the street and gorged on baklava, chocolate dipped shortbread and pitachio and lemon biscuits – so always a silver lining.

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Leaving Dimitsana in 8 degrees sunshine, we followed our usual guidelines of avoiding toll roads on our way to Corinth. About halfway there as we zigzagged around another corkscrew, we realised that we had added an hour to our journeyand by avoiding tolls but it was spectacular even if I felt a little carsick going over the mountains. But we also passed by vineyards, ploughed fields and a countryside of splendid colour. Ancient Corinth was warm, compact and well organised with a good museum and an army of middle-aged women policing a well-marked one way system around the ruins. St Paul was here and wrote his many letters to the Corinthians and this is where he was tried – and acquited – for illicit preaching. We stayed in an apartment in the new city in a regular apartment block. The entrance and stairs was dirty- and smelly- but inside our front door was a well-equipped, clean apartment and a warm welcome from Elena, who gave us a carafe of red wine, pomogrannate liquer (disgusting but that’s beside the point), water, homemade fig jam and a fridge stocked with crackers, water and eggs. Elena had inherited the apartment from her grandmother and had installed a new bathroom. But it gave us an idea how most Greeks live – in small dark apartments with few windows as natural light – and heat – is the eneny for most of the year, The only window opened onto a tiny balcony that looked down on a rubbish strewn courtyard. But the residents were friendly, when we hit a doorbell instaed of the light switch in the dark corridor, the old lady who answered just laughed at us and waved off our apologies.

We couldn’t leave Corinth without visiting its number one attraction – the Corinth Canal, a true engineering feat. Although, there weren’t any ships going through while we dawdled on some of the bridges, it was still beautiful

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Onwards to sprawling Athens (we paid road tolls this time- a first for us) and what a surprising delight Athens was. This was our first visit and our expectations were low but in the November sunshine the city glowed. We parked in an underground carpark about 15 minutes walk from the Acropolis where the parking attendent was so helpful, I asked if he was a tour guide. I have wanted to visit theAcropolis for a long time and it didn’t disappoint – the photos describe it better than I ever could. The buzz of English speaking voices (British, American and Aussie)in the short queue was a novelty for us, we are usually surrounded by Greek voices (that shouldnt be a surprise in Greece). Outside the Pantheon, Caoimhin pulled a half bar of chocolate from his pocket, I had some in my mouth, when we heard a whistle blowing and a large middle-aged woman descended on us telling us that it was forbidden to eat. We apologised, swallowed our chocolate and laughter because as soon as we had entered the Acropolis, we had sat under a tree and happily munched on pasta salad and olives that we had brought with us without realising that we had transgressed any rules. But it entertained us to hear the frequent whistle and spot the latest culprit who had pulled out a sweet, a cigarette or gone the wrong way round although it wasn’t obvious which was the ‘right’ way. The markings on the votive pillars where almost three thousand years ago, people’s requests were carved in stone and offerings made for health or weath or the blessing of children. Little changes.

So now we will take the early morning ferry from here in Hydra back to Pireaus , pick up the Guzzler which we parked in a parking bay at the port and head towards Delphi to see if the oracle can tell us anything about the future. There has been an increase in Covid restrictions since Saturday (Nov 6) here in Greece and now a Covid cert must be produced even to sit outside a restaurant. Apparently some non vaccinated people can only eat by having their meals delived to their hotels according to my new friend, the jeweller down the road. So until next time, thanks for reading….congratulations if you made it to the end!

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everthing

That’s how the light gets in

– Leonard Cohen