An Adventure in Greece

A tale of leaving the rat race and attempting to settle on an island in Greece in 1989

An Adventure in Greece by Rod Blakeman

 

 

Chapter One " The Journey

 

I have visited Greece many times and have spent time on both the mainland and the various islands, but the episode I am going to tell you about is about my stay on the Island of Skiathos in 1989.

 

I had driven over to Greece from England via a ferry from England to France, and another from Italy to Greece. It was a long journey, which I thoroughly enjoyed, even though I was on my own.

 

The lonesome traveller wasn't alone for long though, after two weeks parked on a beach just outside Athens in my large motorhome I was heading for Athens Airport to pick up my wife and child who had taken the easier and supposedly more comfortable travel option.

 

I arrived at the Ellinikon International Airport, which had been operational for 50 years at the time, but has recently (2001) been replaced by the new build of Athens International Airport. It was a tiny place just up from the beach and adjoining a golf course and I was surprised to find military vehicles, complete with machine gun toting army personnel guarding the entrance/exit.

 

In England at the time everything to do with security was very low key, maybe a policeman or two, but nothing like this.

 

After getting over the initial thought that there had been another military coup, I parked my van and strolled into the terminal to await my nearest and dearest.

 

I watched the plane land, the doors open, and then my wife and child appear at the exit door of the plane.

 

They both saw me almost immediately and their beaming smiles and excited waving brought a lump to my throat, and a tear to my eye.

 

The reunion was wonderful, I do not think you could have found a happier trio if you had searched the length and breadth of the entire World.

 

We walked over to the gleaming red and white van that was literally sparkling in the Greek sunshine, I had spent the previous evening cleaning off the dust and dirt from the 2,600-mile journey and by the look on their faces it had been worth it.

 

They both wanted to know about my journey, and what I had been doing while I had been waiting for them, and they listened intently as I informed them that I had already had many adventures.

 

Before I left England, I exchanged just enough money to pay for fuel and a few meals in both France and Italy, the rest I was going to change into Greek Drachma when I arrived at my destination.

 

I told them about getting lost going through France, and then running out of Francs because of the extra fuel bills. I told them about having pay for my fuel with Italian Lire even though I was still in France. About then running out of Lire and having to use my "traveller’s cheques' to pay for the ferry to Greece. It had been fun trying to explain all this to the various 'helpful' officials that I had encountered, and with nothing but English and the waving of my hands.

 

Unlike today when almost everyone everywhere seems to be able to speak English, at this time that was not the case. Everyone I met spoke the language of that country, and nothing else. It made for an interesting trip.

 

Once I had told the story of my journey, I then told them about my experiences while parked on Glyfada beach. It was still the first week in January but the weather had been amazing, the water was cold but I had been able to spend every day sunbathing. I had met a few other travellers, an Australian that was living in an old bus, and a few English and Danes that were travelling around in very posh motorhomes.

 

I got quite friendly with the Aussie, and it turned out his bus was fitted with bunk beds and a kitchen, he picked up holidaymakers at the airport and drove them around the country for a week, before depositing them back at the airport for their journey home. He had been doing this for years and had been all over Europe doing the same thing.

 

He used to park on a plateau that overlooked the beach, and at the time my red and white motorhome and me.

 

Each night while I was on my own I would fall asleep listening to the waves and usually engrossed in a book, It was such a relaxing and enjoyable time until...

 

One evening the wind got up quite strong, and being in a van with great suspension, I found that I was rocking to and thro so much that I could not even concentrate on reading. The sounds outside were fantastic as I could hear the roar of a storm battering the beach and that was entertainment enough.

 

Suddenly I heard some shouting that seemed to be coming from above, and looking out of my window, I could see my Aussie pal waving a torch around in the air. I went to the door, opened it against the storm and looked up at him asking what the problem was.

 

He pointed down at what was once the beach and what I saw was waves. they were halfway up the tires and looked like they were rising. I quickly realised that to attempt to drive myself out of this was a non-starter and my only option was to hope for the best.

 

I relaxed and enjoyed the ride; it was like being in a hammock. The van was rocking, it was even on occasions moving a few feet back and forwards, but I kept an eye on the rising tide and it didn't seem to be getting any higher.

 

Sometime through the night, I dozed off and did not wake again until there was a knock on the door of the van. My Aussie pal was there laughing.

 

"I can't believe you got through that, I looked out at one time and you were some 100 meters from the shore. I came out onto the beach and he was quite right. I had parked next to a stout tree that was on a slight hill and had obviously survived many previous storms. When this storm tide had come in the previous night it had bypassed both me and the tree and showing by all the driftwood further up the beach had encircled the pair of us to the extreme.

 

I spent the next day walking along the beach collecting driftwood for the stove in my new friend’s bus.

 

After my wife and less curious son had experienced a few hours of tales we were all up to date, and we were back on the beach that had become my temporary home. My son was playing in the now sedate waves while Jayne and I caught up on a few cuddles over a glass or two of white wine.

 

During the evening, we poured over a map of Greece and decided on our destination. There being no internet in those days so this was simply, choose a destination, read a few lines in a travel book and then head in that direction.

 

We chose Skyros, a supposedly beautiful island full of olive trees, and surrounded by beautiful beaches.

 

To get there meant a further drive of some 150 miles, across a land bridge onto the island of Evia, across to Kymi, and then a ferry ride to the island.

 

The next morning we set off to complete our journey, the sun was shining, the air was sweet, and the traffic was non-existent. The trip was exciting and the roads were sometimes a little threadbare giving us a true feeling of going into the unknown.

 

We stopped at a few villages on the way, got ice creams, and enjoyed the beautiful views. We went high up, and came down roads with more bends than I had ever previously experienced, all in all it was hard work on the driver but great fun at the same time.

 

Eventually we arrived at the port of Kymi.

 

It consisted of a parking area about the size of a postage stamp, and a small hut.

 

On the hut was a sign.

 

"Next Sailing MARCH 30th"

 

If you remember it was early January at the time.

 

I jokingly asked Jayne if she wanted to wait, or should we try somewhere else.

 

Happily, she went for the second option and once again out came the map of Greece.

 

We decided on Skiathos, another long journey back the way we had just come, and then along the coast north for 150 miles to the Aghios Constantinos for the connecting ferry... we hoped.

 

We stayed the day at Kymi, playing in the waves with my boy, and then eating at the solitary taverna that was open.

 

The water was sparkling clear, and warmer even in the winter than I had ever experienced in an English Summer. I knew I had made the right decision coming to Greece, even without a job or any other concrete plans in my head.

 

I had a bit of money, and approximately 2,000 English books, my backup plan was if I couldn't find any work I would sell books to the English tourists in the summer.

 

It seemed a good idea at the time.

 

We got to Aghios Constantinos only to find that they only took foot passengers. The port official pointed us in the direction of the port of Volos... yet another 150 miles.

 

Was I getting irritated by this time, was I thinking will this never end?

 

Not at all, I was enjoying it.

 

As we arrived in Volos the weather changed, the storm that I had encountered a few days previously came back to haunt me. The beautiful blue skies turned a deep black, and the waves outside the port looked dark, forbidding, and angry.

 

Not being the best of sailors... as in my stomach turns at the slightest ripple when out at sea... I was not that keen on boarding, but after a quick chat with an official, I discovered this would be the last sailing for a few days as they expected the weather to get even worse. I braved it up and drove my small compact family aboard the rocking vessel.

 

We parked the van below decks and climbed up the metal stairways until we reached the top deck. The view was incredible, we were looking back at the port and in the distance, the snow capped mountain of Volos. Also in the distance was some blue sky, but closer to hand it was as black as night and a few lightning bolts were being hurled around.

 

The boat set off on its four-hour journey at 11am, by 11.15 I was hanging on for dear life as the boat bobbed along on waves that every self-respecting dolphin would do their best to avoid.

 

My stomach was in the lap of the gods, it certainly was not where it should have been. I had not been sick, though just about everyone else had been. My wife and son were in a bad way and they were in the toilets talking to the big white telephone.

 

The rain was coming down in buckets so everyone was now inside, and everyone that was not being sick seemed to be smoking, it was horrible.

 

Out of the window I could see an island, was it Skiathos? I had no idea.

 

I waited, everyone waited, the boat bobbed and weaved, we still waited.

 

Then there was an announcement... all in Greek.

 

The boat turned round and headed back to Volos. It seems the waves were so high that it could not dock. In all we had journeyed 4 hours, waited 3 hours, and then journeyed back another 4 hours.

 

We drove off the boat at 10pm as though we had been on our very own nightmare. My boy looked green, my wife looked green, and I apparently I also looked green.

 

We stayed on the dock for 3 days, every two hours the next sailing was put back another 2 hours. This meant we could not go anywhere, we just had to stay at the dock ready to board any moment. Most other travellers were either in cars or on foot, so they were as uncomfortable as they could be. We had a home on wheels, a shower, cooking facilities, a TV, a video, a fridge... and most of all... beds.

 

The weather calmed and we re-boarded the vessel. this time we were seasoned travellers and enjoyed the trip. The weather was not great, but it was clear enough to see all the passing islands, and on our left the mainland.

 

This time we had set off at 3pm and arrived at Skiathos at 7.30pm. The boat docked and we drove onto the island that was to become our home for the immediate future.

 

Chapter 2 " Dry Land

 

We had no map of Skiathos and it was already getting dark. We drove along a road, parked, crawled into bed, and went to sleep.

 

The next morning we woke to find ourselves alongside a beautiful sandy beach and more than that, we had sunshine. There was a small hut that in the summer served as a beach bar, and nothing else for about 500 meters, it was idyllic.

 

After having a swim in what felt like an icy cold sea we washed, dressed, and walked into town.

 

The port of Skiathos is also the main town, and it was stunningly beautiful. Today it is all bars and nightclubs, along with what seems millions of tourist shops, but in the early 1980’s it was a simple wonderful place. It was peaceful with brightly coloured buildings, and the smell of freshly baked bread seemed to be everywhere. However, most of all, it was the thousand smiling faces that endeared me to the town.

 

Everyone we met, (and they were all Greeks) stopped and said "Kalimera" (Good Morning), they all wanted to know our boys name, and all bent down to shake his hand or ruffle his hair. We had given our boy the name of "Budgie", after a TV programme of the 1970's. Where in England every one questioned the name and thought we were strange to give him such an unusual name, in Greece they merely smiled happily and treated him like a prince.

 

Budgie was only two and a half years old but apart from when he was unwrapping Christmas presents a few weeks earlier, I had never seen him so happy. He was the centre of attention and loved all the limelight.

 

My Greek was patchy; I had been teaching myself from a book for the last couple of years but had not progressed much further than the basics. I knew all the foodstuffs, all the colours and greetings, but putting a sentence together was near impossible for me.

 

We strolled around the village that was full of lanes and lovely coloured houses. Some white with blue doors and window frames, others pink and green, it was like having your body infused with adrenaline. All three of us were wearing smiles as big as the sun and every greeting and turning of a corner the smiles got bigger and bigger.

 

We visited the local stores and saw delicacies that we had seen before on previous trips, but this time it was our home, so it was so much more important and exciting.

 

We all loved the Greek food with Budgie absolutely adoring kalamari, (rings of squid in batter), and Jayne and myself loving Stifado, (a beef, rabbit or veal stew) I was also partial to a drop of the Greek resinated wine, Retsina, especially when it was homemade. So that was one of my first challenges, to find the local wine store.

 

We had a great day and then decided after a good lunch that we had better search for a serious contender for a permanent parking spot. We drove along the one road past the airport, then I followed some tyre tracks along the beach until I found a lovely grassy area where I could park up.

 

We had not checked out any laws and I wondered how long it would be before some official moved us onto a camping ground... if there was one.

 

The next morning there was a knock on the door.

 

Budgie ran towards the door and opened it before I had even managed to get out of bed. the next second all I was hearing was a garbled conversation, half child English and the other half laughing Greek.

 

Budgie rushed back to me with three steaming cheese pies, and from the door, I heard "prino, prino" (breakfast, breakfast)

 

I got to the door to see a Land Rover driving away at high speed and a hand waving from the window.

 

We settled down to our breakfast of beautiful hot cheese pies and a newly brewed cup of coffee.

 

The sun was already shining at seven in the morning on a winters day. Could this get much better?

 

I spent a good deal of the day kicking a football back and forwards with Budgie, while Jayne reorganised the van. We had a tent with us, which we put up and placed everything we did not immediately need so that we had more room in the van. I forgot to mention this earlier but I had been towing a collapsible caravan, this we put up and it was now going to be our permanent bedroom, meaning that we did not have to rearrange everything every time we went for a drive.

 

So there we were in the middle of a field, a beach in front of us, and the side of a small mountain behind us, to one side the airport runway (two flights a week), and the other an olive grove... and mysterious strangers that delivered our breakfast.

 

Within three of four days, we had met members of all the local families, they all welcomed us, and all had beaming smiles on their faces, (especially when I tried out my Greek).

 

One morning Budgie and I decided to climb the small mountain, not realising that on the top was the small village where all our visitors lived. It took us an hour but Budgie made it to the top without any help from me (Waving me away every time I offered to help with "No daddy, on my own."

 

On arriving at the tiny village, maybe a dozen small houses, we heard an old granny shouting to us, she gave us a beaming smile with her solitary tooth, and cackled away at her joy to see us. We had not seen any of the old folks but they knew all about us and were so excited to see us. They could not understand how we had climbed up the mountain, and were complimenting Budgie on how strong he was. He loved all the attention.

 

Within moments, every house had a granny at the gate, and everyone had a present for us. We left after an hour with eggs, herbs, cake, sweets, and had drunk enough glasses of pop to last me a lifetime.

 

When we arrived back at our 'home’, Jayne rushed out to us as though we had been missing for months. After a telling off for not taking her, she was near tears at how nice everyone had been since we had arrived on the island.

 

After years of living in London where you only ever met your neighbours when they were complaining about something, this was truly a wonderful experience.

 

So there you have it.

 

We were now living on a beautiful island, full of lovely friendly people. We were experiencing friendships we had never thought possible... we were happy.

 

Chapter 3 " A Bit of Barbed Wire

 

I awoke in the morning to the sound of rain, not the pitter patter that you would normally hear on your roof but a more ferocious happening.

 

Looking out of the doorway I was looking at the proverbial stair rods, it was coming down like there was no tomorrow.

 

The storm that I had already encountered twice before in the few weeks I had been in Greece had returned once more, and it seemed like it had brought a few friends with it to enjoy the party.

 

Looking over at the airport runway, I could see the water bouncing back up off the ground as if the raindrops were made of rubber. The area surrounding my little encampment was sodden and rather than sinking into the ground, we were starting to encounter the beginning of a large lake. Looking out in the direction of the sea, we could see sparkling colours that would have outshone a rainbow. It was truly glorious how the sun was still breaking through and hitting the water amidst this stupendous storm.

 

After what seemed an eternity I turned away from this wondrous vision and looked at my son who was still sound asleep after the strains of the previous days mountain climbing.

 

"Coffee or tea" I asked my wife as I struck a match and lit the gas.

 

Jayne went for the latter and added that we were unlikely to see any cheese pies this morning.

 

The waves were right up on the beach and the tracks that we had previously used to find our camping ground were now awash with seawater.

 

As far as we knew this road was the only way into town. The only other road we were aware of led to the mountain village, and this turned into a track that was only fit for a donkey.

 

After about two hours, the rain eased off and the sun really started to make its presence felt. You could see the steam coming off the runway and the lake disappearing into nothing as it soaked into the ground. The waves vanished and within moments we had a calm plate of glass that looked like a mirror with an occasional twinkle as the final drops of rain hit the surface and melted into nothingness.

 

With yet another kettle boiling and yet more teabags waiting we settled down to planning the day. Would we risk a drive... or maybe a walk into town, or would we curl up and read one of my many books.

 

"What was that?" said Jayne.

 

"Sounded like a car horn," I replied, rising again from my seat and going to the open door.

 

Stuck halfway across a bridge, (which I had not previously known existed) was a Ford Transit van, the driver was waving to me out of his window and calling "Ella, Ella" (Come, Come).

 

I made my way across the sodden field and realised that not only was his van stuck, but so was he. The van had spluttered to a halt halfway across the bridge, and it was so narrow that he could not open the doors to get out.

 

My Greek was not up to what he was saying but being a dab hand at expressions made with the hands, arms and face I quickly surmised that he wanted a tow.

 

I returned to my van instructing Jayne to tie down anything that would fall and jumped into the driver’s seat. I then drove carefully across to where my latest friend was imprisoned; all we need now is a towrope.

 

I could not believe it, I knew I had one, but where. I searched, Jayne searched, even Budgie, who was now fully awake and dressed in blue fluffy dressing gown searched, but to no avail, I had left it back in England, or maybe it was just hiding.

 

I was at a bit of a loss now and having explained to the frustrated driver of the van in my best Greek so was he.

 

Then I saw it.

 

A length of barbed wire coiled up on the ground a few feet from the bridge.

 

Within a few minutes, I had coiled a length around my tow-bar, and some more around the transit vans axle.

 

I jumped back in the van telling Jayne and Budgie to retire to the caravan and shut the door. "Why?" asks Jayne.

 

"Just in case it snaps," I reply.

 

I started my van and slowly brought the barbed wire up nice and taut. Slowly it took up the strain and I could see in my side mirror the once stationary transit start to roll across the bridge.

 

Just as it looked like we were safely across the Greek decided to try and start his engine. I felt the tug on the barbed wire as the engine tried to catch. It caught and the engine fired up...

 

Then whip... the wire snapped and came at my wing mirror like a bolt of lightning.

 

It literally wrapped itself around my mirror, strangling it with its barbed spikes before finally coming to a pinging halt... before partially unravelling itself and swinging gently to and thro.

 

I reckon that if anyone... namely Jayne or Budgie, had been in its line of fire, it would have sliced them in half.

 

With the transit engine running, the Greek jumped out of the van and encased me in a bear hug. "Filos mou, Filos mou" (My friend, My friend).

 

Between us, we unravelled the remaining barbed wire and there and then became friends for life. For all I know in the ensuing conversation I could have accepted an offer of a night out drinking or promised to donate my life savings to his elderly aunt. It was a conversation where I understood precisely nothing.

 

He drove off laughing and waving, straight onto the beach that had now reappeared, and off into town.

 

Shortly after we followed him, leaving behind our tent full of our possessions, and our caravan/bedroom on wheels. Did we worry about the safety of everything, of course not; we knew everything would be safe.

 

When we returned four or five hours later we found much to our surprise someone had visited our 'home'.

 

Was anything missing?

 

No.

 

How did we know someone had been visiting?

 

Well the flagon of Retsina wine, (for me) and the bottle of Coca Cola, (for Budgie) were the giveaway, that and a bunch of coriander for Jayne.

 

Chapter 4 " Skiathos Town

 

I had visited Greece many times before and shortly before this trip had spent a month on the island of Andros, so the Greek shopping experience was nothing new to me. I knew what the shops stocked, and more importantly, I had enough of the Greek language to ask for something when I could not see it.

Shopping in Skiathos was different though, everywhere in Greece has its own uniqueness, and Skiathos had a uniqueness I loved.

We had been on the island for about a week and had not really explored anything yet. The weather had been a bit temperamental and we had flitted into town, brought bread, yoghurt, and cheese pies and flitted out again. We then spent our time either on the beach if it was sunny, or in a taverna sheltering from the rain.

Today was different though, for today we had planned to map out the town, marking where the different shops and taverna’s were.

We got into a nice routine where when we wanted to drive somewhere we would collect up anything “that was not nailed down”, and put it in the washing-up bowl. Then place the bowl in the tent. On some occasions, you might find a bottle of olive oil, a pair of nail scissors, a couple of mugs and a bag of crisps all together in the bowl. The motorhome had plenty of cupboard space and Jayne had organised everything really well, and also ensured that everything was kept tidy and in its right place. The last thing she wanted was me stuffing anything and everything into the nearest cupboard.

Therefore, we did our clearing up trick and headed into town.

We drove along 'our' beach and then along the tarmac road that ran alongside the runway until we came to the opposite beach that led into town. It was a lovely drive that we took our time over, looking at all the trees and vegetation and noting the few houses that were along the route. It wasn't like London where everything seemed grey and dirty, everything on the island of Skiathos was clean, fresh, and bright.

As we came up to the first houses that were opposite the outer harbour, we parked the van and started our walk through the many roads and lanes of Skiathos Town.

We had a pad of A4 paper and we started creating our very own town map.

I used to be good at technical drawing when I was at school so thought this would be a piece of cake. A map of a small town, how hard can it be?

I got to work drawing the coastline around the port and town, then the 'high street' that ran right down to the water’s edge where we had docked a week earlier. I marked off taverna’s, a bike hire shop, the port office, a bakers, a butchers, all closed... it was Sunday.

We did find a few places open, and as the day woke up so did a few more shops and eventually a couple of excellent tavernas. 

We found the school at the top of the high street, a shop that sold gas bottles, (for the van) and so many nameless streets.

I marked them all down as best I could and was now on my third piece of paper... I could see a jigsaw of maps being pieced together later in the day.

As we were coming down a street Jayne remarked on the beautiful aroma of freshly baked bread, and on turning the corner we came out into a small square that contained a church and what was to become our favourite bakers.

We of course crossed the square and purchased a couple of cheese pies, and turned to look for somewhere to sit while we ate them.

It was at this moment that we discovered the inner harbour.

It was a pure dream, there were steps leading down from the square to a tiny harbour of gaily-coloured fishing boats. We sat on the steps eating our pies while we feasted our eyes on the scene. 

 

All the while, we had been walking, we were receiving greetings from everyone we saw, and Budgie was again the centre of attention. Now that we were sitting down people stopped and shook our hands, waved and expressed their joy that we were here. Budgie noticed a couple of children playing on the other side of the square and ran, or should I say wobbled, over to them. They were straight away the best of friends with the Greek boys patting their chests and saying "To onoma mou einai...." (my name is....). Within moments, Budgie was speaking Greek. "To onoma mou einai Budgie". The laughter of his two new friends, Nikos and Georgos, showed how much they appreciated his efforts.

We finished our pies and walked down to the harbour where I again practiced my Greek and ordered a beer and a glass of wine. Budgie was busy playing and entertaining by everyone, he had no time for drinking.

The day got better and better as a lad of about thirty came up to me and asked if I spoke English.

He was South African and was in charge of renovating a hotel at the other end of the Island. Would I be interested in some work?

He had seen me a couple of times during the previous week and some Greek friends had told him we were going to stay the summer so he had come looking for us to offer us some work.

We agreed that I would take up employment for two months, from March until May. I would be painting and decorating, and the work may last longer if I wanted to serve behind the bar.

Mark left us to enjoy our drinks and I turned to Jayne and winked, "I told you work wouldn't be a problem"

She laughed and replied... "You have just left one of the biggest casinos in London where you were earning a fortune and in charge of over one hundred staff, and now you are going to be painting a hotel for £10 a day".

I raised my glass, gave her a beaming smile and said "Yamas" (Cheers)

 

Chapter 5 " Exploring the Island

 

After meeting Mark and being informed the hotel he wanted me to work at was just above Koukounaries Beach we decided to do a bit of exploring.

Where we had parked the van and set up camp was lovely, but after we had looked at the few postcards that were for sale at the kiosks, we quickly realised that there were more beautiful places on offer.

Although we were tidy and our van, caravan, and tent were all spick and span we did not want to be a blot on the landscape, so were looking for somewhere that was out of the way. We had already found a convenient place to fill up with water and dispose of waste at an old army camp so that was no problem.

It didn't take us long to find out that there was only one real road on the island, and that led from our beach, past the airport, through the outskirts of the town, and along to Koukounaries Beach. It was about 7 miles long.



We loved the journey and when we were about halfway we found an area full of the most beautiful houses, it was a place called Kanapitsa. It was a small piece of land that was jutting out from the island and they had covered it in what looked like million dollar homes. Swimming pools were abundant and whitewashed walls gleamed in the January sunshine. We passed by at snails pace and both fell in love with a prominent white (most of them were white) house that made me think "if only I had saved a few quid when I was working in London".

We carried on past this piece of heaven and carried on to the end of the road. Most of it was a bending hilly traverse that ran alongside the beautiful azure sea; I knew this was where I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

When we arrived at Koukounaries Beach, things just got better and better. The beach was what looked like a mile long of soft yellow sand with a gentle ripple of water encroaching a few feet on each wave before sliding back into the sea.

It did not take us long before swimsuits were on, and we were splashing about in the water. At first, it felt icy cold, but very soon, our ankles got used to it, and then our calves, and maybe soon our knees.

We walked and walked but it did not get any deeper, it must be the most child friendly beach in existence.

Budgie loved it and so did we. There were fish everywhere, tiny little things, not more than two inches long and far from dispersing they encircled us.

Whenever we stopped walking they would start nipping at our legs, nothing painful, it was more like a kiss than anything else. After getting over the thought that we had encountered baby piranha's we quickly relaxed to enjoy their company with Budgie giggling like he was being tickled by a feather.

We did the normal family things in kicking and throwing a ball back and forwards between us. I gave up on finding a place deep enough to swim and busied myself holding Budgie while he kicked his legs and propelled his arms like a whirlwind. Whenever I let go he went into total panic and screamed for all he was worth.

This had me in fits of laughter to which I got the admonishment "Daddy, don't laugh, I'm scared"

We spent the whole morning on the beach before returning to the van for a snack, and then decided to walk the length of the beach to where we could see a small harbour. It was a glorious day, the first of many.

After exploring the natural harbour and walking back through a piece of land that had all the characteristics of a nature reserve we started on the journey back to Skiathos Town.

We hadn't driven more than a hundred meters when we saw a sign to Xenia Hotel. This was the hotel I had been signed up to paint, and we just had to have a look at it.

We drove up the short but twisting road and came to the carpark of what looked like an abandoned hotel. Nobody was in residence and the door was open so we strolled through to the massive balcony on the other side.

It was amazing, the view looked down over both Koukounaries and its own private beach. Could I work here for a few months? You bet I could.

We left the place of my future employment and got back on the main road and after a mile or so found yet another turning with a wooden sign "Aselinos Beach".

We took the road and found after a few miles a camping site, perfect we thought, sorted.

Such a shame that the campsite had closed for the winter.

We carried on, and 50 meters past the campsite was Aselinos Beach. It was a pebble beach and set in a cove, but still looked idyllic. It did not take long for the pair of us to decide that we would set up camp down on the beach for a few days and see if we liked it better than where we were.

So back to our camp, up sticks and then off to our newly discovered paradise.

We stayed there for six weeks, enjoying the swimming and the peace and quiet before we again upped sticks and took a room at the hotel where I was to be working for the next two months.

 

Chapter 6 " The Xenia Hotel

 

I arrived for my first day’s work at the Xenia, parked my van and put a brew on as I waited for Mark and the rest of the crew to turn up.

 

Budgie was out in a trice and sitting in his "Noddy Car". This was the first flat surface we had been to since he had arrived in Greece and he loved it, peddling it around, and around the car park.

Mark arrived in a Jeep along with a lad from New Zealand who had some plumbing experience. The next person to arrive was a local Greek by the name of Vasili who was an electrician. His wife Mary, who was going to be providing our meals, accompanied him.

 

We then went for a tour around the hotel... what a mess.

 

Mark told us it had been empty since the end of the previous summer. All the rooms had patios or balconies whose doors had come open, and the wind and rain of the winter had poured in soaking the mattresses and staining the peeling walls.

 

On looking at the dreadful state of the hotel, I reckoned that Mark had been misinformed, and it had been empty for at least five years.

 

We got to work manhandling all the accumulated rubbish from the premises, piling it up in the car park and trying to burn it. Some of the items were so wet that they steamed rather than burnt.

 

We had been doing this for about 3 hours when all of a sudden we heard bells.

 

Yes you have guessed it... the fire engine had arrived.

 

It was only a small one and had managed to manoeuvre its way up the twisted road. They screeched to a halt in the car park, saw my tribute to 'Guy Fawkes', laughed, and then turned around to whence they had come.

 

It took us a couple of days just to clear the rubbish, and another to lift all the sodden mattresses, (all 64 of them) to the car park, where we left them to dry in the sun. Some of them stunk of mould and ended up on the fire, but most of them got a new lease of life after they we washed them in disinfectant and left them to dry.

 

Vasili got to work on the electrics, with a bit of help from myself when it was a two-man job. Kevin, the New Zealand plumber had his work cut out with leaks and blockages. He pulled more than one dead rat out of the many pipes that were all over the building. Mark was mainly managing the project and arranging lunchtime activities... trips around the island in the speedboat, picnics on deserted beaches, water skiing across the bay, yes Mark really had his hands full.

 

My main job was painting, but after a couple of weeks I was also building and fixing, in fact anything that needed doing, I did it.

 

When after three weeks Mark said he was returning to South Africa for a month he put me in charge and gave us all a list of things to do.

 

Kevin and Vasili had three or four jobs to complete, while I had three or four pages of jobs to complete. Mark pointed out that I was a workaholic and that I would still have all mine done before the other two were halfway through their jobs. This caused laughter... I still do not know why.

 

I painted 32 bedrooms, 32 bathrooms, hallways on two floors, the whole of the reception, and the outside of the hotel, every inch of it.

 

I also dug up every flower bed, about fifty flower boxes, which I also painted, and built a giant pergola structure to cover the patio outside the restaurant so that the diners could enjoy the great views, but be protected from the beating sun in the height of summer.

 

Everyone else stayed in town and drove out every day, while Jayne, Budgie and I lived in a room of the hotel.

 

I would start my day at around 7am by going out on the balcony to sit in my favourite chair while Jayne made the three of us a wonderful breakfast. We would sit enjoying the fresh food and ice-cold juice from freshly squeezed oranges, (which we kept in the fridge).

 

I would wait until I spotted Mark's Jeep coming around the bend about a mile away before getting to work, when they all bustled into the hotel I would be hard at it and quickly take up their suggestion to have a break and a cup of tea.

 

We had some great experiences while we were there and became great friends with the owner of the local (only) taverna. His name was George and we would go down most evenings for a bite to eat and a few beers.

 

When Easter came round, we were the guests of honour at his family party. He invited all his relatives to the special eater celebration where they cook a whole lamb. They came from as far away as Athens for this special day, Easter being a massive celebration in Greece, and seemingly to far outdo the Christmas celebrations in England.

 

I was asked if I would turn up early on the day and help with the preparations, I was delighted to do so and along with Jayne and Budgie were at the taverna at 7 in the morning.

 

We collected wood for the fire, helped put the two lambs on the spits, and then turned them. What a job, sitting a foot away from a fire and turning the lamb on the spit by hand for about 5 hours. No wonder we were guests of honour.

We had a great time; Budgie was once again in his element as everyone fussed over him as if he was a member of the family. George kept me supplied with Retsina, the flagons just kept coming, and I kept drinking. Jayne looked beautiful, dressed up like a sexy nymph and the fact that she was now pregnant hardly showed... pregnant?

 

Yes, my darling wife was expecting again and I had only just noticed. It seems that she had known for months but didn't want to worry me with the news. Being a tiny little redhead with a sexy little body it now became obvious why she had taken to wearing her version of a 'sari' dress.

 

I was delighted of course and when Budgie was informed he was soon to have a little brother or sister he immediately wanted to play with 'it'. "Where is he, I want to play, he can share my toys"

 

"Budgie, it might be a little girl," I said.

 

"I don't want a girl, they're silly" he replied.

 

Good lad I thought, nothing like a bit of sex discrimination, taking after his good old dad.

 

We had a great time at the party and received numerous invites to visit the other guests, mostly family members. If they had been handing out business cards, I would have needed a carrier bag. As it was the invites were all word of mouth and forgotten by the next morning.

 

The following night we accepted an invite into town for a meal at an incredible restaurant. It had been built into the cliffs, about 50 feet above the sea. It was not that high, but high enough to make you take a deep breath when you looked over the side.

 

We set off from the Xenia at 7pm for dinner at 8pm. What had been a beautiful weekend with lovely weather turned into another storm like we had first experienced when we arrived on the island.

 

Jayne did not want to go, "The weather is too bad, and you can't drive in this".

 

I did of course; nothing was keeping me from a freebie night on the town.

 

As we drove along the wind and rain battered our van, the windscreen wipers were going ten to the dozen and they still could not cope.

 

Suddenly out of nowhere came a dirty great oilcan, one of these 4ft high thingies that they have at petrol stations. It bounced on the road in front of me and disappeared over the cliff on the other side of the road.

 

Then another oil can arrived, then another, then three at once. Rubbish was also flying through the air and when a soaking wet copy of the local Greek newspaper planted itself on my windscreen only to see it tangled up in the wipers, I had no choice but to grind to a halt and battle my way through the downpour to release it into the hurricane that was now upon us.

 

We made it safely into town, had a great evening, and returned in much calmer weather. The flying cans turned out to be from a village that we had not yet discovered. They were the bins that were at the end of the village and had been uplifted by the winds and deposited on the road below. When I saw them close up a few days later, I was surprised we got through it unscathed. If one of them had hit our windscreen, the outcome could have been quite different. Next time the weather gets that bad; I will be staying home and opening a can of beans.

 

We did work hard though and got everything done before the hotel opened for business on the 1^st of May. The place looked an absolute dream and when the staff (all English and about 18 years of age) arrived, they loved the place. We dug out a few photos of how the place looked before the renovations; they did not believe it was the same place.

 

I stayed on while everyone settled in before making a tactical withdrawal... I had had enough of the hotel and fancied a few months on the beach trying to sell my two thousand English books to the tourists that were now flooding the island.

 

Jayne was a little upset to be leaving her room and the convenience of the hot showers, along with the laundry facilities, but she could see that I'd had enough so didn't complain too much.

 

Budgie waved goodbye to all his latest admirers and we headed down the twisting track back to Aselinos to see if the campsite was open.

 

It was not.

 

Chapter 7 " Aselinos Beach

 

Returning to Aselinos Beach was something that I had been looking forward to for the last couple of weeks. I had not made the arduous journey, all of three miles, to check whether the campsite had reopened for the summer visitors for the simple fact that I didn't want to know.

 

If I had been informed it was not going to open for a week, two weeks, a month, or longer I would have been put in the position of having to decide what was better, and staying at the hotel would have won. This way, after all the goodbyes, we just had to make do, or swallow our pride and go back. Not even Jayne would do that to me.

 

So here we were, parked on the beach with again, with only our motorhome facilities to keep us in comfort. It wasn't a trial, far from it, it was still a wonderful way to live.

 

I had a generator for the van that was very efficient and not very noisy; it helped when we were in such a situation, and when it was running we would do everything at once. The vacuuming, the laundry, watch a film, anything that needed electricity was utilised. Yes, in my van I had everything you could ever possibly need, vacuum cleaner, washing machine, spin dryer, tumble dryer, TV, video player, music system, I even had a hair dryer.

 

We had a great evening enjoying our own company, and even Budgie seemed happy to get more attention from me instead of seeing me with a paintbrush in my hand every day.

 

The next morning we got a knock on the door of the van. We had all slept inside the previous night, not having got around to setting up the collapsible caravan and tent.

 

I have to admit I was a little worried, and had in my mind the fact that I had been very lucky so far and got by without anyone asking me to move, or worse still reporting me to the police.

 

I opened the door and met the owner of the campsite, who introduced himself, as another George.

 

He informed me that the campsite would not be open for another two weeks, but that I was welcome to set up camp today... free of charge.

 

“For free” I enquired, “why?”

 

George was quick to explain the dynamics of his industry to me.

 

"If you are parked here and others see you they will do the same and I will earn no money through the summer, but if you set up camp on the site then everyone will see that we are open for business and join you".

 

It was the same scenario as when you go into an empty restaurant and the waiters cajole you into sitting by the window. Having someone eating in view attracts other customers.

 

I gratefully accepted his offer of being the first guests on his campsite, but assured him that as I intended to stay all summer, and maybe longer I would gladly pay. He would have none of it. "You are my guests, you will pay for nothing"

 

I had not met George before but it seems he knew of us, and we were very popular amongst the locals. The fact that I loved Greece so much and always ate the local food and drunk the local wine helped. Though the deciding factor was probably that I was continually attempting to converse in Greek, and that we had a lovely son who was the apple of everyone’s eye.

When George noticed that Jayne was pregnant, our kudos went up another notch... would he be born in Greece, would he take Greek nationality, the questions were endless.

 

We had the choice of the whole campsite, and chose a place within a stroll of both the showers and fresh water tap. There was a spring coming down from the small mountain, and it supplied the site with water for most of the year. With the recent rainfall, it might even last until the rain started again in November.

 

The campsite was even better than the beach, not just because of the facilities but because we were now shaded under the numerous olive trees. We weren't alone in those weeks before the season started proper as there was another family who were also in residence.

 

They were a family of turkeys.

 

Mother turkey would be on what seemed to us a continual march around the campsite with her eight turkey chicks chugging along behind. If we stayed beside our van, they would visit us three or four times a day, and normally the turkey would gain an additional chick as Budgie would join the queue and cluck along behind them.

 

We were still only a few hundred meters to the pebble beach and the crystal clear waters of the Aegean sea, and rarely a day went by without all three of us going for a swim. It was ... well I have said it before... it was pure heaven.

 

But of course, I couldn't laze around all day, I had my books to sell.

 

I checked around every few days visiting the various beaches, and apparently, there was a beach for every day of the year, 365 of them. What they did on a leap year I do not know.

 

It soon became clear that there were three main beaches, which the tourists were using, and these were to be my hunting ground. If I could not find an English tourist that wanted to buy a book, I was done for.

 

I was positive that all would be fine.

 

Chapter 8 " English Books

 

Before I left England I had spent a few days going around to all the second hand shops, (which have now been replaced by charity shops) and spent my time buying up thousands of English paperbacks.

 

I say thousands, but I never counted them so do not know the exact figure. It was certainly over two thousand, but probably not as many as three thousand. Who knows who really cares? I had many books, and they were for sale.

 

I had also brought with me a long collapsible table which was going to be my counter, it was about nine feet long and two feet wide.

 

Every morning I would park my van at the entrance to a beach and place the table alongside it. I would then put hundreds of books on top of the table, get my deckchair out and relax.

 

Business was slow at first, and I got a lot of "Oooh, look, English books, what a great idea" but few sales. It took me only a short while to come up with a workable system.

 

What I did was mark all the books on the inside cover with a coloured star representing their price, and then put up the following sign.

 

Red star = 500 drachma

Blue star = 400 drachma

Green star = 300 drachma

50% back on all returned books.

 

This worked a treat, not only was I selling the books but I was getting them back as well, and along with that the enterprising amongst them would bring back the book that they bought at the airport on the way over and wheel and deal for a price.

 

I learnt to park my van in town in the evenings in a prominent position and would come back to find carrier bags of books hanging from the wing mirrors. Many of the local English population that I did not even know existed thought it was a wonderful idea and brought boxes of books down for me, refusing any cash and just taking a book or two in return.

 

I became quite popular with everyone, and visited the three beaches promptly at the designated times. If I was late there would be a small crowd milling around waiting for me. I hadn't realised how much people read while on holiday, but some holidaymakers were taking two books a day from me... admittedly they were normally the Mills & Boon style novels, and rarely anything highbrow.

 

I kept a ledger of what I bought and sold with the thought in the back of my mind that maybe a taxman might suddenly appear.

 

After two months of good profits, it was now the beginning of July, everything stopped.

 

The local police picked me up and informed me that I had to fill out a form for a permit to sell, or I was breaking the law. They were very nice about it, showed me what to do and where to sign. They told me it would be processed, in a couple of weeks.

 

Jayne was getting bigger and bigger with the baby expected in late September and we had to decide what to do. Was it to be born on a Greek island or was she going home to mummy.

 

Eventually she chose the second option and we went about looking for a flight.

 

Meanwhile I was in limbo not being able to sell my books, and my permit not appearing. I started to contemplate driving back to England to be with Jayne while she gave birth, and then coming back out the following year. We even looked at a few small properties.

 

It got to the end of August and with one last visit to the police station and finding no permit, I made the decision to return with Jayne to England.

 

I visited as many of my new greek friends as I could to tell them what I was doing, and putting the blame on the police for not giving me a permit.

I had to find some excuse as telling them my wife didn't want to go into a Greek hospital would not have gone down to well.

 

Saying that, I should mention that the hospital on the island, along with the doctor were amazing when Budgie was ill. We arrived at the doctors in the middle of the night with a baby boy who was red as a tomato and suffering with a very high fever. The doctor stayed with him all night until the fever broke and asked about him every day from then onwards. We were so grateful to him that we had intended to name the new child after him, until we found that his name when translated into English had a rather strange meaning, which I won't bore you with here, but let's just say it was related to the male appendage.

 

We packed the van and headed down to the docks; dozens of people were waving to us as we drove down the high street and wishing us Kalo taxithi (Good Voyage).

 

Suddenly the door of the police station burst open and Fat Yannis  who was the chief of police on the island came running out waving a piece of paper.

 

"Stop, stop" he cried, "Your permit, it is here"

 

I pulled over and told Yannis that it was too late and I was off home to England.

 

"No, no, please stay, they will kill me if you don't stay"

 

It seems that Yannis had received the permit weeks ago but had decided not to give it to me as his nephew wanted to open an english book shop, and he didn't want the competition. When some of the locals heard they visited Yannis and gave him a right talking to.

 

But it was too late to change our minds, Jayne had waited until it was impossible for her to fly home, (doctors orders) and the only alternative was for me to drive her.

 

The book-selling season was soon to be over and I did not really want to be out here on my own so we forgave Yannis and told him we would be back next year with the new baby. He came down to the docks with us and made sure that everyone knew we were still friends; it was either that or risk getting himself lynched.

 

As I drove onto the ferry, I had a tear in my eye, and knew in my heart that I would not be back, the dream was over...

 

For now, at least.

 

The End... except for the journey home

 

Chapter 9 " The Journey Home

 

Standing on the top deck of the ferry and waving to my friends of the last eight months was a gut wrenching feeling. Budgie was crying, Jayne was crying, and unbelievably... I was... feeling sad.

 

We both knew we were doing the wrong thing; Jayne even contemplated having the baby in Greece, but... No, I knew she wanted her mum close by, so England... or rather Wales it was going to be.

 

After 4 hours in the sunshine aboard the ferry, we arrived once again at Volos.

 

We headed north and for some strange reason decided that our route was going to take us through Yugoslavia, Italy and France, a total journey of some 3,000 km's.

 

What could go wrong?

 

 As you will soon find out... Plenty.

 

To be continued in my follow up story which will be titled;

 

From Greece to England

Author's Note

This is an excerpt from my autobiography "The tales of a casino manager" and is about the time I tried to escape the rat race.