Garry’s instructions to me for the day were a walk to a local ruin and a u-drive motor boat excursion. Easy peasy.
We switched from the Ammos café to the bakery 50 metres from our accommodation for a quick bite before our 3 km hike to the Zygos monastery . Unbeknownst to us, 8 a.m. is peak hour at the café/bakery where pilgrims come to have a quick bite before their morning hike, which would be much more serious than ours. So there we were, standing in a conga line of men eager to get their coffee and pastry before their big trek. Our wives were absolutely the only women in sight.
So slightly later than planned we set off through the streets of Ouranoupoli. It was interesting to walk through what is for all intents and purposes, an uninteresting area. It gave us an up close look at the village. Quite quickly the bitumen faded into a dirt track that led to the coast. We were actually above the shoreline so had more beautiful views of the sea. There were side tracks that led down to deserted beaches that we may have been tempted to take had the temperature been higher than 18° and weren’t on a schedule for the full day ahead. Houses became fewer and we were mostly walking through native scrub, not surprisingly, quite similar to Israel, but prettier because of the sea views and abundant wild flowers that were still in their spring bloom.
The Zygos monastery was founded in the 10th century but abandoned already at the end of the 12th century. It was definitely worth walking around and whilst it is only partially restored, it gave a pretty good idea of what life was like in a 12th century monastery. This is the only monastery in the area where women are allowed and is quite literally at the end of the road of secular Greece. 20 metres onwards you enter (if you’re a male) the Monastic state, which while a part of Greece, is semi-autonomous.
There was a lady sitting at the ticket box taking our 5€ entry fee and another lady, who appeared to be her underling, whose principal job seemed to be to solemnly standing guard when Kim and the Sigal went to the bathroom. Given that we were the only people there, I’m not sure why she needed to stand guard, but perhaps she feared marauding pilgrims coming down from the nearby hills after 3 womanless days.
Part two of the day entailed us driving for an hour to the town of Vourvourou where we would be given minimal instructions on how to skipper a motor boat before setting off to circumnavigate Diaporos Island. A few of our party were a little concerned (panicked?) that we were driving the boat ourselves, or more correctly, that I was skippering the boat. I can’t imagine why they were concerned. The opening song of Gilligan’s Island was sung aloud numerous times. The boat hire company was actually very organized. I was instructed to download a gps navigation app that showed us exactly where we were, where the no-go areas with dangerous reefs and rocks were as well as the many sandy beaches we could moor at. It really was easy and the doubters amongst us soon realized that it was all quite safe. The Greek Islands are famous around the world for their perfect beaches, blue water and 1000 tourists per square km. As we motored around Diaporos island, we had the perfect beaches, blue water and very few other tourists. True paradise. The sea blues ranged from light sky blue in the shallower areas to deep royal blue where it was deeper. We may have been singing the Gilligan’s Island theme song, but what came to my mind was a Regina Spektor song where she sang that the sea is just a wetter version of the sky.
After half an hour or so we saw a beach beckoning us, yelling “this is the perfect place for a picnic lunch”. I gently grounded the boat within 5 metres of shore, dropped anchor and out we waded, with cheeses we’d bought at yesterday’s dairy, fresh veges and bread from the bakery this morning. The only blemish to the perfection was a boat load of young Australian bogans who yelled and screamed above the loud music they were playing, where the preening young men were trying to impress the pouting young women on board. Eventually they upped and left, and the only sound was that of the waves gently washing on to the shore. We continued to share the beach with two other young couples, sunbathing quietly.
Upon returning to the boat we navigated into some inlets, admired the beautiful island and beaches, and found the Tiki Bar we had been told about. This time we moored, waded onshore and ordered afternoon cocktails, sitting at high tables on bar stools, on the beach. Very civilized.
We returned the boat, travelled back to Ouranoupoli and enjoyed yet another delicious seafood dinner, at a restaurant run by Christos, who spent his formative years in Melbourne. He, his sister and mother had returned to Greece and were now running this great taverna in Ouranoupoli. Small world.
I couldn’t help but reflect how perfect a holiday day it had been.