4 Women. Ready by 10 for the 10 to 10.30 start. Unheard of. Great smoothie today. Carrot, cucumber, apple, banana, peach and ginger. I know dear readers that you don’t need to know this but it is just SO good it needs to be written down. I promise I won’t mention smoothies again.
So bye bye cats and house and off to the Filoxenia Spa Hotel at Kalamata. There were, inevitably, jobs to do en route, the first of which was to dispose of the euphemistic “poo bag”. (I should explain that there is a RULE that no paper may be disposed of down the toilet as the Greek sewage system cannot deal with it, so all paper items must be placed in a well lined bin and disposed of daily, and since it is our bin and our paper we must be responsible for said disposal. Su seems to be the main ” Carrier of the bag” shouting “bin” or “poo bag” in time for the car to stop and the bag to be hurled inside.) Sorry – jobs – to get the tyre pressures checked (which we did not), to get petrol (which we did) and to get to Kalamata in one piece. (Which we did – obviously). We also agreed to stop outside Kalamata to buy lunch for later at a patisserie called Athanasiou. This most revered establishment sells the classiest selection of cakes, pastries, rolls, sandwiches, cookies, biscuits sweets etc that I have so far encountered in Greece. It could be compared to the patisserie in Fortnum’s transported to a hot dusty service station in Greece. An error was narrowly avoided when we realised that Ann’s order for 2 baklava had resulted in the preparation of two entire trays of this delicious stuff being prepared for departure, and not 2 slices as required. Mind you we could have dispatched it. Given time!
Jan knew where she was going. Just as well. On the subject of RULES, it seems to me there are very few on the Greek roads. Junctions are a mystery. Faded road markings and no “after you” “no, no, after you” nonsense, makes the entire experience rather stressful to the outsider, and whilst there are speed limit signs now and then, they appear to be generally disregarded. As Jan rightly pointed out, driving through towns and villages needs to be undertaken with great care to avoid running over livestock and humans, not to mention negotiating crazy hairpin bends with large abandoned holes where road works have been started but are as yet unfinished. In Xarakopio the mysterious water works are underway and there is a hole outside every property. Neat square hole with an exposed water pipe in it. Mystery. And no red and white tape. Elf and Safety notwithstanding! I’m usually a good back seat \ front seat driver, but I am nervous in Greece. Probably because I don’t know the RULES!!
I digress. Jan had business in the city so we girls were let loose for a couple of hours. Not to be trusted unfortunately!
But, we navigated to the recommended coffee shop, successfully ordered our refreshment, logged into the free WiFi (always cause for celebration) and enjoyed ourselves in the shade of the old Bizantine church (11 – 12 C). The church was dark and peaceful. We lit candles and offered prayers to our chosen creators.
There were two adjacent sandal\shoe shops nearby. Deserving of a look. We were harangued by a rather tipsy but friendly local man who appeared to be encouraging us to buy local. He did a passable impression of a cow to indicate the authenticity of the leather, and found many words of German, French, Italian and English to decorate his slurred Greek. The storekeeper shooed (no pun intended) him apologetically away. We lingered over the sandals. Mistake. I was seduced into the shop to look at the tricolour strappy sandals, asking for a size 43. But these were clearly women’s sandals and women, as we know, don’t have big feet. A 42 was produced and the desperate store keeper forced my pale sweaty size 9 into the narrow size 8. My toes hung over the top. Perfecto!
“Nein” I said, “Ne” forgetting that I was English and not German (why is it that we break into any other language that we have even scant knowledge of when English seems not to work?) And forgetting that “Ne” is “Yes” in Greek! He bustled off to another pair. “How do you say ‘no thank you'” I asked Ann. She told me and I immediately forgot. He returned with a different 42. Again much stuffing of hot foot into too small sandal. “How do I say ‘no thank you’ Ann?” She told me again and again I immediately forgot. Su helpfully contributed with “just leave”. Most helpful. He had just returned with a huge brown men’s sandal for me to try. We just left. Cracked up in the street. Can you imaging his conversation with his wife over supper. ” these three crazy English women. One with huge feet. Like a man. Pale. Sweaty. Horrible! Wanted sandals. Ha! ”
My brain won’t remember word. I can do a plausible mimic of the accent required but the words won’t stick. I can break into a Welsh accent as soon as we hit the Severn Bridge but as for the language. Not a chance. Same here. On dear!
There are so many cats. Ornamental cats, painted cats. Sculpted cats. Even ‘Banksy’ style graffiti cats on the buildings in the city. Cats.
In a country with an apparent feral cat problem, the cats are almost revered in art. Why is that? The hippy shop remembered by Su had loads of cats and lovely things for we hippy tourists.
We made it to the appointed meeting place in the square by the fountain in good time. Via the Cheese pie shop. And Jan found us. We were immediately approached by an old lady begging for money. She was very insistent. She carried a tatty card which she showed to each of us in turn and seemed to think it would authenticate her pleading and enhance our generosity. Ann succumbed with a euro but this just encouraged her to renew her plea and push her face further into ours. She pointed into her toothless mouth and mimed a throttling action as though we would be personally responsible for her demise. We encountered her again later. Still just as determined. I do feel a terrible urge to give to these refugees but if they are here “without recourse to public funds” as they would be here, supporting them under the wire, do we then encourage more people to come via the dodgy routes we read about and end up on the streets of European cities being blamed for messing up the economy and stealing jobs from the legitimate locals. Please discuss. Yet again.
Final job before the Spa was a visit to Jumbo where we needed a large cafetière. Obviously. They had none, but we left with a sofa cover, two scary eye bracelets, some olive soap, some latte cups and some batteries. You may well wonder why we needed these items for our night at the Spa……
So onto the Hotel!!! Under cover (bamboo roofed) parking, palatial colonnaded entrance, all marble and palms. Ann had a posh wheelie case but the remainder of us looked like bag ladies. Hot sticky bag ladies.
By way of an aside on the RULES, I meant to mention the pedestrian crossings. They’re not. They’re just stripes on the road. Pedestrians beware because cars are not programmed to stop. More likely to stop for a tortoise. Reminded me about the pelican crossing in Western Australia. Another story. And red lights. Well not necessarily to stop at apparently. Sometimes the red and yellow flash together. What does that mean. Anyway…..
Back to the Hotel. We are escorted to the lift by a lovely young Greek lad, possibly Georgio as nearly all the men are. “What floor are we on?” ” Floor 2″ ” I can’t see the buttons. Where’s the 2?” ” Next to the 1″ For some reason this was hilarious and continued to be so every time we used the lift. Especially on the one occasion when I cane down the stairs instead and the girls were stuck on floor 2 because they kept pressing the 2. I think I was blamed. Ha!
Georgi must have raced up the stairs 4 at a time to reach our rooms before we did. He showed us which way up to put our key cards to open the door and make the lights work (yes I know) and explained far too quickly the air conditioning controls. Far too quickly. We set the temperature to the lowest at 16°. That’s what I have my central heating set to in the winter!
Jan may need a blanket at this rate. (Indeed she did request a blanket at reception later and this too arrived at the room before she did).
The rooms were lovely. Marble floors, bath robes, baths (Su extremely happy.) The balconies overlook the garden and pool. Beautiful.
We are disappointed to hear that the Spa is not open tomorrow. So I hastily booked a massage and Su a Sauna. We also learned that the Spa pool and jacuzzi aren’t heated. Not very inviting. We gathered at the main pool instead. It was lovely.
Clear blue pool. Loads of room for sun beds and brollies. A bubble pool. We swam and sunbathed and drank beer and had a lovely time. At last I can swim without my feet drifting up to the sky as they do in the salty sea.. My massage, administered by a lovely young lady with an elbow support strapping, was fierce to say the least. Even with a dodgy elbow. The music was soothing but the pressure was intense. I can still feel the tenderness in my shoulders. But I’m sure it was good for me!
We filled ourselves on lovely hotel buffet food and staggered down to the beach to look at the sea and the stars. The bats were chasing the big silvery moths in the lights around the Hotel. From the beach we watched the shimmering lights along the Mani coast and could see the villages along the side of the peninsular leading down to Moroni. The starts were emerging, and our inexpert eyes picked out Venus and Orion and then the Plough amongst the mass of stars. Walking gently back we encountered a caterpillar snaking across the path, intent on his journey, casting a long monstrous shadow across the marble pathway.
We feel like proper ladies staying in such oppulant surroundings. Let’s hope we’re not too hot or cold to sleep!
We shared an observation with our darling Jan. (Actually, since observing her I have observed myself and the girls indulging in this pass time to a lesser extent and in a less endearing way). In the Art of self-conversation Jan excels. She talks to herself a lot. “Now don’t do that Jan” “Come on Jan, concentrate!” “Now Jan, that’s not a good idea”. But her dialogue with inanimate objects surpasses all others. To some items she had lost ” Oh there you are! Why were you hiding there?” To her wardrobe “You have long sleeves. I don’t want you! Oh you have long sleeves too! Where is your short sleeves friend?” To a mystery object in the bathroom “Well there really is no need for that sort of behaviour is there?” And so on. It’s charming Jan. She wants us to tell her when she does it. Thinks it is a sign of decrepitude. It it’s just Jan being Jan and indulging in a living on your own habit. We all have them! Don’t we girls!!
So here endeth the first, or rather the middle chapter. More to come. Later.
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