Local Heart, Global Soul

July 30, 2014

Just How Many Curves Can You Put Into A Road ? In Greece, More Than You Could Imagine…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

We are a family who love maps, studying geography and visiting places around the world off the beaten track.

This is why during an October 2012 school holiday to Greece, we end up driving down one small road on the Pelion Peninsular and turn turning off to another one that’s even smaller.The road we have taken is a detour, first we drive to  Trikeri and then instead of talking the road that more or less follows the hill top, we divert to one that winds back down the the sea, coming out at a little village called Agia Kiriaki. All around us are beautiful views of bays, hills further up the Pelion Peninsular or over towards  Sourpi  on the opposite side of the water. There are hairpin bends aplenty so Himself is solidly focused on the roads and although the sea is calm I’m really tired now so the motion sickness is worse. We push on, with frequent rest stops for fresh air. At least the stunning views make it worth it…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

July 29, 2014

The “Life Boat” Takes Us Back To The Mainland…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The great thing about there being no scheduled boat service on the small island of Palio Trikeri is that you only have to wait for your boat for as long as it takes the captain to respond to your telephone call.

We shared the boat with a few other passengers on the way to the island but on the way back we had the boat all to ourselves. Little Mr.  is almost beside himself with joy because he keeps declaring that he’s going for a ride  “in a real life boat” , he’s “really really happy to be in a real life boat”  despite our explanation that it’s not really a real  life boat, but a boat taxi.

Apparently in his view if it’s painted anywhere in orange and has a few life rings on it, it qualifies as a lifeboat and nothing we can say will convince him otherwise.

The captain is therefore a gallant rescuer or people in distress and someone who is an authority of all things nautical, and for our very excited then seven-year-old Little Mr. the quarter of an hour trip was over far far too soon.

The weather is being nice, the sea is calm and the wake behind the boat reminds me of water-skiing exploits in my teenage years. I was never particularly good, I could stay up ok, and always had loads of fun but coming in to land was never graceful. The little village recedes quickly as we speed away and the sun sparkles on the water. It was so calm I didn’t even have a hint of sea sickness. Magic on many levels!

Soon we are back on the mainland again and start to think about the route back to Platania. Every road is steep and winding, and there are not a lot of options so I assume we will go back the way we came. Think again… Himself has been looking at our brother in-laws map and has spotted a detour…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

July 28, 2014

I’d Like To Secure An Answer…

Filed under: Funny,Greece,Palio Trikeri Island,Pelion Peninsular,photography — kiwidutch @ 1:00 am
Tags:
(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Regular readers will know that I like to keep an eye out for the odd things in life.

If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time you will also have realised that I have a weird sense of humour. Silly things amuse me. I see the little details and take pleasure in anything quirky.

Back in October of 2012 after our eviction from the monastery on the little Greek island of  Palio Trikeri we make our way down the hill. As usual I’m walking last because I’m slow, tried and every photographic opportunity doubles as a miniature rest break.

There is a saying in New Zealand that “anything can be fixed with a bit of  No. 8  fencing wire” (the “eight” in question being the thickness of the wire) and refers to a national mentality that many things can be fixed on a shoestring, work-around possibilities can be found, bits can be held together in a ramshackle way as long as it all still works. I think that the North American equivalent might be to hold things together with duct tape.

I love the attitude that quirky solutions can be found for things that are only partially broken. Therefore it goes without saying that the lock on this truck brought a smile to my face.  (Oops the last photograph is a bit fuzzy, I probably wobbled a bit as I took the photograph.)

Who needs to spend lots of money calling out a locksmith to a little island when a padlock will do the job just as well? But then it begs the question: We are on an small island,  if the truck gets stolen a) everyone knows everyone and you can’t hide it and b) where exactly are you going to take it to anyway?

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

July 27, 2014

A Long Wait, The Shortest Visit Ever, And Eviction!

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

This post follows that of yesterdays, where back in 2012 I found myself sleep under an olive tree at a Greek monastery on the little island of  Palio Trikeri, at the end of the Pelion Peninsular.

I’m awakened some forty five minutes later by Himself after the  door of the monastery opened and another elderly lady  dressed in back come outside, she beckons that we may enter, which we do.

She speaks no English and we no Greek but by her friendly smiling gestures it seems that maybe the door was open all along, even though we tried it several times earlier and it didn’t budge.

She gives a sweep of her arm to tell us to look around the beautiful complex inside, which we start to do. Then, literally a few minutes later a priest appeared and although he also  doesn’t speak English it’s perfectly clear that he isn’t happy with us being here and we are being ordered outside again. He points to a clock and gestures with his fingers what appears to be the time. Himself works out with his five words of Greek that there are appointed visiting times and we appear to be too early by one hour and fifteen minutes.

As we leave we see the kind lady who let us in,  standing a little bit to the side, looking over to the priest who has his back to her. She silently raises both hands with a shrug and a rueful smile. It doesn’t need translation, it’s clear she doesn’t agree with him but apparently rules are rules.  I nod and smile back  so that she knows her kindness of letting us in was appreciated.

The idea of waiting that long before being allowed inside again doesn’t appeal to any of us so we decide to slowly make our way back down the hill. The only bonus of the long wait was that I got a decent rest at the top before the walk back down the hill.

As we leave the priest follows us out with what looks like some rubbish bags. He silently slams the door firmly behind us and walks briskly  across to an area where there are some large containers. After depositing the rubbish he walks back. Even his walk looks stern.

At last the way back is all down hill…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

 

July 26, 2014

An Old Lady Dressed In Black Tells Us Everything, Sadly It’s All Greek To Me…

Filed under: Greece,Palio Trikeri Island,Pelion Peninsular,photography — kiwidutch @ 1:00 am
Tags:
(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

This is a retrospective post about our travels in Greece in the last week of October 2012.

One set of  our in-laws have a holiday home here and recommended this island when we said we would like to make a day trip and have a look around the region.

We have therefore reached the monastery on the little Greek Island of  Palio Trikeri, located at the tip of the Pelion Peninsular.

It was a far bigger walk than I intended or wanted  so when we find the door closed I’m secretly a little relieved to be able to take a decent rest.

On the up-side we have certainly burnt off a few of the extra calories that we stuffed ourselves with at  our amazing lunch.

Somewhere I think I heard that this monastery is, or has been a prison or holding camp for women, although the signs  to confirm it are all in Greek.  Certainly there were significant events going on here between 1948 and 1953. (the only part of one of the signs that I understand). There is an abandoned ball out the front and the clothes on a washing line around the side appear to suggest that families live here now. The only thing that I know for sure from my in-laws is that no photography is permitted inside, (confirmed by a sign) although visitors are allowed.

Respecting this I photograph only the outside, and of the tiny cemetery close by and then  after about ten minutes an elderly lady dressed from head to foot in black emerges and has a smiling and friendly conversation with us in rapid Greek that none of us understood a word of and then disappears off down the hill. Her pointing seems to indicated that the conversation is about the front door to the monastery  so we try the heavy door  yet again but  it still appears locked and her little figure is now almost out of sight.

We settle down to wait, Little Mr. and Himself play football with the ball and I take some pain relief , lay on the little wall that encircles an olive tree and am so tired that I doze off.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

 

July 25, 2014

Looking for The White Building: But Most Of Them Are White…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Back in October of 2012 whilst in Greece, Himself, Little Mr and I took a day trip to Palio Trikeri Island.

After we had enjoyed one of the best meals I have ever eaten we needed to walk off a few calories. We saw a sign indicating that there was a monastery and decided to go and have a look. To be fair when we set out we had no clue how far away it was, all of  my photographs showing it at the summit of the hill from across the bay was taken on the way back: the rain had obscured this view on the way there earlier.

I can’t walk far on crutches and since the village looked tiny we didn’t even think it was an issue. Surely even I could manage a few hundred meters.

The path indicated had very long wide steps on it and so we followed it up the hill. Deceptively there were several white buildings peeking out through the olive trees and foliage, that must be it right?  Like the summit of a mountain it was deceptive,  the first white building that we thought was it, wasn’t, nor the second or the third.

All of a sudden we find ourselves out of the village and still on a wide path leading upwards. This is starting to hurt and I’m not sure if I can go on or not.  We decide to go to the next corner and see if we can figure out how far there still is to go.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The next corner was further away than we first thought. We pass a blue painted shrine that has a broad base ideal for a welcome rest.

By now it’s clear that we are at least three-quarters of the way there, so I have to weigh up slogging on or turning back.

The nagging pain actually makes me decide to carry on, I don’t want to let this beat me. Was this wise?

Probably not, but after years of missing out of activities my frustration ruled over common sense.

The rest stops get more and more frequent as we approach the summit but at a certain moment we can see the monastery so it’s a case of just push on.

My physiotherapist should be delighted at least.

Luckily there is a low wall around a tree in front of  it… The door of the Monastery is locked and since my foot is really sore now,  I waste no time laying down to the wall to take a well earned rest.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

This isn’t it…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

This isn’t it either…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Nor this…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Darned if the “white building” wasn’t at the very top. They could have warned us…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

July 24, 2014

A Special Day That No One Would Ever Ask For: Standing in Solidarity…

Filed under: Uncategorized — kiwidutch @ 1:00 am
Tags:
(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

I’m interrupting my retrospective series of posts of our October 2012 trip to Greece because today has been a special day in The Netherlands.

Special for all the wrong reasons, special because we welcomed home the first of the victims of Malaysian Airways Flight 17.

There were no tears of joy at this reunion, it was a home-coming no-one would ever wish for, and yet, as church bells tolled the length and breath of the country, as citizens fell silent at an appointment time as a mark of respect, as all public transport stood still, the nations courts suspended their business to observe, as workers and passengers at Schipol airport stood silent, as aircraft kept in holding patterns and did not land or take off during this time,  as the nations work places, businesses, shopping streets, people at home and people at play stopped what they were doing and became totally still, our tears joined a nation as one, as we tried to give back the respect and dignity that was despicably taken away from the victims over the skies and on the ground of Russian controlled Ukraine.

The flag on the little flagpole of our home stood a half mast, along with others in the street, neighbourhoods all over the country and on every public building in The Netherlands. We wanted to send a message to all of the families and friends of all of the victims that they were not alone.

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

We wanted to send a message that our thoughts were with them, that our tears were  because we cared and because we could find no other way to start to imagine their pain. Windmills around the country were set with their sails titled to the right, a sign of mourning, radio and television stations suspended all advertisements, and hundreds of thousands lined the route that the sad column of forty hearses made their down, accompanied by a police motorcycles and a motorcade of  motocycle  Koninklijke Marechaussee (Royal Military Constabulary).

Two military planes landed in a military base in Eindhoven. The small of the two planes was Dutch,  the far larger Australian. Almost one thousand family members attended but by arrangement their presence was not televised by any media present as a mark of respect. A lone soldier played a bugle as the plane doors opened and then a nationwide minute silence ensued. The Military removed the coffins one by one with a great deal of respect and care. Nothing was rushed. If respect would be tangible then it was tangible, It was moving, quiet, reserved and dignified  in a way that we can only hope went some way to replacing the indignity that these innocent passengers had been subjected to in the last week.

The feeling of pain was also tangible, even seasoned soldiers looked like they were working hard to overcome emotions. Parts of two motorways were closed to allow the long line of hearses to travel to a military base in Hilversum. People lined the route en mass, motorway overpasses and hard shoulders were crowded with ordinary citizens who wanted to show their respect. In some places the motorways were strewn with flowers.

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

In Hilversum the terrible task of identification awaits. According to Dutch news reports 85 Dutch forensic experts were already present, international experts joining them or en route are said to bump the total up to approximately 150.

This evening, in cities all around the Netherlands a “stille tocht” (silent vigils) took place. People dressed in white as a sign of peace and later let off white balloons. How many thousands attended I do not know, but it was tens of thousands at the very least.

I have stood in silence, I have followed the day’s proceedings from start to finish on TV. I have cried tears for strangers I did not know, but who could have so easily been someone I knew. One family were a good friends of my physiotherapist, the children lost, went to school with her daughters.  I have two passports, New Zealand and Dutch, there was a New Zealander amongst the victims and many Dutch.

It doesn’t matter if I knew them personally or not, or what nationality they are, these are fellow human beings: children, infants, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces, grandparents, and what has been done to them was not decent or deserved. Their family’s need to know that whilst I can not begin to image their pain, I can show a mark of respect to try and show my solitary and support in their darkest hour.

Today brings more flights, and Friday too and I will do it all again. The only way balance the disrespect that has been shown to these victims in Ukraine is to balance it, nay cancel it out by sheer force of overwhelming support, to cry at the loss , to lay flowers, to show respect  and to let the family’s know that people, the Dutch people definitely care.

These are special days. Special for all the wrong reasons, but I am proud to be Dutch, I am proud to be an International citizen and I am proud of my fellow Dutch for their tough spirit that sends a message that decency should win over indecency, that dignity should be restored and that sorrow should be shared.

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

(photograph © Dutch Media)

July 23, 2014

Some Batteries Are Recharged With Food And Sleep…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Our kids are living proof that gadgets are not necessarily what makes them happy. (Although they might not think that all of the time).

We are a family that only recently bought a family Ipad, there are no PlayStation, no MP3 players, X-boxes, “gamer” toys, no ipods in our home and it’s only this year that Kiwi Daughter got a phone.

A basic phone that costs Euro 20,-  and (horrors) makes phone calls and is intended for use in case of emergencies.

If she wants something expensive with bells and whistles when I expect her to lift her butt off the sofa and do a lot of extra work around the house to earn it.

So far her wish to remain  comfortable on said article of furniture appears to far outweigh her wish for an expensive phone so my cash remains safely enclosed in my wallet.

I know I’m the meanest Mama in the whole wide world and “everybody at school has a smart phone / iphone etc, than these days she swears needs a phone”  (insert scathing look when I mention that indeed she has a phone, but  apparently something as basic as the one she has been given is not  called a “phone”, it’s called an “embarrassment”) .

But tough, … as long as I have a lot of noise but no action then she’s not getting expensive stuff  every time she expresses a wish.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

My concession into the world of technology is that we bought  a Wii when we finally upgraded our eighteen year old TV a little while back, our VCR is so old it still plays video tapes as well as CD’s.

We have the old style Nintendo’s for long car and plane trips and I refuse to upgrade to the latest models because they don’t play with them any other time than on long trips anyway.

Little Mr.  who is currently nine years old, doesn’t have a phone, heck I don’t even have a mobile phone, and never have (I know, shock horror in this day and age, although I have to admit that I am currently on a waiting list for a Fair Phone because my days of being unconnected are numbered now that Kiwi Daughter attends a High School across the city and is slowly branching out in becoming independent).

They might rant about what they don’t have sometimes, but our investments are in travel, experiences, new places, cultures and getting to know the world they live in.

I have a permanent stash of stick-paste- paint-draw materials at home and often on a warms summer’s day the most fun can be had outside on the street with a good supply of water balloons, empty squeezy detergent bottles, buckets of water and the multitude of neighbourhood kids who appear like magic to join in once alerted by a few loud squeals of delight.

Here in Greece back in 2012 it’s no different, Little Mr. spies rope, wood and rocks and begs to play. Himself and I can enjoy our tea and coffee and a quiet moment whilst Little Mr. uses his imagination and flings the rope out into the water repeatedly, saving whatever  or whoever character he is muttering about at that moment. Little voices depict different characters as he plays out the scene.

These photographs were taken two years ago when he was seven, his hair is different now and he’s grown a lot and none of the photos show his face so I feel ok about adding them here.

It was with great reluctance that he left his game of pirates, ships, rescues and adventures later when Himself and I had finished our meal, dessert, beverages, rested and paid the bill. He was so proud of the collection of sticks and stones, and disappointed that the rope could not be procured and taken home. Great fun and it all runs on a battery that consists of food and sleep. We might not be up with the latest tech stuff, but in my book,  imagination beats electronics any day of the week.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

July 22, 2014

A Few Locals (Or Eleven!) Invite Themselves For Lunch…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The date was the last week of October 2012, the place was Palio Trikeri Island, off the extreme tip of the Pelion Peninsular in Greece.

The setting was the restaurant that I featured in yesterday’s post.

Apart from a couple that appeared to be on a walking holiday we appear to be the only other tourists on the island this late in the season. We have just enjoyed a fabulous lunch, in fact I found a fish dish that is beyond divine.

But just because there were not other human customers present, doesn’t mean to say that we were alone.

During our meal we attracted the attention of some of the local wildlife, I’m not too certain if they were greedy local house pets or feral , but no sooner had our meals been carried to the table than we were joined by some of the neighbourhood cats.  Of course cats adore fish, and after tasting my delicious meal I couldn’t blame them from coming to beg for part of the action.

So… what was unusual about a cat coming smooching in the hope of a little lunch? nothing, except that I’ve never ever been joined by eleven of them at once. That’s right, eleven cats. They were all ages, sizes and colours, three sat demurely at the head of our table, politely staring at our plates but not actually setting foot on the table itself (ugh, they would have gotten short shift if they’s tried that one).

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Little Mr tried to feed them small pieces of  French fries… these discerning beasts looked at him with faces that clearly said “stupid boy, who wants potato when there is fish such as this as a possibility?

They waited patiently and gave us their best stares so that the message was perfectly clear what they were really there for.

It was their lucky day, having tried hard to tempt Little Mr. to eat fish off the bone, Himself and I did our parental duty and stuffed ourselves with as much of his portion (as delicious as ours) as we could manage.

There was still plenty left over and we were fit to burst, so Little Mr. amused himself by carefully and patiently separating fish from bones with his fingers and attempting to feed each cat equally. (on the ground).

The bigger, older cats tried hard to muscle in on the action so Little Mr. figured out that preparing multiple portions and distributing to the younger, smaller beasts whilst the older ones were distracted was a technique that worked. I didn’t manage to get all of the cats in a single photograph, some were more tame than others and several were on the ground on the other side of the table and scattered when I moved to try and take a photo. One adorable little grey kitten made himself comfortable on the seafront wall at the end of the next table after he had had his nibbles. If I wasn’t allergic to pet hair I’m certain I could become a cat lady. Sadly we had to tell Little Mr. that no, he couldn’t take it (or any of the others) home with us.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

July 21, 2014

By Chance And Good Luck, We Order The Best Fish I Have Ever Eaten…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Himself, Little Mr and I are exploring Palio Trikeri Island at the end of the Pelion Peninsula in Greece.

The boat trip was only about ten minutes long and we find ourselves in the heart of the village and since it’s now lunch time, getting very hungry.

This is a retrospective post, we were there at the end of October 2012 and it was the very end of the tourist season, we see a couple leaving one of the outside restaurant tables who look like they are on some sort of walking tour, but for the rest we appear to be the only “non-locals” in sight.

Just before  reached the island we thought we might walk a little bit and then sit and get a bite to eat but the sight of food makes our tummies rumble and the plan quickly changes to eating first and walking later.

There are several restaurants open but on a whim we choose the one that the previous couple just left. It’s been trying to rain off and on, but the weather is easing considerably as we enquire about a meal and by the time we have finished it”s completely dry. The temperature even in the last week of October is still  a respectably warm 26 C (78.8 F)  and the outside seating area is covered, so even if it would have been drizzling a tiny bit it still would have been comfortable outside.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

We order the Greek equivalent of “fish and chips” for little Mr., the fish comes whole and un-filleted, so I had to pick as much of the fish off the bones for him, which kind of worked, in reality he mostly ended up eating a lot of French fries.

Himself’s dish came with deep fried squid and mine was a different fish on the menu to Little Mr., also deep fried.

We shared a large salad together and Himself had a yearning for some beans and tzatziki and got an extra hummus dish on the side as bonus .

(he’s not sure if it came with the larger dish he ordered, if it was an entrée or if whatever the lady said in broken English he just randomly agreed to) but however we got it, it was delicious.

I have to say now that my fish, although it had bones in it too, is definitely best fish dish I have ever eaten in my life. The fish “batter” was of a thin-ish consistency, it’s super crunchy and the flavour was drool-worthy.  This is the kind of meal that you find yourself wishing you’d eaten  two portions of, even if you were not actually hungry after the first one was finished.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

This is the kind of meal you want to eat more of  in gluttonous fashion simply because you don’t want the magic to end.

After initial dissections with the knife and fork I quickly abandoned the knife and resorted to using the fork and my fingers, not wanting to waste even a single morsel.

I find myself wishing we had planned to spend the night here, just so we could come back to this restaurant and I could have this again, even all the twists and turns in the road were worth it.

Of course the fish is mega fresh, it was certain to have been caught the same morning, and this is the kind of dish that the local eat, so probably it’s a local family recipe made with years or decades of experience.

It’s simple but done to absolute perfection.

The owner was delighted with my gushing compliments and obvious pleasure, and bought out a little square of something that was kind of nutty and cake-like free of charge for dessert. Himself finished it because like many Greek desserts  it was too sweet for my liking. I dreamed about this meal for the rest of our holiday and semi-regularly since. I tried to make it at home, and failed… one day, somehow some time, clearly, I will have to come back…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Next Page »

The Rubric Theme. Blog at WordPress.com.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 639 other followers