Our final days in Kritsa – for now...

The Christopher Robin song ‘...thank you God for a lovely day...’ swirls around my mind as I type my final entry from Kritsa.

Manny is holed up at Argiros Apartments with Yia Yia, Emmanual Papadoulis (another one) and his wife Fotini.. but that is another story. Cassie is sound asleep and I want to mark this special moment in time.

We have enjoyed some wonderful times in the last few days. Saturday, Manny, Cassie and I took a drive to Elounda to catch a boat to the island of Spinalonga.  For anyone who’s read The Island, it is the basis for the story (thanks Tricia!).  It was where those inflicted with leprosy were exiled.  The uniqueness was that the people of the nearby town of Plaka went to great lengths to help those on the island create a home. By the time the island closed in the 1960s it had a school, 3 churches, families (who had got married and had children on the island), and many professional people working in the local economy.  It’s a fascinating story and a lovely day trip.  The drive to Elounda is just stunning – winding along the mountainside with the ocean below.   It’s always wonderful to be on the water in Greece so I enjoyed our boat ride to the island.  We walked around, and then stumbled across a small church service in one of the churches which is still active – arrived just in time for the Christos Anesti song!  Afterwards we enjoyed lunch at a taverna in Plaka – grilled octopus, calamari, tarama and salad.

Sunday, we went to Church (entering under the glare of what felt like a thousand old Greek women, all wearing black and pursing their lips in distaste – even those who have been so friendly on the street).  Whatever (as you say in Oz).. Bapou’s father was christened in that church.  Bapou and Yia Yia took communion, and we all received a blessing, as well as our fill of holy water and some locally baked pastries to boot.  Afterwards we took a walk through the streets to find Bapou’s father’s house (indeed the place where he was born) and marvel at our continued good fortune. It seems at every turn we are guided further along the path to finding the Papadoulis heritage – quite serendipitously. 

On our way back to our spiti to get changed, we chanced upon four chickens roasting on a spit – where else but the black smith’s workshop – all in readiness for dinner that night at the cafeteria next door.  Wonderful aromas wafted down the laneway and we bemoaned the fact that we hadn’t ordered ahead (as is the guidelines for eating chicken at the cafeteria).  Not to worry, we had better options in mind – goat in the next village of Kroustas.  We set off up the mountain, the incredible vista of Kritsa (which from afar resembles  a scorpion in layout) below us.  It was a wild and windy day and we were hoping for a return to the taverna we visited three years before but it wasn’t to be.  They had hosted an engagement party the night before and so were not opening for Sunday lunch. Not to worry, Bapou’s Greek language skills guided us to another taverna to be found next to the church which also served goat, so we took our places and waited expectantly.  Boiled goat might not sound like cuisine to die for, but it is!  So tender and sweet, flavoured with the wild herbs that the goats themselves eat and seeping deep into the flesh.  Wedding rise (a type of pilaf or risotto with goat’s cheese), a salad and some horta capped off one of the most delicious meals we’ve enjoyed.  With full bellies we wandered back along the one and only street, stopping to compliment a man on his blonde-haired son.  He returned the compliment by offering to show us a Byzantine church which was off the main road.  We wandered the back streets of Kroustas, amazed by the complete lack of cars and motorbikes – and incredible peacefulness.  We saw the church, gazed at more incredible views and walked back to town, all the while guided by this kind man and his son. Before we left he ran to his house to bring us a gift of bauxumaria (a sweet dried bread) that his mother had made.  Such kindness from a stranger!

Again tonight we were treated to incredible hospitality, this time from Emmanuel Papadoulis and his wife.  When Bapou and Yia Yia last visited 24 years ago they met Emmanuel,  There is a story about a bottle of raki, the early hours of the morning, and Yia Yia stuck in the bathroom in her petticoat but I’m not 100% sure of the details so I won’t relay it... Anyway Yia Yia and Bapou found their daughter in a nearby shop the other day and a reunion of sorts took place.  Emmanuel then arrived this evening at the apartments with a full tin of olive oil made from his farm, and wanted to join us for our last evening.  Firstly, we ate our final meal at the apartments – three delicious plates of local fare which included black eyed beans, sautéed egg plant with tomatoes and capsicum, and another of green beans and artichokes – so simple but so delicious.  Outside, we joined Emmanuel and Fotini, who produced a plastic bag of vegetables from their garden and the mountainside.  They proceeded to cut the artichoke heart into small pieces and season it with oil and vinegar. This was followed by a plate of radicio (a wild green which Emmanuel hiked to the mountain plateau to harvest himself using only his pocket knife) seasoned with oil and salt, great numbers of fava beans (which Cassie now loves) and his own wild olives (much smaller than the standard kalamata but so tasty). Before long Argiros joined, bringing with her deep fried zucchini flowers stuffed with rice, as well as our now favoured fava dip.  Our second dinner was just as delicious and just as healthy – all washed down with copious amounts of raki.  Manny will be there for some time I think, as will Yia Yia.  Bapou was feeling unwell (a mix of fortified wine last night and goats cheese on the rice yesterday) and retired early to bed.  There is a strong sense of obligation that they must stay (I got away with Cassie needing to go to bed) but also, how can you resist such incredible and generous hospitality??

And so tomorrow we leave Kritsa, with a slightly heavy heart, but a glow of hope that we will return again.  We won’t be buying a house this time, but it is a real possibility in future.  Don’t worry, Perth will always be home, but we dream of spending a month or two a year here, and we would love for Cassiana and Sophia to learn the language with a term at the local school every now and then.  Already Sophia has swapped ‘no’ for its Greek equivalent ‘ochi’ and happily waves ‘yasoo’ to every passing person. 

We shall miss our spiti, and the friendly locals who inhabit the laneway - the chubby old ladies with their wiry moustakis and micri beards (an electrolysis salon would do well here) and magnificently muscled calves thanks to much mountain climbing, the owner of the cafeteria who whiles away her days peeling fava beans, a reed-thin whisp of a man who doesn’t say much but slowly wanders the laneway with his hands in his pockets, a kiwi born violin teacher who’s lived here for 10 years or so with her husband, three young English girls whose family moved here on a whim and now speak perfect Greek after three years, and a gang of swarthy local girls aged around 12 who try desperately to flirt with the local boys. 

We look forward tomorrow to returning to Yianni and Sunrise apartments for our final days in Greece.  Tomorrow, Desi and Tim arrive, and so we begin a brand new chapter of our epic adventure.