censored skiathos journal (part 2)

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There are more walkers. Of which more anon.

Woke around 10.30 today. Getting better. Lay in bed for a while and was half tempted to stay there all day, but cajoled myself up and went to get some fresh bread, which is a fair ritual for the morning. The supermarket owner is quite laconic. (Everyone speaks English here). I has asked if he was open on Sundays and he told me: We have long holiday in Winter. We work hard now.

I wanted to get round to the other side of the island, which I’d seen on Saturday on my walk but hadn’t been able to access. Had more luck this time. Walked down the coast road, then took an interior road headed for a monastery. It was a steep hour’s walk away. Pretty green wooded hills. Sweet smelling. I got to the monastery covered in sweat. Climbed some stairs and admired a chapel smothered in Christs, with a small domed, painted roof. The woman there gave me a candle to light. It reminded me of the plural one lighting candles for me in churches years ago. I headed on without much more ado, feeling guilty for not leaving some euros (I am watchfully mean at the moment – it will pass, I know, once I know I am getting into surplus.)

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Getting up is the hardest part of the day. I wake up and lie there, wondering what the point is. This morning it was ten, so I’m gaining half an hour per day.

Finally I do move, and then it’s OK. I have my tasks for the day and I proceed.

The tabby cat is playing with some kind of insect on the veranda. Cats are sadists. Sin dudas.

Finished writing about one. Then the Bulgarian cleaning lady turned up. Didn’t have much joy communicating with her.

Headed off on the bus to Skiathos, which is surprisingly pretty. One night I will go and eat a proper meal there, probably still alone, given the way things are looking. Not many putative friends around, even though am being sociable and talking to elderly/ late-middle-aged couples affably. I did a brief tour of Skiathos, but decided to save full inspection for later. Resisted any non-existent temptation to check my emails and headed off in search of another monastery.

This entailed a very steep walk. I got to a church after about an hour a half’s walking and assumed this was it, stopped and read Proust for half an hour feeling pleased with my accomplishment, then realised the road hadn’t actually ended, as the map suggested it should (got given a map this morning). So kept on going another 15 minutes and made it to monastery, which was quite impressive, good dining room, pretty church, with a monk in it, nice spot to be a monk…

On the way back decided to detour via a sign posted beach. The way to this beach was remarkable. The road turned into a track. The track turned into a path. The path turned into a vertical obstacle course. The final section was so harum scarum that I nearly fell twice, a track as narrow as your knee, through gorse, and scrub and knobbly trees (the landscape at the top of the island is quite Cornish, little stymied trees, which have faced down the wind. The climate, of course, is not too Cornish, certainly not for May.)

The track was intimidating, but the beach at the bottom was spectacular. Like yesterday’s deserted, and understandably so, as most of the tourists on this island would have to be airlifted off if they attempted to get down to it. A long, shingly stretch of beach, with, (again) transparent water, which was slightly warmer than yesterdays. I found a perfectly carved seat to read in for a while, swam again, unable to quite believe I’d been given such a perfect beach all to myself. Even risked the sun on my back a bit, it was too beautiful not to, and by now it was getting on for six thirty.

I am aiming to have a beach to myself every day, even though this seems unlikely.