Folegandros

​People seem to do a lot of trudging on Folegandros. While the port is down near the gently lapping water (where one would expect it to be), the main town, Choros (‘Horos’), lies a-top a hill in the middle of the island. People trudge up and down, even waving on tourists (us) eager to please by offering a lift in their hire car.  

The island is 12 km in length and the daily hire rate is €30 per day, so who wouldn’t get a car at that rate?  [Filling the car at the end was a bit of a cruncher, though - 23 litres @ €2.29/litre.  No alternative for only three days on the island though.]

DJ’s choice of accommodation was again brilliant as we were in the port town, right on the beach. Minutes only from the morning dip in the clear blue waters. 

The town of Chora perched on the edge of a sloping escarpment which, viewed from a distance, makes one wonder how residents and tourists alike aren’t slipping off to their doom on the rocks below on a regular basis. It all looks very precarious. After you park your car and wander into the town you soon see that there are plenty of places to safely wander and lots of grabbing points if you suddenly start slipping. Tiny, meandering streets of cafes and tourist shops. Brilliant white paint, with sky-blue trimmings. 

We went to a remote beach one day that was only accessible by boat or a long trudge up a huge hill and then plummeting down a sheer rock face to the destination beach. We took the latter option and walked. Having driven a short way from our digs, we parked and began our trudge through the most barren of barren lands. The way was dotted by really ancient, abandoned, stone cottages - a sea of broken dreams, one might say. 

There was one recently completed house where a bevy of workers seemed to be clearing the yard of massive amounts of rocks. Quite an unenviable task. We trudged on, not offering our assistance. 

Down to the cliff face to the beach and into the briny sea again.  Cooling off before trudging back up again. 

The food on the island was a mixed bag. A fish restaurant at the port was good value, as was a meal of goat in a ‘traditional’ restaurant at the north end on the last night. The slow-cooked goat was very tasty and came in a lovely local pasta-type base. For lunch yesterday I asked for sardines, which were not available and got some very rubbery squid/octopus instead. The salads are always delicious, however. 

Here’s our beach (to finish this blog):

Not quite the finish, because here’s an arty shot of DJ with a gorgeous smile:

Toodles!

[Ewan has been right to chastise me for the falling-off of blogs, but yesterday - on the ferry to Milos - I wrote this blog. However, somehow it COMPLETELY DISAPPEARED. As usual, however, the second writing of a piece (like when you lose a university assignment) is MUCH better than the original. So here it is. Thanks Ewan!]