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“You know, when you introduced yourself as a disaster zone, I didn’t quite realise!” said my current room-mate.  “I know,” I replied: “I’m a human train wreck”.  This conversation followed my stepping on a bee:  unfortunately, I’m somewhat allergic, and my leg (or more accurately, my foot) has been transformed into a log.  My shoe won’t even go on!  Happily though, the hostel manager’s theory that Cretan bees are less poisonous than ‘normal’ European bees (which was not at all a useful frame of reference for me!) seems to be true: last time I was stung on the foot, my leg swelled and turned blue to my knee, so this is a significant improvement!

Following on from the other day where I was handed the glass of garlic and lemon to fend off my cold (completely didn’t work), my bee sting encouraged those surrounding me to offer me a whole host of further traditional remedies.  I was recommended pressing an onion against the swelling; someone else advised making a tobacco poultice and applying that; and one aroma-therapist put pure lavender oil on it.  People also tried to convince me to call the homeopathic doctor.  I just wanted the drugs!

Anyway, my bee sting, sunburn, sleep deprivation and hiking-related injuries just didn’t seem like quite enough, so I figured I’d add travel sickness to round it out, and went on a driving adventure with some of the hostel’s older denizens.  Five adults in a small car on windy roads was not great, and to be honest a couple of the guys were not quite my type of people, but it was otherwise interesting.  I had one good conversation with the aroma-therapist which was nice.

We went to a nearby monastery, then to a small beach-front fortress, thence to the weirdest freaking bar in the whole world:

360 view:


Of course there's a pterodactyl.
Of course there’s a pterodactyl.
Where to put money if there was no-one attending the bar. I'm not sure why it's also some kind of fire warning thing!
Where to put money if there was no-one attending the bar. I’m not sure why it’s also some kind of fire warning thing!
The bar's overlord.
The bar’s overlord.
Jetsam chic?
Jetsam chic?
Because this isn't creepy at all.
Because this isn’t creepy at all.
This bar is certainly doing its best to 'fight normalism'.
This bar is certainly doing its best to ‘fight normalism’.
I said that the bar would be a great place to set a horror movie, and the next thing you know, we find a chainsaw.
I said that the bar would be a great place to set a horror movie, and the next thing you know, we find a chainsaw.

The road to the bar was more than a little terrifying.  About halfway down, it turned to rock and gravel, was narrow, prone to boulders, and bordered by a cliff.  When we were going back up again, the aroma-therapist asked whether we’d all fastened our seatbelts, and I said that “no, because if the car goes over the edge I want to be able to get out of the door before I go with it!”  “Har, har,” she said.  “You think I’m joking,” I replied: “I’m not.”  (I wasn’t!)

We did survive the crazy road in the end, and after a late lunch we drove up to a look-out.  It was fine and everything, very Greek: but I find that after the beauty of Peterhof in Spring, I’m completely unaffected by Greece’s natural beauty.  Last time I was here it was in the early Spring, and everything was green and fresh, with a ridiculous number of wild-flowers everywhere you looked.  Now that it’s summer, everything is dry and rocky.  Nothing like Russia at all!  Then again, where is?

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My hostel in Plakias, Crete: YH Plakias

Шубы
Hammock Time

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