Lovely afternoon/evening out at Eftalou yesterday at the rustic retreat of my English friends and their talented young musical daughter, swapping songs, stories and YouTube videos, and feasting on barbecued lamb chops washed down with beer from Lidl (yes, my favourite surprise supermarket, where you never know what you’re going to end up with, has a branch in Mytilene). Sadly, I forgot to take any photos – was enjoying myself too much to think of things like that. However, I have taken a wrist selfie, showing the fabulous olive-wood-and-leather wristband I bought there when I first visited them last week, that I’ve been wearing ever since.

I’ve just crammed everything into my holdall – it’s rather more stuffed than it was when I arrived ten days ago – and will set off across the mountains for Mytilene in a little while. I’ll go the scenic northern route I think – the weather’s nice again so there’ll be some spectacular views (not that you can risk gawking at them too much as the driver…).

I’ve met a bunch of different people during my ten days here, and have come away with a mixed view of Molyvos and what it must be like to live in such a small town where everyone knows everyone else. Not sure it’d be for me, but I’ve loved being a tourist here in the peace and quiet before the season proper begins – the locals had much more time to while away the hours with me than they would in the height of the summer, and the weather has been perfect for me – not too hot, but enough to get a bit of colour in the old cheeks (of the facial variety).

I’m ready to head home now though – can’t wait to see my darling dogs :) Speaking of which (although I know she's not one), Fluffyopoulos was sitting on the sun chair on the balcony waiting for me to wake up this morning, bless her, so I gave her a little sausage I'd purr-loined for her at breakfast yesterday, and some milk, as a parting gesture. I still haven’t worked out what ‘Goodbye’ is in Greek – any time any farewells have been said so far, it’s been ‘Bon voyage’ or ‘Adios’… I’ll find out from Athena and Adonis shortly though, I’m sure… One thing I do know – it’s not ‘Calamari’…

A fantastic – if unexpected – evening with an international array of twelve women, all of whom live in Molyvos. I’d only thought there’d be two ‑ Melanie and her friend of the lost purse. If/when I come back, I need to have learned to speak some Greek, as for someone who lives by words, for once I was at a loss for anything meaningful to contribute to the conversation as they bantered back and forth in Greek – thankfully with a lot of hand gestures, so I had an inkling of what was being talked about – a good deal of it rather risqué by all accounts! There were three Dutch women – of whom Melanie was one, and she kept me up to speed with what was being talked about; another Englishwoman; a woman who’d been born in Australia but had grown up in Athens; the young woman I’d bought my rum from at the local supermarket, who hailed from Uzbekistan; and the rest, I think, were native Greek – including the lovely Alexandra, who I’d love to have had a conversation with, but who spoke as little English as I speak Greek – i.e. none :( When the question of age unfortunately made its way round the table at one point, it turned out that Alexandra and I are the same age – so I felt even more drawn towards her. Note to self: must buy Greek phrase book before returning… 

The women had arranged to have this get-together as it’ll soon be too busy once the tourist season starts – so the fact that the Lost Purse Incident happened that morning and was the only reason I was there was something I couldn’t stop feeling amazed about all evening.

I realised why I’d thought the Women’s Cooperative was always closed every time I went past – the ground-floor bit is a workshop – where we ate was on a covered verandah overlooking the sea, above the workshop. I hadn’t noticed the steps leading up to it until last night, when I did a bit more snooping round as I knew it had to be open, as that’s where we were meeting.

The women ordered a meze – a fabulous mixture of all sorts of Greek dishes, as well as red wine – of the dry and medium variety. The ‘medium’ turned out to be very sweet, like Communion wine – nice! And although I drank a fair amount, I didn’t feel tipsy, which was good as I had to drive a little way back to the hotel after…

They were wanting to go to the Pirate Bar afterwards, as there was apparently live music there. After some discussion amongst themselves, Melanie asked me if ‘ska’ was a type of music. I said that it was but I hadn’t heard any since the 80s – but that may just be me and my country leanings. We all walked up to the bar later, but it was packed and noisy and didn’t feel like my kind of thing – and I was a bit concerned that they were having to stay up at the hotel until I got back, there being so few people staying there. So I said my goodbyes and went back to the Delfini and bed.

I bumped into Melanie again this morning, which was good as I was able to thank her for the evening and say a proper goodbye.

I’m shortly bound for Ellenis Workshop, to meet the musical daughter of my woodworking friends. The weather’s changed to cloudy – though still warm by UK standards – but I’m not sure if it’s going to be suitable for playing outdoors, as planned. Anyway, I’ll soon find out…

Well!! Guess what? Yes, another incident! I’d decided to walk into Molyvos this morning for some last-minute purchases and a bit of exercise – the Delfinia Hotel is a little way out of town, just a nice distance for stretching the legs. On my way along the rather uncomfortably cobbled pavement, with my eyes cast down to avoid stumbling on any of the sticking-up stones, I spotted something lying on the ground, and being the inquisitive type, I promptly picked it up to investigate – to discover it was a purse with 45 euros inside together with a shopping list in Greek… To say I felt conflicted as to what to do is an understatement – on the one hand, an extra 45 euros holiday money would have been very nice, falling into my lap, as it appeared to have done, from the gods; on the other hand, some impoverished local might have to go without food because they’d just lost their week’s pay… But if I left it where I found it anyone could pick it up (like I just did…), and if I took it to the police, they’d probably have a nice evening out on it instead of me... What to do? I looked round and saw a woman at the bus stop watching me, but she didn’t do anything to make me think it was hers, so I put it in my back pocket and carried on into town, all the while pondering this unexpected dilemma. Once there, I bought my things – and was given a lovely coffee mug with raised olives painted on the side by the lady whose shop it was, as a gift from her :) Delightful as that gesture was, it made me feel even worse about the money burning a hole in my back pocket. I walked back along the same cobbled pavement to the hotel, thinking maybe I’d ask Adonis there what to do – though I knew if I did it’d make me look very naïve, but what the heck? Anyway, as all this was going through my head, I heard someone running up behind me, and then saw that it was a youngish woman in a track suit (I knew then that she must be a local, wearing winter clothes in what to me seems like the height of summer!). ‘Excuse me – may I ask you something?’ she said, a little out of breath. I had an inkling of what was coming then, and immediately said, ‘Yes!’ ‘You haven’t found a purse on the road, have you?’ she said. I whipped it out of my scalding back pocket, said, ‘Thank goodness!’ and handed it to her whether it was really hers or not (though I was pretty sure it was). It was her friend’s as it turned out – she realised she’d dropped it when they got to where they were going, then they went back and asked the lady at the bus stop if she’d seen it. She said she hadn’t but she seen a blonde woman pick something up… Melanie – the woman in the track suit (we're bosom buddies now!) – mentioned the shopping list that was inside, so I knew it was definitely hers (or rather, her friend’s), and she said she wanted to phone her friend right away to let her know it had been found. She did so, and a frenetic conversation in Greek ensued, as I stood there feeling hugely relieved. Anyway, it turns out that Melanie runs a gyro and souvlaki bar in Molyvos, and she gave me the name of a place where they have live music in case I want to pursue the idea of coming back to play sometime. Then she said her relieved friend had invited me to eat with them this evening at the Women’s Cooperative restaurant, which is somewhere I was really wanting to go but it had been closed every time I’d gone past. Pam in Skala Eresos had told me that these women’s cooperatives that are found all over are outlets for produce grown and cooked by local women. Funny how these things happen, ain’t it? :)

Even though over the past few days I’ve got used to driving on the wrong side of the road in a right-hand-drive manual car, I was still slightly worried about getting back to the airport in time to drop off the car and make my flight on Sunday. The way I wanted to get there was the other way round the island from the way I came – it’s the reverse of the way I would have come here had the road not been blocked by a bulldozer as I made my jet-lagged way over to Molyvos last Friday morning. Part of the route seemed fine on the map (though, as I’ve said elsewhere, the map doesn’t give any clue about treacherous hairpin bends and vertical drops with no barrier, so even that part that looked fine may not have been fine at all). It was the road across the north of the island that I was worried about, as I could tell it was through mountainous terrain and it might turn out to be even scarier than the mountain roads I’ve already tackled. So today I decided I’d bite the bullet and do it – drive that route to Mytilini just to put my mind at rest – or completely freak myself out, of course.

The adventure I briefly alluded to yesterday that Athena suggested I embark on would have involved catching the ferry to Turkey for the day, as it’s bazaar day in the town the ferry goes to. Much as I’d have loved to have done that, it would have involved setting off in the dark from Molyvos to catch the ferry from Mytilini, getting back in the dark, and trying to read signs in Greek whilst driving early in the morning and late at night. That suddenly felt like a step too much, even for the intrepid adventurer I’ve become this week. So I settled for driving over the scary mountain road in daylight and making a day of touring round the island.

As it turned out, the northern part of the drive was spectacular but didn’t faze me – I must have become used to hairpin bends and road signs pitted with gunshot in my week here. In fact it was lovely driving along virtually empty winding roads, with the sun shining, and glimpses of the sea far below – and the odd goat sheltering in shade at the roadside every now and then.

I knew I’d made it across the northern stretch when I saw signs to Mandamados, which is a town at the top of the eastern coast road, so I decided to swing into the town and have a coffee (don’t say I don’t know how to have a good time!). I knew there was a beautiful monastery there, as Pam and Mandy had told me about it when I’d seen them in Skala Eresos the other day, and the thought crossed my mind that I should go and see it, but another part of me thought it better to press on. Just as I was leaving the little café where I’d bought a cappuccino, an elderly man came up to me and started talking in Greek (and gesticulating) about what sounded like taxis. As he looked quite grizzled, like a taxi driver, I assumed he was thinking I’d somehow ended up in that outpost by some magical means (maybe I’d beamed myself there?) and now needed a taxi ride back to civilisation. So I gesticulated back as though I were steering, and said loudly and with precise articulation, as though that would help him understand, ‘No thank you, I don’t need a taxi – I have my own car.’ He continued to go on about taxis though, so I just said ‘Efkareesto’ in my best Greek accent and made my way back to the car. As I was getting ready to move off, there was a tapping on my window, and I looked round to see Grizzly, still gesticulating and talking. I wound the window down and heard ‘taxis’ again. How could he STILL think I needed a taxi? Then he preceded it with ‘Moni’, at which I suddenly twigged. ‘Monastery?’ I asked. He repeated ‘Monastery’, nodding vigorously and pointing in the other direction to the way I’d have gone had I been going straight to Mytilene from there. So I said ‘Efkareesto!’ much more effusively this time and headed off in the direction he’d pointed in, even though I wasn’t 100% sure if I’d got the right end of the stick. But lo and behold, a couple of minutes down the road, there was a sign – to ‘Taxiarchos Monastery’!! The misunderstanding over taxis took me right back to when I was five and had just started school, and we were having a Religious Education lesson (Blimey! Wasn’t that a bit advanced for five-year-olds?). The subject was Jesus and the tax collectors, and we had to write an essay (Blimey! Expecting by five-year-olds to write essays?). Would you have known what a tax collector was at five years old? Well, I clearly didn’t, as I wrote a whole page on Jesus and the taxi drivers. Boy was I embarrassed when the teacher burst into hysterical laughter at my expense (though I hadn’t a clue as to why she was laughing…).

Anyway, I digress. I wanted to go back and thank the grizzled old chap properly, but thought better of it, and walked round the highly ornate monastery instead. Unfortunately the grounds were packed with screaming schoolchildren – so much so that I didn’t actually realise I was at the monastery when I first got there, and asked a taxi driver (or was he a tax collector? I don’t know) where the monastery was, as I assumed the forecourt was a school playground. He looked a bit bemused as he gestured to the building not ten yards away, and I just smiled my charming foreigner’s smile and shuffled off to take a picture of the aircraft so prominently and mysteriously displayed outside the monastery grounds.

After going round the interior, accompanied by young Greek children crossing themselves with holy oil and daubing all of the holy pictures with it as well, and noticing swallows’ nests high up in the eaves all the way round the inside of the building, I came out again and asked the lady selling holy medallions and the like (a) if she spoke English, and (b) if she could tell me why the aircraft was on such prominent display. She did speak a little English, and what I gathered was that a local resident had been a pilot who had crashed his plane somewhere, and the monument – as well as a smaller one inside the grounds – was in recognition of him.

The rest of my drive was uneventful – thankfully, as it means I can now relax about getting to the airport on time on Sunday. I drove back via the second-largest town on the island, Kalloni, and stopped off there too. Strangely (or not, for anyone who knows me), I ended up in a shoe shop, tempted by some blue boots in their sale. Thankfully they didn’t have them in my size, as I really DO NOT need any more boots. Until I see some more that take my fancy…

After Kalloni it was back into the mountains again, and I realised how the locals take the treacherous drops and sharp bends totally for granted when I rounded one of those bends to see an elderly chap standing next to his little moped, with a precipice and no barrier right behind him, chatting away on his mobile as though he was in the village square.

I’m back at the hotel now, with a Mythos and a cat (yes, Fluffyopoulos is back) by my side, feeling glad I did that drive, but ready now for a nap…

It looked a little bit overcast this morning, or rather, slightly misty, so I decided to take another trip to the thermal springs at Eftalou, thinking the heat of the healing waters might be welcome. I didn’t bank on it being several degrees hotter today than it was on Sunday – the attendant told me the temperature alters with the phases of the moon, and is at its hottest when it’s a new moon. Which it is right now. He estimated it at 44 degrees Celsius. That’s hot enough to leave you looking like a lobster – though one without rheumatism or arthritis, of course. Pam told me yesterday that these particular hot springs are the hottest on the island, so I feel quite hardy having endured – no, enjoyed – them twice now.

I feel hardy most of the time here, actually, as all the Greeks are clad in fleeces and fur-lined polar jackets, and there’s me in T-shirt, cropped trousers and sandals! A true Brit. But it is warm ‑ no, hot – I’ve got a bit of a tan, so that says something…

After scalding myself in three torturous dips in the thermal springs, I took a stroll further along the coast to the Long Beach, along another beach covered in a lovely soft, thick nest of what looked like shreds of soft bark or dead elongated leaves – I’ll check with my wordworking friend on Saturday as to what these soft things really were. All the way there and back I was accompanied by yet another feline friend – she’s one of the kitty crew that lives at the springs. Very sweet, for a cat. I even found myself saying to her that I wouldn’t mind taking her home with me, except that Silva and Chilli would object. Or eat her.

I got a bit burned sitting at the laptop at ‘my’ café by the harbour at midday today – there aren’t too many restaurants open just yet, so this is the one I’ve chosen to be the one I go to when I’m down there – I have to now, as it’d look like betrayal if the bar owner saw me sitting outside a different one. Tricky, this loyalty business.

I have a germ of a plan for tomorrow. Something Athena suggested when I came through reception just now. Could be another adventure in the offing. Or not – depends what kind of mood I wake up in… ;)

Had a great day today driving down to Skala Eresos to see Pam, who lives there, and Mandy, another resident and friend of Pam’s. As I waited at the local petrol station for the attendant to put in 20 euros’ worth of petrol (an attendant – what luxury!) before I set off on my journey, someone called out ‘Hello Mandy!’ I couldn’t think who could possibly know me – I’ve been here less than a week! Then I looked at who was getting out of the car by the next pump, and saw that it was my woodworking friend, along with his wife. So we had another convivial chat while my man topped me up, so to speak. I felt like I was one of the locals already as I drove off, giving my attendant a regal wave.

I’m feeling a bit knackered now, as what were very slightly wiggly lines on my map of Lesvos turned out to be massively windy roads all through the mountains with treacherous drops to one side, not low coastal roads as I’d fondly believed them to be… But it was an adventure – yet another! When I got to Skala, Pam turned out to be a mine of useful information and advice, and I’m hopeful of being able to arrange some gigs in the bars of Skala Eresos in the late summer, having spoken to several bar owners and the woman who is organising the women’s music festival there in September. It was great to see the village again too, even in its pre-season, still-being-done-up-for-the-summer-onslaught form!

Pam has a lovely house set back from the village, and two rescue dogs, one of whom is pictured here at home on my lap :)

On the no-less-windy way back to Molyvos, I rounded a bend to find the whole road blocked with sheep – and thankfully a shepherd in a pickup truck who guided them around my car. I felt a bit like Moses as the sheep miraculously parted for me as I edged forward.

Then, as I drove through a little mountain village a bit further on, a woman stepped out from the side of the narrow road and beckoned to me. Never one to ignore a beckoning woman, I slowed and wound the passenger window down, at which point she opened the door, said ‘Petra?’ (a village about five miles up the road, which I was by chance going to be driving through), and hopped in when I nodded, then gestured to her little girl to climb into the back seat! I’ve never picked up a hitchhiker before, and didn’t particularly intend to on this occasion, but I didn’t really have much say in the matter – but she was a woman, and her 8-year-old daughter didn’t seem much of a threat either! Despite neither of us speaking a word of the other’s language, we had a remarkably amicable time, and parted company five miles down the road the best of friends. She asked me my name, then told me hers – Taxielhoupla (at least that’s what it sounded like…) – and her daughter called out ‘Mikaela’ from the back. They got out at Petra, as scheduled, and I carried on my way with a beaming smile on my face.

I bought some supplies to eat – and drink, naturally –  in my room as I’m happy to spend the rest of the evening lazing around. And guess who joined me for tea? Yes, my two feline friends, requesting – but not getting – more Gouda. I realise the error of my ways now – they were somewhat more demanding than yesterday, and even went into my room and jumped on the desk to see what remained on my plate – cheeky devils.

It’s getting slightly chilly out here on the balcony, so time to retreat inside and pour myself another something or other… Night all!