Hello (or possibly goodbye - it appears to be the same word).
If Husband said it once, he said it twice during the last week: it's all Greek to me.
So, back from Crete and a relaxing week's holiday. But, oh, I do love my own bed. Someone sang, 'It's awful nice to go travelling but it's oh so nice to come home.' Or something like that. My sentiments exactly.
Not that we didn't have a lovely time: we did. Weather was half and half. The first two days I was melting. How on earth do you cope for days at a time with weather like that, Welshcakes? We survived by doing lots of sea swimming or, in my case, sea splashing. I must be the only person in the world who can swim on the spot.
Then we had a few cloudy days during which time we hired a car and visited a few sites/sights. Day 1 we went east to Knossos, the palace of the kings of Crete during the Minoan civilisation, which lasted from 2600-1100 B.C. The palace at Knossos was excavated by Englishman, Arthur Evans, at the beginning of the 20th century. He has been criticised for his reconstruction that involves a lot of concrete and imagination, but he is still honoured for his work on the huge palace excavation.
It did seem just a little like Disneyland: it was immaculately tidy. I expected Hercules to pop out from behind a pillar at any point, maybe accompanied by Minnie Mouse. That aside - and the ridiculous prices the guides wanted to charge - it really is a very impressive place. Here are some old ruins.
Day 2, we decided to head south - we were staying about halfway along the top of the island - and armed with the map and me as navigator we set off for the mountains. We ended up in the north-east. I blame Greek road signs - or lack of - and not my lack of map-reading skills. I admit I occasionally get distracted if I see a cute cat (more of that later) and lose my place, but the problem was far deeper than that, based as it was on Crete's poor infrastructure. So there.
Anyway we ended up at Chania, the old capital of Crete, on a very windy and wild day. It seemed to us to be a very badly designed harbour with an entrance that looked far too perilous to brave. The old town itself is largely Venetian and very lovely.
Day 3 we finally made it to the south of the island by following the only road we hadn't tried the previous day. We ended up at Matala Gorge (or George as it said on the wall) where Bob Dylan, amongst others, had lived in a cave in the sixties. Allegedly.
Ah, yes, and those cats. The hotel had a resident family of mum, dad (a ginger tom who incidentally had the largest testicles I have ever seen on a cat), and two young kitties. Here mum does what mums the world over do: gives her offspring a quick lick and brush-up as she's passing.
Lots more photos to come in the slide-show I'm preparing. I've downloaded Zorba's Dance to accompany the piccies but do you think I can work out where the puta has downloaded it to?
