Saturday is the day of
the mop and bucket, but having finished porch cleaning and dropped
leaves clearance, we set off along the Roumeli Highway. It has such
a romantic sound to it, doesn't it? When we moved to Crete, this route was
all rough walking tracks amongst the groves where anemones grew in clumps,
but a new road opened in the last 5-6 years
taking a good 15 minutes off our journey to the municipal centre of
Perama. At the opening of the road just south of our village is a
signpost with the European flag on it which signifies that it was
built with a grant from Europe. These signs crop up quite often
round and about here outside new developments or by heritage sites or
beaches. As we puttered along, I reflected that we hadn't seen many
of those sort of signs in the UK. … and this kind of got me
wondering why if grants were available from the EU, why I had not
seen any evidence of them round and about in England? Perhaps they
were for areas that needed support for development and I had lived in
too well-healed places … but this seemed highly unlikely. Any
benefits from Europe seemed very remote when we lived in England.
Its only when you count them up you begin to realise what you are
going to lose out on. It hasn't hit the population of the UK yet,
but it will.
 |
| With thanks to Madeleina Kay |
Anyway, back to Roumeli
highway. It's a great smooth road which snakes along between acres
and acres of olive trees of the Geropotamos and yes, this year is
going to be a bumper one for olives. We passed trucks and tractors parked
alongside their trees where families and groups were spreading the
nets underneath the trees and preparing to shake, twirl and rake down
the olives, sort them and put them in sacks to take to the olive
mill. Dimitra, our friend who used to help with Greek conversation
is now working 14 hour days at the mill doing all the record keeping
and administration. Greek conversation is a No No, but there are new free lessons available in Rethymno and Mrs C is cudgelling her brains
once more to try to get a better grasp of Greek. We put the car
radio on for a listen to get a bit more practice.
The road is often
crossed by small ferrety skinks and snakes as we drive along, so we
watch our speed. At one point, the car does a sharp S bend where
the road crosses a stream and where the bamboo grows in swathes. We
always seem to meet a large 4 x 4 truck speeding in the opposite
direction at the narrowest points and others whizz out of side
turnings without stopping to check for other traffic. We do often
wonder what the driving test must be like in Crete, when the standard
and safety consciousness is so lacking, but we press on, driving
defensively and on the lookout. Left from the storms of March, debris washed down from the escarpments is still in evidence … a little
more swept together but not removed from the roadside and each new
rain storm brings more stones and mud down across the road to add to
it. We narrowly miss a truck driver at Roumeli itself as he careers
out of nowhere and round the corner right in front of us. We zig
zag down the chalk escarpment to the main feeder road and bus route
to Perama and crick our necks at the awkward junction. A new
emporium has opened which seems to sell hardware and has wheelbarrows
outside, but as we cannot read the Greek shop sign quickly enough, we need to find out what else is there! We will have to have a nose at a later
date. Two new chapels have appeared on this route, beautifully built
in dressed stone and we have a new wonder whether there are Pappas
(clergy) to officiate at these churches or whether they stand empty
most of the year. We are permanently mystified, but make a note take
a little visit when we have time.
 |
| The children from the village school practising for Oxi Day |
Once parked at Perama,
I struggle up the incredible slope from the car park and puff over to
the ATM to check the bank balance. The value of the pound has meant
that we have to keep a much closer watch on our spending these days.
Fortunately, we are still solvent and able to get the groceries! I
stroll back to town – all down hill this time – and observe a few
Christmas windows among all the closed shop businesses, hear the
heavy beat of music coming from the gym (who wants to spend time
cooped up inside on a fabulous day like this?) and check on the new
oranges growing on the trees by the side of the tiny pavement. It is
important not to spend too much time looking up in Crete. Narrowly
missing falling into the basement of a bakery which has thoughtlessly
cut a large section out of the pavement to form a delivery hatch, I
cling on to the wall and make it safely back to the Posh Cafe for a
welcome bevy. Who would have thought that a trip to the cash machine
would be so fraught with danger? The most fabulous hot chocolate
arrives, which comes with Viennese fancy type shortbread. Yum! With the demise of so many shops and businesses, the Posh Cafe
is the trendy place to be for now! Mr C people-watches while he
waits there. The car parking antics outside the Bakery and
Supermarket can keep us amused for hours, as customers' cars stop dead in
the middle of the road, trucks double and triple park while lorries
try to deliver loads of goods in the midst of complete lawless
mayhem. It is frequently heart stopping to see all the manoeuvring
and near misses.
In this bumper olive
year, you will be pleased to know that the Croziers have completed
and achieved their olive harvest already. It took all of five
minutes from the large potted olive tree on the roof terrace. Mrs C
has consulted the oracle and they are soaking in brine for a while.
To be honest, they look a little puny and we don't hold out much
hope, but time will tell. Thanks to our neighbours and people who
really do know what they are doing, we won't be short of oil this
year.
Happy hunting!
