Well, after our inauspicious introduction to Antiparos, we crashed, hoping things would look up in the morning.
And, as is usually the case, as the sun rose I found a new, different island. Different from Koufonissi, different from my expectations, and different from the first evening.
Up early, I found the first coffee at the bakery, and took it to the harbor to watch the sun rise.
This is better.
The bakery smelled all fresh-dough and sweetness, the double espresso was strong (in a take-away cup; going to have to do something about that) and the early morning quiet gave me some time to look and think.
And as the sun rose over Paros, across the channel, I was already feeling better, already altering my routine, settling into the rhythms of this new island.
I walked the harbor, looking at the fishing boats bobbing, over to the blue domed Greek Orthodox church, where a monument to somebody, unfortunately looking like a giant concrete penis, was scandalizing the Saint.
I followed the path around to the closest beach, just a five minute walk, and after a quick swim scoped out the possibilities for the day.
When Gail got up, we showered and went to a great breakfast at Elia Kafenes, down close to the water.
I had fried eggs with bacon and sausage with a great lemon sauce drizzle.
Gail got a spinach, avacado and goat cheese omelette and latte.
I got the goat cheese for my eggs from her and had the best, fresh, cold orange juice with no pulp.
The breakfast was so good in fact that we looked at the dinner menu and decided to return that evening.
We grabbed our towels and headed out to the little beach I saw in the morning, called Psaralyki Beach.
There are actually two Psaralyki beaches, and we walked to the second (further) one. There we set up under the pine trees, on five euro beach beds in front of the Fanari Beach Bar.
Psaralyki is a long arc of golden, coarse sand, set under a row of pine trees for shade, and it gets crowded by 14:00. We had a great place because we arrived at 10:30.
The water was clear and warm, the Alpha Beers were light and cold (€3) and we spent the day watching the sailboards and kite surfers in the channel between us and Paros.
I turned on the TV to see what was up.
We stumbled across a really quirky Greek game show called Taipi. At least I think that is the name, after all, it is all Greek to me.
Anyway, we just watched, open mouthed, laughing as a guy in a shiny blue, sequined shirt open to his navel, wearing tight hip-hugger blue bell bottoms and a giant peace sign buckle, with thick dark hair (is it a wig?) and a huge, white toothed smile, sunglasses and a mustache got contestants, women in sports bras to pound nails into a board, light matches to suck eggs into bottles, and dance with him as an electric guitar band played cheesy Greek music.
It was one of those disaster things you just can’t look away from.
After a glass of wine and the end of the show we went out of the room so Gail could shop some.
I found a little place called 5F advertising the “Best Gyros On Antiparos.”
Well, if you are going to make a claim like that on a Clint Eastwood poster, you damn well better back it up. So I plunked down my €2,50 and by god if it wasn’t a great pork gyro. So now I have a good place for a cheap snack.
Things are looking up.
Antiparos is bigger than Koufonissi, with more tourists and two actual pedestrian-only shopping streets, yet it is still a small island. It is quieter by far than Mykonos.
Here is a quote:
"Antiparos is not a spectacular island. It is not a
particularly beautiful island. It is somewhat touristic though the
reason it is now touristic is because it wasn’t before. Antiparos was
one of those islands that the artists and free-spirited entrepreneurs
went to when the islands they had discovered, like Mykonos and Santorini, became saturated by tourists and the rents became unaffordable. Now it is one of those 'unspoiled' islands that many people who love Greece but hate tourism look for, to the point where it has become touristic from all the people who come here because it isn't.“
Yup, that sums it up.
An unspoiled tourist island.
They say Tom Hanks, Pierce Brosnan and Bruce Willis all have villas here on Antiparos, because it is quiet and they are left alone. So now, as we eat or walk, everyone I see is a movie star. At least I am pretty sure of it.
It is small, and that is part of the charm.
How small?
Well, we walked the main street, following it across the “neck” of the island from the east Port side to the west Sunset side. We were heading to Sunset Beach, where there is a bar and restaurant where everyone goes to have a drink at sunset. The beach itself is pretty small, but the bar is huge with lots of patio seating.
But we were going for a specific purpose.
The owner of the bar is the brother-in-law of the hotel owner, and she set us up to see him.
Sunday is my birthday, and it is the World Cup final between Croatia and France. My idea was to reserve a table to see the game, eat and drink, and watch the sunset. Well, we were greeted warmly and when he found out I was a Croatia fan, we were in like Flynn.
With Sunday’s plans out of the way, we ordered up a lime daiquiri, glass of rosé, and sparkling water with ice.
We split an appetizer of shrimps grilled with bacon and sweet chili sauce, and I could have eaten a couple dozen and called it good right there.
The chili sauce was amazing, and the spicy shrimps paired so well with the bottle of local Paros crisp white wine we ordered.
I had stuffed ravioli with porcini mushrooms, parmesan and lime sauce for dinner, and Gail got a roasted chicken salad with the best dark-bread, sweet, crunchy croutons ever. It was an excellent dinner, cost less than the previous night’s bomb, which made me really regret the money and stomach space we wasted yesterday.
The bakery is open about 5:30 for coffee.
The first day they served it in a paper take away cup, so I scrounged up my own coffee cup and had them make it in that, making it more “coffee like” and unexpectedly cutting the cost 50¢
So the new morning routine is shaping up:
Go for an early sunrise skinny-dip, then get an espresso and walk up to the harbor and sit on the quay by the fishing boats, staring at the massive front timbers, light arrangements, different cabins and rudders; the nets and floats and reels and stuff, just wondering about that fishing life. The little blue and white Greek flags snap in the breeze.
Today, my second day on the island, a few of the older locals nodded at me, or grunted in my direction as they passed.
We “early morning” people are brothers.
It is always windy here, but warm. I mean the wind blows all day; at the beach, in the streets, at dinner and breakfast we have to anchor the placemats and napkins. Even at night there is a constant, warm breeze coming in the room.
Our hostess tells us the visitors here are primarily Norwegians and Italians. She (and everyone else) assumed we are Norwegian, and are surprised we are from California.
But the Greeks arrive in August, from Athens.
“Oh how I hate August here!” she says.
Antiparos is a good place to raise kids. You can let them run free with no worries.
This is sure not a party town, but there are plenty of bars and restaurants. The mornings are very very quiet.
The Trump protests in London are all the news right now, and we overhear people talking in the bars and restaurants. My friend is in London as I write this and he says the protesters are everywhere.
We duck and practice our Italian.
How about this one: A couple years ago I had a sudden flare up of red itchy bumps on my upper back, most probably from the hot tub. So I went to a dermatologist (about $150 out of pocket) who gave me a prescription ($25 a pop co-pay). I seem to have gotten a small case of the same bumps now, so I walked into the local pharmacy, described it, and for €3 (about $3.60) walked out with a tube of the same prescription medicine.
What is it with the US healthcare system?
Pure craziness.
It is supposed to be a popular, sandy beach.
TRUE
Just a short walk north of town.
TRUE
Supposedly you can walk the shallow channel to Fira, the next island over.
FALSE.
Supposedly there is a food truck there for drinks and snacks.
FALSE.
Supposedly it is a nudist beach since the 1970s.
TRUE.
I am just not that great of a swimmer to trust that, if I set out swimming the rest of the way, that I wouldn’t get swept out of the channel. I don’t know if you could do it on a calm day.
The winds, however, kept the temperature pretty mild, even laying in the full sun.
Or maybe I should say "...even laying fully in the sun."
Fully laying in the full sun.
After a few hours we walked into the campground and had a bottle of cold mineral water and looked around. If you wanted to camp pretty comfortably and cheap, this would be a good place. They have showers, good bathrooms, a laundry, simple store, bar and restaurant (cafeteria style and the food looked good). There are tent spots, camper spots (like for a VW Van) and you can rent a tent or possibly a simple hut.
After the beach, I went to 5F for another pork gyro and Alpha beer while Gail showered and had a glass of cold white wine in the room.
We have taken to keeping the refrigerator stocked with a bottle of wine, and we keep two glasses ready in the little freezer section.
Comes in handy on these hot and humid late afternoons.
That’s not exactly how it happened.
We walked up the street a ways, and I bought a hand-made espresso cup from an artist while Gail was looking around.
We ran across a bar where the game was on, and I walked up and looked at the score. At the nine minute mark Belgium was already up 1-0 over England.
Well, I made some remark to Gail like “YEA! Belgium is winning!” and the five people watching the game looked at me.
“You are English?” one asked.
“California.” I replied.
“For England?”
“Belgium!” I said strongly.
They all smiled, stood up and pulled chairs up for us, and insisted we join them.
“Let me buy you a beer!” and before we could object there were two cold beers for us.
So we sat down and joined what turned out to be a small community of Belgians, gathered to watch their team.
Out of all the bars we chose to look at the score, who would guess we would find the ONE bar where the Belgian ex-pats and tourists would gather. They all knew each other, about ten strong, and we were just brought into the group.
That first beer soon morphed into a second beer upon a great save by the Belgian goalkeeper, then a third beer at the half, because “Hey, we’re winning!”
At some point in time a couple young French girls came by, looked at the score, then wished good luck to the Belgian team, “…so we don’t feel so guilty about beating you.”
We found out that the two main friends who first invited us in are friends back in Antwerp, and came to Antiparos four years ago without knowing the other was here. They come every year now, two couples. The one couple has bought a house here, and it will be ready next year.
“It is limited, the places that are warm, to buy a home.” he said.
One of the couples goes to Tulum, Mexico every winter as well.
They actually saw Tom Hanks in town last night, and last week Whoopie Goldberg and someone else they couldn’t name, but recognized the face, was here.
“What about your president?” they asked. I rolled my eyes and they laughed.
“We see America now as entertainment. Every morning we get up and say, 'What is Trump up to today?'”
They laughed. “It is bad he is causing trouble. We are having to leave you behind.”
The second half started. I was laughing by now.
Every time the Belgian team made a good run but (just barely) missed the goal, one guy would say “SHIT!”
Belgium was totally dominating the hapless England team, so the SHIT was flying.
A couple of the “local” ex-pat Belgians pulled up chairs and bought the next round of beers at the second goal.
Near the end of the game they bought yet another round of beer (this is number five if you are counting) and I hadn’t finished my fourth (or truth be told, my third) yet.
So as I started in on this new, cold, fifth beer, abandoning the warmer old brews, I started praying: "Dear god, please don’t let them score again!"
The game ended 2-0 for Belgium, and they wanted to order yet another round because at this point, hey, why not?
But Gail and I made our apologies; we needed to get some food (and water and sober up) and the group was breaking up anyway. We got a photo of some of us (It took three guys to hold steady and take the photo, the first few tries a couple of the Belgians couldn't quite stand up for the photo...) and after hugs and handshakes all around we left.
That was one of the best soccer games of my life.
My friend and fellow coach, Mark, was watching at home in California, 7:00 his time, so he wasn’t drinking beers. But we were texting comments to each other the entire game, and I was really wishing he could have been here for it.
Perhaps one year.
We went up the street to the Home Restaurant, a very nice looking pasta and pizza place. The menu was a crack up, with “muchrooms” as a prominent ingredient. The cool part was that you ordered and paid for your pasta and your sauce separately, so you could essentially mix and match to make several different dishes.
We split an order of Muchrooms for a starter, served on rocket with parmesan flakes, prosciutto crudo and grape molasses vinaigrette dressing. Yum!
Gail got penne pasta with a rosa sauce: roasted chicken breast, tomato sauce with cream, onion, oregano and parmesan. It was good (I got to eat half of it!) but we both agreed my meal was better. I got strozzapreti (twisted) pasta with chicken a la cream sauce, made of roasted chicken breast, mushrooms, onion, bacon and cream.
It was fantastic.
It was a great meal, and I had a very nice espresso machiatto from next door to finish it off.
As we ate, we watched the neighborhood kids selling painted rocks (you can tell the teachers who are traveling; they get down at the kid level and talk with them before shelling out a euro or three for kid art) and riding their bikes up and down the walkway.
A hefty little boy, maybe all of ten, runs up and breathlessly asks the hostess if she has a table for four?
“Yes” she says, smiling.
“Right now?”
“Yes” and she motions to a table. He promptly plops into a seat and sits there, expectantly waiting… and waiting…
We exchange smiles with the waitress, and now the cook. Still the kid waits.
Is it a bunch of friends? A family?
Finally mom and the pretty teenage daughter show up and he jumps up, excited to see them. We all burst into applause, and they look surprised. “We wondered who you were,” the waitress explained.
“We came last night and you were full. We wanted a table today!"
The school is right across from where we were eating, and the gates are locked up for the summer. The tree-shaded playground is surrounded by a beautiful stone wall, and it looks like a park, unlike the detention center look of our spear-tipped, iron-fenced security fencing in California. But, just like people simply jump the security fence back home, the kids here simply climbed up and over the rock wall, helping to boost the younger kids and dogs, so they could play and hang out in a safe area.
I looked and saw no crack pipes, no used condoms, no trash.
Kids hanging out, talking and playing.
Sunday, was my birthday, and I was up early for another 5:30 sunrise swim in the warm warm Aegean Sea before stopping for a double espresso and sitting at the harbour. There is something magical about the feel of the warm salt water on your skin, then standing out alone on the beach in the warm morning air to dry as the sun peeks over the hills.
We decided to return to Psaralyki Beach for the day, and Gail had the great idea of going early and just eating breakfast there at the Fanari Beach Bar. By 9:00 I was drinking a fresh OJ, Gail had a berry juice, and we split a turkey and cheese toast.
We spent the morning in the sun, the beach nearly empty, listening to the whisper - quiet waves. Fifty or more kite surfers added a bright kaleidoscope of color to the blue of the ocean and the brown of the hills.
People started showing up about noon:thirty so we walked up for a beer and Peña Colada, then returned to swim and read.
I am officially out of books now; here’s hoping the next place we stay on Paros has a book in the exchange.
We returned to the room to shower, then as planned we walked out to Sifneiko Cafe on Sunset Beach for the World Cup. I had a margarita, Gail a lime daiquiri, then good pasta and shrimps as we watched Croatia lose 4-2 to France.
The beautiful sunset, the good food and wine, and the fact that we like France almost as much as Croatia helped ease the pain of the loss.
The last morning on the island was a repeat: swim, sunrise, espresso, sit and look, return and blog.
And so the days have passed on Antiparos.
Over to Paros for two days.