|on the way to the bus stop in Agios Nikolaos|
Just a short bus ride south of Agios Nikolaos lies the village of Kritsa. A typical Greek style town with narrow streets and white washed houses. Kritsa has been around for nearly 800 years. The village is built like an amphitheatre with the town centre plaza in the middle at the lowest point, and the rest going up hill. The village has seen a lot a re-builds over the centuries because whenever there was a revolution or conflict the place got sacked.
|The narrow streets in Kritsa|
|No cars here|
|I loved this village, could live here|
The local trade is weaving, fine crocheted table cloths and the like. After a failed attempt the day before we managed to catch the bus from the centre of the city, and rode for 15 minutes to the village. We wandered the narrow streets and looked through the shops but we were not in the market for any linen products. The local women stand at the entry to their shops and beckon you to come in to check out her wares. No need to buy, just come in and take a look. Once inside the sales pitch begins and you are on the hook while she explains how and where the fine products are made.
|Some welcome shade|
|Walking back to the hotel this is the view from above the lake|
It was a very warm day and we took a couple of breaks here and there for a nice refreshing beer. Just sitting on the terrace of a cafe with a beer in the shade looking at the ancient buildings around us was an amazing experience. Then it was lunch time and we enjoyed a table full of Greek meze, and a bottle of wine, naturally. The taverna had a wonderful outdoor area covered with an enormous tree that gave nice cool shade.
The bus to and from the village goes only once per hour, so you have to plan your day a bit. We planned our departure perfectly only to realize that we had left our camera behind. The bus driver let us off at the first available spot and we walked back to the place where we left the camera. It was still sitting there on the park bench, lucky, but then we realized that we were now in the only two hour, once a day, gap for bus service. Now if we were Greek we would have just bellied up to the nearest bar, but instead we kind of lost it and wallowed in our misery. It takes a few days to become part of the "Island Time" culture. Lesson learned, easy does it wins the race.
Upon our return to the hotel we changed and went to the pool for a cool dip and we felt much better. Then we started talking about renting a car for a week...