A quick correction to yesterday’s local news: apparently, Lefteris Kafeneion in Horio opened up again the night before last. (Open mornings and late afternoon/evening.) That came in from Peter, who we’ll be seeing later as there’s a quiz at the Sunrise later today – assuming we can scrape together a few pennies, because for me, pension day isn’t until Monday. (Things that, when you were younger, you couldn’t imagine yourself writing #12.)

There are things to do before then, such as preparing my monthly newsletter, where I highlight books that are on offer and are being promoted by all manner of indie authors. I also add a little of my work-in-progress news and any other updates that don’t make it to my website. That’ll take up an hour or two, and after that… not a lot really.

‘What do you do in the winter?’ It depends on the weather. Recently, it’s been a case of staying in and sheltering from the elements. According to Windfinder, today’s to be calm and dry, but from tomorrow onwards, it’s back to force 7 winds, rain, a wet-south-west wind, and this is going on until around Friday, then starting up again from Tuesday. In the winter, I tend to watch the weather as much as I watch the boat schedule if/when I need to travel. After all, when you live in a rural village that has only three reliable buses per week to take you to the nearest town, you tend to keep an eye on it. The same with boats when you live on an island.

Oh yes, and I’ve also promised myself I will spring clean the bathroom today, the first room in the annual post-winter spring clean, which usually starts around now. A bit early? No, the bathroom is the dampest room in the house, and it will need doing again before summer. I ran the dehumidifier in the house yesterday, just in the background and not in the bathroom, and emptied out a few litres of water during the day. The same happens at night, and it’s hard to air the house when the weather’s bad, because sometimes, you can’t even open the shutters, let alone the windows.

‘What do you do in the winter?’ Then, there’s the courtyard and the plants. Neil’s successfully cut back those that needed it, he’s harvested another tub load of chillies (we have several in the freezer already), and after the brief, harsh cold snap, and then the warm, damp snap, nothing out there seems to know what it’s meant to be doing, and not everything is doing well.

And so, to my admin, networking and newsletter. ‘What do you do in the winter?’ The same as I do in the summer, I go to work, only colder and damper.

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Don’t panic. This was taken a few years ago, now when there was so much snow in the region, some even landed on Symi for a day or so.

This morning: rain, but the howling wind of yesterday has passed by. We’re in the changeable-weather season, which doesn’t help if you’re planning a trip by boat. People often ask about Symi in winter, and if it is a good time of year to visit. Yes, if you want to see what many people want to experience, the ‘authentic’ island life. The use of that word sometimes makes me snigger. ‘Are there any tavernas serving authentic Greek food?’ Yeah, there’s one, and the rest use a 3D printer… I know what you mean, but…

Authentic Horio in winter…? Yesterday afternoon, we thought we’d go for a short walk and see if the Rainbow was open. We were chatting on the way, and as we walked past the village square, our voices echoed in the stillness. I mean, it’s currently tumbleweeds and all, because everywhere is so quiet. The shops are open, but not many have stock to write home about. The taverna is open, but it’s only whatever Noufris has available, and in January and February, that’s often not a lot. Of the two bars in the square, Rainbow is open now and then, mainly when Yiannis comes in to check the water intake or watch a football match, so it’s hit and miss. Other places are open, like the Sunrise, where we’re going tomorrow for a quiz, and Scena, where we were the other night for a pizza. But the classic street-café life doesn’t exist up here right now. You can sit outside in the harbour and watch the world go by, but you’ll have to sit behind plastic and may be waiting a long time.

Very quiet, apart from the weather, and now and then, the helicopter coming in for whatever reason. Oh, there’s building work going on, there always is, and some municipal works, such as the new road surface in Yialos. Other than that, for me, it’s peace and quiet all the way to Easter.

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We’re back to this. Short, unprepared, early morning rambles about weather and whatnots. I can tell you that this morning, we’re waking up to wind, grey clouds, and the chance of rain, again. Since we got back on January 2nd, we’ve had days when the office hasn’t reached above 8° even with the heater on. We’ve had storms, and days of constant rain flooding the porch and finding its way through the bathroom window, which has never closed properly, and we’ve had some days when I have been able to get away with wearing only two layers in the house and not three. Obviously, we’re keen to avoid hideously costly electricity bills, so the heater is off more than it’s on, and the sitting room is littered with blankets and spare jumpers. Today seems warm enough, though (around 12° so far), and we’ve got nothing planned apart from the usual.

Also, as usual, I’ve not been out and about much, and that’s going to be the case for a while, I expect. I’m working on the next book and trying to sell the existing ones, Neil’s thinking of taking up his anthropology course again, and I have a new piece of Ravel to attempt on the piano, but that’s about it for ‘winter projects.’ Outside, as those who use social media might know, the road along the south side of the harbour is being repaired, apparently to help with flood prevention or something, and probably because it was crumbling away. Other than that, we’ve had a few power cuts while work gets done on the supply, boats have been cancelled due to weather, as often happens, and… and I can’t think what else. Oh, I have a new phone and am still working my way through the features, which means the photo I just took of today’s view hasn’t uploaded yet, so you may get that tomorrow…

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Athens airport, at eleven on New Year’s Day night, is so busy, it might as well be the first day of the summer getaway. You have to wonder who’s travelling where on such a day, but then you remember you’re travelling too, and you have a pickup arranged. We follow the instructions from the remote host of our hotel, find the van, and there, have to wait while the driver takes an earlier collection of guests off into the night.

New Year’s Day becomes January 2nd, and by the time the driver returns, you work out that you’ve been awake since seven and only had four hours’ sleep the night before. Still, not long now, and you can get to bed…

The drive from the airport to the hotel (GK Airport Suites) takes ten minutes through the night, and we arrive at a nondescript, modern building, where the instructions tell us how to open the magic box to find our room keys. This done, we take the lift up to floor five, and there, Neil and I find our suite. A huge bedroom with TV, a sitting room with a kitchen corner that includes a fridge, some vaguely useful cooking utensils and a baffling coffee machine. There are also two single beds in this room, but the other team has their own suite somewhere in the seemingly deserted building. Beyond the sitting room stands a large shower room and a separate WC. Everything is rather cold, so we wrestle with the air con until something happens, and there are great views from the large roof terrace we have. You could quite easily spend a couple of days exploring the place and watching the planes, but it’s now one in the morning, and we’re due to be picked up at 6.15. For one reason or another, I enjoy three hours’ sleep before the cold wakes me. There then follows a silent fight with the coffee machine, and when Neil gets up, we manage to make half a small cup of strong sludge that was meant to be drinkable, and give up on the idea.

Now, you may remember when I started telling you about this adventure, I wrote: It’s ten past six on the morning of January 2nd, 2026, and our party has gathered outside an unusual hotel ten minutes’ drive from Athens airport. Well, that’s where we are now.

At 6.15 there’s no sign of the van, but there is a phone call to say he will be 10 minutes late. We’re reminded that we’re back in Greece when he arrives 30 minutes late, which is exactly one hour before our gate closes. Luckily, we are already checked in and don’t have to worry about luggage. We do, though, have to worry about the jam of traffic entering the airport, getting through to the security area, getting through the security area itself, and it has one of those endless, snaking queues where you just want to be Shrek and charge through the middle, but you can’t. We make it through and hurry past all the fragrances and chocolates, resisting the temptation to impulse buy a last-minute must-have bottle or ouzo in a novelty-shaped bottle, a fridge magnet or two, and the latest Dan Brown, and find our gate with a few minutes left to buy water, find a loo, and de-sweat. Phew. Made it, and on only seven hours’ sleep over the last two days.

You can’t see it, but the advertisement for Vodafone on the right uses Symi as a background. I guess, because it’s what every visitor to the island does; throw their arms wide to the Neoclassical view, and exclaim, ‘Yeah, Vodafone-land!’

Whatever.

There’s not a lot to tell you about the flight down to Rhodes. As I’ve said before, it’s like catching a bus, but with more rigmarole. Once through all that and in a seat, you have roughly 40 minutes before you’re back on land. Just enough time for half a cup of coffee or a juice, an energy bar, a look at the passing islands (and it was a good day for viewing them), and, if you’re very quick, you can pee over Mykonos. I’ll leave that to your imagination.

When planning this trip, we’d arranged to come back overnight on the Thursday because a) there were only limited flights between Bucharest and Athens, so we had no choice, and b) because the Blue Star usually leaves Rhodes on a Friday evening. We landed at nine on Friday morning, but by then, had learnt that the boat was delayed because of bad weather, so it wouldn’t be sailing until Saturday morning. We made other plans.

It was the first time I’d seen Rhodes airport with no taxi queue. Not a cab in sight. Not even for ready money, Lady Bracknell. There was, though, a chap whose job it was to keep order in the taxi queue, and he made a few calls, so we didn’t have to wait long before bundling into another car and directing the driver to the Castellum Suites.

I’ve recommended this hotel before, and I’ll do it again because, in many cases, it’s the best value hotel I’ve yet found on Rhodes. I have only used it in the winter months, say between November and April, and the prices will be higher in the summer, but for around €75.00 a night, you have: a large room all clean and tidy, and in our case, including a bottle of wine because it was New Year. Then, as it’s an all-inclusive, you have dinner, breakfast and lunch if you are staying that long, all your standard drinks until ten at night, endless coffee, tea, cakes, fruit and snacks through the day, lovely staff, and a quiet neighbourhood. As you have seen, we’d usually eat out and explore the area, but that’s when we’re in a foreign land. Here on Rhodes, we only need to explore the shops, and as we’ve patronised 101 eateries in the past, so we have no qualms about staying all-in for a night now and then.

Another reason for staying there happens when we arrive (and this may not always apply, because it’s not actually in the rule book). It’s a quarter to ten by now, and we’re all a little bedraggled and in need of a tea, or a café Fuddo, or whatever. Seeing this, the receptionist hands us the forms to fill in and suggests we do it over breakfast before the dining room closes. In giving us our multi-pass wrist bands, she’s in effect giving us an extra breakfast and two lunches each – had we been staying until the next afternoon. As it happens, our price includes four full meals each, plus whatever we later drain from the bar. As the cost of such enthusiastic extravagance out in town could easily exceed €200, we’ve got a good deal, and we’re not complaining. Mind you, Harry had his own home to go to and stay at, but not until he’d also been invited to a free breakfast care of the hotel.

While H the teen goes home to no doubt pound his X-box for the rest of the day (still not a euphemism), we now have a whole day to kill in Rhodes, but what we really need is a good sit down. A day off. But not until we’ve at least gone for a walk. Unfortunately, we find the shops closed, but it’s a blue-sky day, and there’s no need for scarves and snoods, gloves and hats, though I wear my new one relentlessly until we return to the hotel, there to have lunch and settle down to watch a film. Waking an hour later, we catch the end of the film, but have no idea what’s going on, and so, washed and changed into whatever is still clean (not a lot), we spend the afternoon in the bar until it’s time for a glass of wine and a game of cribbage. Jenine has carried our wooden crib board and the cards with her throughout the trip, but there’s never been time to use them. Train journeys, even though several hours long, seemed to pass by in a blink, and there was no room on the overnight one. Also, now is the first time we’ve had a chance to sit and do nothing, and boy, do we need to. Cards, dinner, a little chat, and an early night, and before you know it, we’re back in another taxi, this time heading for the ferry. Later, a Lakis Travel transfer up the hill, and we’re home.

And Back to Normal
Right. That’s that story told, though I have missed out some parts. Why? Because there are some moments that only make sense if you were there. For example, I have just ordered a new mobile phone, and it cost me around €250.00, which for me is excessive. Harry’s posh mobile phone came in at over €1,000 in a sale, and one of its fancy features is to take a short video with sound while taking a photo. So, when you open the image in the gallery, the image moves, and you hear the background noise. I forget what the image was off, but when he opens one in particular, you can hear Neil putting on a campy voice and saying, ‘Ooh, it makes me ’arder.’ Repeating the phrase at various stages of the journey always ended in laughter and kept us going, but I can’t wait to see how H explains it to his mates.

Anyway, we’re back to normal now, and the blog will be back to its usual sparse self on Monday. I’m taking the weekend off to finally start work on my next story, but I’ll hopefully see you back here next week.

Meanwhile, here’s the final gallery.

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You know you’ve had a good New Year’s Eve when you wake up to three empty bottles of prosecco, three of wine, and the scent of leftover Chinese takeaway, and all for under €20.00 a head. However, you also have on your mind the fact that you are meeting a driver/guide at 13.00, you’re meant to be out of the apartment by 12.00 (though who’s going to come knocking?), and you have a flight at 21.15. You also have some vague memories and turn to your phone’s gallery to see how things panned out last night.

I am surprisingly alert that morning, yet the brief videos show us laughing and cheering, counting down, yelling ‘Xronia Polla!’ from the window in very non-Greek accents, generally being silly and having a good time. Outside, at the appointed hour, fireworks light the sky, bangers explode, there’s a party outside some kind of club or bar at the end of the street, car horns, lots of noise and revelry, and the whole city, it seems, is having a good time. The police were called to the bar at the end of the street, then an ambulance. There was some breaking of glass, and in the morning, just outside the door, we discovered someone had tried to use the gutter for an explosion of their digestive system, but had missed, and instead, decorated the pavement with the outflow. A good time was, clearly, had by all but one.

There are also photos of Neil fully fledged in a dazzling piece of Temu’s finest polyester, and Harry trying to escape to his room.

On to New Year’s Day, and, as stated, there is a timetable. The issue was: What do we do between get-out time and check-in time? We have untold pieces of luggage now, several bags for life, additional clothing, and nine hours to kill with no guarantee of being able to leave our luggage anywhere. The solution? Daniel and his comfortable car. (Again, see Harry for make, model and production specs.) Marco in Brasov had suggested him, should we need a driver, and he came at a reasonable cost – very reasonable when you read what we saw with him between 13.00 when he collected us, and 18.00 when he dropped us at the airport.

Luggage packed, and the apartment tidied, we left our little corner of Old Town Bucharest, avoided the evidence of the good time had by the city the night before, and loaded up the car.

The first stop with our incredibly knowledgeable guide was the National Cathedral of Romania. The cathedral is dedicated to the Ascension of Christ, which in Romania is celebrated as Heroes’ Day, and to Saint Andrew the Apostle, the protector of Romania.

It’s huge.

A few details from the web: Name: People’s Salvation Cathedral. Construction Period: Foundation in 2010; consecration ceremonies in October 2025 after 15 years of work. Length (building): 126 m. Width: 67.7 m. Height: Up to the base of the main dome cross: 120 m – 127 m, depending on measurement reference. With main cross: overall crown reaches approx. 127 m (some records cite up to 134 m including elements), making it one of the tallest Orthodox domed churches in the world.

Yes, it’s big. So big that photos don’t give you the scale of the building. From one angle, it dwarfs the parliament building behind. Once inside, it’s pretty unbelievable. Not only are the (what do we call them?) artworks massive, but they are also mosaic. I can’t remember how many people you can fit inside the building, thousands. If you look through the gallery in a minute, you might get a scale of the place by looking at the people standing before the altar. I’ll let you explore that on your own.

And move on to the old cathedral, where we went afterwards for a quick look, and where it was much warmer, more welcoming and friendlier than what we’d just seen. Here, outside the home of the Archbishop, they dispense holy water from an industrial bucket.

Sadly, many attractions in the city were closed on New Year’s Day, but that didn’t deter Daniel, who took us to Mogoșoaia Palace (Palatul Mogoșoaia). The most prominent palace just outside Bucharest. This is a stunning example of Romanian Brâncovenesc style architecture, blending Eastern and Western influences, and it’s known for its picturesque setting on a lake with beautiful gardens.

Cold, but interesting, and followed by a futile look for an open coffee shop. We still had several hours to play with, but Daniel was not perturbed. In fact, he had a surprise up his sleeve. ‘A friend was there yesterday,’ he said. ‘So, I know it will be open today.’

It was a drive through the countryside beyond the city, back along roughly the same route as the train had taken yesterday, to Snagov Monastery, which stands on an island in a lake about 40 km north of Bucharest. We parked, crossed a bridge over the water, parts of which were ice, and came across a small farmyard complete with goats and a random ostrich. O…kay. Beyond lay the entrance to the church dedicated to the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary. However, the monastery itself is linked to Vlad the Impaler. Apparently, he was killed there, and his remains lie inside the church under a slab. Well, most of them do, because his head had been chopped off and sent to Constantinople, so it’s not a long grave.

This unexpected visit completed something of a circle. On my 50th birthday, I woke in Sighisoara, in Transylvania, and that morning, we had coffee in the house where Vlad Tepes was more than likely born. Now, here we were at his resting place, and we had no idea we were going to be there.

That, the view of the lake, seeing such sights in one day, the sunset on the way to the airport afterwards, even the airport itself provided special moments, but there was another one to come later that night.

Having checked in, been able to get rid of our luggage, and fed the teen, we set up camp in a coffee shop beside our gate, there to wait for boarding. Here’s a thing about Aegean Airlines. Very often, if you’re only carrying cabin luggage, as we were, they will ask if you want it put in the hold for free. Sometimes, they do this at the boarding gate, and when you see the bags, cases, trunks and furniture some people like to take on board an aircraft, you can see why. In our case, our bags would go all the way to Rhodes for free, even though we had a stopover that night, but it saved carrying them around. It also saved hauling them through the gate where our plane had boarded early and where we were just about the last people to take our seats.

Here’s another thing about Aegean. Every New Year’s Day they hold a lottery aboard every one of their flights, and that’s got to be a fair few on such a big day. We heard the announcement, and I thought, ‘Oh, that’s nice, someone’s in for a surprise.’ A little later, I vaguely heard another announcement in Greek, with the number twenty involved, and thought nothing of it. Until, the teen, behind, taps on Neil’s shoulder and says, ‘That’s you.’
‘What is?’
‘Seat 28 b. That’s you.’

Because we’d swapped places, I had the boarding card, but Neil was in the winning seat, and sure enough, was given a voucher for two free return tickets to anywhere Aegean flies to. We got some looks from those nearby, especially the young man from 28 c, but what can you do?

What a way to end the day, I say, but, as we’ll find out in the final instalment tomorrow, the day was not over yet.

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