A Symi Walk (2)
Soldiering on and continuing Sunday’s walk… We passed by many herds of goats (who were wondering about wandering towards the open gate, no doubt), trees and terraces until we came to the smaller chapel of Ag. Raphael. It’s at this point that you can stand and look at the eastern sea and the western sea simply by turning your head, falling into a Narnia story and actually naming the water around your island ‘The Western Sea.’ You can see both sides of Symi, basically.

From here it is only a short walk to the monastery of Michaelis Roukouniotis and it doesn’t take long. You even have, as we did, time to stop and chat to Sotiris as he was tending his non-wandering goats, sheep and chickens. He was doing something with syringes and medicines and offered to give our party a shot, but we declined. We arrived at the famous Roukouniotis tree a short time later and had a photo opportunity.

The monastery was closed, which was a shame though understandable. I’ve been in before though. Once before restoration, once during and once after, and several other times when restoration on the original 15^th century chapel (I think 15^th) was either being planned or going on. My first visit was on a Panormitis weekend (2002) where we arrived too late for main lunch but where we were treated to some soup, bread and wine. On Sunday’s visit, we sat in the sun and had a sandwich and crisps, plus water, before starting on the return trip.

Back up the road, past Sotiris’ goats on one side and the unfortunately (for them) placed abattoir on the other and I couldn’t help wondering if the goats knew what their view actually was. Poor things, they didn’t luck out on views. The slaughterhouse on one side and the army camp with all its weaponry on the other; surely they can read the not-so-subtle message being given here? Who knows? I think one chap might have worked out what the future might hold; we saw him further up the road in a tree. Perhaps he was thinking that he was safer up there, though I suspect he was simply grazing.

Still, onwards and up the slight hill, passing the new wooden chalet that rather resembles a ticket office for a zoo, and which is surrounded by green netting for camouflage (presumably against the archaeological services). At the junction of road, track and path, we decided to head back along the road to Xisos and then take the donkey path, turning into it at the dog. Except he wasn’t there. But we took the path anyway.

From then on it was plain sailing (walking) down the sometimes slippery path towards the village. It’s interesting at this time of year: the humidity can be high and we get lots of dew overnight. I woke up on Sunday with the windows, me and the top blanket dripping and wet with condensation. Out on the paths, you often see wet rocks and the path can be wet on one side and perfectly dry on the other, with a very clear ‘terminator’ between them. This is because some parts of the paths, steps, lanes, etc. don’t get any sun and is permanently in shadow at this time of year. Some people might think that it must have been raining as the paths are often that wet but no, usually it’s just dew. So, now you know.

We reached home ahead of target time – I thought the boys might have slowed us down, nut it was actually the other way around – and fell into a welcome glass of red before a late lunch. A perfect way to spend a Sunday and it also gave me the chance to take a few more shots, as did Neil, so hopefully over the next few days, you will get to see more of them.

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Symi walk (1)
Let me bring you up to date on our Sunday walk. The weather was fine, though there were some clouds about, and I wisely thought not to take a jacket. Or: I thought, wisely, not to take a jacket. Or: I thought not to take a jacket, wisely. Or: Wisely, I thought a jacket not to take. Or: Not a jacket, I thought wisely, to take. Good luck if you are just starting out to learn English.

Pondering how one can wisely think not to do something, we set off at eleven to collect the boys, Jenine and Janie who was visiting. We had packed some of the essentials for a three-hour walk on the hills: plasters, headache tablets, water, cameras, a phone, tissues, a roll of loo paper, a tablet, a portable speaker, two DVDs and a bottle of wine. Admittedly, some of those things were staying behind at Jenine’s house, namely the plasters and water. Only joking, we always go walking with water, we even stopped to pick up a couple of bottles for the boys, and the side pouch on my rucksack is an out-and-out medicine chest on a permanent basis. Having collected the rest of the party we set off on what is, for me (and regular readers) a well-known path.

Through the village and up to the donkey track that leads out. Here I pondered a while again, or, here I again pondered a while as, when we arrived at the gate, we found it open. Now then, do you do as the countryside code says and always close the gate? Or do you leave it open? If you close an open gate are you running the risk of annoying a farmer who returns from herding his goats only to find that the gate is now shut and there is a herd of wandering goats between him and it? Or, do you leave it open and risk Mrs Papakaloyiannou coming out from her house with a basket of washing in her arms to discover that between her and her washing line is a herd of wandering goats, and they have started to eat her smalls? I just made sure I wasn’t the last one through the gate and thus was able to lay any arising blame on someone else. And so, dilemma averted, it was onwards across the lower donkey path to Ag. Pareskevi.

Ag Paraskevi, as you will know, is the saint of eyesight. “St. Paraskevi is considered to be a healer of the blind, because of the miracle she performed in restoring the sight of Antonius Pius.” http://www.orthodoxchristian.info/pages/Paraskevi.htm We stopped at her small chapel on the mountainside to wait for the ladies to catch up, had some water and adjusted clothing layers. I had thought not to bring a jacket, but I had also thought not-to-not wear several layers (I think) and so scaled down the three-layer system of shirt wearing to a mere one; a t-shirt in January. That sounds like it should be a John Mortimer novel, but I don’t think it is. Once the ladies had caught up we plodded on and turned off the path about 100 good, old-fashioned yards along on the right. Don’t turn left here as you will end up climbing the boulder field to the road, not pleasant.

This path, as you probably now, skirts around beneath the Roukouniotis road and above the west end of the harbour. There are many terraces along here, the trees were starting to come into bud, there were ravens and kestrels above us and plenty of wrecked rock beneath our feet. The path here is sometimes mossy and soft and, in other places, simply a pile of small rocks which can dig through your soles and aggravate your soul with their persistence, and my poor attempt at poetry.

We’ll pause here and carry on the walk tomorrow where the next instalment includes an appearance by a tree-goat.

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