Raining on paradise

Yesterday it rained on and off all day, off thankfully when it was time to go out and eat.  The wind rushed through the pine trees and the freshly dampened (drenched) earth smelled of autumn.

Autumn
"...season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.."
John Keats.

Lightening flashed over the hills in front of us but no sound of thunder.  Somewhere north, around Korinth, they were getting a real battering.





Eating took up a lot of our day but I accidently deleted the photos so here is one of a very healthy Cretan dako which we ate the first night with our ouzo.  A dako is a twice baked bread roll, hard and dry.  It is run under the tap quickly to wet it slightly and then this one was covered in chopped tomato, feta cheese, olives, green pepper and olive oil.

We ate on the other hand, a great block of moussaka for lunch.  It was hot out of the oven and surprisingly light.  The aubergines and potatoes were not soaked in oil from the frying pan and the béchamel sauce was almost fluffy and there was lots of it.  With a half kilo of red wine it warmed us up and gave us (Dutch) courage to make a dash for our room before the rain came down again. 

In the evening it was pizza.  Thin crust, lots of cheese.  And a beer.

I taught myself from youtube how to crochet a half granny square.  The easiest of stitches but when you're an ageing, blonde lefty in a right hand world sometimes instructions can appear trickier than they really are.



And of course I read a book.  This is a biography of  fascinating travel writer and novelist Bruce Chatwin.  He's  a charming but extremely complicated character and this thick book covers his life in great detail, from antiques appraiser at Sothebys to travels in Patagonia and beyond .   I learn his travel stories mix fiction and fact.  As it is a biography I am reading it slowly, dipping in and out.  I don't have to finish it quickly to see 'whodunnit'. 

I will go back and re-read his travel books with 'another eye'.   

Today the sun is shining again on my holiday hangout.  Last night the nightbird, not an owl, but  some bird called a 'gioni',  was birp-birping, an endless call as he sought his mate.