Were not quite sure what were going to do today, but after a day of doing absolutely nothing yesterday were both keen that it include at least some form of exercise. The church and archaeological museum in Naxos Castle were both closed when I made the steep climb up there a few days ago, so I decide to get my quota of exercise by trying again. Issy says shes going to leave me to it and get her quota by indulging in some shopping down in the town. Apart from going to the supermarket, the only shopping I do on a regular basis is late in the evening on Christmas Eve. This requires sprinting between stores to try to find what Im looking for, which is usually made more difficult by me having no idea what this is. That sort of shopping involves very rigorous exercise; Im not so sure about the version that Issys got in mind this morning.
I‘m an absolute sucker for Greek churches; they all look so dark and mysterious with their distinctive icons. It seems however that the Castles church isnt Greek at all, its Catholic, and was built in the thirteenth century when the
Venetians ruled Naxos. It still looks a bit dark and mysterious, as if both sides have had a go at the decor over the centuries. I think I may be destined never to see the archaeological museum. Its closed in the afternoons which is when I was here the other day, so I made sure to get here early today. Unfortunately its also closed one day a week, and yep, thats today, Tuesday. The door is just one of those ribbon contraptions that they use at airports to keep everyone from queue jumping. I can see the exhibits all there just on the other side of it, and the temptation to just release the strap and barge on in is almost overwhelming, only almost.
I meet Issy back at the port/bus station where we decide to catch a bus up to Filoti village in the middle of the island. We passed it on our tour a couple of days ago but didnt get to stop for a closer look. Issy got to the port a few minutes before me and shes been observing proceedings. A ferry just arrived so there are passengers with suitcases everywhere. Theres also a large
fleet of taxis waiting hopefully at the end of the jetty, and a long line of would be travellers queued up outside the bus ticket office; and then theres the buses themselves. Issy describes all this as organised chaos. She says that there are some guys in uniform who look like they might be policemen trying to direct traffic, but not everyone seems to be taking all that much notice of them. Still, all the pushing and shoving of both vehicles and people is gentle, and no one seems to be yelling or getting angry or sitting on their horns.
Our bus arrives and the driver marches down from his cabin with fire in his eyes. It seems we may have found the inevitable exception to every rule. He roars at everyone queued up to get on to move back to clear a path for the other buses, and then looks daggers at anyone with the temerity to ask him where his bus is going. As we set off theres a major traffic jam in front of us, but thats not stopping him from waving his arms and yelling angrily at every other driver. When he gets tired of
that he decides to park his hand on the horn as if this is somehow going to make the jam of vehicles magically disappear. I think maybe someone got out of bed the wrong side this morning?
As was the case with the villages we visited a couple of days ago, Filoti is impossibly cute. The main square is on both sides of the main road, and is fully occupied with cafes shaded by some impressively large trees. In keeping with the reputation of the islands mountainous interior, its obviously been raining and there are storm clouds about. We wander uphill through the back alleyways, past all the usual generous helpings of whitewashed houses and churches with blue trimmings.
