Hijinks and a Hearty Lunch

It's always fun finding an occasion to take the bus on a small island. We've had some of our best times on island buses, because they very often don't just carry your regular 'passenger', but have to double up as handy transport for livestock, supplies, and the occasional postman, to name but a few other uses to which an island bus can be - and very often is - put.

For a few examples of how much fun a bus ride may be on a Greek island (and I'm sure lots of people reading this will already know of such joys), check out this post and this one too from our visit to Naxos in 2014. Also, if you've read my fourth "Ramblings From Rhodes" book "A Plethora of Posts", you may remember our Symi bus trip described in chapter 24, imaginatively entitled "Taking the Bus." Sometimes you can't improve on the original, that's my excuse. This video might tickle your fancy too, as may this blog about it.

Anyway (which is fast becoming one of my favourite words, it seems. Still, anything's better than following that annoying current trend that everyone in the UK seems to have at the moment of starting every sentence with the word 'so'). So, anyway (Aaaargh!) we decided that, after seeing those rather ideal taverna tables laid out under the plane trees on the beach at Kampos last week (see the post "Out and About'), we simply had to go back up there and have lunch. It was simply too picturesque (I refuse to use the word idyllic, all right?) for us to miss such an opportunity. 

Last time we went, we walked it. It may look like a grueller, but it's only forty-five minutes or so from Netia, where we're staying, through some pretty spectacular scenery. This time, however, we thought we'd take the bus, since it only takes about ten minutes to get from where we are to the beach at Kampos. The bus leaves the square beside the port at Skala at 12.30pm, passing the bus stop immediately below our rooms at 12.35, and gets to Kampos Beach at 12.45pm. Doing it this way we could have a coffee in the bar at the end of the beach, walk back to Taverna "Ta Kabourakia" for lunch and then, after having eaten, stroll back to Netia mid-afternoon at our leisure. 

The bus fare is a princely €1.50, and thus we got our small change ready and arrived at the bus stop, just across the road from the boatyard, five minutes early. We got there just in time, in fact, to be able to watch the bus as it drove along the front towards us from Skala, bang on time, too.

Some of the island buses we've taken are actually minibuses, but this one's a full-sized, quite modern one with rather cushy bucket seats. As it approached us and indicated to turn into our road, which is the road that leads all the way to Kampos, my better half said, 

"That driver doesn't half look like Theologos from the Petrino Café-Bar."

Now, there are three regular chaps who serve us at the Petrino, the bar in the square at Skala where all the locals hang out (largely because it's the only one that stays open all winter too), and they are Dimitris, Andreas and Theologos, all of whom have got to know us pretty well by now (There are quite a few photos taken at the Petrino from last year in the post "Patmos People" BTW). They change shifts every few days or so, so that none of them has to work evenings every day for the entire season. Theologos is often to be seen parading the square pushing his baby-buggy during the mornings when he's not on shift, as it were, because his wife is then at work and he's looking after their eighteen-month old cutie. 

Sure enough, as the bus approached the stop to pull up for us to climb aboard, the driver tooted and waved as, not only was it indeed our friend Theo from the bar, but he'd spotted us waiting there too. When you think about it, on an island with only 3,000 inhabitants (that's less than the population of Arhangelos on Rhodes), it's not surprising that they probably can't afford to employ a full time bus driver, and thus a few locals share these duties between them. I well remember my friend Zois, who runs the Babis Taverna on the front at Halki, who also drove the local bus much of the time. After all, it only involved the occasional trip from the waterfront, up past Potamos Beach and then up the mountain, past the abandoned village and on up to a little old church at the top, then back again. Maybe he'd do this two or three times in a day. So it oughtn't to have surprised us that the bus driver was someone we'd already met. 

As we got on, my wife said "Are you sure you've got a licence to drive this thing?"

Of course, Theo treated this remark as hilarious and, as we proffered our fares, told us to worry about those later.

On board the bus, which seats probably fifty, was a mere handful of people. There were a couple of German and French tourists and one or two local 'seniors.' The only bus stop to speak of, after we got on, is at the square at Kampos where we'd been for a coffee a few days earlier, at the delightful Aroma café. When we stopped there, two girls of school age got on, apparently going to the end of the route, which is not much further up the lane from the beach where we were to get off.

Once we'd got off and suggested that Theo might also be the island's Doctor, or perhaps estate agent, which raised a chuckle from him as he said "See you tonight!", we made our way to the end of the beach to have a coffee at George's Bar.

Nothing personal intended, but although the location of this bar is rather nice, we weren't all that impressed with it. Maybe it was because we thought the prices just a tad 'captive audience' infected, or perhaps the staff were not as friendly as we've been used to, I don't know. Plus, all the clientele, such as it was, was composed of foreigners, like ourselves I have to admit. Never mind, we passed a pleasant enough half an hour or so over some nice, if rather strong frappés, paid up and set off along the beach for the taverna for lunch.

Whilst it's completely understandable that the government wants to ensure that all businesses pay their taxes, there are (as all Hellenophiles will know) some old ways that those of us who've been coming here for decades are ruing the loss of. One of these, I'm happy to say, is still alive and well at Kampos Beach. Now, let me say at the outset, before any taxmen reading this get the wrong idea, when we asked for our bill, it came, as it ought, on a printed receipt, OK? Good, that's got that out of the way. But I remember the days when you'd go into a traditional taverna and there would be no menu, the proprietor would simply either invite you into the kitchen, or list verbally what's on that particular day. 

We got ourselves comfy in the simply superb setting of the beach tables...

The lovely old frontage of the building, across the narrow road from the beach, where we planted ourselves.

Not long after we'd made ourselves comfortable, out came the portly proprietor, a plump man with a jolly double chin and teeth that wouldn't have won any prizes in the 'best aligned set of teeth' championships. One or two I remember had actually gone off into retirement too. As he laid the paper table cloth and secured it with those ubiquitous metal clips, to stop the breeze from taking it away, we asked if he could give us the menus.

"Um, no. Don't have menus." He replied, but continued, "But here's what's on today..." And then proceeded to list what was indeed, 'on.' The only problem with this system is the diners being able to remember what he describes. We were aided, of course, by the fact that, once, as he took a breath, we were able to interject that we didn't eat meat, the list could be shortened somewhat. To be honest, we only wanted something light anyway, since we were still planning to eat out that evening. The important thing to us was the occasion and the environs (I know, that's two things really. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition). So, after having settled on a green salad, a plate of gigantes and a portion of chips (see this post!!), plus a large bottle of water, he went off to prepare our order and we settled into our chairs to admire the view. We did, however, both remark on how nice it was to find a place where they still do things the old way.

We hadn't been there more than five minutes, when four young Greek lads turned up on two scooters, flipped them on to their stands and rough-and-tumbled over to join us at the beach tables. They were joking about and, as they approached and selected the table next to ours, said to us:

"Sorry, are we ruining your peace and quiet?" 

They were all wearing posh sunglasses and touting iPhones, but were sporting very short hair and - amazingly - no beards. We found out the reason for this within a few minutes of their arrival. We answered that no they were not spoiling anything, but in fact were very welcome to sit nearby. So the conversation ensued in which they told us they were conscripts doing their National Service and had been given a couple of days off. They were based on Kos and had taken the boat to Patmos for 48 hours or so. 

As they set about a heated discussion with the proprietor over what they were going to order, we remarked on the difference between lads like these and the majority of their peers back in the UK. Now, I don't want to upset anyone, no offence is intended, but we do rather believe that the youth here in Greece are of a completely different disposition to most of those in the UK. OK, I am generalising somewhat I know, but we were quite sure that, had this been a comparable situation in the UK then they'd have a) set about drinking a darned sight more than these boys did, and, more importantly b) been a lot less happy-go-lucky and respectful toward us. 

In fact, as they were horsing around taking photos with their phones, I asked them if they'd take my iPad and take a shot of us, with the sea in the background. They had us in stitches as they decided who'd be best qualified to take the photo, and the results are below...

The above shot was a selfie that the one who took our photos decided he needed to add to the collection. One of the other lads is behind him and the other two are this side of the camera, aping him as he does the shot. I think it shows from the expression on my face (at least in the first two!) how much fun we were having with these chaps.

And this was our lunch. Modest, but just perfect to keep one going until the evening. The chips were hand-cut and lovely and light, and the gigantes were excellent. The spring onion in the salad added just the right amount of zing to it too. That's the 4 lads' table in the background.

Once we'd all settled down to the serious business of eating, things quietened down a little. When the time came for me to ask for our bill, the owner's wife told us to hang around while she prepared a little something for us. It turned out to be some chopped honeydew melon (the first we'd had this season), on the house, of course.

It was around 3.00pm when we set out for home, taking this photo as we reached the end of the beach and turned up the hill toward the village of Kampos...

On the way back, you pass a spectacular view of Agriolivadi beach...

We were about two thirds of the way home, just walking down the hill past the military camp, when a couple of scooters hared past us, horns tooting and hands waving maniacally. It was the boys from the next-door table back at the beach, making sure we knew that we'd been spotted as they headed back to Skala themselves.

Quite frankly, far from ruining the peace of our beachside lunch, they'd quite made our day.

Once we got home, there was our resident sentinel on duty outside the door to welcome us back...