We decided to give Hora another go the other day. Last year we went up there and found it to be like a ghost town, with scarcely a soul about. It was as if the whole village was a museum, which was closed.
This year we made the ascent using the more well-trodden path that cuts across the zigzags of the road, making the distance not more than a kilometre or so. It's about twenty to twenty five minutes going up, because it is really steep at times, but only fifteen minutes or so coming down. That's starting from and returning to the main square in Skala.
The reason we were given for the place being bereft of life last year was that we were just a week or so too early. Had we waited around another seven days, the season would be under way. This year we're here a full two weeks later, and so expected that we could go up there, find a nice little square with a café/bar that was actually open, and enjoy the environs. Guess what, same again.
Well, I say 'same again,' but there was one small difference. A café-restaurant, quite near to where the path arrives at the top, was open, with a handful of customers sitting there admiring the view. We even walked into the village a little way, like we dd last year, and met a local chap carrying a ladder, who told us (much as we'd heard last year): "Well, no one's about until the summer, you see."
In the first square we came across, we passed the local "Dimos," or municipality office ("Council Office," we'd call it in the UK). Peering in through the door we saw a young woman sitting at a desk, but not another soul about either inside or out. Cushy number she's got, I reckon.
Once we'd arrived safely back in the square and parked ourselves in the Petrino Bar and ordered a couple of drinks from our friend Dimitri, we asked him again, "What is it with Hora, then? Why's it so bereft? Is it maybe that they don't want people going up there, is that it?"
His reply was interesting. He said, among other things, that a lot of foreign ex-pats have bought properties up there, the ones with the serious money. They had to be pretty well off, he said, because to renovate a property in Hora costs much more than anywhere else. This is so for several reasons, among which are that there are very strict regulations about keeping the buildings looking right, so that they are in keeping with the traditional feel of the place. This we could understand, of course. It makes perfect sense. Another reason, Dimitris said, was that to get building work done in the thick of the village was a logistical nightmare, owing to the fact that you can't get a truck, not even a pick-up anywhere near the property you're working on. Imagine mixing concrete, even getting building supplies into the village for the work to be carried out. Fair enough, that made sense too. But it meant that not many locals, who simply aren't 'rich enough' could afford to renovate a property in the village of Hora any more.
The final answer we received was much as last year too. "Go up there in the evenings. That's when it comes to life."
Frankly, to us it's not worth the risk. When you walk around the place, yes it's photogenic, but there are little information signs tacked onto the corners of buildings, much as you'd see in Lindos on Rhodes, for example. These would, you'd expect, point you to a bar or restaurant, even a store selling tasteful souvenirs maybe, but the only signs we saw, and there weren't many anyway, were primarily of a religious nature. This way to that church, that way to this one, this way to the monastery, that sort of thing.
Now, arguably, Lindos is much too frantic these days during the summer season, even too overrun with souvenir shops whose wares brush you in the face as you try to walk past. Maybe it is a trial attempting to walk through the village in the summer, owing to the sheer crush of bodies. But Hora is the other extreme, and it has the feel to us of a make-believe place, not somewhere real. The 'soul' of the place is missing, at least at this time of year. Down in the bay area however, in Skala, where the boats come in, and Netia where we're staying, it's vibrant without being overwhelming.
I'm sure there will be some 'intellectual' types who'll call us Philistines, but we prefer to be where there are at least some people when we sit down for a coffee. It's about feeling the pulse of a community I suppose. Seeing the same faces going about their everyday affairs of life is educational, uplifting, yes - interesting.
Anyway, each to his or her own I suppose, but Hora, whilst undeniably beautiful architecturally, has for me very little soul. Maybe we'll just have to come here in July or August some time, see if we feel differently then. Although one or two locals have told is that it's likely to be (from their descriptions) more like Lindos then anyway. Sometimes you just can't win.
We've paid our second (and it won't be our last) visit to the Ston Afro restaurant. This time we ordered the Brocolli Salad, which looked so wonderful when it arrived that it was a shame to eat it, although we most certainly did that. Happily for me, Nikos the waiter told us that the fassolakia was on that evening too. Manolis must have told him about me from the old Odyssey days, because I always raved about Manos' fassolakia, which is quite simply the best I've ever eaten. Manolis puts bite-sized chunks of potato into his too. It was, as you're bound to have guessed by now, superb. We also made sure we ate some more of chef Manoli's delicious bread, plus my wife asked for a dish of that celery-root purée that Manos (short for Manolis, sorry if you already knew that!) often dresses other dishes with (such as the swordfish which I ordered the first time we ate there). As before too, they brought us a delicious selection of dips to get us started before the main dishes arrived. We also sampled yet another of Manoli's wines, this time made from a white Cabernet Sauvignon grape. It was even better than the Muscat one, which was hard to imagine beforehand. There's a short video of the Ston Afro's opening night on my "Published Works" Facebook page, if you'd like to go have a look.
And, finally, some more photos taken over the past few days....
The weather's warming up now too, finally. So we'll probably be eating lunch on that beach at Kampos tomorrow (see photos in the post "Out and About"). Of course, I shall take piccies if we do!
This year we made the ascent using the more well-trodden path that cuts across the zigzags of the road, making the distance not more than a kilometre or so. It's about twenty to twenty five minutes going up, because it is really steep at times, but only fifteen minutes or so coming down. That's starting from and returning to the main square in Skala.
 |
| Going up... |
 |
| ...and up. |
The reason we were given for the place being bereft of life last year was that we were just a week or so too early. Had we waited around another seven days, the season would be under way. This year we're here a full two weeks later, and so expected that we could go up there, find a nice little square with a café/bar that was actually open, and enjoy the environs. Guess what, same again.
 |
| At least there are some stunning views from up there. |
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| Where's Patrick McGoohan when you need him? (Only people of a certain age will understand that). |
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| At least the views make the climb worthwhile. |
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| Cooey! Anyone home? |
Well, I say 'same again,' but there was one small difference. A café-restaurant, quite near to where the path arrives at the top, was open, with a handful of customers sitting there admiring the view. We even walked into the village a little way, like we dd last year, and met a local chap carrying a ladder, who told us (much as we'd heard last year): "Well, no one's about until the summer, you see."
In the first square we came across, we passed the local "Dimos," or municipality office ("Council Office," we'd call it in the UK). Peering in through the door we saw a young woman sitting at a desk, but not another soul about either inside or out. Cushy number she's got, I reckon.
Once we'd arrived safely back in the square and parked ourselves in the Petrino Bar and ordered a couple of drinks from our friend Dimitri, we asked him again, "What is it with Hora, then? Why's it so bereft? Is it maybe that they don't want people going up there, is that it?"
His reply was interesting. He said, among other things, that a lot of foreign ex-pats have bought properties up there, the ones with the serious money. They had to be pretty well off, he said, because to renovate a property in Hora costs much more than anywhere else. This is so for several reasons, among which are that there are very strict regulations about keeping the buildings looking right, so that they are in keeping with the traditional feel of the place. This we could understand, of course. It makes perfect sense. Another reason, Dimitris said, was that to get building work done in the thick of the village was a logistical nightmare, owing to the fact that you can't get a truck, not even a pick-up anywhere near the property you're working on. Imagine mixing concrete, even getting building supplies into the village for the work to be carried out. Fair enough, that made sense too. But it meant that not many locals, who simply aren't 'rich enough' could afford to renovate a property in the village of Hora any more.
The final answer we received was much as last year too. "Go up there in the evenings. That's when it comes to life."
Frankly, to us it's not worth the risk. When you walk around the place, yes it's photogenic, but there are little information signs tacked onto the corners of buildings, much as you'd see in Lindos on Rhodes, for example. These would, you'd expect, point you to a bar or restaurant, even a store selling tasteful souvenirs maybe, but the only signs we saw, and there weren't many anyway, were primarily of a religious nature. This way to that church, that way to this one, this way to the monastery, that sort of thing.
Now, arguably, Lindos is much too frantic these days during the summer season, even too overrun with souvenir shops whose wares brush you in the face as you try to walk past. Maybe it is a trial attempting to walk through the village in the summer, owing to the sheer crush of bodies. But Hora is the other extreme, and it has the feel to us of a make-believe place, not somewhere real. The 'soul' of the place is missing, at least at this time of year. Down in the bay area however, in Skala, where the boats come in, and Netia where we're staying, it's vibrant without being overwhelming.
I'm sure there will be some 'intellectual' types who'll call us Philistines, but we prefer to be where there are at least some people when we sit down for a coffee. It's about feeling the pulse of a community I suppose. Seeing the same faces going about their everyday affairs of life is educational, uplifting, yes - interesting.
Anyway, each to his or her own I suppose, but Hora, whilst undeniably beautiful architecturally, has for me very little soul. Maybe we'll just have to come here in July or August some time, see if we feel differently then. Although one or two locals have told is that it's likely to be (from their descriptions) more like Lindos then anyway. Sometimes you just can't win.
•
We've paid our second (and it won't be our last) visit to the Ston Afro restaurant. This time we ordered the Brocolli Salad, which looked so wonderful when it arrived that it was a shame to eat it, although we most certainly did that. Happily for me, Nikos the waiter told us that the fassolakia was on that evening too. Manolis must have told him about me from the old Odyssey days, because I always raved about Manos' fassolakia, which is quite simply the best I've ever eaten. Manolis puts bite-sized chunks of potato into his too. It was, as you're bound to have guessed by now, superb. We also made sure we ate some more of chef Manoli's delicious bread, plus my wife asked for a dish of that celery-root purée that Manos (short for Manolis, sorry if you already knew that!) often dresses other dishes with (such as the swordfish which I ordered the first time we ate there). As before too, they brought us a delicious selection of dips to get us started before the main dishes arrived. We also sampled yet another of Manoli's wines, this time made from a white Cabernet Sauvignon grape. It was even better than the Muscat one, which was hard to imagine beforehand. There's a short video of the Ston Afro's opening night on my "Published Works" Facebook page, if you'd like to go have a look.
•
And, finally, some more photos taken over the past few days....
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| Upcycling is an art in a Greek village. |
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| The Ostria Taverna on a quiet night. They still gave us a free 2nd bottle of Retsina and a free dessert. Yes, it's not only the Ston Afro we like, although it is probably the most unique. |
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| I tried to get some fishes in this one, but I don't know if I succeeded. Who cares though? It's a nice shot. |
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| This little beach is just a hundred metres behind our rooms, but on the West side of the island, so it's windier than our side. Nice when it's calm though, eh? |
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| Coming into Skala along the waterfront from Netia, where we're staying. This is only metres past the Ston Afro. |
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| Another attempt at an arty one, with maybe fishes (They're very rare, the maybe fish). |
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| A delightful garden, and if you look closely, there's a woman busy prepping her veg for today's meal in the centre of the shot. |
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| This, my friends, is the 'Green Salad" at the "Souvlakia tou Pappou" joint. That's Manouri cheese on the top. The sauce is almost a kind of sweet'n'sour, and is delicious. The pittas come complimentary when you order the salad. |
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| A view through the alley to the excellent Pantelis Taverna, which is down-home traditional and very good value. |
The weather's warming up now too, finally. So we'll probably be eating lunch on that beach at Kampos tomorrow (see photos in the post "Out and About"). Of course, I shall take piccies if we do!
Another great blog post John....thanks...keep them coming!
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