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16-21/7/2025
Next is 5 days in Samos, birthplace of Pythagoras, for 60th birthday celebrations of a long time friend. He’s invited dozens of people to his home island, is providing accommodation, food and entertainment for all, in a display of huge generosity. He has worked very hard, believed in himself, and deservedly done well in life.
The forecast was ‘very hot, and getting hotter’. Alas, it was accurate.
In Samos I stay with the host and 5 other blokes in an old house on a lovely block of land with about 30 resident turtles, some over 100 years old. I watched them fight very slowly over a watermelon rind. How all fights should be - nobody got hurt, and everyone leaves with a full belly. Sounds of many birds. I felt a bit like Gerald Durrell in Corfu.
The household had 2 Aussies (one Croatian, me Lithuanian background), a Greek, an Italian, and 3 Germans. We dubbed the house the UN Embassy of Samos. We all got on famously, and nobody snored enough to wake anyone up. A sign of our age was we didn’t drink much, didn’t party all night, and many discussions at the table involved medications and recent diagnoses.
We were instructed to be very careful with toilet paper, as blockages were catastrophic in the thin pipes, and we weren’t allowed to shit in the garden.
At the end of my stay, I was amazed at how much could be achieved with just 4 sheets.
A lady was engaged to come and prepare breakfast for us every day. She had almost no English. “Eggs?” She said.
We all responded yes, with scrambled, boiled, poached all requested.
Of course, only omelette arrived - but very tasty with local feta and tomato - the one song in her repertoire. We also had local yoghurt, honey and fig jam.
They were extraordinary, as were all local foods we ate. It is a green garden of Eden - a very beautiful, hilly island with great beaches in spectacular coasts.
We visited villages, saw sights, ate far too much, and lolled about in the bluest waters.
You feel yourself de-stressing as you approach heat stroke (I knew I’d be very calm, probably catatonic in the ambulance).
Everybody surrounding me featured a tan somewhere between golden and deepest bronze (and g-strings seemed compulsory for females). As a person of Baltic genes coming from Melbourne winter, I had a unique shade that is best described as ‘corpse white’.
Lying on the beach, head covered by a hat, I heard some passers by:
“Is that a dead body washed ashore? Should we call the police?”
“Nah, just keep walking - the fish will get it at high tide.”
I haven’t been a big fan of beaches as a rule. Years ago when I was corpulently obese, when reclining on the sand I was woken by people with blue and purple hair throwing buckets of water over me, saying “It’s beached! Quick, we need to push it out to sea!”, and then they shoved me into a rip. When I was spluttering and calling for help, I heard a green haired woman yell “It’s breaching! I want to swim out and kiss it’s blowhole! Where’s my GoPro and selfie stick? Oh crap, the battery is flat.” I missed out on that kiss…
[The last paragraph was a very slight exaggeration or embellishment, but perhaps had a whiff of plausibility, no?]
I’m much thinner now, and happy to be left alone to get sunstroke in peace.
Despite Australian 50 sunblock, I went directly from corpse to cinder. I came close to leaving the beach in an urn.
The big birthday party night featured an exceptionally talented Bouzouki band (4 guys - one on keyboards, 3 others singing and/or playing bouzouki), who were also exceptionally indefatigable - they played without ANY break from 9pm to 2 am. It made conversation tricky.
Next day, many hungover, we did a Metaxa distillery tour. Having a few glasses of Metaxa (around 50% alc) at 35 degrees while dehydrated is probably not optimal, but was delicious nonetheless.
Yet another party tonight, which featured leftovers from yesterday’s party (with some fresh salad), and still didn’t finish off the leftovers. This is what Greeks do!
We were so busy talking and eating at the communal table, we were completely unaware of our host having his Vespa, just returned from a full service, engine rebuild, and new paint explode in a fireball when he tried kickstarting it, just 10 metres away.
His son said earlier it was not running well, then it wouldn’t start. He, being a typical father, told his son he must be doing something wrong, and then went to show him how to do it right.
The scooter was a write off. Our host, always lucky, was merely lightly singed.
20/7/2025
Boat trip day. We approached the harbour, and boarded our boat, named ‘Boat Trip’. I like the honest, direct simplicity that Theo & Giannis (twin brothers) gave to naming their business ‘Theo & Giannis Boat Trip’, after a fairly short brainstorming session no doubt.
If they were to open a restaurant I guess it would be called ‘Food’.
Giannis asked me my name.
Me:“Andrew”
Giannis:“Angry?”
Must be something about my accent. “No, I’m very calm and genial. It’s ANDREW.”
International Maritime Law mandates safety instructions for passengers, flotation vests, etc, on all passenger craft. Theo was not a pedantic legal scholar, or just overlooked the safety bit that day. I asked someone where the vests might be - he indicated they’re usually in ‘those bins’ that he pointed to. I looked in one. It was full of very large rocks - ballast - clearly more important than vests. I guess the philosophy was if we go down, we do it quickly, and end the suffering expeditiously.
The blueness of the sea here is extraordinary - I’ve never seen anything like it.
We arrived at our first beach. The anchor dropped. I looked for the jetty - none to be seen.
I said: “Where’s the jetty? How we get to the beach?”
“No jetty - just swim there”.
“It’s a kilometre away - I can’t do that! I’ll drown!”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot, it’s about 4 bathtubs long to the beach. My great grandma could do it”.
“But she’s long dead, surely?”
“Yes, and she’d still make it. Jump in or I’ll push you!”
It was way more than 4 bathtubs, but way less than a kilometre. I made it.
We repeated this at another beach later.
I really enjoyed swimming to shore from a boat - such a simple thing, but it was a highlight of the whole trip. You get ashore with no towel, and no phone!! Robinson Crusoe!!
The Greek Isles are amazing.
The beauty of the villages, the quality of the light, the friendliness of the natives, the deepest blue of the sea, the clear warm waters combine to make an incredible experience. Middays are very hot in summer, but the mornings and afternoons are sublime. Food is very simple and perfect. Samos wines are very good.
Greeks in these isles have a very long life. I need to emulate the turtles, and live at their pace. No drugs needed. I won’t even fight over watermelon rind - I might live to 150.
I had an overnight in Istanbul before the next UK phase of the trip. I stayed in a hotel near the airport on the Black Sea. The beaches could have been lovely, but were a bit squalid with rubbish.
It was a very Muslim area - the men were all enjoying the water, and all the women were dressed in full garb, tending to the men’s needs on the beach. They were so covered I couldn’t see if they were angry or sad, or how badly they were sweating.
I saw one foreign woman in a skimpy bikini in the water. Brave - she may be at risk of being stoned to death. Lucky it was a sandy beach.
The taxi driver to the airport had an interesting driving style. It was a medium amplitude low frequency sine wave, ensuring equal time in all lanes (without signalling of course), and a symphony of horns from drivers behind us. Next stop London.