There are certain things in life that I just don't deal with. It's not that I don't deal with them well, or don't deal with them gracefully or anything like that, I just don't function like a person when they happen. Keep this in mind while reading:
I have a slightly more emphasised version of arachnophobia than some people insofar as I get the creeps at any word to describe them and anything which is generally in the insect category. I also - and I accept that this one is weird because I used to do indoor climbing and have also done some outdoor climbing - don't do well with heights, especially not the cliff drops next to certain roads in Greece. This year we're staying in a little resort in the Peloponnese mountains...
After eventually managing to get the Gatwick Express trains to, believe it or not, London Gatwick, we stayed the night in the Marriott Courtyard Hotel. Except for the exceptionally rude reception woman who checked us in and the rather irritating lack of signal, it was a pretty good hotel, but waking up anywhere at six o'clock in the morning is never going to make me happy - there again, it was necessary to get the plane over to Kalamata airport. We took off at 9:15 and somehow managed to get onto the Greek Tarmac early, and thankfully Kalamata isn't one of those island airports in Greece where space is limited and you look like you're going for your first swim much earlier than planned. You do still have to come at the runway over the sea though. For a little while, it looked like we were going to land in some poor farmers field.
You'd think that landing early would be great, because it means that the coach transfer can go earlier and then you can settle into your apartment quicker and maybe get out into the afternoon... yeah, that didn't happen. Unfortunately, someone's bag had been damaged in transit, so we had to wait while the rep from our tour operator went and had some big discussion with the Greek baggage handlers BUT the plane was only about half full, meaning the hold could have only been about half full and they always warn you that things can move around and such in the overhead bins, so surely it was more to do with the flight than the... oh, never mind, we got going in the end.
So, as I mentioned, Peloponnese MOUNTAINS. Shit, right? If you've never seen a Greek road then you probably can't comprehend the sheer terror involved with being in an old coach, with a bat shit mental Greek driver while you're going up roads and around corners which 30, 60 maybe even 100+ foot drops RIGHT NEXT TO THEM!!!! Most of the time, while the rep was encouraging us to look out of the window at the absolutely beautiful (this is his favourite saying by the way) views just to the left or the right of the coach, I had my head buried in a hoodie waiting for it to be over.
As you can tell, I survived, even though certain roads made it look like we wouldn't.
This is also not going to make much sense if you have never been to a small Greek village, but the best way I can explain it is this. The Greek definition of a super market that we're used to is less of a Sainsbury's Local and more a very small corner shop the day before they get a delivery. Generally, there's not much choice and if you recognise a brand then it's going to be astronomically expensive and you find yourself running for the hills (quite literally in a way, because most settlements in such places are found on the hills, because of strategic positioning and spring water). What we have this year is basically like the old Woolworth's!!!
I'm being deadly serious when I say we were like kids in a candy store. There was almost too much of a choice, but I guess that is a really good thing. I even got some Nutella to put on toast in the mornings!! (As a side note to all Nutella fans: because the room temperature is generally so much higher here, that beloved chocolatey spread actually spreads without having to sit it in hot water first. It's quite literally, get out of bed, retrieve bed and spread... :D)
Monday morning was then spent trying to find the welcome meeting, the over friendly welcome meeting with Stuart - the ex army chef for twenty five years but this is my first year as a rep, and my first year with this company any my first year in Stoupa and say something relevant because they all look bored JAZZ HANDS - and then a general suss out of where everything was, but dinner was something else.
I think most people know that it takes a lot to make me a foodie, and I mean a lot. I very often cook a shed load of food, but then find that my appetite is nowhere near enough to actually eat it, but here that has changed. (Well, marginally. I want pretty much everything off the vegetarian menu, but having a starter and a main course makes me the kind of sleepy stuffed that is only really acceptable at Christmas or Thanksgiving.)
My favourite Greek dish - aside from the Quorn versions of things which my mum makes at home - is something so simple it is most often overlooked. They call it cheese pies, they're actually pasties and the Dionysus restaurant in Stoupa does the best ones I've ever tasted. They also do that fantastic thing of giving you bread with the meal, and it's still warm from where they have only just got it out of the oven. My gosh, it's wonderful.
Anyway, stay tuned for more, because I'm here all week,...
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