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Our first impressions of Paros are very
favourable ones. It feels comfortable. There is a sense of
history and of community. Here it seems they have accepted
tourism as a way of sharing the pride they have of their home
rather than abandoning their sense of home for the sake of
tourism. We hope they continue to be successful with that
balancing act.
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May 3
Breakfast was not included with our room rate which
gave us an opportunity to go shopping for breakfast with plans to eat it
on our balcony.
Weaving through the back streets we came to a grocer
displaying fruits and vegetables outside. During our previous European
travels we had learned the customer does not touch the fresh stuff.
Point and the grocer picks. We pointed to the bananas and indicated two.
Inside where food is packaged it’s okay for the purchaser to touch and
we selected a carton of orange juice, a container of peach yogurt and a
bottle of water.
"From England or the US?" the grocer asked in English
with a Greek accent.
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"Canada", we responded.
"Canada," he repeated, "Where? Toronto, Quebec,
Vancouver?"
"Vancouver?"
"How are the Canucks doing?"
We were flabbergasted. " Well actually, they are in
the playoffs. If they don’t win tonight it may be all over for the
season."
"I lived in Montreal, Quebec," the grocer told us,
"when Bobby Orr and Phil Esposito were playing."
"And Ken Dryden in goal?" Terry asked.
"Yes, Ken Dryden. But it was too cold. Didn’t like all
the cold."
"Vancouver is not as cold."
"I moved to St John, New Brunswick, but it was cold
there too. In Montreal I bought a house for $55,000. When I sold it I
lost $5,000. Two years later it was double the price. I came back to
Greece. Not so cold."
At the busy bakery (in business since 1912) across the
street from our room’s balcony, we pointed at two items not really
knowing what we were getting.
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Back at the hotel, we borrowed a little round table
with cast iron base and marble top from the inside courtyard and hefted
it through the room and out onto the balcony. Chairs, glasses and
flowers from the room completed the scene. One of the mystery pastries
held ham and cheese while the other had a bit of apple filling. The
orange juice was mild and delicious while the zero fat yogurt surprised
us with its smooth heavy texture.
After breakfast, Sherrie went down to the lobby in
hopes of getting online through the hotel’s WiFi which was not working
in our room. Not having any luck the lady owner, Chryssoula, took
Sherrie next door and up stairs to meet the town’s computer guy. Our new
computer had made a diagnosis of the problems and had suggested the
steps to take. The computer guy suggested the same. Sherrie went back to
the hotel and reset the system. It worked! Well, at least in the lobby
it worked for awhile.
Chryssoula explained that her husband had had an
operation recently and she would like to go home for a few minutes to
check on him and fix him something to eat and drink. "Will you take care
of the hotel while I am gone?" she asked pointing to the reception area.
"Yes."
And she was gone. The only thing that could be done if
someone needed assistance was to ask them to wait. That did happen and
they did wait. A neighbouring shop owner came in, assessed the situation
and phoned Chryssoula to return as soon as possible.
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Once she returned we left the hotel and caught a bus
which took us to Pounta on the west side of the island. The bus timed it
just right and we walked immediately onto the little car ferry for the
fifteen minute crossing to Antiparos. The buildings looked the same as
on Paros although not as many high end shops. The people looked the same
as those on Paros except not as busy, not as eager for business and not
as numerous ... but don’t attempt to think of Antiparos as an extension
of its big neighbour for they are proudly independent.
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One clean cut school boy, about fourteen, with
a hairdo which was a combination of a double mohawk and a 1950's
duck tail, became the ticket master once all the school kids
were off and only adults remained. After collecting the money
and passing out tickets he too got off the bus.
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On the way back
through the upper part of town we noticed a building which had a
sign across its width just below the roof line. "British
Columbia", it said with a Canadian flag at one end and a British
Columbia flag at the other. Curious, we got off at the next stop
and doubled back. On closer inspection it appeared to be a
language school; but why British Columbia? We met Linda. She
spared a couple of minutes from teaching her class of two teens.
She is from Victoria. When we told her we were leaving tomorrow,
we were a little stunned by her response, "Good. Get out while
you can." Perhaps after twenty-five years she would like to be
back where her children are now going to school ... Victoria.
Sometimes even a warm climate and palm trees can’t replace
"home" ... wherever that may be. Or perhaps she was saying that
if you stay any longer this island will begin to seduce you.
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For dinner we decided to have a Greek favourite - Gyro
(similar to Turkey’s doner). "The works?" asked the fellow behind the
counter.
"Sure, why not."
Two thick round pita bread went on to the
grill. Fifteen seconds later they got a flip. Then, with a piece
of paper in the palm of his hand, he laid the pita on top, put
on some meat from a large vertical revolving spit, then added
tomato, onion, french fries (yes, french fries!) and yogurt
sauce and then with some slight of hand and a twist of his
wrist, he handed us dinner in a pita cone. Street food extra-ordinaire.
Perhaps the next one, another day ... and there will be another
one another day ... we’ll say "hold the fries".
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We watched the sunset by
the windmill and strolled home saying "Good night" to familiar
faces and shop owners who were just opening up for the evenings
business.
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May 4
Our ferry from Paros to Santorini did not
depart until 11:30, so we had a leisurely breakfast on the
balcony. Other than the in-room WiFi not working, the
Argonauta
Hotel
wins high marks for it’s location, cleanliness and pleasant
helpful staff.
The day was well underway when we made our way
to the port and bumped into a charming little fellow, well into
his eighties, leading a small burro. The nearly empty crates on
the burro’s back indicated that he may have sold most of the
vegetables he had brought into town.
The waters were calm and the ferry a pleasant
and comfortable one with large windows and wide airline style
seating.
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