So, I arranged with the guy at the scooter place to not bring it back till 10 am this morning.
This is brilliant, cos this way, we can get into Fira without really having to pay anything else. When I picked up the scooter, it was empty, and he just told me to bring it back empty.
He knows I would have over filled it. He’s done this before. I did cover a fair bit of ground, but I did leave a good quarter of a tank in there for him to run around and do what he wants with. I know this, because the scooter that he picked me up on was the scooter I got to hire.
Anyways, we get up at dawn so that we can have a good crack at fishing at this other spot that people recommend. I’m not holding my hopes, but if we get up early, and have the sea splashing in our faces and the cool breeze to start our day, I am sure that the day is going to be tops.
We ride around to the other side of the mountain. There is the road that leads to the top that we walked the other day, but that means that we would have to go all Rambo on the dirt path on the other side of the mountain. We do the sensible thing, and ride around on the big kid roads that have been built for big kids to rid big kid vehicles on.
Not like we’re riding a big kid vehicle anyway.
…the thing is only 50cc.
We head right around to where there is another concrete pier, and just like the one at Oia, its broken and sagging at the last portion. It is only still hanging there by the starter bars from the previous slab, but even that is surprising. We got some squid last night so that we had some bait in the morning, so we load that up on the hooks and begin to cast out.
As I said on the last blog, Bec is much more of a fisherman than I am. She loves the process and everything about fishing.
I, myself, am not a fisherman.
I actually don’t remember catching any fish, other than blow fish.
So with that in mind, Bec is casting her lines out like a pro. She’s got this whole one hand on the reel, another hand on the line and she does this step forward with a sweeping arc from the arm, letting go perfectly, and the sinkers at the end of her line do the rest of the work, sending the bait and hook out into the sea a good couple metres.
That is a good effort, considering that we are using hand reels.
Yeah, I’m a tight ass.
What of it?
We eat brekky and I cut up the banana to go with out yoghurt with the fish knife. I thought I would get away with it, but Bec’s keen sense of taste out-smarts me, and she has a whole new level of disgust/appreciation for me (mostly just disgust though). She literally looked at me with a frown, sticking her neck out a little further than normal, and slowly shakes her head at me. Its valid though, who cuts banana with a knife which has squid residue on it.
My logic was that it was fishy nanas, or mushy nanas.
Fishy Nanas > Mushy Nanas.
We are largely unsuccessful in the fishing department, but at least we kicked the day off at a decent time and had a bit of fun in the process. We jump back on the scooter, and since our fishing adventure was cut short due to tackle getting snagged, we go an grab a coffee before returning the scooter. Its a nice break.
Coffee and the sea to start the day?
So far, so good.
We drop the scooter back to our mate John who does the whole “I am your best mate who you just met yesterday” act.
Its a european thing.
I mean, they want the money, I’m happy to give the money, so whatever. They say friendship cant be bought, but pretend friends give tips, so…. I dunno about that.
We have decided that while we are in Santorini, we have to try their wines, so since the winery is on the way back to Kamari, we decide that we will just walk the 8.7km home, and have a pit stop in the winery. By the time we actually get to the winery, it is only 10 am, and they are still opening up. We ask about wine tours, and apparently, we are just on the cusp of tourist season, so it’s not running yet. We can, however do a wine tasting.
This, we do.
We order 12 different wines to share, which come out with some cheeses and dips and its the bomb. We are the first people in the restaurant. I mean, it is 10 am, you don’t exactly expect people to be queueing out the front of the winery at 10 am. We question our decision making and whether we should really be doing a decent sized wine tasting at 10 in the morning.
Our holiday brain prevails.
The wines come on a platter.
We are sitting right beside a dirty big window, looking out over the sea and the bay and the clear skies. The blues are a rich blue, the black volcanic islands are deep matte black and the paint of the buildings are a rich, rich white. Everything contrasts against each other, and I am sure that is why the Greek island are such a hot destinations. There aren’t so many places with colours that stand out so much against each other.
We begin our wine tasting, sipping, chatting about the future, and playing the “who can pick up the most qualities in the wine” game. I keep nailing the flavours because I would read the info sheet while Bec was taking in the view. I haven’t told her this, but she hasn’t been reading my blogs recently, so it looks like she wont be finding out for a while longer anyway.
EDIT: 14/3/2017, we are sitting in the living room of our HelpX hosts, and Bec starts loosing it at the table while I am blogging, she comes over to me, and tells me she has been reading my blogs and that she had just read my confession, that I was reading the info sheet. Turns out that she was doing the exact same thing!
We are loving the fact that it is off-season and that we have the whole place to ourselves. We are about half way through, when that all changes. There is a group of about 20 asians pouring through the doors. Some of them try to enter through other doors, only to realise that they can’t open those doors. The best bit is that there is literally someone else about try right after them. Don’t get it.
I am pretty sure that this group was on the boat with us on the ferry over here. They come in, and literally just take the whole place over. It must be one of their strategies or something, because everything turns to chaos. The staff cant keep them in order, and they just rearrange everything the way they want.
They keep trying to take photos of each other pretending to drink their wines, sitting at this one seat right by the window, looking out to the bay. Its like they will take turns. The waitress tells them twice that the table is reserved.
That table is reserved for their selfies.
The waitress missed the memo.
We are both surprised and confused by the actions of these punters while we finish the tasting. We keep having our attention drawn to the sea of asian folk and all the different poses that they conjure up with their glasses of wine. Its sad, but impressive. If photos were a currency, the rest of the world would be broke.
They have a monopoly already.
We do our own thing and just hide in our own little world. We always end up chatting about our futures, where we see ourselves and where we see our businesses heading. We talk about family, where we are gonna raise them, how we are going to raise them, and whether they’ll fight south paw, or orthodox.
We usually settle on orthodox, but a south paw in the family would be good for some training.
We chat, laugh and eat the cheese slower than we want to, so that it actually lasts the length of the tasting. We thank the guys for having us and make our way home. We begin walking, and come across some wet concrete. What do you have to do with wet concrete? Either draw an image that you probably shouldn’t, or write your name. Bec gets angry when I do or say things that I probably shouldn’t, so I opt to write our names in there instead. Now, all of Santorini will know that we were here. They don’t have an option but to remember us now.
We continue on our journey and we figure that we have already walked 4km, so whats another 4km?
We underestimated how much we had left to walk
We could see one of the houses that we passes on the scooter, which we knew wasn’t that far from our place, so we thought it wouldn’t take us that long to get home. I dunno how long it actually took, but bloody hell, it felt like it took a damn long time. We turn and wind through the villages on our way to Kamari, occasionally hugging the walls and fences to dodge the traffic coming our way. They drive on the right too. Its a headache trying to remember which side of the road people drive on. We keep going to different countries and they switch all the time.
We get home, and jump into bed for an afternoon nap because we can.
We wake up, design our shipping container house more, and then go back to sleep.
All because we can, and we are in Santorini.
Come back for the next story,