DAY 2 & 3: A journey through coastal Greece

October 13, 2026

DAY 2 & 3: A journey through coastal Greece

Leaving Ithaca Behind

Having left beautiful Ithaca behind, I was being disgorged off the pirate ship Ionian Pelagos onto the crowded harbour of Astakos.

As usual, the foot passengers scurried and jostled to get off first, oblivious to the massive trucks struggling to hurdle the small ramp on the boat to get onto the dock.

One slip, and neither driver nor foot passenger would be aware of the utterly squished human body they had just crushed, insect-like, under the wheels.

Anyhow, the suicidal tendencies of the islanders aside, I steered the Discovery through the hubbub at the dock and somehow ended up on the coastal road heading north.

We were blissfully free of traffic because 95% of those disembarking were heading the other way, or onto a newer, faster road which, though lacking the charm, got you to your destination a few minutes earlier.

We looked to the left to see the islands of Mytikas, Palairos, Kastis, Kailimos and, further up, Meganisi.

I simply didn’t know the names… but Lefkardis might be one further up. I think we spotted Ithaca in the distance. It was a glimpse, really.

We saw the circular fish-farm traps, perhaps three different groups of eight or so.

I commented to Stefano that the water must be super-clean to have the fish farming.

The road cut through jumbled karst scenery which could have been a national park. We had an elevated view for the first ten kilometres, but now it was twisting like a snake along the coast, not far from the sea.

There was hardly any traffic. An Audi passed us, and a commercial box truck held us up for two minutes.

The sun was glinting off the water, and it was getting near to 2.00 pm.

The scenery was less mountainous and more coastal plain. Prior to arriving here, the flooded river valleys and vistas had reminded me of the Lake District. Curvaceous, sculpted valleys and peaks up to 4,000 feet… like a jumble of giant women you might explore at some point.

Where to stop for lunch was the question?

Paleros: A Shabbily Perfect Seaside Town

It was not obvious until we saw a sign for Paleros and the beach.

I pulled off to the left and descended the hundred feet or so to a seaside town clinging like coloured seaweed to the seashore.

You might think of a 70s-decorated kipper tie sort of feel against something pre-Greek independence… old, but struggling unsuccessfully to join the modern world.

A world it shouldn’t even bother about.

It was sort of shabbily perfect in its own way.

Most of the tourists had gone. Diehards still loitered in various regalia… from the luminous costumes to the Matalan sort of sameness, and the racy leopard-skin print which appeared in Greece to be making a comeback.

You realised that this was a far cry from Dubai or Monaco!! Which was good.

Who wants a plastic Muslim city life feigning to be European?

We turned round and pulled up next to a set of tables overlooking a gravel-and-sand beach.

It was Anna’s fish tavern.

Anna’s Fish Tavern

They served food, and we tried to engage the waiter to see what was afoot.

He appeared a bit grumpy, but in truth I had prejudged the cover, while the contents were kind and caring.

We were aliens, after all, and he had survived an already long tourist season.

He also looked unshaven, partly bald, with hangdog eyes, and he also shopped at Matalan. It wasn’t, you might say, an uplifting look.

He must have thought:

Why did the blighters keep appearing?

Tourists.

Bad pennies from the Meganasi Styx, he looked over.

Well, in my case, I was better off doing this than listening to the endless moaning of half-wit politicians in Blighty.

My fault. I turn on the BBC… a sort of self-flagellation or addiction.

We ordered Greek salad, fried courgette, obligatory chips, and Stefano chose some red snapper and grouper. The waiter said all should be fried rather than grilled.

Some ladies sat behind us, and I could not resist cocking an ear to listen in.

Covid, health, medical this and that. It was all pretty boring, to be honest. They also spoke about money problems.

The view over to the faraway islands was stupendous, and the sun scintillated in Newtonian fractures off the gentle waves.

It was magnificent, and the meal, with three beers, was only €40.

Mainland Greece is cheaper than Ithaca, I decided, and on first look, very nice and honest.

Any delicious stories or clues to the workings of the group female mindset, I am afraid, were not evident on this eavesdrop. Or, if they were, I’m afraid it wasn’t Jilly Cooper Does Greece.

Salaciousness was more mind than everyday reality.

Preveza: A Hotel Booking Blunder

We boarded the car and headed towards the captain’s inn at Preveza.

Preveza is a big working port, and as you approach it, you see hundreds of yacht masts.

They looked like a weird graveyard at a distance, or some new radio telescope for finding dark matter.

Our hotel was called Captain’s Cabins or something.

Anyhow, I found out I had booked Captain’s Cabins in Patmos… not Preveza.

My cavalier attitude to booking and dependence on technology had shot me in the arse.

Shit. We had no accommodation, and I would have to pay at least one night on Patmos, some island I might never visit or hear about again.

The Land Rover does not suit small Greek towns either. It’s like a hearse with UK written on it.

Anyhow, we rocked up at the Dion Hotel, got two rooms, and it was fine.

Again, maybe it had been modern at some point. Now it was locked in its own version of an American movie… a Stanley Kubrick not made, or ever likely to be made, as he died years back.

I knew because Ross and I had met his daughter.

Somehow, a Stanley Kubrick would have done well here…

2001: A Greek Odyssey.

We crashed out and headed out to the bright lights of Preveza.

The Mermaid in the Rain

At first sight, it was the normal Greek fare, but then the main street had a spattering of clothes, jewellery and shops which might be found in a fashionable suburb of Athens.

We ended up hunkering down as the rain started in a place called the Mermaid.

The waiter pointed us to a table on the periphery of the deluge, which was now starting to flow.

The guy had a sort of weird way with him because he attempted to speak in English accents, using different euphemisms from different parts of the country.

I can’t adequately describe a Greek accent talking Glaswegian, with some rhyme that only somebody from Paisley might understand.

It was meant well but entirely unintelligible.

It meant we just nodded like Chinese nodding toys or tried to be emphatic…

“Yes, sparkling water.”

The menu was a bit depressing.

A lady appeared to deliver the drinks. We tried to order, but she insisted that the multilingualist take the order.

Anyhow, I had stifkado; Stefano had butter beans and fried feta cheese.

It tasted fine, and we gave the waiter €50.

It was a sort of two-out-of-ten experience, in contrast to Anna’s.

We headed back to the Dion Hotel.

The Half Bed

I had not been concerned about my room being set as two single beds.

But as I crawled into the half-bed, I realised that I was a king-size man fitting into a child’s bed.

Stefano had his own room, so how I got two single beds, I have no idea.

I guess we were lucky to get rooms at all.

There was a balcony. The bathroom had a death-bath shower.

I am always concerned when I get out of these bath showers because everything is slippy, and one’s wedding tackle is likely to get the full brunt of any fall.

I cleaned my teeth and looked at my weather-beaten, sun-tanned face.

Fuck, what had I become in the years?!!

Day 3: Roman Ruins and a Stupendous Lunch

Nikopolis: A City of Victory

I met Stefano for breakfast.

He had been on his three-to-four-kilometre jaunt. I did feel guilty, but I had not mentioned that I had this lazy right leg. A trapped nerve.

It meant plodding about was now a tad painful.

Anyhow, the breakfast was extensive.

Cooked, sweet this and that, watermelon… basically everything a traveller might need. A spread you could load on the calories with ease.

We asked the receptionist about visiting the massive Roman city of Nikopolis, or the City of Victory, founded in 29 BC.

It had been set up by Octavian (Augustus), the first Roman emperor, after the naval battle of Actium in 31 BC.

I won’t elaborate, but it soon had Antony and Cleopatra committing suicide (the asp often mentioned), and the consequences were dictators in Rome for hundreds of years: the imperium.

Nikopolis the town is awesome… spread over 56 hectares, with massive walls like Constantinople, theatres, odeia, and a monument to the Octavian victory, dedicated to Apollo and, of course, victory.

Nike, like the shoes.

Stefano, who isn’t a history buff like me, was awe-struck.

There was nobody there, the weather was perfect, and I could pretend to be Michael Wood, crawling over Roman and early Christian buildings.

I gather the road through the site will be closed next year.

The odd renovation sign was observed. Hundreds of thousands of euros being spent to preserve it.

Much better than Orange Mr Blobby in the USA, blowing people up and televising people on death row.

A Few Thoughts on Emperors and Empires

Thinking on it, dictatorship by Nero and Caligula, the notorious and well-documented lunatics following Augustus, would suit the blob well.

He is an all-powerful piece of work that nobody thinks well of.

Maybe the slaves thought that of the emperors, even though they put self-aggrandising statues of themselves at all parts of the empire.

All empires do it, I guess.

Even our own jolly British Empire.

Much loved… urghh.

A Museum Worth Visiting

Anyhow, we visited the museum, which was new.

The place is sort of marble and has lots of facts and great finds from the city of Nikopolis.

It was really well done.

You don’t feel it as much as a Roman army museum on Hadrian’s Wall, mind you… that is uber-special.

But it has some superb exhibits which exemplify how important Nikopolis was.

This is a gem which will get world recognition in the future, I feel.

It was at the centre of the Roman Empire. A touch town of Greek and Roman life. I am sure only 10% is excavated.

The large hippodrome and the theatre that took 1,600 seated.

The monument to Nike… victory.

The late fifth- and sixth-century Christian walls.

I drove the Discovery through the gates and had the photo opportunity.

The car had five centimetres either side.

Splendid is the experience; splendiferous are the ruins.

It was 1.00 pm, and we had spent four hours.

It was now time to find lunch by the sea.

Akrotiri: The Best Meal of the Trip

We headed to a restaurant called Akrotiri in a town called Mytikas… something like that.

The village has old apartments near the lighthouse, with the restaurant in a great position.

It fronted the sea and looked closed.

Stefano and I had almost given up when I asked him to get out of the car and check.

Disappearing inside, he appeared with thumbs up.

It would be open in fifteen minutes.

A View Worth Lingering Over

We sat ourselves down with the splendid view.

Paxos to the far right, and Lefkardis somewhere on the left.

We started with Aperol Spritz… it is obligatory when you have such a view.

Kostentinis served up the olives, water and bread.

We languished in super-comfortable wooden chairs.

We had the place to ourselves.

We looked at the menu, which had that tone of Venetian about it.

Carpaccio, etc.

Anyhow, we decided to order the starters, and they were delectable treats.

The best food we had eaten by a country mile.

Even the classic Greek salad had blanched tomatoes and flamed red peppers with capers.

The cheese was herb-laden… but not too much.

It was a couple of notches up.

The menu included:

Sea bream carpaccio with orange zest
Aged lamb kebab in pitta bread with tomato purée and yoghurt
Calamari — sweet and small
Beef carpaccio with truffle mayonnaise
One bottle of Peloponnesian wine

A Siesta by the Sea

Three hours in, we debunked to super-comfy recliner chairs for a siesta facing the sea, which had witnessed 400 Octavian triremes or quinqueremes carrying 75,000 legionaries to fight 220 such boats put out by Antony.

Agrippa, the general and friend of Octavian, made quick business of the Egyptian forces.

Another bottle of wine, and we drifted into the malaise of happy, befuddled serenity one rarely experiences.

The owner of the bar, Sotiris, looked at us like a mother hen with his guest chicks being nested.

We had the second bottle recommended by the owner.

We were definitely drifting somewhere.

At 5.30 pm, we decided to reluctantly leave.

The waiting staff were also drinking and relaxing.

They seemed a happy bunch.

Sotiris said he would be at his bar in Preveza that evening if we cared to be hosted at BEiA Gastro Bar.

It seemed unreasonable to say no.

An Evening in Preveza

Getting back to the hotel through quite-siesta roads, I crashed out for 45 minutes.

My leg was giving me some gyp.

Stefano was raring to go, his health being tip-top.

The weather was fine, and the Preveza cafés were buzzing with life.

We were searching vaguely for the guy’s bar. Again, its name was B something… it was one street back from the front and to the right of the hotel we should have stayed in… the Captain’s something.

Four minutes’ walk.

Stefano had got the directions wrong and got nowhere.

I told him about the one street back, and there in front of us was the trendy corner bar.

Various couples, singles, Matalan-posh types, and an assortment of ladies serving in black.

I ordered a G&T and Stefano a cold coffee with sugar.

Mine was Tanqueray with Schweppes on the side.

We viewed the assorted human traffic coming and going.

Highlights were:

Two girls striding in four-inch stilettos and jeans.
A group of five lads like a pack of dogs with a leader.
A very tall lady with her friend, who was older.
A chap limping. I was now a limper.
A lady in a car who leaned out longingly for one of the bearded chaps sitting with his mates.

By some coincidence, the owner of the Mentor in Ithaca spotted me and Stefano.

A man of few words, he asked if we were OK.

He had packed off the wife and was soon to be doing some serious racing.

Anyhow, we wrapped up, and I said to Stefano, “I need to write this drivel.”

Anyhow, Stefano sent me a note saying he had found the Sotiris bar.

I fell into a half-sleep on my miniature half-bed.

Day 4: Thunderstorms, Cockroaches and Gluttony 2

A Greek Storm

Next day, it was raining cats and dogs.

The massive thunderstorm was full-on, with lightning and massive crashes like gods throwing old wardrobes around.

I carried on writing a bit and then went to breakfast.

It was the same fare, but now served up inside.

I had not mentioned the cataclysmic violence of Greek storms.

The sky was riven with lightning, and the massive thunderclaps rocked the building.

It was very violent.

I didn’t fancy the pool because, on a visit the previous day, I felt I might uproot the ladder to the pool from its foundations.

What with my weight and the force I placed on the stainless steel, and my now-grown hair, I might look big but also a bit Samson-like.

A portly Victor Mature, without the dark hair or face that looked like it had done ten rounds with Tyson as a punchbag.

Cockroach Kirsty

At breakfast, we were approached by Cockroach Kirsty.

She had gained the sobriquet when, at reception on our arrival, she had shrieked:

“There is a cockroach in my room. Can somebody remove it?”

I rather gallantly said that, if she didn’t shout too much, everyone would want one.

It was a flying insect only.

Poor thing, it was flattened by the hotel staff.

Anyhow, Kirsty joined us and said she was being escorted by two strange men to a beautiful village.

One was 81 and the other in his mid-70s.

She had no car, and I guess wanted company.

She was going to Saraniko, I think.

The weather was so grim I could not face driving.

The morning was spent doing little or nothing.

A virtual one-off event.

Coffee, Cake and a New Greek Generation

Anyhow, Stefano was keen to show me the discovery of the sister restaurant of the Akrotiri.

It might soon be the subject of Gluttony 2.

We found the place, having first stopped off in a very pleasant Greek café.

In contrast to the tourists, these Greek coffee drinkers were a little ashen.

I might think they were wearing paint from a Greek tragedy.

Anyhow, the lady served me up a latte, and Stefano had a white wine.

There was a lady parked in the corner with her Adidas top and black joggers.

I was not sure if she was having coffee from the gym or simply that was the sporty Matalan look.

She seemed to know the lady at the bar, and Stefano figured she might be the daughter.

Anyhow, the rather sorted-out coffee shop was reinvented fifteen years ago by the sons of the lady behind the bar.

We got cake, and Stefano got nuts with his wine.

It was well done.

This was new Greek and old, and it was really good.

Gluttony 2

We found Gluttony 2 and, of course, had to play our part.

We ordered some wine.

A reboot of the wine of the day before.

The menu was extremely influenced by the Far East.

There were tempura prawns.

It was all very good, but not quite on the level of yesterday at Akrotiri by the sea.

Still, it was excellent, and Kassi looked after us.

The chef, Alkis, made tasty food.

Stefano had a Japanese sandwich which was far bigger than a starter.

The weather had improved, and we departed feeling as if we had our own personal dining experience.

Kassi was soon to set up her gym, and I think the excitement of a new enterprise filled her with justifiable optimism.

Life in the Harbour: Gin Palaces and Electrical Mishaps

My leg was still not right, so I bobbled down to the port to see how the newbies were handling their gin palaces.

I was soon rewarded with the angry shouting of a captain telling someone to disconnect the electrical cable from the services on shore.

A quick-thinking fellow yachty disconnected it, and the flailing wire and socket landed in the drink.

Fenders in disarray and hanging still in the water, it made me wonder why the catamaran captain hadn’t checked this was at least done before he commenced motoring out.

All I could say, having seen this shambles, was that it didn’t look like the crew or captain had a clue.

One boat had fuel canisters stacked on its deck.

While not a yachty myself, I have been on a few trips for weeks on end as crew.

Never seen this before.

Greek Coffee and Evening Reflections

Returning to the hotel, the boozy lunch necessitated a sort of siesta.

Refreshed from the half-sleep, I ventured down to reception.

Helena, behind the obligatory counter, was bored because everyone was checked in and she had to hold the fort until 11.00 pm.

I tried the first bit of the adventure back on her.

I think she liked it.

Stefano and I walked out and plopped ourselves down for a Greek coffee and a mint tea.

He was suffering a bit from gyp tummy with all the guzzling.