Saved on Sifnos
Part 7: A room with
we trekked back to Apostolos's little hotel to claim our promised
room. He showed us to Room 5 which was furnished in Greek
beat-up basic. The doors stuck, the cupboards didn't shut,
the taps dripped, the furniture wobbled and the drains blocked
up regularly, but it was homey, and comfortable as an old
shoe. We loved it. A tiny balcony overlooked a view to die
for. The entire valley was laid out below us like a spread
sheet, the white houses of Apollonia spilling down the slopes
like sugar cubes, caught in patches of brilliant sunshine
which suffused them with yellow and pink. Terraces of vines
and olives and well tended vegetable gardens layered the hillsides.
It was magic.
We sat on the terrace again
for dinner that night in the warm, balmy air, our rickety
table propped level with a bit of folded cardboard under one
leg. Apostolos served us fried vegetable balls, stuffed eggplants
with cheese topping and veal in the pot - a feast. He threw
in a carafe of homemade wine from his family's tiny terraced
He grinned at us. "I
said 'Don't worry', didn't I."
The scent of jasmine was
particularly sweet that night. I remember how it hung in the
warm air - the very fragrance of Greek summer. Later, too
tired for bed, we sat on our balcony and contemplated the
great blackness of the heavens sprinkled with stars, while
the valley below talked to itself, cats played in the rolled
bales of hay beneath us, and a tinkle of goat bells came from
the top of the hill.
We've returned on many
occasions to Apostolos and his hotel. We always have Room
5. The furniture hasn't changed, although the bathroom's had
a face lift and we now have TV, air-con and a safe. The view
from the balcony hasn't changed either, picture perfect as
ever. And we never travel through Greece in the middle of
August without booking first.
information about the trip and the author
can be found here
travelogue is part of the subside