Buying powder Loutraki

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Buying powder Loutraki

Loukoumi is the Greek name for Turkish Delight. It is enjoyed throughout Greece, where people make it in their own kitchens or buy it from specialty candy shops. The mixture is then poured into a flat pan, left to cool, and then cut into little squares. Loukoumi comes in tons of flavors like rose, lemon, orange, and mint. You can eat it by itself or with some tea or coffee. I love their coconut, but they make rose, pistachio and other flavors. The shop is located about an hour from Athens in the town of Loutraki on the Gulf of Cornith. The town and municipality is a delightful mix of beachfront hotels, small inns and villas. It is a favorite of Athenians and those from abroad on holiday because there is so much to explore here including ancient temples, a thermal spa, museums, a sports center, large casino- hotel, water sports, mountaineering, hiking, yachting and enjoying the beaches. And of course the food. Traditionally enjoyed with a cup of strong coffee, Loukoumi is ever-present in Greek homes and offered to guests who drop by. We have a simple — and delicious — recipe for you to try at home. Learn to make it at home with this simple, but delicious recipe. Michelle was born with a fork in her hand. As a culinary travel writer and confirmed foodophile she delights in the world-wide discovery of new flavor profiles, spices, salts and herbs. Based in one of the world's foodie meccas; Portland, Oregon, not far from 'Pinot Noir Heaven' Michelle shares culinary travel and chef's recipes. A confirmed globetrotter, she still keeps her bags packed and fork in hand well. I am interested to try this recipe but the ingredients minus the powdered sugar and nuts reads like a recipe for homemade Jello. My question is this: once they firm up in the fridge, with the amount of gelatin you recommend what is the final consistency the maker of this recipe is looking for? Thank you for your reply! I will try this recipe as I had tried to do them for years from a Greek recipes book, but no way I can do it well. It got so sticky, never gets harder to cut in squares! By the way, I had been in Loutraki years ago. As for not getting hard enough, check that your gelatin is fresh. As,o: My friend who is a teaching chef in France suggests you forget the jello-type powdered gelatin and use the professional gelatin sheet which you just dissolve in the cold watercalled for in recipe, as for how much of the gelatin sheet to use, look up equivalents how much powdered plain gelatin equals a gelatin sheet? I will do more research and may have answer for you soon. Once you master the gelatin sheets, I think that it will also solve the gooey texture issues. Also another idea is to use silicone molds. Pour the liquid into cute molds or traditional square ones. The are a whole lot of options via the internet. Good luck and let us know what you come up with, okay? Thanks for reading and your questions. We all learn from each other. Thank you for the recipe. Loukoumi has nothing to do with turkey. The recipe original is an Arab one. The name Loukoum means literrlt bites in Arabic. The Greeks adopted the name and the recipe before the turkish occupation to the old Beyzintin lands. I understand that the western world calls it turksih delights because it was introduced to Europe during turksih offensives there, but that does not make a turksih one. Thank you. Being an Asia Minor Greek, how does one make pasta flora using loukoumi candy? A deceased aunt was known for this recipe which seems to have been known and quite popular amongst these Greeks. I recall she rolling pieces of loukoumi in phyllo but I have no idea if she used anything else. Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Michelle M. Winner Michelle was born with a fork in her hand. Pin Recipe. Description Loukoumi is the Greek name for Turkish Delight. Units US M Scale 1x 2x 3x. Cook Mode Prevent your screen from going dark. Soften gelatin in the cold water. In a sauce pan combine sugar and hot water and heat to boiling. Add softened gelatin in water, and simmer for 20 minutes. Add orange juice, rind and coloring. Stir and cool for handling. Strain into a loaf pan. Pan should be large enough so that mixture is an inch below lip of the pan. Stir in nuts, if desired. Chill until firm in fridge. Turn out of pan onto a board. You can thin the sugar with cornstarch if desired. Category: Candy Cuisine: Greek. View Comments 11 HI! Take a look at this for powdered gelatin to gelatin sheets ratio. Awesome recipe! I love it! This is gonna be my staple. These are not Greek loukoumia. They are more like a dried jello jiggler. I need some Greek delight in my life! Leave a Reply Cancel reply Your email address will not be published. Butterbeer Frosted Cupcakes. Provolone Potatoes au Gratin. Sea Salt Peanut Butter Cookies.

Greece Peanut and Tree Nut Allergy-Friendly Travel Itinerary

Buying powder Loutraki

Blue sea beneath the aeroplane changes to tarmac and painted lines as the end of the runway arrives and our excitement grows, we are almost there. But within what seems a few inches of hitting the ground, and just as we anticipate the bump of landing, the engines roar, the plane accelerates and we climb steeply back into the skies from being so close to landing. Something has obviously gone wrong and the passengers fall strangely silent. We are soon advised that the landing was aborted at the last second due to a tailwind stronger than the permitted maximum 17 knots as opposed to 10 and we are off for a further 40 minutes in the sky as we take a trip along the coast to turn and approach the runway from the opposite direction. Our second attempt goes smoothly. Now, the following morning, the view from our apartment balcony, across the city to the sea from our elevated position high on the hill towards the fort, opens out before us as we contemplate where to take our first Thessaloniki breakfast. Container ships and freighters lay at anchor out in the bay, the blue sea glistens as the morning sun creeps across the red tiled rooftops. Somewhere down there the city is starting to buzz, but up here the call of the swifts is louder than the sounds of the city. Our journey from home to this vibrant city was not without further incident, though none of it emanated from the areas we feared: we had evidently satisfied COVID requirements sufficiently to board the flight, and the equivalent controls at Thessaloniki Airport were quick and efficient. No post Brexit complications either — clearly the Greek economy needs visitors. Our nervousness is suitably extinguished. A quick call by the helpful lady at Swissport establishes that the errant bag is enjoying a few extra hours at Heathrow but she assures us that it will be delivered to our apartment the following morning. It arrives in fact before breakfast, unaffected by its unplanned adventure and after just the one evening without a change of clothing, Michaela is assuaged and happy and ready for that first breakfast. The best bougatza in town is metres up the hill. You must go there for your breakfast…. But of course we have to, and, after our first bougatza which despite its reputation as being unique is pretty much the same cheese pie as the rest of Greece , we set off down the line of the ancient Ottoman city walls and begin our exploration. You have to love the Greeks! Our other quirk here is a shower which, when placed in its holder, slowly drops down so as to shower the back wall instead of your body. Good luck with getting that image out of your head, on with the travel blog…. Then throw in a mountain backdrop, the nightlife of the Ladadika district and classy tree lined boulevards radiating from majestic squares and you have a real clash of styles. And then you might want to suck up the fact that Thessaloniki reputedly has more bars per capita than any other European city, and you see that five days here may not be enough. The differing aspects and the presence of Parisien style tree lined boulevards are not by chance. In Thessaloniki suffered a huge fire which ravaged the city centre and razed much of it to the ground, after which the centre was redesigned and rebuilt by a team of architects with a heavy French influence. In spite of the fire, not to mention the multiple earthquakes which have struck the city throughout its history right up to , a good deal of the Ottoman city walls remain, striking proudly between the high rises and streets and linking the original defence towers which also still remain. One of those, the White Tower, stands assertively at the seafront as if defying all that can be thrown in its direction. It is these days the symbolic icon of the city, representing peace and inclusivity, having been whitewashed, both physically and metaphorically, by Sultan Abdul Hamid II, as a way of shedding its history as a prison and place of execution. It was before then known as The Blood Tower. Elsewhere another ancient tower, the Rotunda, dominates a central square and has an interior reminiscent of The Pantheon in Rome. From the Rotunda, the walls climb up towards the Eptapyrgio, the ancient fort, later a prison, which in turn looks down on the city from the top of the hill. The remains of a Roman agora stretch between two main streets, beside which the Bey Hamam, the first and largest hamam built in these parts by the Ottomans, now houses an interesting museum dedicated to the post-fire rebuilding project. Several huge churches stand boldly amidst the history: Agios Dimitrios, Agia Sofia and Agios Pavlos, close by our apartment, are among the most spectacular. But Thessaloniki is still troubled by a piece of darkest history. Still with a strong Jewish presence at the onset of WW2, it was the first Greek city to fall to the Nazis. Almost 50, Jews were herded on to cattle trains here, on which they endured what must have been a tortuously long journey, to be sent to their death in the gas chambers of Auschwitz and Birkenau. Just a handful of the 50, were to survive. Having previously stood by those gates at Birkenau at what was the other end of that terrible journey, to stand here now by this rail track is more than a little haunting. The railway station building still stands, now a freight only depot, next to the harbour, sporting some thought provoking images of those victims amongst its extensive street art…….. Frappe is simply part of being in Greece. It turns out that Thessaloniki lays claim to the invention of frappe, at its trade fair, though there are probably other places with similar claims. In fact our broken coffee machine turns out to be a blessing, as the busy cafe around the corner is just a brilliant place to start each day. One of those cafes where the owner treats you as long lost friends on only a second visit, and where you can sit for 20 minutes and the whole world comes and goes. Restaurants on the seafront have great views and may well have good food but are international rather than authentic Greek and are considerably more expensive than other areas. The Ladadika area, mostly converted oil stores close to the port, is filled with trendy places and is more popular with the young, though with plenty going for it especially Whope, the coolest bar in town and the best draught Mythos so far. Between Ladadika and the market area there lies a series of walkways filled with many decent restaurants, but possibly our favourite area is Ano Poli Upper Town , particularly Papadopoulou street, where there is a cluster of seriously authentic tavernas filled with locals and serving good Greek fare at very decent prices. You can do a couple of beers each, half a litre of wine and two courses each and still get change out of 30 euros. These tavernas fill up nightly. If you get here at 7. Arrive at 8 and you will have a choice of the best tables; at 8. Our time in this city has been lively and interesting and we both feel we have fallen just a little bit in love with Thessaloniki. There is a character here which is so welcoming and calming that it is very easy to slip in to its arms. There is something very special about moving on when travelling. One of our travel maxims has always been: move on while you still love a place. For us, that mix of emotions of being sad to leave somewhere clashing with the excitement of heading to a new place, somehow encapsulates the very essence of travel. For our last day here we embrace a real mix of cultures. After our customary morning coffee round the corner we visit the tiny but beautiful church of Agios Panteleimon, packed with icons and artwork and filled with the delightful aromas of incense. Ataturk, aka Mustafa Kemal, was actually of Macedonian origin and was born and schooled here in Thessaloniki. After immersing ourselves in culture and history for the past few days, we go off piste a bit and visit two sports stadiums: the national stadium Kaftantzogleio, followed by the Toumba Stadium, home of the notoriously passionately followed PAOK Salonika football club. Both are pretty impressive, the former having been built for the Athens Olympics. Thessaloniki has been fabulous, but now the wanderlust is kicking in and Saturday morning finds us revelling in the excitement of moving on, and we are soon heading down to the railway station. Our next destination lies a few hours south and at considerably higher altitude, up in the mountains at Delphi. The train journey from Thessaloniki to Tithorea, the nearest that the railway line comes to Delphi, is on time and efficient, and we arrive in Tithorea mid afternoon not quite knowing how to complete the onward journey. What we gain in simplicity, we lose in bargaining power and have no choice but to accept the fare. And so we arrive in Delphi, jaws dropping at the scenery as we look over the edge of the colossal ravine on which Delphi sits. We are now in the midst of fabulous ancient history, but as well as this, the mountain scenery is just way beyond our best expectations. It truly is breathtaking. And yet from our balcony we can see the sea, some feet down the mountain. For the next few days mountain air will replace the city and hiking trails will replace walking city streets. We are in for a very different experience. The modern town of Delphi lies just a few hundred yards from the ancient civilisation of the same name, perched precipitously on the steep slopes of Mount Parnassus and looking across the spectacularly deep valley of the dry River Pleistos to the Gulf of Corinth. One first stroll around its few streets brings several wow moments: this dramatic scenery is truly breathtaking. To simply conceive of how this great city of major importance could be constructed on the dramatically steep slopes of Mount Parnassus by those ancient peoples, towering over the lands below, is awe inspiring. But then those ancient people were drawn here by powerful forces: this is, after all, the centre of the world, as decreed by Zeus, who according to the myths and legends released two eagles from either end of the universe, stating that where they crossed would be decreed the centre of the world. That place was Mount Parnassus. By subsequently hurling a smooth cylindrical rock, the omphalos — literally, the navel — from the heavens to land on Parnassus, Zeus confirmed the new status of Delphi. Note: there are as ever some variations to the mythology, but you get the picture. Its status as the centre of the world confirmed, Delphi gained further fame as the home of the Oracle. For centuries, ancient peoples would make pilgrimages to Delphi to consult the Oracle on such matters as declaration of war, or the establishment of cities: subjects and decisions at the very core of civilisation. Each successive Oracle, also known as the Pythea or sibyl, was appointed by priestesses acting on behalf of Apollo, and, to accede to Oracle status, she was required to be a local peasant woman with a blameless life who would from then on convey the wishes and prophecies of Apollo. Her prophecies and advices were delivered in a state of trance through a series of rants and rages which were interpreted by the priestesses, becoming the conduit through which the Gods, specifically Apollo, would reach the people, and respond to those questions of great import. Modern day scientists believe these trances were induced by a mixture of inhaling the gases emitted from a chasm in the Earth within the city, together with consuming quantities of the hallucinogenic oleander flower which still grows in abundance at the site today. In any event, the role of the Oracle of Delphi was to survive for centuries. The preserved ruins of ancient Delphi make for an outstanding visit. Climbing up from the Athena Pronaia Temple through the ancient city, the viewpoints continually changing as we climb the steep mountain, we can only imagine times when the city bustled and thrived and revelled in its fame. Standing here looking at the breathtaking landscape which would have greeted the city dwellers and those pilgrims is just wonderful. At the highest point of the ruins is the remarkably well preserved stadium which hosted the Pythean Games, second only in importance to the Olympic Games in ancient Greece. A couple of days later however, on our last day here, we tackle a much bigger section of Parnassus, climbing from Delphi at around ft to the ridge at nearly ft above sea level. The hike takes us just over 6 hours to complete, and is 15 miles of mountain trekking as well as the gain in elevation. Later, over a beer whilst watching the sun set, we are joined by this inquisitive little fellow….. Way below modern day Delphi is the historic village of Kyrra, the port where pilgrims disembarked, still linked to Delphi by the same 3, year old footpath. Tackling it is just too much of a temptation, though we walk it downhill from our base to the sea rather than take on the foot climb. Its kilometre route is fabulous, zigzagging down the craggy sides of the mountain before crossing the vast olive groves below.. And boy are those olive groves vast indeed: this is in fact the largest continuous olive grove in all of Greece, with 1. From Kyrra we walk along the coast to the pleasant resort town of Itea, where we take our first swim of this trip to cool down after hiking nearly 4 hours in the intense heat. Around 10 kilometres from Delphi, but even higher at 3, feet above sea level, lies the pretty town of Arachova. This is the town where wealthy Greeks enjoy skiing trips; a hugely pretty town with a quirky rock-mounted bell tower. Its setting is again stunning and the town is clearly well heeled, but it feels very strange walking in the baking sun past shops selling ski clothing and snow boards. Its soundtrack, breaking the otherwise becalmed feel, is the incessant rasp of cicadas which reaches a deafening climax in the afternoon. Our next move presents us with some logistical decisions on how to get round to the other side of the Gulf Of Corinth. Our next thought was to hire a car in Delphi and drive around the western side of the Gulf but none of the companies in the area are willing to offer a one-way hire. Fortunately one unexpected alternative presents itself by way of a direct bus from up here in the mountains, down to Athens, from where we can pick up a train to Korinthos. As you may have read on the internet, Greece has entered what is a heatwave even by Greek standards, with a possibility that temperatures will reach an astonishing 45 degrees this week. Our host Nikos has basically built a self contained apartment on the roof of an existing block, and turned the rest of the roof into a private terrace. Rather like Delphi, there is an old and a new Korinthos or Corinth , the new city expanding close to the ancient site. First impressions from our rooftop home is that the new Korinthos looks more like an Middle Eastern city than Greece, indeed we are reminded of Amman as we look out across the blocks scaling the hillside. And so we move on to our next stage, in the ancient land of Corinth, place of origin of the Corinthian spirit, close to the famous canal, blue sea in the harbour sparkling in the baking sun. This was the response at the first of the three car hire places in Korinthos, and a bit of a worry as our plans for this part of the trip realistically hinge on having a car. We are regularly blessed with meeting kind people on our travels, it seems! Modern Korinthos is a reasonably attractive city, if a little on the functional side, with some lively pedestrianised areas, open spaces and a lengthy promenade. Afternoons here are a bit like old time Greece and good old fashioned siesta time: everything is closed apart from a handful of shops, and the locals seem to all go into hiding. Mind you, it gets extremely hot between about 3pm and 5. Wander westwards from the harbour and you reach Kalamia Beach, a stony shore with a long run of beach bars, sun loungers and other obvious signs that this is something of a resort. And trying not to make contact with the pebbles which are searing hot in the afternoon sun. Pick a larger pebble here and you could cook a pizza on it. A half hour bus ride out of Korinthos are the remains of the ancient city of Corinth, perched on the hillside in the village of Archaia, noteworthy for a number of reasons. Second thing — unlike virtually every other major ancient city we have visited, Corinth is extremely compact and compressed; the remnants of the major buildings are virtually on top of each other, making it even easier to close our eyes and imagine the bustle of the city in ancient times. Situated on the narrow isthmus between Athens and the Peloponnese, Corinthians were able to construct harbours on each of the two gulfs on either side of the isthmus, facilitating substantial trade with different parts of the world. After the Corinthian era was eventually brought to an end, the Romans renovated and enlarged Corinth and under Julius Caesar set about restoring its former power. Even closer to the new Korinthos is the famous Corinth Canal, one of those sights like the Rialto Bridge and the Taj Mahal which remind us of childhood textbooks, such is their status as a world icon. Corinth Canal is closed to all shipping traffic these days due to multiple landslides along its entire length — these landslides are spectacular in their own right, the collapsed sections of cliff clearly visible beneath the clear waters. Now though even those are gone and the canal lays silent and deep blue. The Corinth Canal is, it seems, a modern day relic. Trudging back towards Korinthos, military helicopters pass overhead, carrying huge vats for collecting water, on their way to douse the forest fires raging in this heatwave. Heatwave warnings persist, people take cover, fires rage out of control, and, as we said above, sites close for the hottest part of the afternoon. Meanwhile, we walk the canal route, over 10 miles long. Mad dogs and Englishmen indeed….. Thanks in no small part to the kind heart of Nikos, the first day of August sees us on our first road trip of this Greek adventure, heading southwards in the hire car down the Peloponnese peninsula to the wonderful ancient site of Epidavros. Originally built in the 6th century BC as a centre for healing from the waters of its many springs, Epidavros grew in both size and reputation to become a powerful and wealthy region. The famous theatre at Epidavros remains a magnificent sight, its sides towering above the site of its stage, whilst retaining an almost uncanny acoustic ability: drop a coin on the right spot here and it can be heard crystal clear way up in the highest seats. Luckily we have made Epdiavros early, lucky because once again the site is closing from 1pm to 5pm due to the intense heat. Our next stop is Nea Epidavros, less pretty but with a beach where we cool off from the mighty heat in the beautiful clear waters. He also tells me that there are forecasts that tomorrow Monday , we may see the all time highest temperature record for Greece broken. Heading up into the mountains again seems like a good idea and we therefore spend our final day in Korinthos on an exciting drive on spectacular roads, visiting a number of quiet mountain villages before ending up in Nemea. The Nemea wine was one of two local specialities we wanted to sample whilst in this region, the other being the Black Corinth raisin. Loutraki is so obviously a resort, packed with trendy seafront bars and bustling in the current weather. The music is reggae and lounge rather than balalaikas, the beach stays packed even as the sun goes down. A couple of beers and back to our rooftop for a bottle of Nemea wine and a few cold mezze: just the perfect way to end our time in Korinthos. You are a serious rock music aficionado if you know that the above line is a plagiarism of a song by English 70s band 10cc, and that in the original lyric it was Paris, not Piraeus. But our one night in Piraeus, sandwiched between Korinthos and our first island of this adventure, manages to almost live up to the line. The smooth running, punctual, air conditioned train from Korinthos pulls into Piraeus dead on time, and we step out into the searing heat to trudge to our one night stay, backpacks on. Piraeus station is conveniently positioned very close to the port, so nothing should be too much of a challenge. It takes a few minutes for the implications to sink in. Yes there is no lighting, and yes there will be no internet. Nor is there a lift elevator. Our room is on the 6th floor. So this is how we come to be trudging up six flights of pitch dark unlit stairs, backpacks on, already sweating, to meet a chambermaid with a master key, waiting to let us in to our hot, dark room. And we find ourselves laughing, just a bit. Drenched in sweat, short of breath, and laughing. This is the kind of challenge that makes travelling an experience, being properly knocked out of your comfort zone. And have a couple more beers. We may have been trying to see the funny side of our predicament, but in reality of course this whole situation is no laughing matter. The staff at the very decent Italian restaurant near the port bring us up to date with the news. It seems the power cut is selective and intentional; the local authorities in Piraeus and Athens have shut down the power to big user areas whilst keeping essential supplies such as trams, trolley buses and street lighting functional. Much worse though, the fires are raging in the Attika region all around Athens, people are losing everything, and a big operation is underway to move livestock to safe ground. Hundreds of homes have been destroyed. For me, the beer plan works and I fall asleep despite the oppressive heat in the room. Michaela is less lucky and sits on the balcony waiting for sleep to come. Sometime during the dead of night she notices light creeping under the door — the electricity is back on. Next morning the smell of smoke has permeated the whole city and you can smell nothing else. As we set sail on the early morning ferry, Piraeus quickly disappears behind the yellowish smoke cloud hanging low in its skies. Our next stop is the island of Serifos. The first inkling we get that our calculated risk may not pay off is when we disembark the ferry on Serifos at just after 9am. Backpacking on the Greek islands is easy out of season, but this will be our first attempt at it during August when the islands are at their busiest. And then we get that first clue: not a single room hawker on the quay waiting to meet the ferry. August is when the Greeks go on holiday. Nikos is about our tenth call either in person or by phone, and shows us to the perfectly adequate Iris Apartment, nestled one street back from the waterfront in the port town Livadia. Reality really dawns though as we activate our next plan and go on the usual websites to book ahead: not only is Serifos full, but so are Sifnos and Milos, our next two intended islands. Nikos confirms our fears and says we will have little hope of getting lucky. So, with resourcefulness called for, we decide to go for a long ferry journey and get much further away from the mainland, start our island journey from a different place and maybe work our way back to the Cyclades later. This is a complete change to our original plan. So after considerable discussion, ferry tickets secured and next accommodation reserved, we will now only be on Serifos, and in the Cyclades, for those three days, after which we will embark on a lengthy journey to Crete, from where we will hatch a new plan. And that plan may well involve a later return to the Cyclades, once August is over, because Serifos is lovely. Livadia, the former, has a lovely collection of restaurants along the waterfront which sweeps around the bay in a near perfect curve. Tamarisk trees provide shelter on each of its two beaches, white houses glint in the sunlight and the town buzzes with activity. A regular bus service links Livadia and Chora, ambling slowly up the tight hairpins and steep inclines along roads which are only just wide enough. Hilltop Chora is an absolute delight, a picturesque village which is like a microcosm of the Cyclades: everything typically Cycladean is here, the sugar cube houses, the tiny alleys, the blue painted chapel roofs, the group of old guys sat outside the cafe, and of course at the very top, an ancient chapel and the remains of a castle kastro. Tucked inside the tiny alley ways is a miniature square which, having been baked in open sunshine all day, comes alive after dark, with queues forming for each of the eateries and the constant babble of the Greek holidaymakers filling the air. This nickname may be governed by the location bus bar or corner bar or by what we ate or drank fish bar or aperol bar or something we saw or heard there dog bar, tree bar, reggae bar. So we begin our last evening on Serifos at Ugly Woman Bar, gazing out over the evening waters and wishing we were staying longer. But events outside of our control have brought about a rethink and we are off to a new destination. Our journey from Serifos to Crete is a hour trip door to door, including a 3-hour lunch break on Milos between connecting ferries. The brief views of both Milos and Sifnos only convince us more that a return to the Cyclades remains on the agenda. Stepping into the hedonistic night life of Hania, on Crete, makes us appreciate why that tag line has resonance. Hania — also spelt Chania, Xania or even Khania — is easily the most touristy place of this trip so far, and probably our most touristy destination for some time. Here, both the waterfront and the old town are beautiful and atmospheric places. The Venetian port in particular is so attractive after nightfall, the modest lighting of the restaurants reflecting in the rippling waters, the curve of the harbour giving great views from every one of those hundreds of tables. Wherever you wander, you feel good. Behind the harbour and within the Venetian walls lies the old city, a thrilling labyrinth of tiny narrow streets where the best thing to do is to wander aimlessly and let yourself get lost. Just like the waterfront, these streets are packed with delightful looking restaurants at every turn: we reckon you could be here for three years and eat in a different place every night! With years of Venetian rule as well as strong Byzantine, Ottoman, Arab and Turkish adding to the ancient Greek influences, Hania is a fascinating architectural mix, not least because a succession of earthquakes, fires and sieges saw buildings destroyed and renovated multiple times. But the Venetian influence is clear for all to see in the harbour area, from the loggia fronted buildings to grand pallazzi to the hulking arsenali looming over the quayside. Venizelos is recognised here in many ways, with statues, street names and dedicated squares. The rather wonderful family tombs sit in beautiful grounds way above the city with magnificent views back across the bay. Cretans are proud of a lot more than Venizelos. These are people with a long history of fiercely defending the homeland, a history culminating with the Battle Of Crete in WW2. The Nazi response once occupation was achieved was brutal: the Jewish population was eliminated and those who had aided the resistance fighters, including monks, were slaughtered. But the resistance effort rumbled on and the Cretans never willingly accepted occupation. But back to the present day, and the tourist trap that Hania now is. You can even eat in the confines of the one remaining synagogue. Our issues with car hire continue. So it is with the car hire problem here. On the last day here without a car, we take the bus out to Georgioupoli, a rather lovely coastal town shaded by towering eucalyptus trees. With a long stretch of sandy beach, a cute chapel out on a causeway and a laid back, fountain filled square, it is a very appealing little town. For all that Hania has to offer, it is definitely not the peaceful charming experience that so many Greek islands are: something which we now find ourselves very much looking forward to. But dawn also heralds consistency: August in Crete is a delight of clear blue skies throughout the day, we are yet to see our first real cloud in seven days here. Mercifully though the heat is less intense than during the heatwave on the mainland: days here have varied between 32 and 38 but the cooling Meltemi wind blows in each afternoon to make every day just simply lovely. With a hire car now at our disposal, we venture into the mountains west of Hania, visiting quaint mountain villages and discovering the beautifully peaceful Gonia Odigitria monastery, occupying an amazing clifftop position surely as good as any other monastery, anywhere. Dropping down the steep and twisting lanes from the mountains we take the old road back to Hania, expecting to pass through traditional villages and perhaps catch an authentic taverna. In stark reality though, this coastal road through Platanias and Agia Marina is a mess of tourism with multiple opportunities for crazy golf, go karting, German beer and pizza. By complete contrast our second road trip takes us deep into the heart of the rural west on a fantastic drive over the White Mountains towards Omelos. The mountain scenery on this amazing route is breathtaking in the extreme, the dramatic sweeps and soaring peaks causing us to stop and stare at regular intervals. As we come around one hairpin, a village appears high up on the next ridge, looking down on the gorges way below as if majestically controlling the terrain. Pulling over to take in this wonderful sight, we can clearly hear the voices of villagers at work and the clanging bells of the goats, even though they are about a mile away across the valley. This village is Laki, one of those perfect mountain villages where the pace is slow and time stands still; tractors sit between rustic buildings, sleeping dogs find shade and the village elders sip morning drinks. We pause here for coffee ourselves and just sit looking across the most incredible view from the cafe and wonder just how life is here, farming in mountainous terrain where hot summers precede deep snow. Beyond Laki, and through Omelos, we take in the views from the trail head at Samaria Gorge, a famous walking trail which Michaela completed years ago. Palaiochora sits on a narrow promontory, meaning that the two beaches on either side of the town are only three minutes walk apart. Between the two beaches, this small town boasts a leafy square, great fish restaurants yes, we absolutely had to! Positioned between the mountains and the sea, this may be a holiday destination, but it is a peaceful and friendly one and a world away from the overblown resorts we saw yesterday. Knossos was the grandest palace of the Minoan civilisation on the island, the heart of a great city and home to the great and the good of that race. Despite its grandeur and famous murals, our visit is a disappointment. Not only does this seem self defeating from the pandemic angle, it also means that we pay the full entrance fee to see about a fifth of the site. Over the last couple of days the Meltemi wind has really upped her game, bringing crashing white surf to the already spectacular northern coastline, sandblasting us at Palaiochora and giving us some playful waves at Georgioupoli. And so our time in Hania draws to a close. Next up is a journey across to the east of the island, a journey which has presented some challenges in just slotting the pieces together. About 50 years ago in the early s, I used to watch, with my parents, a TV series called The Lotus Eaters which I recall as being very watchable. That series was set here in our next base, Agios Nikolaos, towards the eastern end of Crete. I figured I was one of only a handful of people to remember the programme, yet on our very first walk around the town upon arrival, we find the very bar where it was filmed, still with a commemorative board at its entrance. The title of that series is actually taken from Greek mythology, whereby those who ate the fruit of the lotus lost the desire to return home. As long as we could still see family and friends, then for us there probably is. Agios Nikolaos is a brief stop on our rather convoluted journey across the north of Crete from west to east, as we make our way towards the end of the island. Our early bus out of Hania brings us to Heraklion, the island capital, where we take brunch before boarding a second bus for the next leg from Heraklion to here. For a tiny island Spinalonga has a varied and intriguing history. Seen as a defence against raids on Crete, it was first fortified by the Venetians who created salt pans on its lower levels, and around these salt pans grew a small island population. The Turks were to add to the fortifications later, but the really intriguing history of Spinalonga is its 20th century story. With its fortifications easily augmented, this single rock less than a mile from shore became a leper colony, housing sufferers from right through until its last recorded death in Initially conditions were dreadful, with leprosy sufferers enduring a literal ostracism with minimal food, no running water and appalling living conditions, sent out of society to suffer in isolation. For them, the sight of life continuing as normal just across the water must have been galling. Yet life evolved and Spinalonga became a refuge. A young sufferer set about changing Spinalonga, bringing culture and lifestyle and making the tiny rock a place of life for those facing death. Patients became fed and watered and built both a theatre and a cinema. The colony lasted right through until leprosy antidotes were discovered. In a final twist in its fate, the last priest on the island, not a leprosy sufferer, remained true to the teachings of Greek Orthodox faith and stayed on the island for a further 5 years after the last death. To visit this island now, with the remains of that leper community so visible and so tangible, is highly evocative despite its popularity as a day trip. Agios Nikolaos has been very welcoming for a couple of nights, and the fish dishes at the seafront restaurants have been outstanding. As is the meat. And the fish. And everything else. Which inevitably brings us to wine. The quality will vary but it is always cheap and is often every bit as good as a more expensive bottle, plus it has the added bonus of being made locally and therefore pairs extremely well with local produce. And just occasionally, one of them turns out to be sumptuous. From Agios Nikolaos we move on, working our way towards the very eastern end of Crete, from where we will leave the island for pastures new. We do like to mix it up a bit when it comes to accommodation on our travels, and aim for a bit of variety. For the next few days we are based in a typical Cretan house, hidden amongst the bougainvilleas and pomegranate trees on the top of the hill above the village. We now find ourselves within touching distance of the eastern end of Crete, just a couple of kilometres from the coast and perched on hilly, rugged terrain. Away from the lush plains of central Crete, this is much more barren country, dusty and rocky, open to the more stringent efforts of the Meltemi wind which howls in from the east. The air now is so much fresher, the heat nowhere near as intense. Most visitors to this area seem to stay here in Palaiokastro as ever, alternative spellings are available scattering out to the remote beaches and hidden coves during the day, gravitating back to the village to fill the half dozen tavernas at night. With a third hire car now at our disposal we set about exploring this new end of the island. Apart from its coves and beaches and the peaceful Toplou monastery, where a proportion of the excellent local wine comes from, the Palaiokastro peninsula is mostly empty and devoid of villages of any size, with vineyards and olive groves filling the gaps between rugged outcrops. South of the village there are a few more settlements, though the barren mountainous terrain stands in the way of any serious development. This name came not from any Bermuda Triangle type mystery, but from the discovery of the remains of hundreds of the dead of the Minoan people, buried in caves down either side of the gorge. The Minoan race vanished from the Earth around the time of the massive volcanic eruption which created Santorini and are thought to have been exterminated by that event, but Zakros was evidently an important and sacred burial site. Zakros Gorge is an excellent hike — we complete it down to the sea and back up again — notable not only for its massive steep sides but also the depth of greenery in its bed which twists oasis-like between the otherwise barren rocks. The canyon, bone dry today, is by all accounts a raging torrent in winter and spring. How was your day? Cafe Central is a coffee bar at breakfast time but fetch your own food from the bakers then a lively convivial bar at night. He takes pride in telling us that people in this area are the friendliest in Crete and with his easy way and great bar he writes himself into our travel memories. And so we take a last breakfast at Cafe Central and head off for a day long road trip which takes in the south coast and ends up on the opposite side. Once again the mountainous scenery makes for a fabulous drive with some views which put us straight into stop-and-stare mode; others which make us laugh out loud at the improbable hairpins and steep inclines. A few more twists and turns brings to our daily frappe fix at the picturesque village of Ziros, where the charm of the village is upstaged by watching village life play out in front of us. Our frappe cafe seems to be a barter centre, as a succession of villagers arrive with produce cucumbers, zucchini, tomatoes, plums, bread and exchange it for something else with other customers before putting the world to rights over a strong coffee. What fun it is to sit and watch. Several years ago before we were together, Michaela tried unsuccessfully to buy a plot of land in the village of Kato Perivolakia with a view to building a holiday home. We revisit the site today, where nothing has changed, the plot sits idle over 15 years later with olives and pomegranates still ruling the roost, the village seemingly asleep around it. Makrygialos on the south coast is our final call before we cross from south to north, arriving late afternoon in the port town of Siteia alternative spellings available from where, in the morning, we will bring our time on Crete to a close and start the next stage of our adventure. As the early morning ferry leaves its white surf wake in a curve away from Siteia harbour, we bid farewell to Crete after a varied and interesting two weeks on the island. Our last night on Crete is in Siteia, which we thought was just a port town but turns out to be so much more. Our one night stay here is a little weird though, in an unmanned hotel where we have a code to enter the main door and then another code to release the key to our room. Reception, lobby and breakfast room lie deserted and silent, we never see a single member of staff, but the place is clean enough and just about passable for one night. And so begins the island hopping. This is the island of Karpathos, with a reputation of being one island that the Greeks keep for themselves. Yep, we reckon these are Greeks. Karpathos is a notoriously windswept island, and as if to justify that notoriety Meltemi welcomes us by going up through the gears and changing mood from playful to distinctly belligerent. The soundtrack to our night hours is the howling wind and the crashing of the waves beneath our balcony. High above Pigadia aka Karpathos Town , like an eyrie on the mountainside, sits the little village of Menetes with houses in pastel shades and a beautifully re-created traditional house with its unusual interior. How different from these days of air conditioning. As we wander its tiny twisting alleys the air is filled with the scent of cinnamon from the village bakery. This is unforgiving and inhospitable territory, sharply mountainous, boulder strewn and with hardly a flat area to be seen. As well as the customary sharp hairpins and steep inclines, the road, which at times clings to the very edge of the island with the sea way below and the wind pounding in, is peppered with rockfalls at virtually every turn. There are hazards galore, but thankfully everybody knows this and drives sensibly slowly. Up here in the north of the island the land is grey, the peaks through which the road is cut are the colour of cement powder, the land appearing to be broken as boulders crumble into rubble. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, something almost magical appears. Yet another sharp bend brings us within sight of Olympos, another improbably positioned mountainside town, but one which absolutely takes your breath away on first sighting. The pictures here will speak louder than any words. Within its cramped walkways and pastel houses, the ladies wear traditional costume and the town oozes charm — although it soon becomes clear that those traditions have become part of the tourist theme rather than unbroken custom. From one of the stone ovens we sample another cheese and honey pie, which is even better than the first one a few weeks ago. These ladies use thyme honey, so the dominant flavour is the herb, with delicate undertastes of sweet honey and salty cheese. Our route back from Olympos brings around the other side — the west side — of Karpathos, where we discover two delightful coastal villages, Finiki and Arkasa, either of which could provide an excellent base for a stay on the island. Karpathos has only a handful of settlements, a small number of decent roads and an extremely modest bus service, all of course due to the harsh terrain. Such is island life. After the Greece mainland, the large island of Crete, and the pleasant buzz of Karpathos, we are now looking for something more remote, more peaceful, so with our first glimpse of what lays before us as the ferry pulls into the tiny island of Chalki, the smallest inhabited island of the Dodecanese, we are delighted with what we see. Chalki, also spelt Halki, has only permanent residents, swelled by summer visitors and increased further during daylight hours by day trippers from Rhodes. Once the madness of the ferry is over, peace descends quickly. Yet ironically in this small corner, on an island with few facilities, no organised activities and just a single village, English voices are a little more commonplace. The result is a mix. According to a Yorkshireman we meet up at the castle later, this small island does indeed have a certain English fanbase who regularly return, along with being a popular destination for Italians. For the last section of the climb, we pass through the remains of an ancient village which has traces of settlement from the 4th century BC. The desertion of the hilltop village is actually not the most recent example of exodus here. In the mid 20th century the greater part of the population of Chalki emigrated and left the island almost uninhabited when most of its people departed en masse and headed to a small town in Florida, USA, where the Greek community apparently exists to this day. Chalki has a handful of small beaches close to Emborio, accessible on foot or by boat or, in the case of Pondamos, the very lazy can take a shuttle minibus the yards or so from the village. The sea here is a delight: crystal clear and in places almost as warm as a thermal spring, even on the day when we get up early and take a refreshing swim at sunrise. We will probably remember Chalki as being almost but not quite the classic peaceful Greek island, the shuttle ferries from Rhodes probably make it just a bit too easy to reach. A late night cocktail bar may not have been the best preparation for a climb like this, but the beautiful island of Tilos is taking us into its arms in every possible way. As ever, the climb is worth the effort. The views across the deep blue Aegean to neighbouring islands are matched by those back across land, the stark white buildings of the village tumbling down the hillside below us, before the fertile lowlands stretch out to the sea on the opposite side of the island. This is beautiful country. Megalo Chorio is one of a handful of village settlements on Tilos, unlike our previous island Chalki with its single port town. Our base on Tilos is Livadia, itself the island ferry point and home to a picture perfect deep horseshoe bay where the stunning blue sea is matched in splendour by the changing hues of the surrounding mountains. The rocks of those mountains change colour as the sun moves through the day, ochre at sunset, pink at first light. Our balcony looks across that bay, across that blue Aegean, to the mountains, a panorama which is stunning and relaxing in equal measure. If not love at first sight, then Livadia is certainly love at first drink. Leafy bars huddle around its modest square; its waterfront, kind of a miniature lungomare, houses fish tavernas, coffee bars, wholly authentic Greek eateries and that oh so romantic cocktail bar where we sip our drinks and watch the moon paint silver patterns across the water. And everywhere the atmosphere is relaxed and friendly, alive yet civilised. One or two expensive yachts moor offshore, just a couple of ferries call in each day. Beaming smiles come free with your morning coffee, charm comes free with your cocktails. Contentment comes with no strings. This is the best stop on this adventure so far. In the s, a Tilos shepherd unearthed some unusual bones in Charkadio Cave, alongside human skeletons and relics of earlier settlements. Examination by archeologists found that those unusual bones were the remains of dwarf elephants; not the only place in the Mediterranean where such discoveries have been made, but these animals were particularly small, only about 1. Like the Minoans, they seem to have been exterminated by the Santorini eruption. We were fortunate enough to be the only visitors, and were treated to a private and very informative tour by Maria the curator. Like the eyeless sockets of an ancient skull, the empty windows of the deserted houses look mournfully towards the sea, or maybe towards their former occupants. Each roofless house, whether modest or grand, stands silently decaying amongst the rubble strewn alleyways, fig and oak trees reaching up through the empty spaces between stout walls. Some properties bear a surname scrawled in fading paint on the stonework, names of those who once owned these homes and traded in its bustling streets. Those trees, no doubt planted by those same families, still produce their annual fruit harvest, though there are no mouths left to feed apart from the goats which now rule the town as its only occupants. Welcome to Mikro Chorio, midway between Livadia and Megalo Chorio, where as recently as a population of 1, thrived to the extent that three schools educated the children of the town. By the s its last stubborn occupant had passed away, the rest of the population having fled for the other two towns on the island or maybe even further afield, when the wells of Mikro Chorio ran dry. Those painted family names belie the claims of erstwhile owners ever hopeful of resurgence. Scrambling among its walls is an eerie experience, the voices of the years echoing in the Meltemi wind as it gently bends the branches of the figs and the oaks. Ghosts whisper from around silent corners. Only the church is spruce, looked after by islanders unwilling to see their place of worship in decay. The rest of the town broods, silent and abandoned. This sad, deserted town is an incredibly evocative place, eerie, fascinating and more than a little disturbing. If walls could speak, there are surely stories to tell here among these stones…. Clambering into the overcrowded bus with far too many others, we climb the mountain in darkness, the Milky Way clearly visible through the window. Was that a shadow passing through that house, a ghost of its history, or a trick of the light? A shooting star skids across the black sky, the empty roofless houses watch, and wait. Leaves rustle in the gentle night breeze and as we leave around 1am, the goats, and the ghosts, are once again alone. Heaven, in other words. Our stay on Tilos has been four days plus a few hours, yet we know for sure that part of us is staying here as we leave, such is its pull. Everyone from the breakfast cafe owner to the shopkeeper to the honey seller smiles and says hello as we walk through. Unusually for islands in the Dodecanese, Tilos has a comparatively flat centre between its spectacular peaks, through which the main road of the island runs north to south. This fertile plateau was created by a gigantic fall of pumice and ash belching from a volcanic eruption of enormous proportions on the neighbouring island of Nisyros, our next destination. Nisyros has suffered some major volcanic eruptions, the most recent around 15, and 25, years ago — the earlier one blowing away the m high mountain in its centre and leaving a huge caldera in its place. The largest crater in the bottom of the caldera, nicknamed Stefanos, is now the main reason for the popularity of Nisyros amongst visitors, the vast majority of whom dash in and out on day trips from nearby Kos. The little port at Mandraki is swamped each day around As a direct result of its volcanic nature, Nisyros is extremely fertile. Gone is the barren landscape of the last three islands and in come fruit, nut and pine trees covering most areas. Our new home base of Mandraki is different too, funny how just a short ferry ride can change everything. Seas blown by Meltemi batter the shores, rocks and sea walls protect the seafront restaurants, this west facing shoreline is a sunset haven. Each town on Nisyros, Mandraki included, is like being in a model village, everything squashed too closely together to be accessible by car, wooden balconies hanging over the alleyways with onions, garlic and even octopus drying on the ballustrades. Tight alleys snake around the town, then a square with mosaic patterns underfoot appears, then a cluster of tavernas, maybe a hidden shop, perhaps a group of ladies sitting on wooden chairs chatting till the cows come home. Watching it all from above is the monastery, and close by the remains of the castle and city walls, and a church built into a cave. Mandraki has a tiny town beach made with sand presumably brought in from elsewhere. Someone should have realised that a heap of sand might just be viewed by those cats as a giant litter tray. As a result, frankly, the beach stinks! The mud puddles often bubble and boil here though not today, unfortunately as the ground surface temperature tops degrees. Looking around at the exploded landscape, the towering sides of both Stefanos and the greater caldera, knowing that we are looking at this terrain just how the gigantic eruption left it thousands of years ago, has a real tingle factor. No wonder the day trips from Kos are so popular. On the highest levels of the island are the villages of Emborios and Nikia, each just as tight, and quaint, as Mandraki, and each affording breathtaking views across the 4km wide caldera. Stepping inside is indeed just like taking a sauna, the hot volcanic rock creating sweltering humidity just a couple of yards from the road. The Hungry Travellers Independent travel, food, photography and culture. And So To Greece….. Minus One Backpack Blue sea beneath the aeroplane changes to tarmac and painted lines as the end of the runway arrives and our excitement grows, we are almost there. View across Thessaloniki Our journey from home to this vibrant city was not without further incident, though none of it emanated from the areas we feared: we had evidently satisfied COVID requirements sufficiently to board the flight, and the equivalent controls at Thessaloniki Airport were quick and efficient. Aristotelous Square. From our balcony Arch of Triumph. Sunset over Delphi. Pegasus in Eleftherios Venizelos Square. Spinalonga Spinalonga Spinalonga Lepers Cemetery. Some ferries dwarf the village Rugged Chalki Secluded beaches Beautiful sunrise Chalki by night Chalki harbour Looking down over the ancient town Chalki street.

Buying powder Loutraki