I should have left time to buy some food for the boat as I’m sure it’ll be expensive (it is) but I only have time to grab a cheeseburger to take on board with me. It’s a big boat – Hellenic Seaways – with two car decks. After securing Rowenna to a railing on the car deck and wishing her a good trip, I grab a too short sofa under the canopy at the stern of the boat – and try to ignore the smokers around me. It’s very exciting as the boat blasts its horn as we leave Thessaloniki. I can see the Trigono Tower up on the hill, under which the Crossroads Hostel nestles. Bye bye Thessaloniki!
Today (Monday) I leave for the island of Chios. Today is also Lustleigh Village Show at home – BH Monday and the first show I’ve missed in a long time. I think they actually have summery weather forecast. I spend some time at the hostel packing up, drawing a portrait of Joseph (he volunteered) which brings me completely up to date with the daily draws. I’ve had such a lovely lazy time here I feel quite sad saying goodbye, but set off in good time to meander down to the port. I’ve no idea where I’m going except it’s down and to the West of the Hostel. That it’s on the seafront is a given (duh). I meander down through the cobbled streets of Old Town. Turns out it was helpfully signposted as I got closer. I should have left time to buy some food for the boat as I’m sure it’ll be expensive (it is) but I only have time to grab a cheeseburger to take on board with me. It’s a big boat – Hellenic Seaways – with two car decks. After securing Rowenna to a railing on the car deck and wishing her a good trip, I grab a too short sofa under the canopy at the stern of the boat – and try to ignore the smokers around me. It’s very exciting as the boat blasts its horn as we leave Thessaloniki. I can see the Trigono Tower up on the hill, under which the Crossroads Hostel nestles. Bye bye Thessaloniki!
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I decide to stay at Crossroads Hostel for 6 nights and have a list of ‘things to do’, including: washing of laundry; getting blog and daily draws up to date; fetching the knitting bag Sonja from Slovenia is posting to me ‘poste restante’ to the post office some miles away; getting some basic maintenance and TLC for Rowenna; buying ferry ticket for an island (any island!?); replacement of the lightweight travel towel; catching up on sleep; reading a book or three.
Life is onerous ay? Tiz Friday and I have achieved all of the above.
I’ve also found a pub that serves a pint of Ionian ale that is (if it was room temperature and not cold) as good as an English pint. I’ve strolled past Castle walls and towers, Churches, Triumphal Arches and Roman remains (all lit up) right in the middle of the city with modern shops all around. Met a very good dog with a well trained owner. There have been superb views up and down Thessaloniki – from the hostel you can see right out to sea – over buildings spread out below, sparkling in the sun. Then, when you walk the promenade alongside the sea, you can see the buildings spreading above, up and up to join the sky. I’m fairly sure I’ve put on weight, eating the delicious food available universally in Greece. Without doubt, Greek cooks put together fabulous meals – I don’t think I’ve had a disappointing foody experience yet. I found a little restaurant down the hill where I ate two courses (tzatsiki and a perfect risotto) for less than €10 – and where they included a small bruschetta while I was looking at the menu, and a glass of ouzo, and grapes for dessert, gratis. I’m just about up to date with daily draws - and I’ve not blogged much. Hang out in the hotel avoiding the heat – saying hello to the hotel dogs who are very friendly but in need of a good brush. Get some blogging done – and melt into a puddle. It’s a straightforward cycle ride – to the outskirts of the city anyway. Not long after arriving in the suburbs the thunderstorm that had been chasing me up the road landed on my head. Fabulous pyrotechnics! I was drowned with what seemed to be gallons of water chucked down in the space of about half an hour with continuous thunder and lightening. The drains couldn’t cope with the deluge and rivers foamed and swirled around the pavement as I splashed through. I was the proverbial drowned rat in my Trago raincoat that wasn’t at all waterproof. My underwear was soaked. Although it was still warm when the rain finally eased, I was cold in my wet clothing. I discovered cold beer doesn’t help.
I had decided on the Crossroads Hostel – not just because it’s reminiscent of the Crossroads Motel, but also because it’s got good reviews on t’internet. However I can’t find it in this enormous city. I know I’m nearby when I find the Tregono Tower but stumble around the Old Town cobbled streets looking for the way to the front door. By this time it’s gone midnight and I know I won’t want to disturb anyone so I stay out all night – thank goodness for all night coffee bars! It starts to rain again around 3am – and I shelter and doze in a doorway (reminiscent of that time squashing Squibby’s fuzzy plant). By the time I finally discover the right street (literally underneath the Tower on the hill) it’s nearly 5am and I put my feet up and settle into the chairs outside and doze again until there is life at the hostel around 7am. The woman who emerges to empty the bins tells me “you should have rung the bell”! (does that sound familiar, Squibby?) Woke up at 5am (I think ‘that’s really 4’ to myself) still feeling cross at being ripped off by the hotel – so I go out to find some breakfast. Stuff myself on a nutella filled pancake at a 24hour creperie (there are indeed such places). Then I went back to the hotel and vent my frustrations on the lady who manages the hotel about paying over the odds when she innocently asks “Did you sleep well?”. My argument is a bit wasted on her, as she still doesn’t speak much English, but I feel much better. I went back to bed and slept from 7.30am ‘till 10! Mavi and I went for a (second, in my case) breakfast in the Old Town – wondering into another church on the way. The restorations look a little more sensitive in here than what I recall of Heraclea: no walls bonded with cement of picture finished off – the wall paintings are left as they were found and are all the more gorgeous and mysterious because of it. I love the dark and muted colours and the sun filtering in through high windows.
Greece is far more prosperous than any of the Balkan countries I have passed through – even though it’s broke and having to undergo ‘austerity’ it’s not apparent. The country feels very much like being back in Western Europe – including the prices! Mavi and I had breakfast (cheese ‘tost’ and coffee) on a balcony that overlooked that great flat plain that leads to Thessaloniki. I shall depart a little later this afternoon, after going to see the famous waterfalls – where the river Edessaios throws itself from the cliff onto the plain below. Maybe I’ll take another day to reach Thessaloniki as it’s 28˚C hot and I’m in no rush. Mavi reminds me of Leah (Edwards) – did similar course at Uni, similar age, similar temperament, similar grace. Mavi is wavy though – as she talks, she snakes her hands and her body to illustrate what she’s saying, in a mesmerizing, dancing fashion. Mavi says she is inspired to take a bicycle with her on her next travel adventure – yippee! I have made a convert to cycle-touring! We say goodbye. Maybe we’ll meet again in Thessaloniki – though that really would be something of a miracle. After packing up, I go find the waterfalls – they have been channeled by man (to create energy, amongst other things) but are still quite impressive. Tourists can walk behind the falls and get damp too. I get given a peach, sliced open, washed and ready to eat, by the man selling them in the carpark beside the falls. Edessa exerted its magnetic force - or maybe I’d melted and stuck to the chair – whatever the reason, I didn’t get moving until gone 6.30pm. The ride down hill to the plains was fabulous – the warm air and movement combining to create a pleasant breeze. I’m a bit concerned that place names are beginning to sound like James Bond enemies: ‘Skydra’ is off to the right. I’m only aiming for Giannitsa this evening – the largest city in the Pella region by all accounts. Every now and then, a large lorry stuffed with boxes of peaches will pass me, wafting peachy aroma all around which has my mouth watering. I arrive at Giannitsa at around half past 9 and find the centre of town quickly enough. I had a much welcomed and rather tasty berry smoothie in the nearest café/bar. The barwoman was really helpful once I’d established there were very few places to stay around here – no campsites or hostels. She told me that the Hotel Istron was probably the cheapest place around – although it was unfortunately situated 5km outside of town. This meant that I wouldn’t be returning to explore the city before moving on (being too lazy), which was a shame. The Hotel was €30, but included breakfast, double bed and air conditioning (ie not quite such a rip off as the hotel in Edessa). Greece is not cheap. Woke at dawn – which is now 7am and not 6. It was stunningly beautiful: what a picturesque spot this is. The hundreds of cormorants make weird noises to each other. As a solitary fishing boat glides past them, a cloud of them take to the air - black silhouettes in the sky, reflecting in the gentle waves. Spider gossamer caught in the weeds sparkles in the light. Tiny little turquoise damsel-flies flit about and one alights on my leg. I am sat here soaking this all up as I wait for the sun to climb high enough to dry my tent out completely before moving on.
It was 10am (or ‘really’ 9, to me), when finally got everything packed away and had eaten my fill of figs again. I then stopped in Arnissa for a prolonged brunch. It was very, very good – the Greeks make superior fast food, I’ve decided. I was blogging happily but got kicked out at Siesta time – around 2pm. Some places shut until 5pm – then stay open until 1am. It was a really lovely ride to Edessa – down hill mostly. Then, as I’m pushing my bicycle around town, orientating myself- I see someone waving – at me! It’s Mavi – the Dutch woman from my dorm in Bitola! Excuse all these exclamation marks but how amazing is that?! We decide to share a hotel room on the grounds that it should be cheaper, but it’s decidedly not. Maybe we should have shopped around some more or haggled (difficult when they don’t speak English!). €30 each seems very expensive – and the most expensive room I’ve had on this trip – and the room ain’t great apart from air conditioning. It doesn’t include breakfast either. I think I’m a bit cross about it and can’t let it go. I skype Steve – which makes me feel better: we chat for an entire 15+minutes which surprises Steve as he didn’t think he could do that on the phone! He’s bought a hibiscus shrub for Syd’s grave in the garden – and a new rug for the sitting room. Otherwise he’s been really busy at work. Mavi and I go out for supper – and she goes out again, after I’ve gone to bed (youth!). Should I go from here to Litochoro, where I can meet Anna (a good 100km out of my way) or go to Thessaloniki straight, do not pass go, do not collect £200? After breakfast I will get pedalling and decide. I realise belatedly that I have lost an hour! So I thought I was getting up at 6am but actually it was 7am. (It’s a terrible thing, to lose an hour when one is not expecting it). Just as I am setting off the couple next door come out into their garden and spot me. I say “hello!” brightly, and perhaps rather cheekily.
The next 10 miles are spent wading through humid heat watching the hills draw slowly closer. This flat plain between mountains is FULL of birds of prey: the valley of the hawks. I see small kestrels fluttering, static above the fields and large hawks soaring, about every 100 metres or so. Autumn is coming – the hedges are full of blackberries with occasional apple and plum trees too. I went a bit astray and inadvertently went further south than I’d intended. This was a happy accident as it then meant I had to cycle north along the shores of the Lake Vegoritide. I’m hungry (it being 3pm when really it’s 2pm – I always do this when the clocks change – tell myself it’s ‘really’ something o’clock when actually it just is!). Need food. Later, much later, after lunch in a cheery place (with Volkswagen campervans wallpaper – Nina Bailey) in Aminteo, I am cycling from one lake to another. I ride past vineyards and mountains and I realise I am muttering to myself. This travelling lark not only broadens one’s mind and enhances the suitcases under one’s eyes but also, I fear, increases the eccentricities already inherent in one’s character. Good job your average Englishman is usually markedly tolerant of eccentricity. I’ve always been a bit scatty, but am in serious forgetful mode at the moment. I’ve just realised I’ve left my travel towel (or left SARA’S travel towel) draped over the balcony at Goldy Hostel. I even took a photograph of it. I’ve also lost my sunhat (left on the floor as I was packing up Rowenna). I’ve lost Sue’s painting of a manadarin duck – all packaged and labelled. And now, the last straw, WELLY! I’ve lost WELLY! I wail to the world. She jumped ship when the bungee rope slipped. I’d just climbed a 4 mile long hill so I wasn’t going back to find her. She’d been losing weight so perhaps she wasn’t very happy and will be better off in the wild. (Now there’s a rationalisation if ever there was one!). POORWELLY! I peeked in a little church alongside the lake – painted with icons and the sunlight just catching the figures of Mary and Jesus. I rode on and spotted ripe figs in the hedges (along with a few other interesting shrubs I photographed for identification by those horticulturalists out there – Kathryn). Gorging myself, I decided I preferred the sweet yellowy-green figs over the more normal looking purply-green ones. I decided to camp in an orchard down by the lakeside. The trees had been harvested (of peaches I think) and there was absolutely no sign of other human beings. There was a colony of hundreds of cormorants sitting in a line of dead trees jutting out of the water. I could see the town of Arnissa across the other side of the lake. The tent is still sopping wet after last night’s storms – whoops! I can’t dry it well as I’ve lost my towel too L - I use my leggings instead. After pitching my tent, I gathered wood for my first campfire. There’s nothing quite like gazing into flames with ones legs roasting. (Even when there are hundreds of sand flies leaping off the wood in your direction! – didn’t last long). It was the day after full lammas moon – and it was still a luminous globe rising over the lights of Arnissa, its golden reflection shimmering in the water: a magical evening. There were frogs and crickets sounding off to complete the opera. Fire’s getting low, and I’ll survive the damp tent I’m sure. Thursday 18th August Bitola – Papagiannis 19.47 miles and welcome country no.11 Hellas – Greece!26/8/2016 In the morning I went for a Byrek and yoghurt breakfast with Kasper and Mavi (who looks really well this morning!)– then we joined up with Daniel and all went off for a coffee. Kasper has been hanging around in Bitola for a week, so knows his way round - the coffee bar was great- innovative decorations (a bicycle on the wall) and excellent taste in music(for which I’ll forgive the springs sticking through the seat of the sofa). We wandered back through the market and a part of the old town I’d not seen. I REALLY like Bitola – but I have to move on or I’ll never get to Australia.
Around 3pm, despite the rain forecast, I packed up. On my usual circuitous way out of town, I spotted a portrait artist. She’s excellent at what she does, but has to stay commercial. She said it was a shame I hadn’t made it up the mountain Pelister – named after a 5 leaved pine tree unique to the area called the Macedonian pine or Pinus Peuce. Pine trees normally have twin leaves (I knew none of this). She showed me these extraordinarily long cones she had in her shop. I wanted to eat – so she ordered me a meal at the café opposite – meaty, but good and cheap (at less than a couple of quid). Thanks Biljana (yes – another Biljana!). So, after stuffing myself, I didn’t really get moving until gone 4pm. Despite threatening rain and feeling a few plops – it held off, and it was a fine, breezy late afternoon/evening for cycling. I rode past fields of sunflowers – the first I’ve seen. They brought back memories of a Magic Bus ride from Athens Steve and I took with Chris Perrons back at the beginning of the 1980s (one of those epic journeys that put Steve off completely and had me longing for more!). It was an easy ride to the Greek border - and then another 9miles or so when it started to get dark and thundery. I turned into a small village called Papagiannis (spelled differently depending on which sign you looked at) to look for somewhere to camp. I spotted a deserted house with an excellent looking garden – ideal. However, before I could sneak around the back – I was accosted by the gentleman next door, who was emerging from his gateway on a bicycle who asked if I needed help. I used my ‘point it’ book to point to the camping page. He didn’t speak English, so he fetched his granddaughter – who had only schoolgirl English herself. They (the daughter who was obviously visiting parents) decided I needed to follow their car back to Florina (big town I’d just ridden around). I stayed put and eventually they all went away and I snuck around the back of the house in the dusk (as I’d always intended) and put my tent up just in time to miss the huge thunderstorm. It rained heavily, but Rowenna was dry under the balcony at the back of the house, and I was dry and cosy as a dormouse tucked up in my sleeping bag. Going to stay on for a day because Goldy Hostel is lovely, the city is lovely and there’s even a small craft fair going on. Whilst nosing around there, was spoken to by a journalist who told me she was trying to attract funds for the new crafts umbrella organisation who had organised the show. She had been interviewed by a TV station earlier as I walked past into the exhibition. I also spoke to a felt maker and a Russian amigurumi maker (who had been married to a Macedonian man for the past 2 years and ‘likes it so far’). The standard of crafts in the exhibition was variable – some of it was amateurish, some of it was wonderful - with little attempt made to distinguish between the two.
I go back to sit in the same Bourbon Street Pub that I went to last night, because I like the ambience, the music, the food – and I blog. Then I walk to Heraclea-Lyncestis, because I’ve been told that the mosaics are unmissable – only I go the long way round and explore the back streets of town: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heraclea_Lyncestis will tell you the historical stuff. It was supposedly founded by the same Phillip whose statue dominates Bitola town square. When I finally get to the site – only 45minutes before closing time (but thankfully, the people who run it are vague about time) – I get a rapid history lesson from the guy in the small gift shop and where traditional music emanates from. He says that the Macedonians were probably more advanced than the invading Romans – and after they left, Cyrillic/Azbuka became dominant over latin alphabet in the part of the world. It was a matter of pride, to reassert their own culture. Wondering around, the mosaics are indeed beautiful – but it’s not clear to me how much has been reconstructed (with the aid of a CAD/computer imagery) and how much was there originally. The amphitheatre itself is more than 75% reconstruction. There is also still a lot of excavation to be done – with much of the original city (disrupted by earthquake as well as various sackings byVisigoths, Ostrogoths etc) still waiting to be unearthed. Someone reviewing the place on ‘Trip Adviser’ online said the museum looked like it had been ransacked (by visigoths?). I could see what he meant. It was very empty, with dustmarks where previous exhibits have stood. I was much quicker to walk back (fraction of the time it took me to get there!) – and I walk past a sports park that is full of joggers, cyclists, families with children playing in the park on the slides etc, volleyball and football teams. I sit and draw one of the grand trees. Having supper in the Bourbon Street Pub (why go elsewhere?) I meet my dorm room mates- or rather Kasper spots me and hauls me over to join him, Daniel from Australia and Mavi from Netherlands. Kasper is a Polish psychologist on a road trip. Daniel is a farmer from Melbourne whose father is Macedonian/Greek and is trying to get a European passport so he can work in this part of the world. Mavi is an art graduate on holiday from her childminding job, walking the long distance old Roman road from Albania to Istanbul (though she’s probably deviating in Thessaloniki to go to Athens) aka the Via Egnatia (part one). She is able to walk the same distance as I go on the bicycle (but she walks all day – I sometimes don’t start until the afternoon). Kasper likes Mavi, this much is clear. Daniel is in a quandary as to what his future holds – it’s all so complicated. I have a great time with them – we move on to the loud bar next door. I have four beers which is more than enough to give me a hangover as I’m a cheap drunk. Mavi goes back to the hostel early as she is just about comatose after a few strong cocktails. By the time we’d all had breakfast (Byba already gone to work by the time I emerged) and I’d drawn a quick portrait of Kosta, it was gone 10.30hrs. So then it was time for another coffee – of course. Zhivko cares for his mother and was very patient with her – though she also seems very amicable and easy going (doesn’t always happen with folk who have dementia, as I know from experience).
After this, we finally got going – I followed Kosta down the road – to his mum’s hairdressers shop, where Marija was also helping out. Good job we did, as I soon discovered we’d left my camera at Kosta’s house. He zoomed off on a scooter and fetched it for me. The museum was only 3 miles off my route and I’m pleased I went. Beautiful, beautiful festive dress/traditional costumes designed to show off the wearer’s wealth. Mostly women’s dress, but a couple of men’s outfits too. Elaborate tops were adorned with coins, and embroidery using silver and gold threads and cords. Skirts were woven, quilted, made using rug techniques. Aprons looked like they were made from strips of inkle woven bands and elaborate caps could have hundreds of tiny cords wound around into a crown or long scarves weighted down with tassels and more coins. One particular outfit weighed more than 60lb. You could tell a woman’s status, religion and location by variations in design, colour or pattern. For example she might have long cords hanging forward from her cap, with stripes running down her skirt if she was young and unmarried, but the stripes would run across ways and her cords would be tied back if she’d been married a year. During the Ottoman period in the Macedonian region, wearing any kind of crucifix was banned – so patterns would have small crosses subtly inserted or placed somewhere not immediately visible like underskirts. Muslim women would be more likely to wear heavily embroidered harem pants under long tunics or coats. Aprons could double up as table cloths. Socks, of course, were hand spun, knitted and intricately patterned. So much work and painstaking effort and love in each hand crafted item. The guy who put this collection together started 47years ago, when a large number of his family emigrated to South America, to Buenos Aires and Patagonia. These people were throwing or giving away any belongings that were extraneous to their needs (I know the feeling!). He’s continued to collect costumes over the years and has one of the largest collections in the country. He also had a room full of yarn making and weaving apparatus – his grandmother’s loom, reeds, shuttles, spindles and combs, carders and swifts. My only whinge is that there wasn’t really enough time to browse – We were rushed through each room which was then locked behind us before going on to the next. I would have loved to sit and sketch. But I was lucky in that I went around with another couple – one of whom spoke English, so was able to translate what the proprietor said. It was still well worth the time and effort taken to visit. I stayed around for a picnic lunch on the well tended lawn after the chap had locked the house up and gone off somewhere, watched intently by their Pekinese dog. I completed a daily draw of the jumble in the shed in the garden. There’s a geocache in there too! It didn’t take me long to get back to the junction where I needed to turn off for Bitola, but then the heat was hot and the hill was up. What with roadworks and pushing Rowenna up the hill, it took a good few hours to cover the next 4 miles. At some point between leaving the Museum and getting to the top of the hill – DISASTER! Welly jumped ship. The bungee rope holding her in place must have slipped and she boinged out. I wish her well and am sad, but I wasn’t going back to look for her – it was just too far. It then only took me another hour to do the next 15 miles as it was mostly downhill. Went straight to the Goldy Hostel and checked in: Elena, on reception, gave me excellent instructions on how to get to the Bourbon Street Pub and to order the ‘cheese with kulen’ dish, and I liked the pub so much I went back several times over the next couple days. The melted cheese and the sesame seed coated bread were so filling I couldn’t finish it. Got lost on the way back to the hostel – and it took me half an hour to walk what should have taken only 5 minutes maximum. How on earth did I make it this far across Europe I wonder? dI met up with Dragan and his wife Biljana – who was also in the workshop sewing up a leather case. Really lovely warm and welcoming couple. Nina Fenner would be interested in their work – I admired their bags and books – and very reasonable. I said they could be running their workshops for at least £30 the day (especially if they threw in lunch) – they said I could come be their manager and take half the profits at that rate. But the hostel is new, so they may get new customers via that route. They do well enough to make a living. They like to offer free workshops as it is a way to make friends – and they often get a donation (but only a couple euros at most). They make little tiny books or a bookmark in the workshop. I reckoned they ought to charge even a small amount for their workshops – just to cover costs of materials – or that and a fraction more – as, in the Western mind, something for nothing is worth nothing. (Comments please – I’d be interested to hear what you think of that?)
Biljana accompanies me downtown to the post office to post my parcel (was so useful to have her translate) and then to the market to a wool shop – knitting needles! I bought some cheap acrylic/wool to knit a Macedonian square (a blue lake). Biljana didn’t want coffee or anything to eat – she said she had plenty back at workshop. I finally leave Dragan and Biljana… reluctantly at around 3pm. And a wonderful morning it has been. In retrospect, perhaps I should have donated something more to the coffers than just buying Steve’s gift? (but I’m so mean I have to make a conscious effort to open the purse): I will definitely keep in touch. It was a pleasant cycle out of Ohrid and into the hills, until the flies found me – they were small irritating types that flew in a cloud around the bike and me (the sort one sees around cow pats!)– their mission in life appeared to be to fly into my eyes or be inhaled. Wearing sunglasses helped, but I felt like a molecule with atoms zooming around me. I stopped where the road crossed over a small stream – to see what a man was doing with old carpets in the water– I thought at first he was washing them, but I think he was creating a small dam – maybe for fishing. Anyway, that’s where the flies found me. Shortly after acquiring my personal cloud of flies, I saw a sign to a restaurant/hotel/art/eco community. There was also a pretty church perched on a mound overlooking a village. Intrigued I turned off the main road (and I was hungry too). The church was locked – but peering through the window, I could see one room with what looked like an enormous block of stone – the font? And in the other room there were chairs, a coffee table and an ashtray – not what I’d expect but there you go. I took some pictures of some of the older buildings in the village as the construction looked similar to the green oak building Sean the neighbour built. I carried on cycling to the ‘hotel’ along a dirt track, following the signs. A couple of stray dogs (though most people leave their dogs run wild it seems, so it’s not clear which dogs are stray and which aren’t) ran after me and I noticed they had their own clouds of flies too! When I got to the hotel – the gates were closed, it looked deserted and there was a sign up saying ‘private property’ – altogether uninviting. I retraced my steps to the main road accompanied by my black cloud. I finally hit a long and lovely downhill with enough breeze to shift the damn things. It was getting dark when the road evened out and I came to a long road works – there were traffic lights as the road was single lane, but cars were getting impatient with the really long queue and were trying to take short cuts – creating more havoc and longer waits. A police car with a couple of officers were trying to sort the mess out. One car had entered the closed lane and couldn’t get out, as there was a very high kerb which it couldn’t get over so was having to reverse at least a quarter of a mile! I sailed past the lot on my trusty steed. I reached a fairly large town where there was a supermarket open, so I popped in with my trusty ‘point it’ book and pointed at the camping picture. There were three women present and they had an animated discussion before shrugging. I went on up the road and paused at a junction. A young man approached and said “Problem?” – he could speak English! I explained I was looking for somewhere to camp. “No problem – come back to my place” Kosta (for that was who he was) said – and so I met his parents, Byba and Zhivko, his grandmother (who has Alzheimers) and his girlfriend Marija. Kosta’s sister is married with two children and I got shown a picture of the little girl and boy by proud grandfather. They are a well to do family with a roomy home. Byba is a hairdresser with her own shop, Zhivko is an electrical engineer (who was off to Skopje on Wednesday to assist after the flooding and landslides). Kosta himself is a medical student in his second year. I was offered a meal then told I could sleep inside. I insisted I didn’t want to put anyone out (with memories of double beds!) and was very happy to camp on the lawn (and had food too). No, they had plenty of room and I could sleep in the living room on the sofa. Kosta even made sure I had internet access (thoughtful lad that he was!). He told me that he was a keen cyclist himself and, when he heard that I wanted to visit the ‘Ethno Museum’ in the morning, said that he would accompany me and show me the way – ignoring my protestations that I’m too slow. When I spoke of my interest in all things textile, Byba revealed her crochet and knitting – she demonstrated continental style knitting and was interested in my English ‘throwing’ style. I took some pics of her finished items. Her grandmother could spin yarn, it transpired. Lovely, lovely family. (I think 'lovely' must be my 'word of the week'. Luverly). |
TutleymutleyA newly retired Terri following her heart into a world of woolly creativity. Live the dream Archives
March 2017
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