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I Want Clean Clothes We decided to get an early start and leave the olive grove before the farmer showed up to start putting his nets out and knocking his olives off. The day was sunny, but cool. There were still heaps of snow in the mountain peaks so that cooled the temperature considerably. The wind was frigid on top. We found a bakery with hot bread fresh from the oven. The bread was still on baking trays. I pointed to one oblong loaf and another round loaf. She laughed and said the round loaf was for the church to use at communion. The woman running the bakery was very friendly and I began to think I had misjudged all Greeks as being indifferent. Then I discovered she was a transplanted Italian. My theory remained intact. We climbed to 800 meters, close to the snow, before stopping in a small mountain village for lunch. A rug seller's little boy played with our bike horns continually honking them. We tried to give him a cookie but he wouldn't take it. He would have taken the horn though, I bet. It was another day filled with donkeys. Donkeys with bundles of sticks twice their size strapped to their backs and donkeys with shepherds perched on their backs herding sheep down the highway. A shepherd paused to say hello and shout "Good!" as he flashed us a huge Greek smile. We didn't see those beams often, but when we did, they made our day! An old man rode towards us, carrying a switch with which to encourage his mount. He stopped alongside us and said hello, then pointed to our bikes, and uttered something in Greek neither Sharon nor I understood. Surveying the terrain surrounding us, however, I imagined he was saying: "You'd better get a donkey -- there are hills ahead!" After climbing through many small mountain villages we dropped to the sea again and found a spot on the beach to set up camp. The breakers crashed on the rocks and almost drowned out the sound of the highway traffic passing in sporadic waves. Sharon was cranky. She kept saying, "I want a shower. I want clean clothes." There was a house with a water tap across the road. If she could have found a long hose she would have showered, but as it was not to be. I went and filled our water bottles so Sharon could wipe up and wash her hair. Instead of a shower, Sharon had to settle for an ice cream bucket bath again. We rode to Ierápetra before breakfast. It was the Greek town we had enjoyed the most so far. Despite the lack of tourists it actually had some life. The streets near the dock were narrow and filled with old whitewashed houses. A fort and mosque were situated near the boat docks. Sharon and I sat in the warmth of the sun while we enjoyed the view and absorbed the atmosphere, watching the comings and goings of brightly colored fishing boats. Wind dried fishermen mended nets, shooting the breeze on a sunny Saturday morning. As I rode past, one fellow yelled out "Vive la Quebec!" Peeling ourselves away was difficult, but we eventually left for Koatoupas. I coaxed Sharon our of her warm sheltered corner by suggesting we look for a camp spot along the beach. "If we leave now you might be able to go for a swim while it's still warm." That was exactly what she did. We found a cove with light rays bouncing off the clear water. The sun tapdanced on small rolling waves, reflecting an array of colors in the calm water. Sharon waded in. She pronounced the water cool, but refreshing. She looked great sunning herself atop a rock after her dip, her strong body still golden from the past summer in Sweden. |
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