It was early morning. Sunny and cool. Promising. November.
I load two kayaks on the back of the canoe, some gear and go to work. A whole day of travelling through villages and fields, meeting farmers, nothing interesting. I get back to Sofia at sunset to leave at night. Not that I’m hiding from anyone, but that’s the plan! On dark mines.
We had decided, with the Mexican and the Tapata, to make a short but sweet escape from the work routine. Destination – Kefalonia island.
When I say plan, don’t imagine something grand and elaborate in detail. The only thing we had chosen was the end point. Everything else was a project of our desire, fantasy and laziness. In fact, it built our program for the next four days on the island.
After a night of driving, I don’t know which was harder for me and the Mexican, the driving or Tapata’s shattering snoring.
Good luck! We are at the last toll, at the entrance to the largest suspension cable-stayed bridge in the World – the Rio-Antirario, crossing the Corinthian Gulf. Knowing this, we have expectations of taking great photos of it. We didn’t. It was still dark.
After about 100 km, we arrived in Killini, where we will take a ferry to Kefalonia. We found a small bakery on the road, each took something to eat and went to wait for the ferry at the fisherman’s berth.
The three of us stand on the stern, the pleasant smell of diesel engines enveloping us as the sea and sky turn blue and somewhere in the horizon merge. Less than two hours and we have set foot in Poros, a small port in the southwest of the island.
Here begins our real adventure. After a 3-minute meeting, we decided that we would first visit the area around the town of Sami.
The hunger in us begins to call. Approaching Sami, the Mexican is looking at AirBnb rooms to stay in for the night. We find a place to sleep, drop off our bags. We’re already pretty hungry. We walk around town in the early afternoon. No tavernas open, no shops open, hardly any people, cats – one, one-eyed, bouncer. We decide to try the next village. We go around it, nothing works there either. A Brit-girl informs us that possibly in the evening after 7 pm, something is likely to open. The Mexican’s sugar drops, the situation becomes tense, there is no food. We go back to Sami hoping something will have worked. Our prayer is answered! Six gyros and six beers – grigoras /quickly!/. “This gyros” was our salvation! Fed, tired, slightly intoxicated, we indulge in a leisurely afternoon nap. By the way, in all the rush we visited the world-famous Melisani Cave, it was beautiful and most importantly – IT WORKED!
We weren’t allowed to see the “eye” of the cave, it wasn’t safe and is currently off limits. Come on, stop it you Bai Gan! But this takes place in the third act of our play…
20:00 ч. Tapata is trying to wake us up to go to dinner. It’s hard, but he succeeds. We find the only working tavern in the village – open all year round. It turns out that Ventsy, from Samokov, has been working there for twenty years. Wenzi has left for Bulgaria a few days ago. Our hosts, a nice middle-aged Greek family. The man with a golden belt, a golden bracelet, an orgone ring, two or three buttons undone on his shirt, a bottle or two of ouzo, advises us on what to order and we listen to him, after all he inspires respect, and his capacity in this area is evident from afar. The woman told us that Ventsy from Samokov loves grilled squid and whenever she has the opportunity she has a bite. We also ordered grilled squid, two portions, after all Ventsy from Samokov trusts them.
Our hosts, at length, shared their impressions of the past season. We were their only customers for the evening. But what customers… charming, charismatic, with a sense of humour, a measure of gusto, exquisite taste and what not – naturally only positive things. The evening went by inexorably quickly, to the sound of the waves lapping against the pier. The three of us walked into the night, and in our thoughts – Ventsy from Samokov. Who is she, what is she like, why is she so magical… We’ll find out next year when we meet her.
Early morning quietly comes into the room. The sky turns slightly pink. The sunrise stumbles down the slope. The Mexican gently steps on the floor, knocking over a few empty beer cans. He heads to the terrace, which has a spectacular view, and takes mind-blowing pictures of the sunrise. At that moment, the day begins for everyone. We decide that today it’s time to do some kayaking. I come up with an offer – it is accepted. Our starting point is Myrtos beach. 
For those who don’t know – Myrtos Beach is located in the northwestern part of the island of Kefalonia in the Ionian Sea, nestled between the mountains of Aghia Dinati and Kalon Oros /to tell you I also found out about these mountains from Wikipedia a little while ago, I confirm it is very beautiful/.
We unload the kayaks, gear up, of course photos, selfies, stands, poses and everything as it should be. We head southwest, with the end point I’ve set for myself being the wild Ftery Beach. I haven’t shared this with Tapata and the Mexican because it’s quite a distance to paddle and I don’t want to clip their wings early, better to clip them during the day J As the Mexican notes, it’s a beautiful day – sunny, warm but windy. Offshore,onshore, all sorts of “shore” being blown, and the great thing is that whatever course we take, it’s still a headwind. Salvation was on the horizon – a long, sandy, deserted stretch of beach. 
I shout to myself, we rest 10-15 minutes and continue to the end point I have in mind. But yes! The Mexican duo and Tapata are visibly exhausted and scrambling to get back. Great, but we’ve still come to explore the unknown. We ate a bit, took some pictures, and swam. The water was 22.8°C, the air temperature 24-25°C. Masks, snorkels, diving – we relaxed. I invite them to go easy-peasy, to a nearby cave that is visible. They agree and off we go. Just a heads up, eh? Not even 15 minutes and we are at the entrance of the cave, an unseen energy has risen in them. 
I suggest they see what’s around the bend and we head home. Again they agree. Oh, times! Oh, manners! After the turn there was a spectacular view of Myrtos Bay. Sheer cliffs, small beaches, creepy submalls where you can get in your kayak /if you’re so inclined/, and in the distance, wild Ftery Beach.
Stopping on the deserted beach, you realize how little you need to smile. How insignificant our problems are. How in an instant everything evaporates from your head and all that is left is the light breeze, the murmur of the waves and the sound of an opening beer. Beer, however, we forgot it, as well as the ouzo, and much of the food. The beach is great, next year we are here again.
Now we have to go home quickly because the day is short and it’s getting dark early and we want to visit something else. A sunset zip and we’re back at the car in about an hour, where we’ll load the kayaks and head for the town of Asos. The Mexican and I decide that we don’t want to carry our boats the 100 yards to the car and just bring the canoe to the water along the beach. Seems sensible, it’ll be quick, no carrying. The beach is made of fine rocks, so everything seems OK. I take the car and gently head to the kayaks. 10 meters, 20 meters, bobbing… I’m stuck. Luckily I stopped immediately and couldn’t dig in and “lay on my stomach”. The Mexican noticed some wooden mats on the beach and immediately thought of using them to prop up the tires. After about 15-20 minutes of struggling, we pulled the car onto the road. We showered at the beach showers, which mind you – worked. We hurriedly straightened up and gassed up for Asos.
On the way, we “caught” the sunset. Everybody adores sunsets, it’s so corny. Apparently, I’m one of those banal ones too. Watching that straw-clear touch of the sun with the sea and the rocks, looking at the play of light refracting through the clouds, well – it’s awesome. That soft warmth of the sunset that reminds everyone of good moments in their lives, and maybe sad ones too, but then we are human – we live and feel, and not everything is rosy.
Asos – a cult town, more in Italian style than Greek. This is because in the 17th century the local population petitioned Venice to protect them from the constant Turkish raids. As a consequence, defences and a Venetian-style castle were built. For us, the town is “little Portofino”. Even more beautiful, in my eyes.
In the hamlet we met two old men standing on rickety wooden chairs, looking at the sea. They were sitting about 15 meters apart, not talking, just looking at the sea through their dried faces. It reminded me a little of the depopulating Bulgarian villages, but very little.
It was already dark and we decided that it was wisest to spend the night in the capital of the island – Argostoli. We found a small studio on the shore of the fishing port. We were hungry again, this trip is all about the food. The kind landlady directed us to a local taverna that cooked very tasty food and was off the beaten track of the mainstream tourist restaurants. We went, it was kind of like a Student Town canteen, but the food was delicious.
I don’t know… We may have been very hungry. Now, from the position of time, I can’t judge exactly. That day was filled with a lot of emotions, a lot of physical exertion and at the end of it, a lot of food. So for tomorrow, we said we would get a good night’s sleep and then figure out what to do. We went to bed and … 1:13 earthquake, 2:06 earthquake, 3:24 earthquake, 5:47 earthquake. Kef big J All over 4 on Richter.
After a sound sleep, we crawl out and guess what – we get to eat again. We stumble upon a great bakery, one that is missing in Sofia. It’s breads, it’s croissants, local pies, juices, baklavas, toumbies, marshmallows, candies, coffees, lattes… you name it and it’s mega delicious. I suggest to Tapata and the Mexican a light and easy, about 30 km, kayak route. They didn’t get down L I didn’t feel like paddling much that day either, but I still have to hold my ground! We headed towards the town of Lixouri. Sea calm, windless. The bay is nothing special as scenery. We reach the town and start our walk along the huge fishing harbour. There are all kinds of guimmis – micro, small, big, huge fishing boats. Fishermen are untangling their nets, Tony Dimitrova sounds in our heads, while Tapata softly sings … Ah, the sea… Ah, the sea… Me and the Mexican are hungry. The surprise for us is that once again the eateries are closed while all the cafes on the square are packed. We are urgently looking for a place to sit. No, we are not hungry this time. We have another, more serious problem, which is also directly related to eating. Fed up to tears, with a bitten tongue, a huge physiological problem, intolerant of his holding back any longer. A boy working at the local zarzavatsiya directs us to his mother’s taverna, which works. We head towards it. We sit down. One of us heads straight for the drop-off point. Finally all is calm and we can eat again. It’s been almost 5 hours since our last meal. A nice lady and her thin, curly-haired daughter, take care of our matinee. Pink tomatoes with homemade cheese, our favorite pickled fish, nice local ouzo /Stafatos/, homemade bread, different utensils for everyone, nice family atmosphere.
At dusk we return to Agrostoli, and a huge, 10-storey cruise ship awaits us at the port. Standing by its waterline in your kayak, you feel respected by its dizzying size. Looking up, towards the main deck, people are visible as specks. After a few photos and videos, the fussing around is over.
Before we finish our sailing for the day, we hope to see the famous Kareta-Kareta turtles. We didn’t see them. Rather, we only saw them diving into the water, and by the time we got to them, they had already plunged deep. Walking out onto the concrete pier, the old men from the cruise ship watched us as an attraction. I thought about asking the Mexican to go over in the sombrero to collect some euros for them, but we hurried to load the kayaks and indulge in a little rest before our last night on the island. 
Before going out for an evening stroll, combined with gourmet cuisine, in a fine capital restaurant, we three non-smokers lit a cigarette. A soft warmth igniting our senses and sensations before the food orgy to come. After making a tour of the ‘gezmet’, we sat down in a prime family-run tavern. Have you ever felt like you were being served by a serial killer? If you haven’t, this is the place. Short, average sized waiter, small head, glasses with magnifying glasses like Narco-op windows. His eyes one small, fine, sharp cheekbones, an even sharper chin, understand he doesn’t need a knife. However refined. Serves according to etiquette. We start with the orders, discuss it, the Mexican and the Tapa burst into laughter, I behave. I shout to myself, this one will chase us down the small and narrow cobbled streets later… He’ll chase them first, they laugh out loud, I keep quiet. Woman, child waiting for me, these two dogs ate them. I get the skin off. In cheers for the unlikable women, sexist taunts, racist musings, the evening passed. We went home. Alive! Apparently he hadn’t been able to track us down. That night wasn’t without 2-3 tremors either, but after the first day you start to accept it as normal.
Today we leave the island. Before we do that we have one more cave to visit, Drugarati. Also to try to invade the forbidden zone of Melisani cave. Done, done. Leaving Argostoli, we take a scenic road into the interior of the island. Small villages, people working their olive orchards, goats and sheep grazing on the hills. Pastoral motifs that emerged from the life that stopped here 100 years ago. We reach the entrance to the Drugarati cave – it is not open. Tapata sees a gypsy on the roof of a house cutting some wood, and asks him if he knows when it will be open. We are told in halting Greek-English that the cave is only open on Thursdays from 10:00 to 14:00. Too bad, and it stays open for the spring. Encouraged by the idea of our illegal incursion into the Melisani Cave, we head for it. Great, it doesn’t work. That means there’s no one to stop us from getting to the “eye” of the cave. From the pictures on tourist catalogues, websites and brochures, we expect to see something magical. We saw nothing. The sun was shining so brightly that nothing in the cave was visible. A little disappointed, we went to eat with our gracious hosts from our first night. They reminded us again that Venci, from Samokov, always eats calamari and catches the ferry from Sami to Assos. Wenzi President!
In games and banter, these three days passed. I am grateful that kayaking gives me the opportunity to meet people like the Mexican and the Tapata. People for whom racist slurs, sexism, and gay marriage are really discussed in the context of a joke. Sort of 🙂
According to the 1972 Bulgarian Dictionary of the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences, a close acquaintance with whom one maintains a friendly relationship is called a prEatel! And a bit of a plenum, since you know I’m a socialist at heart, thank you prEatheaters for this short but sweet journey!
PS: Tapata is very insistent in this O-track, to mention that just before we left, we visited a great beach – Antisamos, where she was doing yoga, and the Mexican and I had other fun activities at the top of the lifesaver – no gay stuff! We parted with the sea in tears, and the anthem We Stay by Margie Hranova totally ruined the emotional stability we had gained over the last few days.
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