Naxos

Playing dodge with trucks and buses exiting the inter-island ferrys is a skill we have not mastered yet, thankfully Paros is not the busiest port on our agenda so at the moment we feel like the practice is good for us. Leaving Paros with only a short 2 hour slow ferry ride around the coastline to Naxos was a great opportunity to view the coves and cliffs which are inaccessible by road without paying exorbitant tour costs.

Naxos - 4 to 7 June

Battling the crowds in Naxos was a different affair to its smaller neighbour Paros. It is difficult to understand why anyone would choose to visit the Greek Islands during the height of summer if they had a choice as it is easily foreseeable that the crowds would be crippling to these tiny communities.

Naxos harbour is overseen by the famous palace arch erected over 2000 years ago. It is interesting to think what the ancient inhabitants of this island would think if they could see the chaos and commercialism of today. Naxos luckily seems to effectively be able to combine the huge numbers of tourists with the essence of traditional living and ancient culture.

We always feel priviledged to visit these special places yet at times a little guitly of being included in the hoards of camera toting, hiking boot wearing, heavy luggage wielding ferry loads of visitors. Watching the stream of people leave the enormous boats makes us wonder when the original population, economy and communities were lost to mass tourism or if they still survive in some form deep below the glossy brochures.

An interesting long-term travel phenomenon we have become victim of is the incessant chanting of really crappy songs which relate to our surrounds. At a time when the blissful quiet of lying under a beach umbrella should have been all encompassing Steve burst into a single line repetition of 'Do you like Pina Coladas'. On our walk through Naxos town it was inevitable that we would purchase our first ever Pina Colada during happy hour (from 5pm to 2am)! Never again!

To call our tastebuds back into action following their discomfort we ordered what will be remembered as one of our best meals in Europe (so far). Nestled deep in the old town walls of Naxos the family taverna opened in 1908 and has been serving great food ever since. Camilla indulged us both by selecting a brick sized piece of salmon on mustard and garlic mashed potato while Steve was delivered a veal so tender it was difficult to pick it up on the fork. DELICIOUS.

The following days were spent in idyllic holiday mode with no more than a few moments of exertion to visit the second hand bookstore, shop for local produce, buy a deck of cards, and commandeer a table by the water for hours on end in the swanky club.

Not only does The Planet remark that Naxos is blessed with a striking interior, it is unavoidable to notice the 1000m high volcanic cones, deep gorges and terraced hills throughout the centre of the island. In order to adequately cover this expanse of beautiful scenery, and remembering our sore bums from the quad bike, we upgraded to one of the most exciting vehicles we have ever driven.

The opportunity to thrash (at a max speed of 60km/h) in an off road racing buggy was fantastic. We visited a number of small fishing villages and covered an extensive amount of 'striking' coastline and interior thanks to Camilla's lead foot. There is however a penalty to be paid for being ultra keen to keep up the revs around every bend...

Our language skills in Greece have been a little lack lustre with only the basic hello (Yasas), thank you (sas efkarista) and now the word which we are most familiar with VISCINA. The direct translation is PETROL of which we found ourselves in a back paddock lane without. Thankfully the closest small village was only a short jog for Steve while Camilla sat under a nearby tree making friends with the local goats.

Without the magic word VISCINA the puttering and spluttering sounds Steve made to the cafe owner whilst pretending to steer and invisible steering wheel seem to have been well translated. The end result was the chef finding it in his heart to try and syphon the two nearby cars of any droplet with no avail. Defeated he suggested to try the other two cafes in the small harbour. Met with little enthusiasm it was time to retreat. Passing the original cafe owner with the international symbolic shrug of the shoulders he immediately came to the rescue.

It is not part of the normal trip planning and preparation to figure out how to assist a Greek chef dismantle his fuel filter, hang in the car engine whilst running and collect VISCINA in an empty bottle. Lonely Planet has a lot to answer for as the additional diagram of a 1981 Fiat engine should be included.

Armed with 1 ltr of VISCINA Steve felt confident the small 260cc buggy would make it up the 9km winding hill to the next town to refill. After taking the road already travelled up, up and more up into the hills we felt confident until the now familiar spluttering sound of a buggy preparing to be silent. On a road somewhere between A and B, carved out between the rocky hill and a farm below we shared a very polite barrage of English with the buggy before setting our minds to the task (for a second time).

Within moments Camilla had spotted a farmer with a ute down the hill which was presently being chased by Steve to express the new word VISCINA in a polite yet pleading tone. Seconds later we both found ourselves inside the ute tray with puzzled looks and a free ride to the closest town (a mere 5 km from the nearest VISCINA station). After a troubling interaction with the first shopkeep we came across, who incidently had approximately 10 litres of VISCINA sitting in a big plastic barrel and was not going to share we continued on the long road.

At the next door Camilla spotted a woodworking shop while Steve was calculating the moral dilemma of stealing their generator. VISCINA, said politely with an air of desperation and an accent which took the entire workshop employees to guess at the youngest strode off to his car and pulled out a 1.5ltr bottle he prepared earlier. Restraining Steve from kissing the poor bugger and after his refusal to be paid we had regained faith in humanity and aboutface in the direction of our abandoned vehicle. The satisfaction of pulling into the petrol station was almost as good as now being safe and sound to tell this tale.

Our final taste of Naxos was a prepackage cultural evening in the 7th century fortress / castle to enjoy local wines, dancing and traditional music. It is amazing what instrument a 100AD shepherd can make from a goat skin! Our evening concluded with a short stroll back through the old village still regailing in the sounds of the music and tapping out the dance steps of the ancient fishing folk. Naxos should definitely be on the agenda for anyone coming to the Cyclades with enough time to explore a vast and majestic volcanic island.