Friendly Locals, Family Curses & Liver Straining Libations

Welcome to Gouves!

Slowly surfacing from deep, drunken sleep to hazy half-consciousness on my second morning in Crete, I reflect on the possibility that I may be in for a hepatically challenging time over the next week.

It had all started well enough, with a fairly smooth trip out - the only hiccup being my inability to get anything to eat in the Castle Rock pub at East Midlands airport. The bar was absolutely heaving and, although my scouting prowess surfaced the last remaining free table, I was unable to take advantage of it due to a malfunctioning mobile order system. Bah!

Now this is one of the downsides of solo travel: not being able to order at the bar without losing your table. Obviously leaving a bag as a placeholder is pretty much a non-starter in an airport unless you want to return to find that the bag has been removed and detonated.

I feel that there should be a back up system for lone travellers - perhaps some sort of semaphore (akin to the alert phrases used to ask bar staff for help). I would be the first to admit that, “I am unable to come to the bar and I require you to come and take my order”, doesn’t have quite the same urgency as, “I am with an abusive partner and in need of assistance”. Then again, I could argue that depriving an ageing solo-traveller of the consolation of some warm repast and a pint of IPA constitutes elder abuse.

Sort it out catering industry.

Ah well, Burger King it is then.

The flight is pleasant enough. Jet2 are one of the more generous airlines in terms of default legroom, and always very helpful. I have booked the entire package with Jet2 this time rather separate flights and accommodation. This has some advantages but does mean that you tend to be in amongst a different cohort. Screaming kids, drunken hen parties, banal conversation and the casual racism of Brits abroad all need to be navigated. Luckily I am a master of projecting the IOKWS (I’m OK with silence) field to discourage people from engaging. If they are particularly persistent, then it needs to be turned it up to FOALMA (Go away and leave me alone). But honestly, I am really quite sociable when travelling :-)

Still, a couple of wines makes the flight wizz by and there are some great views of the Alps to be had.

Sadly, it was dark as we approached Crete so no airborne shots of the spectacular and rugged Cretan landscape.

My apartment is fine but I have to question the description of it having a balcony. Outside space, yes , but to me balcony implies some elevation. I can't help but feel that being below the car park doesn't qualify. Call me a stickler.

Anyway, back to the reason for feeling slightly vague this morning.

Having arrived late, I decided not to meet up with my parents (who are staying at their usual haunt about 1/2 mile away) for a nightcap, but instead meet for breakfast.

All well and good but then we set off for a tour of Gouves. My parents have been coming to Gouves for many years and they seem to know absolutely everyone. The Greeks and especially Cretans are marvellously hospitable anyhow, but this seems next level. After a brief lunchtime stop for a quick beer, we settle up and attempt to leave, only to be blocked by the waitress arriving with another 3 beers and a small carafe of ouzo on the house.

This was not how I had expected the day to go, but bravely leaned into it.

The (more) senior members of the Nicholls clan proving to be a bad influence

To be fair, the alcohol eased the pain of my Mum insisting on introducing me to everyone as her baby. I may be reasonably spry for my age but I think “baby” may be stretching it.

And so the day progressed. After brief breaks to visit supermarkets for provisions etc., it was time to head back around to my folks accommodation (at least I am getting in many redeeming steps to counteract the overeating and drinking!) for a quick beer before heading off to eat (and as seems likely) drink some more.

Another set of old friends of my parents, another round of “baby” introductions and (after a fine meal and wine) another failure to leave without being plied with more drink. This time to the tune of a small bottle of raki and several large brandies. And then back to the bar for a nightcap, before swaying my way back through the dark streets to my temporary domicile. I would like to report that I sensibly avoided having a swift bourbon when I got back. But I can’t.

And this explains my morning zombie issue.

I decide to walk it off, after first trying to book a few excursions. Trip to Knossos arranged. Tick. No problem there. But I really want to go to the Samaria Gorge and this seems to be problematic as it is currently closed for maintenance and no one seems to know when it is likely to open.

Now this is not unusual for me. I regularly visit places out of season without checking opening times or fail to realise when things need booking months in advance. My Dad gamely stepped forward to take responsibility, claiming that it was down to the Nicholls curse, which regularly seems to jinx things.

Apparently he has something of a reputation for this in these parts. Th jinx takes many forms. My Dad won’t listen to football live and is asked to leave his local bar if Everton games are on. I fear I may have inherited an element of this.

Hopefully it won’t kick in today as I am planning to try and watch Nottingham Forest in the Europa League semi-final later. I did pass this bar at one point and wondered whether this might be a good spot to watch it. Being an Everton and part-time Forest fan it seems that it might be fun to surreptitiously infiltrate enemy territory for this. When it comes down to it though, I suspect it will just feel unacceptable.

I take a long walk along the seafront, past a beautiful small church and some new candidates for my series on relaxing benches of the world.

The way then being blocked, I turn inland. It’s quite beautiful away from the coast with groves of olive and lemon trees. I also seem to have discovered the snail equivalent of the eel spawning grounds in the Sargasso Sea. It seems that snails all spawn on a couple of metal rods in Gouves.

Looping back to the apartment, I bump into my parents who are out for a stroll, and there seems nothing for it but to nip for a quick beer (in fairness, it is quite warm by this stage) before continuing my journey.

Somewhat annoyingly, at the apartments where I am staying, the housekeeping doesn’t seem to come around until about 4pm. This is sub optimal, but gives me a chance to head out along the coast in the opposite direction.

I suppose I could joined the red, sweaty masses sizzling away on the sunbeds, but that’s not really my thing. One guy puts me in mind of Ray Winston in Sexy Beast (and yes, if there had been a hill nearby I would have been looking - hoping? - for the boulder).

It amazes me that people still happily lie in full sun for hours on end, but each to their own I guess.

As it turns out, there is an aquarium on the route I take, so I pop in here for a look. Man fish are ugly!

I discovered that the Lion Fish, with its arsenal of deadly poisonous spines, has made its way through the Suez Canal and can now be found in the Med. That could really take the shine of a quick paddle.

I’m quite taken with the sharks in a large tank

and spend some time communing with an octopus. These are weird creatures but absolutely beautiful and graceful. This one seemed quite agitated to have my gruesome mug shoved in front of it and I’m fairly sure it tried to threaten me.

I beamed calming thoughts at it. Better here than on a skewer in a local taverna I would have thought...