Another time cruising across the Sporades islands in Greece

 

Skiatos

September 5, 2008 - Athens-Skiathos

Meet Gino, my faithful companion sail, to Athens airport. The cruise Gattadapelare has finally begun. After a delay of over two months about our programs today we can say that the first step is done. The crew is bunched, this year free of the 'girls', but always motivated by enthusiasm for the promise of discovering new islands. Turning to the north of 'will touch Scanzura uninhabited Evia, Skyros the double image, sporadic and Cycladic, Psara still locked in her bereavement, home to large shipping Chios, Fourni, then again, our beloved Marathi, below Lipsi, magic and then Kos healing. We will leave the Cat in Turkey, probably in Marmaris, to make them do some work on the deck and the keel.
Gino is a waiting list, and only at the last moment we both place on the plane to Skiathos.


September 6 Skiathos
Let's find our boat. We left virtually abandoned in the end of the runway, near the sea, to the dubious care of father and son, owners of a dilapidated factory and a precarious sort of carnage. The father is gone. It 'went to work in the UAE. The son Nikos, a thin young man, barefoot and dusty, welcomed us warmly clearly under ether. The Cat is there, balancing on barrels of oil buried under inches of dust, but apparently in good condition. We find instead that evil was supported on the keel and heel drift is to deform and let water drip from the bilge. We lose all hope of putting to sea today. Nikos is unable to act consistently and you must close the waterway and strengthen the hull with a fiberglass jacket. So now you work the boat and expects Nikos reappear in the meantime disappeared in the country.
The morning spent tidying inside and sails
We do things on the launch. The truck will be based on which the boat is practically obsolete. The wheels are deflated, the pillars which should support the weight of the boat were badly welded risaldati all'affusto and their function is provided by auxiliary blocks of wood. Moreover, the small tractor, rusty and shabby, too, seems unable to retain all of the trolley and boat once launched on the slide into the sea. Even the slide to the next Gattadapelare has since sold and we will use another, more distant and uncertain depth. So, keep us all reason to fear for the next few hours.
Later we lose all hope for a return of Nikos and let's wait on the beaches of the island turisticizzate.
Tonight we will sleep in the boat, but without the soft lapping of waves along the sides and we dreamed relaxing swing during the long months spent in the city.


Sunday, September 7-Skiathos.
Nikos unexpectedly returned to the boat, sober and willing, begin the awakening of his crumbling media. Inflate the wheel, laboriously restart the engine of the tractor pulls up the water in the radiator punctured, do some welding here and there, and spent the day like that, without the certainty that tomorrow you may fall into the sea.
Roughly repair the damage to the keel. For years this problem of the water comes in the heel of the pressing issues. We are in appropriate locations to define 'Achilles heel' of Gattadapelare. All repairs made so far by adding layers of fiberglass and layers of fiberglass have not led to satisfactory results. We ought to do the work on site in excellent condition and absolutely no traces of water, something made very 'now impossible because of the constant presence of water in the bilge.
The ballast of the boat, made of lead shot in the bottom compartment bilge, keeps a long time the rain water which passes through some of the points covered by perforated screws used at the time to fix the teak. Gattadapelare has, therefore, an urgent need for a deep extraordinary maintenance after many years of generous use.

from Skiatos to Skiros

September 8 Skiathos-Skopelos -6 miles.

Begin work to support the boat on the launch cart. We're all apprehensive, including Nikos concealing his doubts under layers of dust that cover it from (conservative estimate) a few weeks. Barefoot, sometimes lying in the dirt of the 'carnage' or crouched under the boat, he stirs, beats, raises, fits and finally, with great general 'suspense' removes the supports which until now have supported the Cat. We fear that it depresses those centimeters 3:00 to 4:00 am the distance between the road surface and bottom drift and instead the first test is passed with flying colors. Now our anxiety is represented by the 'journey' of a hundred meters up to slide overboard. The owner of a nearby shop lends his tractor to tow the newest and powerful. Slowly, meter by meter, teetering dangerously on its uncertain invaded Gattadapelare approaches the ramp, swim down to the 'belly' and stops. The owner of the tractor will not go into the water with his half. The anxiety that had gradually loosened with the progress of the operation returned positive bully. We believe that by Nikos, more like a wreck with a tractor that is not able to hold the weight of the boat and the truck. Also do not know if there will be sufficient to end down deep to allow the cat to swim. There is no alternative: we must proceed with this launch suffered. Hurrah! Finally, after fifteen months of starvation, Gattadapelare is again free from the constraints of gravity 'earthy'. The pleasure of feeling underfoot move gently to the light rhythm of the sea, together with the cancellation of these hours of anxiety fills us with joy unspeakable. Toast with all the authors of this launch, until recently doubted all credible, agreed and paid the price ... way to the first leg of this cruise. Is short, only six miles because the afternoon is forwarded.

Anchored once again in the lovely bay of Panormos along with a few other boats. September is a season of visitors to this sea and enjoy the full benefits. With the tender (this, along with his outboard motor, is ripe for retirement) we reach the shore and tavernas nearby. The bay that opens before us, sit back and relax at a table on the pebble beach, inspires a sense of peace and freedom to conquer new calls.

September 9. Skopelos-Scanzoura - 20 miles.

The weather is still beautiful. Let Skopelos comfortable with directing Skanzoura on an island in four hours of navigation. We know that the island is uninhabited houses the ruins of a monastery. For a time he hosted, hidden, non of various origins, but today there is no trace, I do not know why. When caliamo anchor at the bottom of a large inlet there is only one boat sailing away, where there is another little later.
By water with the intention to catch some fish for dinner, but the sea is empty. Even in the desert islands is, therefore, more life?!
I find, however, a few meters deep several fragments of ancient amphorae now welded together and with the rocks, so as not to be more mobile without breaking. A simple accident or loss of a load? Only the surrounding rocks, the eternal witnesses of successive events in this bay could tell how much dark history took place here over the centuries. Today we and our cat to go into memories of the rocks, insignificant memories, but our presence here, our current, it is extraordinary for us, as everywhere in this sea of of these islands.
The night is quiet.

September 10. Scanzoura-Skyros-25 miles.

We go sailing, taking advantage of weak winds in the morning to regain maneuvers
After many months of inactivity.
Leaving the bay we see our new place well defined before the more nuanced profile of Euboea. The wind has dropped and soon proceed to motor the whole way.
Skyros is when we get to lunch time. This island is half and half Cycladic sporadic. The western half, in which we find ourselves, is the leafy trees, while the other is dry and stony.
The marina where we found mooring is equipped with a short bench and we had to moor the boat to another berth in English. Including our own, we are four, a few meters beyond the road, two taverns contend the few customers. We choose our based on the color of the chairs and tablecloths, and after lunch we carry, running, the country name.
It 's a typical Cycladic village made of white houses caked around the ruins of the Venetian castle (or Genoa?) Dominating from the very top above the surrounding countryside and the sea.
It 's a very genuine country with many people close to the center and outlying desert in the alleys, where we meet old women disappeared gathered in groups of three or four rarefied to exchange gossip. Imagine these streets and these squares, shaded by the ubiquitous mulberry, when the Meltemi blows strong from the sea below. We walk silent and curious to see the usual sights around every corner, and yet always new, alleys, doors pints of blue, cats and vagrants fig trees from which we collect sweet fruit. We feel the approach of autumn by the sweetness of figs, dall'ineluttabile shortening of the days, by the sun still low on the horizon, the increasing melancholy light that loses every day 'enthusiasm with which he told us the colors summer.
We have dinner at the port. This time we choose the most popular tavern. We are the only tourists. There is the obligatory priest, plump and crapulone, and a varied representation of premises.
We apologize to our neighbors to the boat for our steps and thereby closing the third day of our cruise. So far we have done very little sailing.

From Skiros to Kios

11. Skyros-Psara. 40 miles.

Today we start early, immediately followed by the British boat that has given us support. With some misgivings between an island and the eastern tip of the bay. We are not sure of the depth of the strait and Gino, the pulpit, with gestures indicates the direction and speed that I maintain. The other boat, which was also directed at Psara, prefers to go outside, losing a bit 'of water over us. Immediately after rounding Skyros are unexpectedly formed seas to cross, near the garden, and a strong wind pushing us fast to Psara. It 'the first experience of rough seas after fifteen months old mill, and we are seized with some discomfort that prevents us from staying more than a few seconds under the blanket. By Gino at the helm, the rest lying long in the cockpit, but my half-sleep is frequently interrupted by heavy, cold, spray of waves breaking on the side of Cat. The other boat has been left behind and the distance between us is constantly increasing with the passage of hours.
Psara soon appear on the horizon and its profile quickly becomes increasingly distinct. It 'an island of which we had no knowledge until recently. Instead his story is full of interesting and dramatic events. Home of owners, had a population of thirty thousand inhabitants, but the mistake of being home to a proud leader, national hero Canaris, fierce opponent of Turkish domination. For this and the brave resistance of the villagers to the domain, the population was destroyed in 1822 and all houses were flattened. Since then it has never recovered. Today it has just 400 inhabitants, a few ruins, the foundations of the birthplace of Admiral Canaris, some corroded cannons scattered here and there and a pair of bronze busts of heroic, lonely sentinels overlooking the sea, are guarding the modesty of the country. We arrive in late afternoon and repair in the wide bay at the bottom of which a quay and a floating wharf invite us to docking.
No other boat. The sense of having arrived in a unique position is strengthened by observing the country. A narrow road along the quay at which a couple of boats moored pesca.Tre or four simple kafeion also play the role of taverns unlikely to tourists. Depart from the road a few streets that you submit to the inside. The houses are anonymous, without any particular feature, other than white cubiformi, 'spontaneous', Cycladic buildings or those ordered and tenderly colored neoclassical houses of the Dodecanese. Dominating the modesty of this scenario a massive shrine stands at the bottom of the village at the base of a rugged hill. Another church, smaller but also 'exaggerated' in this context is imposed between the houses.
The feeling that you have running through these streets is that of a community unable to react to the story. There is no country that can be considered part of the center. A square in front of the platform the statue of Canaris and is the only point of reference, apart from the two churches, an 'unlikely social aggregation. There remain three kafeion, where few people sit. Turning and turning an oven and are almost at the end of living a grocery store with the sign of pretentious Supermarket.
Meanwhile, English is also the boat arrived and we later befriends a third ship.
In contrast to such an atmosphere to discourage expectations nearby crane barges taken from some of the blocks of concrete to create a robust reef breakwater and create a larger port.
Dinner is on board

September 12, Psara, Chios (Kardamyla). 19 miles

Let Psara in the late morning and eastbound skirt. Chios is nearby and the sea, wind and sun lead to smooth sailing and lazy. The stretch of sea separating the two islands is a clear motorway of the sea. Cut our route several freighters and a couple of occasions fear a collision course, despite the reassurances of Gino. In late afternoon we enter the bay Kardamyla. The fund is deployed to the country, by far, there appears attractive. We are the only boat moored along the pier. German pilot's book read on the valley behind it is romantic and fascinating country. We do not share this view. Perhaps the beginning of our wanderings among the islands of this mythical sea, still fasting scenarios that we were then offered, we accepted, but now this country is devoid of poetic rhythm we are accustomed.
Receive the visit of Captaincy officer who invites us to present at his office with documents from the boat. In all these years is the third or fourth time this happens. We do not know if the feared price of parking, which we heard long ago, has entered into force and, therefore, we are not in order. We agree Gino to tell an origin unlikely, that does not have time to fulfill the payment. The Italian coast is too far, then, we could say that was our last port in Turkey.
But in our office is required, in addition to photocopies of documents, only the certificate of 'insurance, that in a hurry, I can not find. I am sure of it and when I come back by boat to look for our 'referee' (he admitted that his true passion is to make the football referee, so we expect a particular hardship to us) saying that calms Gino unless we find it does nothing, but we should not attend the largest ports in order to evade inspection by colleagues more severe.
Confirms that Kardamyla is home to several major shipping companies. Virtually every home has an owner. In fact witnessing the arrival of an elegant two trees since the entrance into the bay siren sounds repeatedly board which responds to another villa, really not impressive, but well lit and equipped with a private jetty, located in end of the village. Even the Gattadapelare draws the line with our poor means.
Let's walk through the country which confirms our first impression. It 'consists of a pair of long rows of houses parallel to the sea, with some local and almost a little village. We're going to snoop around the house dell''armatore 'that resembles more a small hotel with its terrace on the sea full of chairs and wicker chairs, and we return to our small sailboat.
We call Pino Gino day after the takeover to go back to work. And 'arrived in Chios town and join us tomorrow.

From Chios to Marathi

September 13-Chios
The taxi stops in front of Pine Cat, conveniently moored English. They crawl, the veteran and newcomer Gino Pino, get to know each other and the first shows the 'particularity' of the boat. The Judgement of Pino positive Gattadapelare is "fascinating" flying proudly on a state of repair. It has already earned his role on board.
However, today is Earth Day. You go to visit the island. We rent a car and reach Pyrgis, country in the region of putty, chewing gum of the ancient, fortune and misfortune of the island of Chios. Pyrgis is also unique for its houses so that the sides are incised with geometric designs whites and blacks.
But we definitely seafarers. Few hours are sufficient to feel the absence and go in search of a beach. Driving along a road becomes a trail descends along a small valley to the blue that shines among the olive trees. The place is steeped in pagan presence, we meet a little before the source housed certainly a nymph and rare stones of what was once a small temple of Apollo, although exorcised by a small Christian church built on them, we speak of the sun god here, in front of the marina, enjoying the light reflected from it.
We bathe in a sea of sweet and crystal clear and we dozed off on the gravelly shore.
We know of another site that we must visit. And 'the country of Anavatos or rather its ruins perched on a cliff from which the entire population in 1822 jumped to escape the Turks. A painting by Delacroix, now in the Louvre it depicts the slaughter.
The remains of the town, a confused mass of gray and ruined houses, are now being restored. Do not meet anyone and after a quick tour of the ruins el'affaccio on the cliff, there we start with an anguished sense of remote and tragic past.
Neither helps the gray meal in an empty restaurant at the root of the pier Kardamyla
You go to bed early. Gino will leave tomorrow morning for the airport of Chios-city and we have a long stretch to go to the islands of Fourni.

September 14. Kios-Fourni islands. 62 miles
Gino leaves us it is yet, but do not feel like just giving up the mooring without a minimum of reassuring glow. We have breakfast and when darkness thin out leaving the dock. There's a fair wind from the land that makes us leave reefed the mainsail, and that fear will strengthen us to study alternative destinations. Pine does not know the boat and face the rough sea with a crew unprepared makes me thinking. Instead just arrived abeam Chios-city wind abandon us entirely. Therefore, motor! Visibility is low and the humidity is high, so that everyone aboard seems wet. Pine remains at the helm for as long as ten hours of sailing without history and without a fish to bite the two trawl lines we carry. In late afternoon we pass between Ikaria and Samos in the fog and we see the main island of the small archipelago. When we was already dark. At the same pier where I hoped to moor as before is reserved for a ban because the ferry. Other piers also seem intended to services. Some sailboats are the front wheel to the country and us we head between them for the night resigned to not have dinner on the ground. Our tender was decommissioned and inflate it would cost too much effort. Long messing with the anchor windlass and engine inexplicably crashes. While other boats watching us with skepticism decide to leave the place and risk, since there is calm, to put outside the pier. Our decision is shown, then lucky because while all the other boats are forced, for the arrival of a large ferry to allontanasi of the area they had occupied on the only English we moored pier available indicatoci distance from a polite boy.
Happy for the lucky position (see the other boats tried in vain a solution) cross the road rage we sit at the table nearest tavern. We are tired, but satisfied.
September 15. Fourni-Marathi. 22 miles
We hurry to reach Marathi. After a brief tour of the country (it deserves to reach the square at the end of the main street where a beautiful tomb of the Hellenistic period is modestly placed in the shade of a tree) let's start there. I bring with me a different impression from that received the first time I came here three years ago. So this village, devoted mainly to fishing, I had appeared very simple, timeless at least three decades, a flash on a Greek island that has now disappeared. But after the experience of Psara Fourni seems now shown in this tour. I realize I have become more demanding after visiting the islands and harbors more suited to a sense of romanticism that would define "Twilight", but this is annoying me advanced warning tourists rushing to discover and enjoy other places not yet polluted by alien presence Aware that we ourselves are the pollutants.
The hurry to reach Marathi is due to this.
We walk in the narrow channel to exit the archipelago is a group of dolphins playing on the bow and stay long to perform in front of the camera. Appearances are that there are never denied to any cruise Gattadapelare and every time we pick up. Observer to the call of duty run forward with cameras and camcorders, there protrude clinging to the pulpit and take up with enthusiasm the evolution of these friendly companions. It 'a shame that they took to get tired and move away, indifferent to our appeals. But their presence always interrupts the monotony of many days of calm sea, which are those in which they normally appear.
The weather is beautiful, the wind low, and the haze of yesterday is gone. Shortly after we spot the small archipelago of Arki, Marathi which is a part.
In front of the tavern are Mikalis the wheel at least ten sailboats. Every time we revisit quest'isolotto, we find more and more visitors to confirm the above.
The first time I discovered, Marcia and I, there were only four houses, a tavern of that eccentric character who is Mikalis, thin, minute pirate with a beard and black bandana, and a few rooms at the inn ' opposite end of the long narrow sandy beach, decorated with tamarisk trees, overlooking a crystalline sea well sheltered from the Meltemi.
Now there are three taverns and houses have doubled. Mikalis is even thinner and its pier where we have the honor (but only us) to dock waving the flag of the Brothers of the Coast: a skull with two crossed bones.
We indulge in sweet-to-nothing. Pino is fascinated by the serenity of the place, and that I did not wish to move more. We decided to stop for a few days.

from Marathi to Kos

September 16. Marathi
Music, ouzo, swim, nap under the tamarisk.

September 17. Marathi.
Today is replicated. Boats in the bay have been in three. Each time a boat comes with a few dozen tourists who descend to the ground, lying in the sun and after a bit 'out again, leaving again (and happily) only. Another sign of pollution with forced resignation and nostalgia for 'good old days' we suffer. But in the evening returns to Marathi for the chosen few.


September 18. Marathi-Lipsi. 6 miles
Mikalis a little 'pirate it has truly become. Its prices are no longer those we are accustomed. Our last 'Thule' begins to resemble one of the many beautiful places in this sea is rich.
We salute the people of this port and head towards Gattadapelare Arki, immediately in front of us for a short visit, but the wind is strengthening and we prefer to reach the port of Lipsi.
Outside, the sea is well-formed but the journey is short and soon we enter in the wide bay of the island.
Lipsi is another port in the gray days dreaming of the day. The island was home to Ulysses for seven years a slave of love for the beautiful Calypso, deserves its reputation as a magical island.


September 19. Lipsi.
Done a good deed. Prune, watering and fertilize an almond tree which is the only thing still current among the ruins purchased from Ginafranco and March. The House of Almond, as translated from the greek, it's their dream arcade version Aegean imagine the restored under the dazzling Mediterranean sun, turns to the sea waiting to see who sails stretched Gattadapelare enters the Bay of Lipsi.
We met Astrid, a Swedish friend with whom Marcia spend the day at sea. The Meltemi blows strong and the small promontory Monodendri the view extends to Turkey, flying over a sea white with foam, after passing the island of Aspronissi, the so-called white island because of its clear waters and marble.
Dinner is spaghetti with tuna boat greedily accepted by both the pine Astrid.

September 20. Lipsi Kos-36 miles
We start the applause of the other crews after laboriously freed incagliatasi again, probably in the chain of next boat.
Today the wind is scarce and we especially motor. Leros parade there on the right and shortly after, it almost joint here Kalymnos famous for its sponge, and then Pserimos.
When we reach Kos and enter the port we place on the anchor, only the entrance, opposite the fortress of the Knights. The harbor is crowded, as crowded with tourists is the town.
Kos is archaeologically and historically interesting, but we feel that we now only behind the islands most genuine love. However we do our duty as tourists going to visit alleys, squares, cafes, shops and restaurants el'ultracentenario plane tree of Hippocrates that you will, has seen the precursor of medicine teach his pupils under his crown,
When, in the evening, we return by boat are dancing, close beside the boat, under the influence of a strong undertow.
Better accommodate all the fenders supplied and we go on a bunk, but during the night I get up frequently to monitor the situation because there is temporaleggia wave enters.

21 settembre.Kos.
Another day in the city hanging out waiting time more beautiful.

September 22. -Kos-Bodrum (Halicarnassus). 10 miles
The sea conditions are optimal for crossing the strait that separates Turkey from Kos. It sails observing the destruction of the overbuilding of the Turkish coast to the north of Bodrum. We try to detect even the yard where we decided to leave the boat without going to Marmaris for the work that we intend to do. When are we pause to make arrangements for the next day and then continue to the port of Bodrum three miles away. When we go we find that was built a beautiful marina for yachts, Now we meet the boat service that takes us to the dock of the boats passing by.
Everyone is very courteous and helpful. The marina has excellent facilities and modern plants. The only drawback is that it is on the opposite side of the harbor to the center of town and walk along the promenade and leg muscles committed by so many lazy days in the cockpit.
After some years of absence return to Turkey this is exciting. We look for a restaurant to eat local dishes and turn the streets turned into a big bazaar protected by large tents that cover a row of houses to another,
Gattadapelare welcomed us to the bottom of the sea real estate in water without ripples.

Bodrum

September 23 Bodrum little bay. 8 miles
We do many laps to take the famous log-transit, the customs certificate authorizing the presence of the boat in the sea turkish. Eventually, officials received from scorbutic and vaguely menacing-looking, we get this piece of paper at cost, rather than $ 250 as we had been proposed by an agency. Ty:
We visit the few remains of the funerary monument of King Mausolus. Some fragments of columns, a couple of capitals, a hole is all that remains of one of the seven wonders of antiquity: the Mausoleum.
But we want some more 'sea before putting the boat in disarmament and, therefore, left the Navy to go to find a little bay to spend the last night rocked by the waves.
Heading south, but not too much lest the wind tonight and reinforcements hinder us return to the yard tomorrow. Pino finally has the satisfaction of fish three beautiful fish, including an iridescent dolphinfish,

Crossed along the coast to choose a cove that seems suitable. There is only one caique will make us friends. Or at least that's what we think. We have 7:00 to 8:00 m and bottom filiamo whole chain because we constantly flashing on the horizon we see a broad front. Taken by the enthusiasm for the miraculous fishing (it was years since I pulled into the boat any fish) caliamo even a pot that has always been stowed in your locker. Inside we put all the remains of unused galley.
The sea is calm and lying down in the cockpit for the last night we watch the stars and with some apprehension, the storm clouds. We seek to understand their direction without result. The entire horizon to the south is lit.
Then the music begins. Not that nature, but that of a nightclub hidden behind the trees, which gives us a vast repertoire of Italian singers, thereby nullifying any overnight sensation Eastern.


September 24. Bodrum
The night passed quietly. The storms have dissolved and the sky is cloudless
The cove is animated canoe running everywhere. We know them so that the corner is a village Valtour. Let us recall the pot hopeful of a rich booty, but the top of which was tied back and free searches are useless without a mask. A mystery.
We read the pilot book that island in front of the yard is a hot spring that flows directly into the sea. When we arrive at a wharf for berthing and a kiosk selling drinks and tickets for access to the source. To fulfill both duties as good tourists and we bathe in the current source. Late afternoon we reach the site where Gattadapelare is finally winged with appropriate modern means after years of similar operations precarious, sometimes rough as in the case of Skiathos.
The shipyard is well equipped and relatively inexpensive. We were shown two years ago by an Italian skipper known to Skiathos and we are satisfied with the decision not to leave the boat in Marmaris, as we had planned at first.
Do we make an estimate for the work that we would like to run and reach the center of Bodrum that is here 6:00 to 7:00 miles.
Now we do not feel more of the crawl. Sull'invaso boat, sails furled, empty the pantry, we're back Terragni and even sleep last night still in the womb Gattadapelare will not be the same.
It is dinner time in a restaurant (a forced choice from our new state of 'civil') and back yard. Tomorrow morning I wake up early to get Kos by ferry after completing all the paperwork.


September 25. Bodrum-Kos-Rhodes
Here ends the diary. The rest does not concern the adventures of Gattadapelare, but for the sake of commentary summarize the events of those days.
Kos we reached early in the morning and waiting for the ferry to Rhodes we made a sightseeing tour by bus to the island. As I imagined the island, apart from the capital and its archaeological sites, is not very interesting.
The ferry of the 16 leads in Rhodes, where it rains and there are taxis available. We find a decent hotel and visit the city that I already know, but always fascinating. Greece a completely different, indeed, a non-Greek, with its deep imprint central Europe.
We must move away from Rhodes town to-find colors and atmosphere of the Aegean.

September 26. Rhodes
We continue to drive around the city. We are in the restored turkish bath of Suleiman the Magnificent, we have our small purchases to give to friends and relatives and close the day seeing an unexpectedly good show of jesters professionals organized for the alleys and squares of the medieval city

,
Return to Rome on September 27.
I leave for Rome, via Athens, while Pine is another day. The last minute Rhodes and Greece are characterized by the futile attempts to find my bag forgotten in the bus.
Back at home the night at 18.


P.s.
The purse was found intact (!) Two days later and now I am again in possession.