Carreta, origano i cvece purpura

Carreta, Carreta

Zante (Zakynthos) is a rich island. Zante's wealth is palm trees and lijanderers, steep white walls and turquoise sea, the most beautiful sunset that the Greeks sell elegantly along with the hound blue patlidzan and absolute tzatziki. It's rich with turtles, which will take your whole attention, because they will be around you, on prospectus, in the posters, in placards for escursions from 15 to 95 euros, to small sweet magnesons for hairdressers. The Carthagoras (Carreta Carreta!) Takes us through life, the Indians claim. She had been settled in Laganas, the spice of the little sweet drunken Britons. Mama Carreta is naively hoping that some turtle will succeed in getting water from the sand, and that she will avoid the stabbing of a parasol and a flip flop rebuilt by a thick drunk Liverpool woman. Hope of our Carnot is under question. Of the 1000 successors, only one swims into the Ionian Sea-the origin of life, at least for me, this year.

The core of Zante, the rich man and the smell of the yard

I love this part of southern Europe. I also remembered Lefkada, and Corfu, Paxos and Itaka. The Ionian is specifically, like, a bit Greek, a little Italian - from architecture to lifestyle deep to the center of the mainland. And so, in the core of Zante, I met Sulu, a punk, good-willed local heir. With a smile that seemed to have never even lifted off her face, she offers some light wine, olives, honey, oregano, homemade, etched on a canvas to dry in the yard behind ... And the yard, even a picture of this digital Smells like Mediteraneo. Every detail is in its place and every mess is where it should be. Perfect mess of the south. Just as we need during those ten days of summer holidays. From Sule I bought cooking cloths. Later I saw them in the city, but from Sule it's kind of sweet. It's original, so it took some euro over.

A saint with his people

The Agios Dionisios Monastery is something that has not broken in a terrible earthquake that has ruined almost everything here on the island. And he, a saint, and today all, preserved in his church in the center. Twice a year rich and those fewer wealthy Greeks arrange their hairstyles, their ceremonial dresses and oblates even a bunny for the day when the saint is performed in front of the people. To see him once more and to be convinced of their beliefs. On this island many are called Dionisios and many women have names derived from the name of this saint who, they say, somehow live here with the people. And when they grieve, he's there to see him again.

Way to Navagio

Zante has Navagio. Perhaps this beach is somewhat tired of taking pictures, painting with brushes, from tourists eager, just like myself, eager for those blue moments, at least half an hour on that beach, on an incredibly white riot. Getting to the beach is a challenge, but it's worth it. The whole thing is, as the child would carelessly draw a line across the map, and reach an exotic port of Porto Wroclaw. There you wait for a couple of others like you, you board a few boats and go. You can not miss it because you are walking past the carved Poseidon profile. A sharp, well-recognized Greek-Corinthian nose, a view of the water. Reflection of the Greek god in the water. Way to Navagio. Caves and rocks, arches and small beaches, suitable for the readers of Odysseus or Illyad, anyway. In any case, you have to be drenched to understand Greek tooth walls and arches above the water. And finally, Navagio. The most beautiful and the most beautiful. She is from a poster from travel agencies, the queen of the beach, a symbol of a Greek flag. Both white and blue. And unreal. No matter how painted, it's never painted. And commercialized and wild.

Daphne is another beautiful lonely beach to which it is so difficult to come. It is right next to the tourist, right from the corner, but there must be an entire hill, with a curving, dangerous road, reaching the destination. Nothing is better for the eye, for the body. The peace and music of cafes under the coals. Caffe music. Just peace.

Green symbol

Olives are everywhere. Exo Hora, the village with the oldest olive tree on the island, is on its way to Navagio. Spindly and immense, symbolizes two old, still in love, who remain forever for eternity. Two trees from one. Ostrvljanima life depends on olives, oil, soap, preparations for the body ... Olive is the life of Zakynthos.