What goes on on holiday, stays on holiday.

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We’ve just spent a glorious week on holiday in Crete, nestled in a tiny village near the sea, in a house that was built by pirates, and rebuilt by honest men. It was like stepping into another world, with another set of values entirely, as I discovered when I inquired about the security facilities before we left.

The house was going to be home to not just us, but another couple upstairs, and two young girls downstairs. As I was taking my laptop, I wanted to ensure that the bedroom was lockable to keep it secure. As it turns out – the room could have been locked if we’d had a key, but we didn’t. And didn’t actually care either.

It really was another way of life altogether. Cars parked in the square could be seen with their keys in the ignition. The main doors of the house, and the doors from the courtyard to the street were almost never closed. We kept our bedroom door closed – but that was only to keep the local kittens out of it. My laptop was tucked away under a spare blanket in our room, and I didn’t have the slightest concern about it despite being out and about all day.

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In fact, the bigger concern I had was that the girls were sleeping in another room nearby, and if someone had decided to walk in, I might not have heard them. The first few nights I disentangled myself from the mosquito net and went and checked on them several times. But by the last night I slept soundly with no worries.

We are so bombarded by messages telling us that our children are not safe, our possessions are not safe, and our own lives are not safe unless we install 24 hour alarms and monitors, that we start to view the world through glasses with prison bars on them.

How liberating it was to stay somewhere where those messages aren’t blasted at you from every headline.

It’s almost as liberating as that holiday bikini that you put on and wander around in all day, or the tiny hisbsicus patterned shorts that you’d never consider walking down Beckenham High Street wearing.

There is a freedom that comes with a holiday that is stifled in your everyday life. It’s not just clothing, it’s an outlook on life.

One of the most joyous things about staying in a place that isn’t tourist orientated is the fact that you don’t get hit by tourist prices or tourist food. We found that our favourite place to eat was the local village cafe, where the lady who ran it spoke almost no english, and it was a combination of sign language and interventions by her 14 year old son that helped us communicate. The bill for a family of 4 came to about £20 each time, and each meal included a bottle of water, basket of bread, watermelon or greek yoghurt and honey and “Raki” (firewater!) on top of what we’d ordered.  

The young lad could best be described as a greek adonis with a high voice. If I was 14 I’d have found him dishy. If my daughters were 14 I’ve have put blindfolds on them! Luckily neither was true.

The cafe was always busy with the men of the town sitting, drinking and talking. If any work was being done in that town, it was not being done in the heat of the day. With temperatures up to 37 degrees a few times, there was no way that any sensible person would be out in it unless they were a tourist!

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Both girls settled on a favourite greek dish, and loved the greek salads we were eating. It was only when we went into Xania – a main town, and very touristy – that we saw such unpalettable fair as full english breakfasts, burgers or chicken nuggets on the menus. At twice the price.

There was another draw to the local cafe too – a family of 5 swallows – χελιδόνι (khelidhOni) – who came in to sleep on the chandelier and candlesticks every night. They’d fly around chirping and arguing with each other over who got to sleep where. The girls were delighted. I suspect Rula, the cafe owner not so – although on the last night we did have a conversation with a table of locals about them through broken English, which is how I found out what they are called in Greek.

I’ve decided that my new project is to train my grape vine over the top of a trellis in our backyard to recreate the shady greek verandah lifestyle.

The heat in London might not hit 37 degrees, but that’s probably a blessing. What I loved most about Crete was the relaxed lifestyle during the hot months of summer, and the the sparkling water that was the perfect temperature to just immerse yourself in.

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At the risk of massive sunburn, we spent a part of most days on a beach somewhere. The girls were both wearing UV shirts to protect their shoulders and a deeply peaked baseball cap. We managed to stave off most sun damage that way, with thick suncream smeared over every other exposed bit of skin. But in addition to beaches, we also did some exploring of ruined venetion forts and cities. (Crete has some of the largest venetian towns outside of Venice, due to the trading routes of the time.)

By the time we’d climbed up a mountain to visit the ruins, we were dripping with sweat, so the fact that most ruins were built above azure seas made the trek so much more enjoyable – just walking into the water when we reached the bottom.

So we’re back now and the tiny hibiscus print shorts have been put back into the drawer for next summer. My thighs are slightly browner than the never seen skin of my buttocks, but they are still not ready to be paraded around my local area. The bikini will still get used at the local swimming pool, but no-where else. There isn’t a beach in sight.

But hopefully the rest of our summer can be filled with an easy going grace, lots of greek salads, deep shade, hot sun, and some swallow watching.

And don’t tell my insurance company about the laptop!

Categories: stuff I do to relax

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