Lindos

 Our coach tour began this morning with a visit to Lindos. As we boarded the bus in the midst of what is rapidly becoming a familiar deluge, our spirits were lifted somewhat by the realisation that, unlikely as it may seem, we are the youngest ( and quite possibly the  slimmest) people on board. (A notable double first for us...)

Once everyone had shuffled into a seat, our driver, the sturdy Yannis, cranked up the heating and we were on our way.

Soon the atmosphere was heavy with the whiff of damp cagoules, embrocation aand (quite possibly) Werther's Originals. 

Fortunately, and just as we had almost reached suffocation point, the village of Lindos came into view, accompanied by, of all things, the sun!

Lindos is a lovely village with cliff-top acropolis , a Temple of Athena and a 14th century castle. 

In fact, I visited Lindos about 20 years ago and remember it as a vibrant, lively place.

Of course, that was in July......

Today, however, Lindos was mostly closed up for the winter. Only a couple of shops, a coffee bar and the acropolis were open for business.

We set off to climb to the ancient site, conscious that we were among only a handful of our party able-bodied enough to make the climb and so carrying the hopes of an entire coach.

At the top, I'm sorry to say that our way was barred by a surly Greek woman in a kiosk who demanded 20 euros each to enter the ruins.

JB searching in vain for a back entrance to the acropolis 

Regular readers will be well aware of how we view this type of nonsense.  Turning smartly around, we marched back down the hill, dashing the hopes of the remaining members of our party.

(Incidentally, the Temple of Athena was clearly visible for free from the car park.....)

Our next stop was a visit to St.Paul's Bay. (named after Apostle, serial jail-bird and compulsive letter writer of the same name)

Legend has it that the lad himself was shipwrecked here in the 1st Century.  (It would take a serious lack of skills to shipwreck yourself here I reckon, but there again, I'm not an Apostle.....)

Speaking of shipwrecks, we've been informed that, owing to the seriously bad weather forecast for Friday, we must get the ferry to Turkey tomorrow (a day early) .......

Stay safe people.......

Greece is the word

 Welcome back blogmates! And I must say I applaud your pluck in returning .

This time round, we'll  be examining various old bits of Greece and Turkey. (Rather like a lacklustre Boxing Day buffet....)

What comes to mind when you ponder Greece, I wonder?

Demis Roussos ? (for our younger readers, he was a beardy, kaftan wearing falsetto singer )

John Travolta perhaps?

Or maybe , like me, you have fond recollections of Albert's All Day Breakfast Emporium (with guaranteed extra cholesterol).

Whatever your thoughts, I'm afraid that we're unlikely to be encountering any of the above. (I'm fairly certain that Demis is dead for one thing)

You join us this evening on the island of Rhodes,  where, against the odds, it's wet and windy. 

We begin our tour tomorrow, in the rather lovely town of Lindos. 

See you then!

PS. As a reward for returning to the blog, heres a pic of the wonderful Demis. Enjoy.....

End of term report

 Well blogmates, the time has come. Sad though it is, we must part company.

Contrary to what you may have read in some of the more sensationalist publications, we're not being deported. 

The last six weeks have been instructive in so many ways. 

For example, we've suffered the shocking state of the roads in Laos. (I'm still sitting on a cushion)

We've very nearly brought down one of the world's major religions. 

And we've witnessed the horrifying devastation that coconut milk cause to an unwary digestive system . (Still carrying a cork with me)

But above all, we've had a great time. Far better, I suspect than you have had reading this.

In fact, yesterday JB was moved to say that he thought it was better here than Blackpool.

Thanks for your company, and we'll see you again in February, when we'll be subjecting Rhodes to the Gullible's Travels treatment. 

Hoping that a fat beardy chap in a red suit stuffs your sock, we bid you adieu. 

What we did today

 Today we had a DAY OUT. (capital letters intentional to show how big a deal it was)

We joined the hedonistic throngs on the longtail boats bound for Railay and about 15 minutes later, we arrived, at fleshpot central,  Railay.

Moving swiftly past the offers of saucy massage and 'magic ' mushroom shakes, we emerged onto the beach, with an inexplicable yearning for a cup of Horlicks and a Werther's Original.

There's no doubt that Railay is a huge draw these days, tourism and narcotics wise (Google the resort prices) but for us, well, alright, for JB, the big draw is climbing. 

By now, I think we're all well aware of his tendency to hang off any surface even slightly off vertical, and Railay has them aplenty. 

In fact, a quick tally shows that we've visited here more in the last couple of  years than we've visited Weston-super-Mare. Let that sink in...

And so, our brush with the wild side of life in Railay amounted to a bit of jungle climbing, a sighting of a couple of macaques and some lying down on a (fairly uncomfortable) coral beach 

Rock and Roll.......

Once back at our resort bungalow ( nestled in Paradise, as you know),  We were confronted by a seemingly insoluble problem.

The doorkey, (which to be honest had been problematic since we arrived), steadfastly refused to turn.

After 5 minutes or so of ineffectial door-rattling and archaic cursing, I went to seek help.

The receptionist, a chit of a girl, who we've always found to be unpleasant, eventually admitted that they'd seen fit to change the lock. 

And presented the new key.

And there, blogmates, the sorry saga should have ended.

But........

Fast forward a couple of hours, and JB and I , in search of modest sustenance, attempted to leave our bungalow. The door refused to lock.

Enter Hairless Heinrich, the bald, badly tattooed Hun from a couple of doors down. 

As effortlessly as one declaring  Anschluss, he pushed us out of the way and proceeded to lock the door. 

Only he didn't.  After a good 10 minutes of this nonsense he pronounced it all to be 'kaput' and shambled off into the night.

Hopefully, when we get back tonight, the 'lock technician ' will have made it all ok......

Ao Nam Mao

 Just beyond our resort boundary, away from the mangroves and ravenous insects, is the town of Ao Nam Mao. (And also where the previously mentioned Flatulent Fatima has her hotel)

It would be wrong to call Ao Nam Mao a one horse town. (Although I believe they've almost saved up enough for a quarter share in a retired donkey)

People mainly arrive here to get the ferry straight out again to the bright lights and fleshpots of Railay.

Possibly for that reason, the main street has just one bar, and even that has to double up as a 'Medicinal Cannabis Dispensary' to make ends meet.

Ao Nam Mao main street, Saturday night

And of the handful of restaurants only a couple serve alcohol, this being a largely Muslim populated town.

We did chance upon a place though, with a lovely garden setting and ,more importantly,  a fridge full of beer.

It was towards the end of our third visit that I noticed the distinct shuffling from the rafters. Glancing up I couldn't help but notice a rat . It was in peak condition and a fast mover. Acrobatic too as it scampered above us. Perhaps it was the floor show. 

We've now moved our custom to the local beach bar where the beer price is wildly over inflated (remember, there's that quarter share in a donkey to pay for) and the resident house band leans a little too heavily on the kazoo solos, but we haven't seen any rats.    

Yet

Of course, there's always the sandflies.......

Trouble in Paradise

 Last time, if you recall, we'd stumbled upon our tropical paradise and were smugly settling in. 

But, wherever you get lush green foliage, hibiscus hedges and palm trees aplenty, you also get the associated wildlife.

Some, like the giant black and white butterflies and the greater coucal birds (look it up) are a delight. The resort's phalanx of (mostly sleeping) guard dogs are ok too. 

It's the mosquitoes and other biting pests that are the problem, particularly if you're prone to going outside in what is essentially your underwear.

The trouble seems to be that I'm irresistible to the little blighters. Their signature dish, or comfort food if you will.

My legs (admittedly never my best feature) now look like I'm wearing red polka dot trousers, and even JB has complained of a bite on his wrist. We've now applied so much DEET that we're in danger of contravening the Chemical Weapons Convention.

Still we're vowing to carry on regardless. We're British after all. And we're in Paradise.

Allegedly.......

PS: I know you won't bother looking up the greater coucal, so have this one on me:

Paradise found

 On leaving Krabi airport, we headed for our hotel in Ao Nam Mao. Admittedly it was chosen more for its budget-friendly pricing policy than any close inspection of its location or facilities. 

Spirits sank as we encountered the vast female behemoth behind the reception desk. It didn't help that she farted continously throughout the whole checking in process.

Up to the room then. We'd checked that it a least had a window, and indeed it did. It was virtually a glass box. 

The other 6 hotel residents had a combined age of around 120 and a combined IQ of much, much less.

The following morning, we set out to make alternative arrangements. And, rather like Moses and the rest of his crew eventually reaching the Promised Land, we stumbled, sweaty and without hope upon the Diamond Beach Resort.

I'm not ashamed to say that we wept tears of joy, although JB claimed he had a bit of dust in his eye.

It's lovely. A tropical hideaway complete with our own ( so far, bug-proof) wooden bungalow.  We've booked in for the remainder of our time in Thailand and declared ourselves on holiday.