I say” hey it’s good to be back home again”

 John Denver wrote a song in the dim and distant past called “ it’s good to be back home again”. It completely sums up our feelings of being back in Parga. Epirus. We found Parga two decades ago by complete chance and have been coming back here when we can ever since. It is our favourite secret hideaway in all of Greece. When we first came all those years ago the people who had already found Parga made us promise not to tell anybody else about it for fear of destroying this incredible place. Everyone here is a repeat visitor. I’m including its name and location here for the purpose of the blob but you must promise Never Ever to tell anyone else about it. 

I digress……

Crispy awoke  this morning after a not too peaceful sleep. It seems the budget hotel I had booked us into in Saranda had been booked to capacity by a school trip. Dozens of teenagers, aged I would say 17 to 18, had overrun the place on some kind of school outing. It was noisy into the early hours with teenagers doing what teenagers do. Mostly girls swapping boys rooms and boys entering girls. Entering girls rooms I mean. Crispy was most perturbed and didn’t sleep well. I had taken the precaution of using the ear plugs so didn’t really hear anything and slept like a lord. Thank God.

Breakfast was included in the room rate so we ate and bid our farewell to the hotel and it’s noisy hormone driven guests. It had served its purpose. We walked the short distance to the ferry port.

 I had been telling Crispy since our entry into Albania that we were technically here illegally. The passports had not been stamped on crossing the border from Montenegro and there was a very high chance of us being arrested for being illegal immigrants. She would be shipped inland to some desolate women’s prison where she would probably become the head girls plaything. I would be sent to some soviet era work camp to work until I died of exhaustion.  I thought she knew that I was joking but as we neared passport control she was becoming more and more edgy. I tried to reassure her that there was nothing to worry about but the psychological damage was already done. We were near the front of the line waiting for border force to call us through when a stern faced officer opened the barrier next to us and called me and Crispy to onside. The look on her face was a picture. At that very moment she truly believed that she was going to prison.

In reality the border official was taking couples from the queue to speed up the process. He was doing us a favour. He took Crispy’s passport and looked her in the eyes. I was behind her and could see her buttocks tighten through her shorts. He opened the passport and gave it a cursory glance before handing it back and thanking her for her cooperation. The relief was visible. I felt a little bad for putting her through the ordeal. Only a little bad though because it was very funny. Bless her. He did the same to my passport and when I turned around Crispy had gone. She was on the boat like a rat up a drain in case the official realised his mistake and came out to drag her to a Gulag.

The ferry crossing was perfect. Calm seas and blue skies. It is only a small ferry and the crossing from Albania to Corfu is a mere 15 kilometres. It took one hour and thirty minutes in total. Crispy lay across one of the bench seats and caught up with some sleep in the sunshine. I was secretly glad that the crossing wasn’t yesterday during the storms. The open top boats still sailed but it would have been more like a scene from Moby Dick than Mama Mia.

On reaching Corfu ferry port we again had to undergo passport control to enter Greece. Despite my numerous reassurances that the Greek authorities were not going to deport her back to Albania and the Gulag she was still nervous. The border policeman took her passport and asked if we had flown to Albania from the UK. She froze and looked at me with blind panic. She couldn’t speak. I interjected over her shoulder that we had entered Albania overland from Montenegro. He smiled looked at us both and said “very nice”. Back in control of our passports and freedom we headed to the adjacent domestic ferry terminal. Thank god there is no more passport checks till we leave Athens. I’m still giggling to myself about it now.

This ferry sailed for igoumenitsa at 1500. We arrived in Corfu at 1200 Albanian time but 1300 Greek time. I knew there was a time difference and allowed enough time for transfers from ferry to ferry. We had plenty time to sort the tickets and get a cold drink before boarding.

The ferry’s in Greece run like clockwork. A little like British rail. They leave on the dot and arrive on schedule without fail. We have used them in the past and have always been impressed with how smooth the process is. An amazing logistical feat considering that they cross open water with all the potential problems that could cause. 

This was a large ferry that easily swallowed several large articulated lorry’s in its underbelly. We took the escalators up 2 floors to the sun decks and got comfortable for the journey to the mainland. It was a tad windy once we got into the straits of Corfu and Crispy found a spot out of the breeze and had a wee nap for the majority of the crossing.

We arrived at igoumenitsa and disembarked. Here I had messed up with the travel arrangements. Today is Saturday and I failed to check if the twice daily bus to Parga ran at the weekend. It didn’t and we were once more at the mercy of the local taxi drivers. The driver who approached us was a really nice guy. I pleaded with his better nature to take pity on two wayfaring strangers. I told him that we were two desperate poor travellers lost in a strange land. Crispy put on her best puss in boots face. He very kindly gave us a little discount on the fare. Forty minutes later we were “back home” in Parga

I have arranged a tiny fisherman’s cottage in the heart of the beautiful harbour district. It is perfect. Private and comfortable. In the past we have always stayed on the outskirts of the town. For the next 6 nights we are in the centre. Parga is small. Very small. A labyrinth of tiny stone paved walkways weave there way around the harbour and up to the castle. They are dotted with small gift shops and eateries. Visitors here, including us, walk the small passages after dinner every evening because it is so pretty and picturesque. It’s the Greek equivalent of a tiny Cornish fishing village without the fish and chips or tat shops. I’m sat in our own private tiny alleyway outside the cottage writing this blob. It’s a dead end with our cottage at the end of it. People keep stopping and gazing in from the main alley because it is so beautiful. We feel very, very lucky to be here.

Crispy is elated. This is her perfect retreat in her favourite place. It doesn’t get any better. I even think she is starting to forgive me for winding her up over the passports.

Tomorrow I will post lots of pictures of Parga but please don’t show anyone. They will all want to come here……..

Bare and Crispy signing off. Up a beautiful back alley, Parga, Epirus, Greece

This last picture is when we were in Corfu changing ferries. I spotted it near the port and told her this was our apartment as the ferry was cancelled and it was all I could get. She was not amused.