When I first rolled into town, I saw a sign for a mushroom museum and thought, “I need to go there!” but had already kind forgot about it. And now, this? Apparently there is a not-so-secret mushroom society here. It seems to be an annual multi-day mushroom extravaganza where many many mushrooms are consumed by locals and unsuspecting tourists in various cooked forms—stews, soups, mixed with pasta, grilled. All free! There must be a mushroom-loving millionaire that funds this thing.
Look!! I really wanna be pulleyed up in that thing! I’ll even sleep with a monk if I have to. I’ll even sleep with two monks AND a priest IN that thing if I have to.
Go past the nameingreekiwillneverremember until you get to anothernameingreekidefinitelywontremember then do something something when see Ayios Someone.
“Running late today due to flotsam caught up in port jet, rendering it inoperable. Only averaged 19 knots instead of 37 from Volos to Skiathos. They’re trying to clear it before we depart to Skopelos. Fingers crossed!!” I’m not 100% sure what “flotsam” is, but it doesn’t sound good.
Yup, that’s right, I was quaked out of my bed on my 50th birthday, the bottom of a bunk bed no less (yeah, yeah, I know, why was I sleeping in a bunk bed? Well, because, there are three beds in this room and it was the biggest one I didn’t have to climb!).
On my way in from the airport I saw a sign on the road pointing the way to “La Ruta de las Flores”, the Flower Route, and asked my super friendly cab driver what that was and could I just go on it myself. It is official…I speak my very best Spanish with cab drivers, hands down.
…an international celebration with travel events last-minutely scheduled every month to celebrate the anniversary of my birth and the completion of 50 years of existence, and my uncanny ability to consistently pose for pictures the same way I did from the time I could hold my own head up.
Even though I love coffee, I am not the best maker of coffee. I’m okay with a french press and now an expert with a manual drip, but coffee pots scare me. And this contraption has always been a little bit of a mystery to me.
There is a legend that this cave is named after the nymph, Melissanthi, who killed herself in the lake that sort of bears her name after being rejected by the god Pan, who is depicted as a half man half goat that always has an erection and is usually surrounded by a bunch of nymphs.
Just a little lunch break from posting about Greece from my new neighborhood in Gijón. Well not so new, I’ve been here a little over a week already and still trying to catch up.