Agios Andreas

Agios Andreas, or Ag And as we call it, is on the coast immediately under Logga. The small row of restaurants overlooking the harbour, which is a few hundred yards wide, all look exactly the same as they did when we came here 10 years ago. In fact, the young chap serving us also looked identical; although you would think he was barely in his late teens, so something does not compute in terms of dates. Unless time here really does stay still!

We had excellent olive oil, a nice meal with seasonal beans and artichokes, moussaka that was creamy and full of cinnamon, and a house salad that I was worried (for a few moments) would elicit the same reaction as the apocalyptically bad salad we had at Octon in the Languedoc last summer. In fact, it turned out rather better, but lacking a bit of finesse in the presentation department, as they would say on Masterchef.


We did a lovely walk to Neratzia, and then on to a couple of nearby hill churches. We set off with a shower of rain threatening, and it delivered on the threats. We sought refuge in a Kafeneion in Logga, and after a couple of cappuchinos, we set off.

The road to Neratzia goes past small farms and olive groves, as it winds its way slowly upwards. There were wild flowers everywhere. The colours in May are extraordinary, with carpets of yellow vibrant against the dark shadows of the olive trees. These must be 500 years old, maybe even older.

Neratzia is a well-heeled village which seems to have second homes owned by Germans.

After it, we took a right turn directly up the hill and reached the first church. This had the same white circles chalked or painted on the ground, blue and white prayer flags fluttering in the trees around, and fabulous views over the valley down to the sea.

It was another hour’s walk to the blue-roofed church higher up, and when we finally got there, I felt a strong urge to ring the bell hanging from the church gable.


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