getting used to vacation on Folegandros

The ferry goes at 7:01.

Breakfast starts at six and I have time to gulp down omelet, warm sandwich, juice and coffee. I'm a bit in a hurry because I don't know exactly from where the ferry goes and if electronic booking confirmation means that I have to do something with it. I am directed to smaller and smaller boats and then I still have to queue at the ticket booth.
Everyone gets seated to his/her designated place, no walking around, no lingering outside. 7:01 sharp the ferry moves away from the pier and past cruise ships that are as big as apartment blocks. Greyish pink sky reflects in water. Only later emerges bright orange disk from behind blue hills and draws a line on the sea.
I finish the book of Fred Jüssi. Actually I wanted to read something else next but The Perfect House was on the top. And I was a bit busy in the morning. Witold Rybczynski, an American professor with Polish name who was born in Scotland writes about the Italian architect Andrea Palladio. It must originate from my second visit to Venice.
No-one reacts to Sifnos but on Milos most of the crowd rushes out. And as much rush in. Probably going to Santorini.
On Folegandros there are 500 inhabitants and three villages. Villages are usually on top of a mountain to make it harder for pirates to reach them. That's why it is better to book an accommodation ahead which results in someone waiting in port. Greeks don't walk. There's a boy with a sign and white car waiting for me. The road goes between rocky hills into the interior and Chora. In the village sides of the road almost scratch the car. The center of the village is closed for motorized traffic. It wouldn't fit through the streets anyway.
Bright and airy room, folded towels on the bed and view from balcony over Chora to a hill where whitewashed path zigzags up to Panaghia church.
Nice cloud in front of the sun, in the village local beer and salad. I stroll up to the church. A few men are busy working. The doors will be open from six in the evening. A big black bird circles above and a donkey screams somewhere below. Through the haze some other islands are visible. I wonder a bit in the oldest part of Chora and take pictures of balconies. Then go and sleep half the day.

paths of Folegandros

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