Tuesday, 5 May 2009. Ocean Village Two sails into Corfu, Greece.
It is our first time in both Greece and Corfu, but over the next few years we will join several cruises here.
The disks slotted over the ship's cables are put there to stop any dockside rats from running up the cables onto the ship.
We are doing an excursion today. It is taking us to several places in Corfu but we start off with a trip up the coast to a monastery. The coach passes by a gorgeously beautiful cove. I snatch a couple of photos from the window as we drive past, but needn't have worried. We will get time for a photo stop on our way back!
First stop is at this Greek Orthodox monastery with a small number of monks, one of whom greeted our guide warmly as we walked up towards the monastery. The church was quite small, but richly decorated. A large silver chandelier hung from the ceiling.
There were a lot of icons lining the walls, most of them gilded. Guid-i-poos is getting boring... We bob out of the church and race through the museum - huh? It contained mostly another collection of richly gilded icons. It did have some whale bones which were worth seeing - more interesting to me than the rows of icons, which to a non-Catholic become just so many portraits, mainly of old men sitting amongst immense richness whilst their "flock" live in abject poverty.
The monks were called to their various offices or meals, not by the ringing of a bell, but by a pattern of knocking rapped out on this piece of wood, hanging in a small courtyard. Fran was all for giving it a bang, but with the thought of half a dozen confused monks appearing and asking all sorts of questions in a foreign language, I thought it was perhaps not the best of ideas!
The monks who originally founded the monastery had certainly chosen their site well. It had some lovely views over the top of the cliff.
They had also created an attractive, pleasant and peaceful abode for themselves. It was much nicer enjoying the peace than listening to the droning voice talking about saints... I'm not a good follower of tourist guides I'm afraid.
The only inhabitants we saw though were a collection of scraggy cats, one curled up with some tiny kittens and a thin alsation dog. Another mystery...
Our last discovery before being called back to the coach was this ancient monastic cannon, used every second Tuesday during the 18th Century when the monks would gather to chortle and chant and blast the barnacles off every passing ship... We get back on the coach, unspeakably thrilled when guid-i-poos promises us another church to look at, in a tone that suggests she expects us to be thrilled.
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