Hellenic Hedonism in Mykonos

Mykonos is renowned for its beaches but one of the most picturesque and desirable stretches of golden sand is rarely mentioned in guide books. References to the location appear on maps but we have deduced that “A Listers” and the idle rich have claimed it as their own private playground and have kept Psarou Beach out of publications like the Lonely Planet.

However, as this gorgeous little cove is practically adjacent to our quarters here on magical Mykonos, it was not long before we discovered it on a sunrise wander along a local cliff-top path. A couple of  mega yachts and James Bond style speed boats gave a hint that the beautiful sandy beach, amazingly clear aquamarine water and understated elegance of the two waterfront restaurants were not going to be wasted on the riff raff.

The Melbourne relations who had so obliging introduced us to the high life in Santorini had done some research on Psarou and had heard that a paparatzi drone had been snapping shots of celebrities as they frolicked on the sands the day before our visit. The four of us arrived at this slice of Hellenic Heaven wearing our largest sunglasses and the most confident air our tanned bodies could muster. We could have parked our towels on the sand but “when in Rome” or in this case, Greece ..... We sauntered up to Club Nammos and paid 15 euros ($20) each for a super super-soft sun-lounge, umbrella and deluxe towel. No, we could not have the front row as these were reserved but the second row was more than adequate thank you. Cool French music, samba and jazz wafted from the restaurant and a parade of beautiful bodies unfurled before our eyes. Even the waitress was outfitted in a tiny black bikini. The only item that set her apart from the guests was her palm computer and pen.

Many beaches in Europe are wall-to-wall sun-lounges but not so at Psarou. As we discovered, space is required between lounges to manoeuvre ice buckets of Evian mineral water, trays of fruity cocktails and, in the case of the group immediately in front us, a large aquarium of ice to chill the jeroboams of French champagne and dozens of glasses. It turns out they were celebrating a birthday and the guest of honour (according to the waiter, a very rich man from Lebanon) was hosting an entourage of family and friends at Club Nammos. The whole group could have stepped out of Vogue magazine. Even Birthday Boy’s three handsome children and their two nannies were well turned out and had several changes of swimwear throughout the day. The champagne kept flowing and the male waiters (alas, they were kitted out in denim shorts and white polo tops) were kept on the run replenishing flutes with fresh bubbles whether the imbibers were reclining on lounges or swimming in the sparkling sea. This group was treated as, and acted like, royalty. Certainly their budget had no limit. Each jeroboam cost 8,200 euros!!!! This is serious wealth folks. Never ever have any of us, including the high-flying Melbourne rels, witnessed such extravagance. The more senior men, business tycoons in their Gucci swimmers, held court out in the water. 

They formed a semi circle and probably stitched up a few arms deals while their women folk paraded in the latest Yves St Laurent swimwear and resort accessories. We expected to see Jackie and Aristotle Onassis to join them at any time. Apparently Jackie O used to come here a lot.

Such a place for people watching! Apart from our chatter, hardly a word of English assailed our ears. The sand was immaculately groomed by a team of boys who scooped up every last butt and bottle with a fishing net on a long pole.

The least expensive item on the menu was a tiny brioche with ham for five euros. The most expensive was a 30 litre vat of wine for 120,000 euros.

 

The Melbournites were seduced by the cucumber juice and rum cocktails at 20 euros ($30 a piece). Andrew went for a beer and I opted for a non-alcoholic fruit cocktail. We really lashed out later and had a coffee AND a salmon club sandwich. Punctuated with frequent dips in the super gorgeous, clean, clear water with a sandy bottom it was a wonderful day out, and one probably never to be repeated. Needless to say we stayed until sunset. With daytime temperatures at around 28 degrees C, who wouldn’t (and we wanted to make the most of our most expensive day at the beach ever at 81 euros for the 2 of us).

The previous day we hired an open-top Jeep and braved the narrow Mykonos roads to visit the famed (and well publicised beaches) around the island. Top of the list was a tiny cove similar to Honeymoon Bay on Freycinet Peninsula. The swimming was DIVINE. Sorry to harp on the swimming and the sea but the Mykonos beaches are sandy (as Australians know it) and absolutely sublime. 

Agios Sostis is better known for the tiny restaurant perched above it than the actual beach. Kiki’s is an institution and relies totally on word of mouth. It has no signage or electricity and closes at 7pm. It specializes in charcoal grilled meats and the best salad bar in the Mediterranean. It seats only 30 people on a terrace overlooking the beach and diners start queuing about 1pm. It’s well worth the wait.

 We swam before and after our little banquet and then headed off to the more popular and gay-friendly Elia Beach. We have a lovely beach near our hotel and the ocean is certainly warmer than the hotel swimming pool. We are also in walking distance of the renowned party beaches of Paradise, Paraga and Super Paradise. They are winding down now as the end of the season approaches but the young diehards are still at Club Tropicana at Paradise Beach dancing from dawn until the next dawn and beyond. The doof doof music pounds away relentlessly day in day out.

Mykonos is not all beaches. The old town of Mykonos is a maze of narrow lanes idyllically set by the harbor. One part of it is known as Little Venice despite there being not one canal in sight. However, the famous Mykonos windmills are here as are the usual tourist shopping traps, lots of eateries and bars and more cats than you can poke a stick at.

One of the most important archaeological sites in Greece, the island of Delos, is just a half hour ferry ride from the old town. At this time of year after a long dry summer, Delos looks a bit forlorn. The remnants of a large Hellenic settlement are still in place among dead thorny weeds, a few parched fig trees, occasional interpretation panels and more cats!  It is hard to imagine such a barren place once supported a city of 30,000 souls and was a major port for the slave trade.    

 Unusual sights on Mykonos:

• ·         An older man on a motorbike wearing a top hat and transporting a small palm tree
• ·         A blond failed movie star in pink stilettos posing for photographs overlooking Myknos Harbour. Perhaps she was auditioning for a re run of Shirley Valentine or Wog Boys II, both of which were filmed here. 

• 
  

• ·         Crazy motorcyclists with a death wish
• ·         A hire car guy who visited Australia with the Italian beach volley team!
• ·         Thousands of cats, few birds and even fewer dogs
• ·         Jetskis abandoned in fields, discarded like old car bodies
• Clouds on our last day! It rains infrequently here. Town water is more expensive than gasoline and there is a big desalination plant to supplement two large dams. Our hotel has a large well which is topped up from time to by water trucks.

Next stop Istanbul.

 

The Fish are Biting at Kamari Beach

The Fish are Biting at Kamari Beach

Oh the seafood! The variety of scalefish, crustaceans and shellfish on the island of Santorini is amazing – and not just on the plate! There is a non-culinary species available to literally “tickle your fancy”. You don’t need a knife and fork or even sit at a table. All you have to do is immerse your whole person in a tank of tepid water and abandon all sense of modesty as an attack squadron of these voracious critters makes a bee-line for your dead skin. They supposedly suck rather than nibble and the tingling, tickling sensation is undeniably pleasurable.

 This “dorsal defoliation” was recommended by our new best friends, Charlene and Arleen, from Los Angeles. These lively gals are regular visitors to Santorini (as well as other places) and, as you will see later, enhanced our stay here. A little coy about letting these aquatic necrophiliacs loose on our nether regions, we opted to dangle only our tootsies in Dr Fish’s Blue Fish Spa.

 Earlier in the day we had climbed 360m (22 hairpin bends in the road/track) to the remains of Ancient Thira so our feet felt quite refreshed after this unusual form of pedicure. Andrew reckons he would need to cross the flesh-sucking Garra Rufa fish with a barracuda to chomp through the callouses on his feet!  These fish spas are all over the Greek Islands and probably elsewhere as well exploiting naïve tourists with more euros than good sense.

We surprised ourselves yet again by succumbing to the ultimate Santorini tourist experience – riding a donkey up the cliff top trail in the capital, Fira.  We walked down to the attractive old port on yet another steep winding track but it was so hard on the knees we couldn’t face the trek up again. There was a gondola-cable car but Andrew’s aversion to heights left us with no option but the mule train. There are hundreds of donkeys which relentlessly ply the trail – up and down, day in day out. With thousands of passengers spewing out of cruise ships at the old port, the donkeys get a real work out and, at 5 euros a ride, they are making someone lots of money – obviously not the animal handlers or the guys who have the unenviable job of poop scooping. These lowly peasants would not have a full set of teeth between them, poor souls.

Jane’s donkey took it into its head to be the leader and took off before Andrew had even mounted his trusty steed. Leaving her beloved and two Japanese girls in a cloud of chaff dust, she took off clinging to the saddle.  But Donkey #1 knew exactly what to do and valiantly clip-clopped up the zigzags narrowly averting considerable descending donkey traffic and oncoming walkers. At the top, Donkey #1 parked himself very cosily between his bretheren wedging the bemused rider between two handsome grey asses……     

Charlene had another treat for us in the evening. She is good friends with our hotel proprietors, having stayed with them 7 times and often dines with them. She invited us tag along for a culinary treat with real Greeks. And so it was that the hotel owner, Vigallis, escorted eight hand-picked hotel guests first to the incredible Santorini wine centre in the centre of the island for nibbles, wine and an excellent sunset viewing. 

Then it was off to a family-run taverna with the best live music in Santorini. Our party included the two lively American Jewesses “of a certain age” Charlene and Arleen, Spiros and Nicki (Greeks from Melbourne who amazingly own the hardware store at Shearwater, near our shack at Port Sorell) and a Greek couple who meet up twice a year in Santorini to continue a long-standing affair. He lives with his wife and family in Athens and she in Germany. When I asked Anna about her relationship with the Demis Roussos lookalike she replied: “He is my friend. He is my lover.” Demis was a show pony of colossus proportion and entertained the whole restaurant with his dancing. He’d flick back is shoulder-length grey curls, stamp his feet, swing his leg over a vacant restaurant chair and then pick it up with his teeth (I kid you not folks). He would then lay back his head and balance the inverted chair very precariously on his chin. This he did for the titillation of not only us, but the restaurant owner’s aged, but very well preserved mother. The old girl was well dressed (definitely not in traditional widow’s black) and heavily made up. She would have been well over 80 but, teetering on stiletto heels, had all the moves and thoroughly enjoyed the attention.

The food was absolutely fantastic as it has been so far in Greece. For entrée there were plates grilled garlic bread, creamy fava bean dip, spicy white aubergine salad and luscious Greek salad served in edible baskets crafted from melted cheese.

 To follow there was grilled lamb chops with lemon and then Greek yoghurt drenched with muscatels stewed in port. The lovely local white flowed as did the not so lovely red wine. The wonderful atmosphere was invigorated with a superbly talented singer/guitarist and bouzouki player. It was such fun.

Santorini is roughly crescent shaped and about 12km long. It is cris-crossed by roads that connect the villages in a random manner. It is dry as chips and there are no forests, save a few clusters of pines and avenues of eucalypts. 

There are small, domestic vineyards delineated by low stone walls all over the place but they are left to struggle in the stony soil with little water. They are not trellised and are pretty untidy. The local wine is very inexpensive and can be bought in fill-it-yourself plastic bottles at the small family-run supermarkets. There are orchards of nut trees and plenty of melons, figs and olives. Cherry tomatoes and white aubergines are a specialty.

Another specialty is souvlaki – but only at the legendary Lucky’s, recommended by Trip Advisor and patronized by locals and visitors. Everything is prepared and cooked on the premises and the pork gyros was undoubtedly the best we have tasted. The pita break was thick and tender and the contents were mouthwateringly good with tzatziki and salad to die for.

So far, the food we have had here has surpassed anything we have eaten in Europe – except of course the duck in Paris. The trick is to find family-run places – not the big menus catering for multi nations. Who could go past the stewed figs and Greek yoghurt for breakfast or the Greek platters served with beer on the beach at Navy’s café. If you buy a drink or food, Navy’s provide you with a sun lounge and umbrella. Another of Charlene’s little deals!

Almost forgot to mention the # 1 activity at Kamari Beach according to Trip Advisor – the open air cinema. It’s a short stroll from our hotel and is set in luxuriant gardens portioned from the road by high concrete (we are in Greece after all) walls festooned in vibrant bougainvillea. There is a well stocked cocktail which also serves snack food contributing to an oasis type of ambience. It is quite lovely except for one very European failing: non smokers are relegated to the extreme wings of the viewing area while the puffers get to sit centre screen. This is yet further evidence that Phillip Morris and Benson and Hedges are still doing very nicely thank you among the trendsetters here in the Mediterranean. We saw the film “The Best Offer” starring Geoffrey Rush in glorious English with Greek subtitles.

Farewell beautiful Santorini

Next stop Mykonos …….. by ferry.

Living the high life in Santorini (Thira)

Living the high life in Santorini (Thira)

Santorini is high on the list of the world’s most beautiful places. It is consistently ranks among tourism hotspots, luxury destinations, most visited islands and friendliest places. It is supposedly the source of the legend of Atlantis and is the most recognizable of the Greek islands with its high cliffs, white cavelike dwellings, idyllic blue and white domed churches and its crowning glory, the villages of Fira and Oia which cling to the jagged remnants of a volcanic crater – “the caldera”.

Santorini’s simmering volcano erupted in 17^th century BC to create this geological wonder which more recently has become the signature image of the Greek Islands and one of the most photographed landscapes in the world. It is very beautiful by day and wondrous at sunset.  

 

Needless to say, the rich and famous flock to luxury, but discrete, hotels on the cliff face to savour the superlative views while contributing to the chic atmosphere. The Lovies, on the other hand, visit such places but opt to stay in more modest quarters further south at Kamari Beach. This is another lovely location but we will save its virtues for the next blog installment. For the moment, we will dwell on the caldera because we had the opportunity to visit with Melbourne relations who conveniently stayed in this exceptional neighbourhood. We thank Jane's niece Rebecca and her husband Rob for hosting us at Oia at their luxury pad with private balcony and plunge pool.

They also coaxed us out of “budget” mindset to join them on a luxury catamaran afternoon-evening cruise to view the awesome island vistas from the water. 

These two “Luxe Guide” devotees also introduced us to another beautiful part of the world, the Amalfi Coast of Italy, for their wedding in 2010.

Oia is stunning. Cars and buses are restricted to the perimeter so gorgeous boutiques, tiny food stores, groovy bars, chic restaurants and other classy retail establishments are accessible only by foot. The downside is that the heat is punishing. The heat of the sun is absorbed and then reflected by the whiter than white concrete walls, rooftops and paving. There is little escape from it except indoors or in your private plunge pool. The relentless heat does not deter the daytrippers from visiting cruise ships or other parts of the island. They are completely mesmerized by the place and no wonder.

A couple form Perth WA on our catamaran cruise had been married in Oia the day before – no family, no friends - just the two of them and a marriage celebrant. They were not the only ones. From sunrise to sunset, couples from all corners of the globe appear from the deepest  and narrowest of  lanes shadowed by photographers snapping shots of the happy couples in this most romantic of settings.

Reality kicks in for us when it’s time to retreat to our humble digs in Kamari Beach. But as you can see it is no "pov" dive.

We pile on to the local bus, packed in like sardines, for the 10pm service to the southern end of the island.

Mountain climbing by car – Durmitor National Park

Mountain climbing by car – Durmitor National Park

Hang on to your hats folks. Take a motion sickness tablet, down a long draught of cold water and prepare for the drive of your lives. We are venturing north west into the high sierra of Montenegro to Durmitor National Park. In winter it’s “ski central” and the rest of the year it hosts hikers, white water rafters and other adventure seekers who quickly become hooked on the awesome peaks and the 18 beautiful glacial lakes. But first you have to get there……..

Montenegro is a seriously mountainous country and in Durmitor there are several peaks over 2500m; the tallest is 2523m. It’s a three-hour drive from the Bay of Kotor and the road started to climb immediately on a new section of highway that weaved in and out of tunnels. Despite the heavy rain the driving was OK on a two-lane road. Unfortunately those conditions gradually deteriorated and by the last leg the journey had become perilous – a cross between the bends down to Lake Barrington and Mt Arrowsmith on the Lyell Highway but only about half as wide. Thankfully most people here drive little buzzboxes like our Hyundai so most of the oncoming traffic encountered requires slowing down and ensuring you don’t shear of each other’s side mirrors. Fortunately there are few 4WDs or large saloon cars BUT there are buses, large ones. And visitors like to take the bus to Durmitor so encountering these vehicles on a bend or particularly sheer drop off is not for the faint hearted. It was not quite as bad as Peru but definitely “white knuckle” travelling …especially in the rain! Thank heavens for the car radio which soothed our nerves. Radio Montenegro treated us to “Italian Hour”, some Elvis and even some Rolling Stones albeit interspersed with local talent.

We passed through some major and minor settlements enroute which looked very dreary under the leaden sky. There is quite a bit of rural poverty here and, in parts, the larger towns are extremely drab and bear the scars of being severely beaten by the ugly stick of the former Yugoslavia. But closer to Durmitor there are lovely little hamlets with farm animals and pretty orchards and you could be mistaken for thinking you are in the Swiss Alps. You know you are nearing the destination when the mighty peaks loom ahead and the sweeping vistas take your breath away. Not unlike Yosemite National Park with its famous Half Dome peak, Durmitor is beautiful even in the rain.

 It was even better the next day in full, glorious sunshine! We walked around Black Lake and then bravely took a late afternoon drive on the backroads to try to catch a glimpse of the legendary Tara Canyon. The swirling mist certainly made for atmospheric viewing and we were glad to be in the shelter of the car. A walking party of about 20 hardy souls were doing it the hard way, ably led by a very large chap naked to the waist and gesturing wildly with stout walking poles.

We teamed up with a Swiss couple and formed our own little convoy in case we became lost on these mountain/canyon tracks. We ended up in the quaintest of rural settlements which reminded us of the Amish farms in America. Many are used by shepherds who retreat to their home bases only during winter. They must lead very simple lives tending their stock and raking hay into most attractive bell-shaped stacks. The fields are mauve with crocuses.

We overnighted in the town of Zabljak at the Ski Hotel, a handsome wooden lodge which was somewhat overshadowed by an enormous and ugly hotel, yet another legacy from the former Yugoslavian era.  Our hostess spoke perfect English and was able to recommend a few places to visit. She came into her own the following day when the Hyundai let us down again – you guessed it - the same bloody tyre flat as a tack! Not happy Jan! Our lovely lady provided directions to a tyre repair place which thankfully was not far away.

 This time the NEW rubber tube had a hole in it and although the fix it man assured us it would OK, we were a little tentative setting out on our return journey on the white-knuckle drive.

To give thanks that we made it, we called in at the 1665 Ostrog Monastery. This involved another narrow mountain climb off the beaten track but at least it was within coo-ee of civilization. No less than 7 tourist coaches beat us to the monastery and alas most of the passengers were already in line to the shrine to pay homage (and probably to kiss) the fabric-wrapped bones of the heroic priest, St Basil. After waiting for 10 minutes, the queue did not seem to move much so the Lovibonds abandoned their pilgrimage and instead headed south to Lake Skadar National Park, a Ramsar listed wetland with floating meadows of waterlillies. It was very pretty, very calming and good for the soul.

Our last night in Montenegro was spent at the capital Podgorica. It has absolutely nothing to recommend it but our hotel had the most comfortable bed and the sweetest receptionist who ensured a picnic breakfast was ready for us at 6am when we headed to the “aerodrom”.  We left the Hyundai in the carpark and I kicked the tyre for good measure. We are now bound for  Santorini via Belgrade and Athens. It will be a long day.

I’ll leave you with some interesting price comparisons:

Fresh fruit and veg are very cheap. It’s all grown locally and for sale at roadside stalls – peaches, capsicums, tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbages, watermelon, berries, onions, grapes, plums, figs, potatoes. Bananas from Ecuador are also inexpensive.

Beer is super cheap. A half litre of the very good local brew at a bar is Aus $1.80 and from the supermarket even less. A 5 litre plastic drum of wine at the supermarket is $8.

There were not many dogs – dog food is expensive : 3kgPegiree Pal meaty bites $8. Lots of cats through but they ear the local vermin!

Petrol is about $2 litre but tyre repair (and probably mechanical servicing) as we know is el cheapo!

Restaurant/café food is cheaper than Australia but you need to order extras like salad, vegetables etc.  I had a local delicacy, lamb cooked in milk, and it was just that – in chunks. I ordered vegetables but was not specific enough because it came with boiled potatoes only. The local fish (partic squid) was excellent. Andrew had Montenegran roast lamb with roasted potatoes which he said was good.

The local savoury snacks are called borek. They are bit like Turkish pide and Greek Spanikopita but with more emphasis on the pastry which is filled sparingly with meat, potato, or cheese and chard. They are very filling.

There is plenty of yoghurt on offer but the milk tastes like yoghurt as well – a bit sour.

On our boat trip on the Bay of Kotor, the skipper gave us all a glass of the local plum brandy. It was the most vile take on Friar’s Balsam I have ever tasted, positively poisonous!

Generally Monenegro is pretty third world. There are luxurious resorts on the coast but when you look under the superficial veneer you find flaws – shoddy workmanship, ill-conceived design (taps that run directly onto the rim rather than into the bath,  MDF toilet seats (painted of course), floors with an obvious rise and fall across the room, shoddy tiling………

There is little civic pride – lots of rubble and weeds everywhere and of course the litter  problem I have mentioned before. We read that one town is about to embark on rubbish recycling… not before time! 

Mis(adventure) at Mt Lovcen

Mis(adventure) at Mt Lovcen

We should have read the signs before embarking on our visit to Montenegro’s namesake “Black Mountain” (Mt Lovcen) which towers above Kotor.  After a night of thunder and teeming rain (sign # one) we set out for this much-loved national park and with 500m of leaving our digs came across a bingle on the narrow waterfront road  (sign # two).  Erring on the side of caution, we opted for a safer way up the mountain (sign # three) rather than the spectacular but tortuous 25-hairpin bend scenic route listed as one of the world’s great drives. We would not have been able to see a thing through the rain and mist but at least the destination promised some good walks and a not to be missed climb to the famed mountain-top mausoleum. Also on offer was a chance to see some of the 200 species of birds and mammals (bears and wolves included) in the Mt Lovcen National Park.

The alternate route gave us some pretty good views of the Adriatic coast through the cloud and we were amused by the roadside graffiti painted on rocks and concrete barriers which was dominated by an ad for something called Auto Slep 067 838 25. These words and ph # were daubed ad nauseum on all inanimate objects … what could it be? An auto repair service perhaps - we hoped we would not need such a thing!

We passed through the old imperial capital of Montenegro, Cetinje, and proceeded to climb up and up on a gradually narrowing road flanked by forests of birch. The guard rail supposedly keeping one on the right side of the precipitous drop was decidedly worse for wear and in some places contorted, rusted and absolutely useless. We pressed on catching glimpses of the 1749m peak of Mt Lovcen through the cloud and had to slow to crawling pace many times as the mist thickened. At last we reached  the national park headquarters set in lovely green picnic grounds with an education centre.  According to the interpretation panel visitors could walk, commune with nature, retire to cabins or even play paintball!

Sign # four that we should have heeded was the semi-closure of the summit road but we were waved on by a car that had successfully negotiated the narrow route: “OK, OK only 3 kilometres”, the driver yelled.  Excellent, we would not have to walk. The trusty Hyundai ventured further up the goat track and we parked with other cars at the road terminus on a wide bend. After a quick snack we geared up for the climb to the mausoleum. What was that hissing sound? Snakes were not on the list of animals to be found at Lovcen. Alas the noise was coming from the car - the front passenger tyre was disgorging its last breath. Fine, let’s change the tyre. No spare wheel, not even one of those teeny emergency jobs – just an empty space in the boot. We were 15km from the nearest town up a mountain track in what one would venture to describe a “remote location”. Hmmm……

Luckily we had phone reception so we rang our guy from Montenegro Car Hire who suggested we fetch the mini compressor and a can of rubber emulsion from the boot to execute a makeshift repair. Then, he suggested, we attempt a mountain descent to the nearest tyre repair place. Our newly inflated tyre just might make the distance. Thus our walk and mausoleum pilgrimage became a nerve-wracking departure from Mt Lovcen with frequent stops to assess the hissing tyre.  We might need Auto Slep after all. What was that phone number again? 

After nearly being run off the road a couple of times by huge tourist buses heading for the mausoleum we eventually we found a gas station back in Cetinje and were directed to “Eurogum” where a solemn, but thankfully skilled, guy attempted to mend the rubber twice before inserting a tube into the troublesome tyre.

The job took an hour but mercifully cost only a little over five euros (about $8) – you never would have a tyre repaired for that price at home. Back on the road, we considered turning around and trying for the Mt Lovcen summit again –this was a momentary aberration. Instead we headed back towards the coast and stopped off at the nearest hypermart to stock up on some of the locally-brewed pivo and vino!!!

This we enjoyed on the balcony of our new digs further up the Bay of Kotor. We have a lovely apartment run by a well-to-do and enterprising Serbian family who speak perfect English. The apartment overlooks the beautiful village of Perast and the island of Our Lady of the Rocks which we visited earlier on our boat trip. We have own little beach across the road and would love to stay longer but the northern mountains beckon. Hopefully the Hyundai’s “quality” tyres will last the distance!!!! 

PS We have just discovered that Auto Slep has a following on the photo-sharing website Flickr. That explains the proliferation of signage!