Let us forget about the blowup bed and remember how exciting everything was in the first weeks of our arrival. (Check out my previous blogs in this series to catch up.)
We had pomegranates on one of our trees and bunches of grapes hanging from the trellis in front of the cottage. So, after a lazy breakfast of fresh fruits, we explored the local beaches. In the evenings, we would again sit out at our stirling board table, with a light dinner, enjoying the mountain views.
Late, one afternoon, we were sat outside, Simone learning Greek and me looking for eagles, when we noticed whisps of smoke, curling into the sky on the opposite side of the valley. We didn’t think it was anything to worry about until we heard the planes. There were two of them, and they looked quite small, but it was obvious that they were interested in the smoke. They both flew over the smoke, circled around and flew over the smoke again but this time they dumped water over it. It looked like the planes were crop dusting. They flew over a third time to assess their work and then flew off.
We have since found out that fires here are very frequent and can be devastating. As well as the planes, there is a fire truck, manned with volunteers, which sits in a local village and is on constant alert. For a couple of weeks towards the end of summer, we must have seen a fire every day, and the planes and truck rushing to sort it. Some locals suggested that we have a bag always ready in case we need to evacuate.
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