We'd been thinking that we ought to get out and see a bit more of this really quite big island (1.5 times bigger than the Isle of Man, that well-known international standard unit for measuring Island Size).

But a little research had demonstrated that there's lots of Chios that you can't get to without a car... And we'd decided not to hire a car.

This wasn't actually because of the ridiculously restrictive insurance provisions we're currently subjected to (they won't cover us for anything that happens in a hire car, because our driving licenses are issued in a different jurisdiction from our passports -- good grief, how do these guys think this stuff up...? ). But it wasn't that. We would have just taken the risk.

It was more that car hire is not really in accordance with the spirit of the journey. (We are targeting modest, cheap, and sustainable travel; and favour the idea that "less, but slowly" is better than "more, but in a hurry". When we hire a car, we tend to go too far, and do too much -- because we can.)

Walking and taking public transport, on the other hand, really do make you slow down and practise selectivity...

This can be frustrating, of course. There are things on Chios that I'd love to have seen but won't see. (I always console myself with the fiction of "next time...". It makes me feel better about missing things. I know there may never be a "next time", but then again, life is so random that maybe there will be...) On the other hand, you cannot see "everything" anyway. So letting the transport situation do the triage for you is not necessarily a bad thing.

Anyway, our objective today was Mesta, perhaps the most famous of the south's fortified villages.

These settlements, from time immemorial, have produced "mastic". This is a unique resinous gum, with a variety of uses, and it was such a prized product that it was attracting pirate raids as early as the 6th century.

During the Genoan period (1364-1566), these attacks proliferated, and the mastic-producing villages were fortified. Solid towers, a minimum of entry points, and a tortuous network of narrow streets (many of them vaulted) all contributed to impregnability -- which not only served to deter the pirates, but also allowed the rulers to keep tight control over mastic production...



We established yesterday that we could get to Mesta on the bus (a different type of bus from the local one we'd taken to Karyes).

Now, I'm loath to be sniffy, as it's REALLY good that these services exist at all. But the timings, it has to be said, are a pain.

To get to Mesta, you have three options. Nigel flat-out refused to take the 05.30 (so unsporting). The 14.00 is pretty useless for a day trip, because it takes an hour to get there, and the last bus back is at 15.10. So, perforce, you take the 11.00, making the whole endeavour a little more rushed than you would ideally want it to be.

The journey is stunning, though. You wind your way up more of these classic Greek mountain-sides, which start terraced and tawny and olive-studded, and grow stonier as they rise. The views open out ever wider as you climb. We went past old windmills, and through two other fortified villages: Pyrgi, which is famous for the geometric designs that decorate its houses, and Olympi.




Mesta immediately qualifies as well fortified...








It's also really pretty, and is obviously a tourist draw-card. But once again we were surprised at how quickly we could shake off the crowds, who mostly gather at the eating-places on the square, and radiate out just a couple of streets from there. In the rest of the village, you pretty much have the charm to yourself.






In a charm league of their own are Mesta's cats and baby birds...





If we had realized the bus stopped at Olympi (it wasn't marked on the timetable), we would have got out there, and walked to Mesta, along the well-defined track. There was nothing stopping us doing the walk in reverse, however, and I'm very glad we did.

You go past ancient wells, the chapel of Agios Antonios, terraced slopes, and groves of olive and mastic. The cicadas ring in your ears, the air is full of butterflies, and every plant seems to be an aromatic herb.






We didn't have time to look much at Olympi's tightly packed streets, as we had to be ready to pick up the bus on its way back through from Mesta. We actually caught it at the tail end of its route TO Mesta, and thus benefited from a free excursion back to the village, and on to the port, a few minutes down the road, before setting out on our homeward journey.


The return trip was a little weird, as we had to swap onto a bus that was apparently plying a different route. The advantage, though, was that we got to see a bit more of the scenery in the southeast.

When we got back, we discovered someone had come into our little flat to change the bedding and empty the bins. We've grown wholly used to a "no-service", sort-yourself-out type of arrangement, and didn't realize this would be happening. If we had, we'd have washed up, tidied up, and not left our laundry drying in the bedroom...

Instead of which, I feel a bit like a home-alone teenager whose parents came back a bit early. Ah well...