Fodele

Saturday 8^th November

We drove Ian and Julia to Heraklion Airport to catch their 2pm flight home to England via Athens and having said our goodbyes set off for the northern village of Fodele, the birthplace of ‘El Greco’.  We discovered a nice little village located a few kilometres off the main highway between Herklion and Rethymno.  

We drove through the leaf strewn centre, something we guess we would be unable to do in the seaon when the village will be full of tourists, to park by a large taverna.  Most of the tavernas and a couple of gift shops were still open. As we got out of the car we decided we would have lunch in the taverna.  We saw a table had been set out for around 30 people but apart from a couple aimlessly wandering around the taverna tables set out overlooking the stream there was no-one else in sight.  Keith asked the man if they were open, as we assumed they were the owners.  They turned out to be the couple who were hosting the party!  The taverna was indeed open and we chose a table in the sunshine right by the window where we could watch 3 lambs being cooked on individual rotating spits all turned by a series of gears over charcoal, the smell being wonderful.  Guests began to arrive as well as more people to eat and we wondered if the place was open all year as inside also looked very inviting.  

Our meal of lamb chops finished we took a stroll along the nature trail following the stream and passing an assortment of wooden seating made out of the tree stumps, a pen of goats and sheep, orange groves, and everywhere an abundance of morning glory, some of it trailing over tree branches arching the stream.

 

Across stepping stones the path narrowed and then returned to the large cobble stones similar to those we had already walked along.

 

 

We decided to return to the village where old ladies were sat outside their shops, one in particular having a siesta by her open door.  As we passed I took a quick glance inside and saw just the one room downstairs with a ladder leading to the upper floor. One lady tried her best to get me to look as her embroidered linen. Further along the street was a couple of concrete bridges over the stream, the latter one leading to the museum relating to ‘El Greco’ and also to a Byzantine Church, the roof of which we had spotted in the orange groves on our way in.  

  We didn’t venture any further and returned to the car only to be asked by the old lady again if we wanted to buy oranges or honey!  She failed to get us to part with any money!