Frangokastello to Matala

In the morning it was raining cats and dogs. We debated staying another day but in the end decided to get going, after all we'd visited the castle as that was about the sum of Frangokastello. We had a very wet drive to Matala, which we'd been warned by the Frasers was the ultimate dump but the Wharton's had said that it might be worth a look because of the hippy caves. The drive was not much fun with minimal visibility yet again, but we stopped at Spili in the hills. Despite the dismal weather it had a nice air. It is a national holiday today 'Ohi' (no) day When the Greeks celebrate the day they had told Mussolini to .... Off.  There was not much sign of it being a bank holiday except this man who we met in the cafe in Spili. We were pleased we were friend, not foe!

On arrival in Matala, at the Dimitrios Hotel our hearts sank, and we wished we were anywhere else. People were loitering outside smoking fags, people shouting and babies screams from open windows. Our room was the worst we'd ever been offered, bare light bulbs, only cold water, and pillows made of cement (seemingly) Being Brits we just put our best foot forward and set off for town and bought me a pacamac and had a mosey around. Matala came to fame in the 60s as it has a spectacular beach surrounded by caves where lots of hippies lived. Eg, Kat Stevens and Eric Clapton amongst others. It does not seem to have moved on at all and now just looks run down and seedy. Our hotel was still as bad when we returned, so we went out for supper at a taverna nearby, where the owner's family had obviously been having the day off, in situ. There were children everywhere either watching the telly or playing games on their iPads and chaos reigned, but in spite of this our host, Antonio, BBQ'd us the most delicious chicken and pork steaks.