I did the preparation for habitation, and K did the cessation of life business for the assorted invertebrate biota unlucky enough to be spotted by her.
The next day we took the new road past Pyrgos to the Bartholomio and Gastouni areas and ended up circumambulating the castle at Chlemoutsi (Frank-fans will know it as Clermont). We arrived just that little bit too late to be allowed entry, and there were no cheeky holes in the wall or fencing to let us in.
We then made tracks for Andravida, where the photographed curiosity stands. This is something I have read about loads and loads and has always been just that little bit too far away to go see for myself, so thanks to Jockey for acting as stimulus.
OK so it looks pretty humdrum and so so for the northern europeans who have the gothic style of architecture coming out of their ears, but for us this is a total anomaly. It is like totally out of its waters. We have a few more gothic structures built by those crazy crusaders back when the venetans were crafty and Zara was more than a brand of clothes. I have been to one, but there is one more to form the basis of a future expedition. But I digress.
I have learned the word for "key" in most of the balkan languages, having had to hunt down the often staid and prim but exclusively momnolingual old spinsters entrusted with the means of entering their locale's medieval building. In this case, quite beyond all expectation, the key was brought out to us by the keeper (FYI: the kiosk operator at the NE corner of the square to the south of the church) completely unprompted, so we had the opportunity to enter and walk around.
There's so much to say about this place - but maybe some other time when the oldfashioned prints come back, and I have scanned them, no?
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