A lemon tree of our own

...but then again, too few to mention

If you think that there haven't many stories about Chania on this blog recently, you are not wrong. And that is because we feel like we've barely been there in 2008. In fact, between January and the end of September this year, we've spent as many days away as we have at home.

And that is part of the reason that we have decided to move on. Sadly this is to be the last entry on 'A lemon tree of our own'.

We left London just under 3 years ago for an adventure around Europe, and to try our hand at living abroad. Our initial journey went through Spain, Qatar, Germany, the Czech Republic, Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, Italy, and finally to Greece. We found our flat, and set up a new home, armed only with our backpacks.

We moved again later on when I had some work in Austria, and lived just outside Salzburg for 6 months, then came back to Chania. We've also visited Macau, Miami, Dortmund, Barcelona and Amsterdam along the way. But now it is time to head back home to the UK, and finish the blog.

By the end of October, we will be full-time Londoners again. I'll still be writing at currybetdotnet of course, and we'll still be posting our pictures on Flickr.

We'd both like to say thanks to everyone who has read the blog or got in touch with us about something to do with Chania and Greece. It has been an amazing adventure, with 3 wonderful years spending so much time together as a couple, and we've enjoyed sharing it with you on the web.

Καλή αντάμωση!

Not so much on the Plus side

One of Chania's least successful recent business ventures recently closed just down the road from us - Plus.

The land next to the old owl house was cleared during the winter, and this new shopping complex built. We missed the opening party in February because we were in London or Macau or Miami or somewhere. From the logo and branding we thought it might be some sort of DIY superstore. In fact, it was a Lidl clone, a supermarket with a seemingly random assortment of pile 'em high, knock 'em out cheap produce.

Anyway, it doesn't seem to have done the business, because when we came back from our last trip to Macau, Plus was firmly shut and abandoned.

The gossip is that another supermarket chain is going to take it over - but I wonder how many the local area can support. We already have the Champion-Carrefour-Marinopolis next door, and a brand new giant In.Ka and a Lidl within easy walking distance.

Fire! Fire! Pour on water! From a great height

This is one of the sights you never want to see in Greece - the fire-fighting helicopter thundering down your street.

Until it has made a return journey, and you can judge how far it traveled, you don't know how close the fire might be.

Which didn't worry the kids on our street, who were absolutely overjoyed when it appeared the other day, running down the road shouting and pointing and calling all their friends out to look. The helicopter was re-filling at our local beach, but fortunately the fire was some way away.

Crete has suffered some bad fires this summer, but so far nothing has been as bad in Greece as last summer's terrible devastation.

The helicopters themselves are a fearsome piece of engineering to carry that weight of water - they really are machines that give away how powerful they are with the noise that they make. Last year, whilst we were out and about at Agia Apostoli we got a really good view of one filling up in the sea. You could still really see it struggle to lift the water though.

As impressive as they are, hopefully we won't see them again this summer.

Dawn at Souda

A recent environmental report published in Greece suggested that 40% of rubbish and waste found in the Med was the result of smoking and the tobacco industry. I can well believe it.

On our ferry journey back to Chania, we got up at 5:15am and stood on one of the decks, to watch dawn creep over Souda Bay.

The view was only slightly spoiled by the constant ducking and weaving we had to do to dodge the ash and cigarette stubs raining down on us from the decks above, as people discarded them in the sea.