Day one: I'm carsick, angry, tired and frustrated at the same time. The map is a piece of crumbled paper. We don't speak with each after an outburst of emotions, but we both agree that we hate this island.
What happened? Very simple, we tried to pay a visit to the Sfendoni Cave, but instead we paid tribute to the God of Anger by getting lost in the mountain roads. We experienced what the tough economic times really mean in practical terms: Road signs and village names are a luxury the state of Greece can't afford right now. Nobody speaks English and even a roaming goat would be of more help. I shout: "The Sfendoni Cave can -beep- itself, if it, in fact, does exist! Which I doubt!" So we turn around, only to get the feeling we did not, because each village we drive through looks the same as the one before. Are we going in circles? I don't care anymore. Two hours later we tell our story to Barbara who reminds us to ask her first, before driving anywhere, okay?
Day two: Equipped with a piece of paper, on which is written "ξηνλαιο ζυενδονι πώς δα πάω" - which way to the Sfendoni Cave? We pack several bottles of water and a map that is flattened again into our car to hit the mountain road. All willpower and the belief that our day one offerings to the mighty God of Anger must have calmed the waves. Or the curves in the road. After more than an hour of turning left, turning right we reach a small village, show the piece of paper and get directions that lead us to the parking place in front of the Sfendoni Cave. After a bit of waiting time we get our guide to lead a group of tourists into the cave. We get a lot of useful information but not much time to study the various forms and sculptures created by water and time. Stalagmites and stalactites reach out to each other, waves are petrified and sometimes it appears as if people, animals or things are covered underneath layers of calcium carbonate. I spot a man, lying on his back and holding a skull in one of his hands. The guide shows us the face of Sokrates. There are some kind of cave animals, the biggest is the bat and the smallest a cave scorpion that has the size of half a rice corn and no tail. I snap a picture of that little creature after the guide highlights it with a flashlight. The cave is well protected from tourists trying to break a little souvenir. It is smaller, but better lit than the Melidoni Cave. The Rough Guide writes: Local legend has it that the cave was discovered by an eight-year-old girl who, lured by away by fairies , was later found dead in its darkest recesses.
Check out the pictures and tell me if you think it was worth the trip.