The Castle at Archangelos

Just down the hill from Malona, on the coast, sits the rather touristy town of Archangelos. Above it looms a mammoth castle, and on a moody, mercurial day, Ria and I parked and scaled the grassy and rocky hill to it, crossing a wire fence on the way. (When the German women we met declared that the fence must be meant for goats not people, we agreed. Germans are not notorious lawbreakers, after all.) It was a bit of a scramble, over rocks and through fields scattered with spiky plants (painful for Ria in her flip flops), past horned goats and over piles of rubble. And all so worth it — the magnificent view, the grandeur of the space, the commanding feeling of being in such a defensible position. As we started to descend, a massive rain storm soaked us, and left the rocks glittering in the patches of sun streaming through holes in the clouds.