and we're off again...

What do you do when a problem is bigger than you can handle? Do you play it like most people and just give up? It would seem the logical thing to do, the reasoning being somewhat straightforward. 'Well, no matter how much I do I can't really make an impact, so I won't bother'. Sound familiar? Here's a little story. A woman looks after stray cats, loves having them around. Late one morning a cat of hers starts giving birth. She hurriedly prepares a space for it, tends to the birth, looks after mother and kittens and then she throws every non-black kitten in a plastic bag and gasses them.

The moral of this story is obscure to me, but it's interesting to bear in mind that killing kittens at birth based on the colour of their coats can conceivably be for the greater good. If you can't afford to look after all of them then you need to have a reason for getting rid of some of them. The more arbitrary it is the better for your sanity.

The kitten-killer made her choice based on the practicalities, thinks collectively for the benefit of the group and the rules she lays down work.

'The rules she lays down work'. That they do, keeping a small animal paradise fenced in against the poisonings, the random dog pound round-ups and more often the general neglect. One can argue with how she cuts her cloth, could she feed more animals? Should she give each dog less space or more? That ignores the point. There's only one place cutting cloth at all on this island. Introducing Norlangos Animal Sanctuary.

After arriving in Greece from the UK I spent a week in Athens with Julia. Great fun at an awesome hostel, residence Pagration Hostel if you want to know. After much enjoyment thereof and having finally (after a good four years of trying) turned Julia on to the joys of the kebab we departed by ferry to the island of Syros, disporting merrily. The only thing I have to say about the ferry is that it was much like other ferries. Arriving in Hermopolis at night we were confronted by Greeks selling rooms with tatty photo albums. The lights of the city dispersed upwards into the enclosing mountains, looming shadows over the lazy seafront promenade. Breaking free of the crowd we encountered our ride, a New Zealander by the name of Carolyn who was taking a few months off from being wildly successful to look after stray dogs. Carolyn, we soon discovered, had taken to the unselfconsciously suicidal Greek style of driving, bringing us into a very close encounter with a lorry while careering round a sharp bend. This was, had we but known it, good preparation for our time at Norlangos.

Our host was a force of nature. The kind of lady who doesn't let anything get in the way. Conversation was an 'audience with...' and debate (debate?! Only if you were feeling brave/stupid - Julia) was a robust affair, starting and ending with compromise and none of it hers. So, as with taking car journeys with Greeks, your best bet is to hold on tight, eyes open if you dare.

Norlangos is a tight ship. It's swept, scrubbed, cleaned and raked, our host, 78, doing far more of this herself than she should rightfully be able to and is more disappointed at not being able to carry around 25kg food bags any more than anything else.

We both had our favourite dogs, you can't work there and not – the difference between me and Julia is wonderfully demonstrated by our respective choices.

Julia

Each week we would resolve that we wanted to adopt this dog or that one. I finally plumped for Domino – one of a pack of 4 setters (or something approaching setters) picked up as puppies from a box at the side of the road around a year ago. Domino has the sweetest nature; in a sanctuary full of 'alpha' and wannabe 'alpha' dogs, Domino was happy to be second during walks and didn't want to run off at a crazy speed, happily walking along beside us (something for which my shoulders were grateful). In a place where the dogs understandably don't get as much attention as dogs need/want, Domino was quiet and gentle, choosing to hug me (two front paws around my waist) rather than knock me over or forcibly clean me. Don't get me wrong, all that was fun too but such gentleness deserves to be looked after. The good news is that when we left the sanctuary, a setter shelter in England had just agreed to take all four dogs with a view to homing them. They won't be leaving for six months because of rules about vaccinations but there is reason to hope that soon after that, they'll be where they deserve.

J-P

A large and powerful mongrel that looks like a pedigree who loves nothing better than to be scary, bark, run around and generally shove people around with great enthusiasm. Some say she is a Boxer cross, some a Doberman cross; to me and to everyone else who has volunteered at Norlangos recently she is just Mabel. We developed a highly complex game whereby I defended territory and she attempted to outflank...who am I kidding, she's a dog. We ran around and made loud noises.

She greets you in the morning with a half-bark, not a 'woof!' but a 'wowowowowowowowoo!' Next time I'm down the pub do ask me to do my impression, it makes me look oh-so-as Dylan Moran once put it in a sketch 'I'm cool, I'm hip, I'm home with the downies.'. Possibly the best thing about Mabel is her almost supernatural ability to gauge the mood. Me and Mabel were playing our game one morning and I tripped and fell on my face. I was expecting to be over-run by outrageous amounts of mad dog, but all she did was sit down next to me and pant, occasionally licking my hand. Mabel is a great dog, the best. She also needs a home. Unfortunately, due to her size and the fact that Greeks hate dogs (not really, but they wouldn't take a fully grown mongrel into their home) she will probably never find one. It makes me sad that we are travelling.

We spent our time there fixing fences and being warned about non-existent hurricanes that would rip everything to shreds and experiencing flash floods that did, all good fun when you have effective waterproofs, which we did have before someone LEFT THE OTHER PERSON'S IN ATHENS, not that I hold a grudge...

It's over a month later now and having had some time to digest it's still upsetting to be leaving the island. We've made decent use of our time, criss-crossing it walking, taking a few photos, relaxing, we made sure to have a good swim too – although our last one was a bit blowy, we thought we really should get some December swimming in.

Back to England now, via a couple of days in Athens. The first year of our travels is drawing to a close. It's been fun, but we can do more, we can do better. Taking the ferry away in the dimming evening sun I'm melancholy but somewhat bouyed by the thought that Syros is going to be a really fulfilling place to miss. Here's a few more random photos of our time in Syros.

Oh the olives, I harvested a couple of trees worth but my attempt to preserve them was totally disasterous. I may write about this at some point. No, I won't. It's depressing to screw up food so badly.

Gotta have a bit of drama!

These people really like their walls. REALLY like their walls.

The last shot of Kini, where we stayed for our last month on the island.

Oh! The noble features of a hound alert to the needs of his master! Or in this case a dog chasing a fly...

Our time in Kini was much improved by the existance of Rabbi, the little kitten who we managed to feed up and socialise.

and finally...leaving the island we sat at the very back outside for the first couple of hours as Syros dissappeared from view. Thanks for the memories Syros, it was great!