Perched on the side of mountains and cliffs that fall away into the sea, our home for 3 nights was the perfect place to do nothing. Because to go anywhere meant climbing stairs, and lots of them. We just hung out reading books, magazines, talking with the other travellers who had been put in our 7 person apartment about everything from politics(especially interesting with Americans, Aussies and a Chinese Masters student) to pizza, and from the future global economy to counting the reasons why the two American guys who had just flown in from Amsterdam were never, ever going back again (for a fourth visit). Call of the night goes to "Chinese Guy" (he told us his name, then told us not to try and pronounce it) when we got onto the topic of different political systems (both power structures and electoral processes), when he stood up with his tongue in his cheek and left the room to get some food, "we only have one party, so we don't have to worry about voting!".
Except for one day, when we felt obliged to do the 10km trail that visits the other four cliff-clinging villages (and for which the National Park is named after and best known). Four months of relative laziness takes it’s toll when climbing 368 stairs at a time, and although the views along the way were incredible, we would have run into the water at the finish if our legs would have allowed it.
Picture: Gasping for breath at the top of nearly 400 steps (not as young as we used to be)
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