Never a dull moment when with this Ya-Ya! I marveled at the difference between the other old battle ax and this one who is so happy and on the go. Her husband used to be a doctor with his practice in Nafpaktia, but he also looked after the people in the small villages who were mostly elderly, and she loved to accompany him. After his death she kept up his kindness, but as she was a very knowledgeable herbalist, she treated the people's afflictions with her own concoctions, and I wondered how many she has doctored into now residing six feet underground! But I soon realised that she really knew what she was doing, and the people had a great respect for her, and also loved her. We spent a lot of time on the road, and after I realised that she wasn't going to send the car with the three of us rolling down the mountain, I relaxed, and thoroughly enjoyed the excursions. While driving she told me the most amazing facts and stories about how life used to be in this small villages, and the one that really made me shudder a bit, is the one about murderers. Many years ago they believed that if a person was murdered, and his murderer never brought to justice, this person's soul would never be at peace, and he would rise at night and go around looking for his murderer to revenge his death. Such a ghost was called a Vrykolakas, and when he started getting out at night to wander around, I suppose scaring people to death, all the graves were opened up, and all the bodies that still had hair or nails, or havent't decomposed, was taken out, and the Priest would then do a solemn prayer. If this bodies did not immediately decompose, it was then either burned to nothingness, or the heart cut out and boiled in vinegar, and that they believe, should put the poor wandering ghost to rest! But for three years after there would still be regular prayers to keep the poor victim's soul at peace if there was still a wee spark left! She also showed me an empty and very sad looking house, where, she said, a woman called Amalia sat watching the road almost all day and all night for most of her life, awaiting the return of her runaway lover. It is still the practice in this small villages to fix marriages when children are small, and it used to work well, until the youngsters got more and more in contact with the civilised world and realised that they should have a choice. Poor Amalia was betrothed, but her beau went to America to seek his fortune, promising to return as soon as he could. He never did, and neither Amalia, nor his parents ever heard from him again, and so the poor girl sat year in and year out, waiting for her lost love to come back to her, until she had pined away completely. Sad! Then suddenly it was time to go home, and both the Ya-Ya and me were quite teary when we said goodbye. Even Ermioni, who had at long last decided that a laughing Ya-Ya was good fun, started to enjoy the holiday. Poor baby, so used to the doom and gloom of her battle ax granny that too much gayity quite unsettled her!