Tourist traps and a school mural

The whole south-east coast seems to be one long string of holiday cottages, the town with the exotic name of Ierapetra turns out to be remarkably like Brighton.

But 'Petra' sounds like 'Peter', maybe from the same root as lat. 'petrus', stone, I guess iera means something too, but there was no-one to ask ...

However even the Brighton of Crete has its redeeming features: as I draw up to park near the centre, I see through the pouring rain an absolutely charming mural painted on the wall - I simply have to go and investigate. Turns out it's a proto skoleio - primary school to you and me - there are a few kids still there at 4 pm, asking "what's your name?", though neither they nor the two adults who are looking after them have any real English; the one a gentle but harassed male teacher who has stayed behind as a leisure-time leader, the other a cleaning lady with two teen-age daughters, all delightfully interested in the foreigner who's interested in those funny paintings, but quite unable to be helpful. They get hold of someone on the phone, apparently an English teacher, but we don't reach a deep enough degree of understanding for the contact to be meaningful.

Shame, I really wanted someone to send me a photo. I got the address, and I'll try writing, of course. For the time being you get the drawing I made at home from the sketch I made at the time: in the pouring rain I only got about a quarter of it: the rest includes a mountain view, a team of folk-dancers, a player of the Cretan lyra, a minotaur (the minotaur maybe?), a galley under oar and sail and a scene from classical antiquity.