I woke slowly and peered at my watch. Seven thirty. During the rest of that night I woke several times unable to find deep sleep. Tired of changing position over and over again, until eventually I just lay there on my luxurious mattresses and gradually became immersed in the wonder of the stillness and absolute glory of the night above my head. And then something happened. I was brought to my wide-eyed, unbelieving senses by something I will never forget. It was the sudden appearance of the biggest and brightest shooting star that I have ever seen, silently streaking and arcing a golden tail right up through the sky like some frightening celestial firework display. Then, in what seemed like a nanosecond, the show was over and all was still again. What a truly remarkable, astonishing spectacle, and when I crawled back inside my bag, I no longer cared whether I slept or not. I was in shock.

I met him meandering along the highway towards Arkassa. He'd stopped to have a pee when I caught up with him. We made eye contact and he looked a little cautious until I asked him if I could pat his head and when didn't move, I did, and he didn't seem to mind at all. I named him, 'Fleabag'.

We walked together like old friends and if I stopped to look at something, he'd stop and wait until I caught up again then walk on ahead. Once I stopped to have a drink of water from my bottle and he waited, watching so intently, I had to pour some into my hand for him to drink. He lapped it up greedily and was so thirsty he almost drained my bottle. At one point he disappeared in the scrub, rootled about, then reappeared and presented me with a white plastic sandal. I snatched it out of his jaws and threw it as far as I could into the distance. Like a really good chum he retrieved it, dropped it at my feet and waited anxiously for me to fling it again, which I did. This became our game as we walked and played towards the turn-off for the 'big town' where I expected he would make his boundary, and he did - all over the front tyre of a parked bicycle - but he didn't stop there, he came with me along the road as far as a playground and that's where he turned off and went for a sniff out of sight. I carried on up the hill as far as Bikkie's and just before I got to the door, Fleabag reappeared at my side, trust and friendship without doubt or fear.

  Walking each day from bed camp to Arkassa was just right for healthy exercise in between yogic lounging. Its sunset and I smile at the 14 year old girlies sitting on the wall displaying their feathers and strutting about. The boys play in the mud and don't even notice. A cat with only three paws has just limped by, and talking of cats, I have never known such a town for incomplete cats, mostly with one eye missing but some totally blind. And I keep finding dead things on my walks, petrified mice and birds or dead stiff cats, even a snake, but the flies are very much alive here and this morning, sharing a paddock, a beautiful donkey, a golden goat and a heron. Oh yes, my head is flaking and it always happens so next time, don't give the cream away. Peeno: I'm hungry. From inside a taverna there's the sound of a the violin and a cracked old voice singing a traditional Arkassaan melody. I'm enjoying speaking the odd word or phrase and being understood but sometimes I'd rather dance. I walked into the town square and it was full of men sitting in the kafeneia or just sitting and creating a buzz of Greek humanity. Everything seems in order so I have moved now to my final stop before my last walk home.

I am sitting at a table in the Petaluda garden waiting for a dish of kalamari and salad. Mediterranean food suits me. I have been known to eat with my eyes closed and, after a swallow, a sigh, fingers and beard fragrant with the joy of lemon juice and fish. The table top is zinc but it's also purple, as is the sky - royal purple. Through the window from the kitchen the chef asks me if I still want kalamari and a small salata. Delighted with the dream, I laugh and nod enthusiastically. And my dinner arrives. A masterpiece of flavours rests on my plate. I close my eyes and let the aromas rise from zinging local salad, the hot kalamari in batter, warm bread and cold Retsina, and they always charge the same nominal fee, always the same, and I can't believe they do this for profit.

I spoke to a man who has lived here for three years and I told him I wanted to move to Arkassa too. He made two strong points. "First, find someone who knows Greek the Greek but not a Greek. They will cheat you. Second, don't buy at first, rent for a minimum of one year with an option. You don't just buy the house, you buy the neighbours, the community." Sound advice from Valter.

Afterwards, I return to the Petaluda for my nightcap and chat with another waiter as I ordered Ouzo. When I wanted to leave there was no one to take my money so after waiting a polite while I wandered into the garden restaurant to pay the waiter there but he was busy eating and indicated I could pay some other time.

My bedcamp will be waiting on the coast. I wander along until I meet a goat track splitting to the left and there I walk and stumble watching the stars all over the sky with dear Fleabag making an appearance out of nowhere and still with that unsure look in his eye as I reach down to pat and stroke him. Just before the turning down to Finiki, he fades into shadow. Maybe he's heard those cats before.

A blustery west wind raised my expectations of perhaps another drink while watching the sea crash and splash against the moonlit rocks with some Rembetika on my Dictaphone - real pleasures. But when I arrived at O Nikos and flopped into a seat, grateful for the rest, and ordered a refreshing Ouzo nightcap, the owner/waiter brought me an ouzo miniature and that, along with the look on his face, told me he was closed. I apologised and left.