I consume all this at an outside table overlooking the quaint little harbor while overhearing a heated argument on the respective merits of baseball and pesaepallo, a Finnish game of considerable similarity. I spend over quarter of an hour here before picking up some licorice and departing. Through the village, unchanged for generations, with lowly huts on small hills, sheep contained by traditional brushwood fences, over an ancient stone bridge. And the road gets worse. Now it also gets loose and dusty.
Downhill curves are treacherous and there is little traction going up the steep sections.
Another village store, where I stop to consume liquids for a while. This is a typical major highway, i.e. two narrow lanes and no shoulder. First I turn south to check out a gas station but it is such a pitiful affair that I continue northwards without stopping. I am feeling hot and sweaty and my swollen feet are now aching badly. The road has quite pronounced hills because it goes across ridges left behind by retreating ice some 10,000 years ago.