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Published: August 12th 2006
I am at a beach in Karpathos Greece. Sitting on my rented beach chair, with my calloused feet hanging over the side. The tiny gold pebbles chip away at the poor paint job on my toes- an attempt to cover up six months of travel dust. Overhead hangs a blue sky, exactly the type you would imagine present in Greece, and in front of me the Aegean waves rejoice that they have met their destiny ashore. Griff says something about being in a Corona commercial and I laugh lamely, as all of my strength- even to speak- has been pulled from my body and replaced my a Mediterranean warmth.
Greece is one of the few places we have gone into with stereotypes and visions of what it would hold. The Greek immigration into America over the past few generations has allowed us the opportunity to familiarize ourselves with the county's cuisine and some of its culture. We've all seen the movie, "My Big Fat Greek Wedding", and though the Greeks tend to be full of personality, we have yet to come across a single soul using Windex for anything other than cleaning the salty sea mist from their glass
Golden Athens
We walked to the tıp top of a hıll overlookıng Athens and just before sunset the sky opened up for usstorefronts. Greece has lived up to our expectations and fallen nothing short of beautiful.
Getting into Greece was quite a journey- over twenty-four hours on a train from Romania without Air Conditioning or any other travel comforts, with one exception; good company. About an hour out of our point of embarkation in Romania, our train added on some cars and we moved to our sleeper car. Griff scoped out the scene beforehand and came back to my seat with news that "two big sweaty guys are sprawled out in our area".
"Shoot! Let's hope they don't smell too bad." I replied.
We lugged our packs through the train's very narrow hallways until we reached the car with our seat numbers on it. Sure enough, two big sweaty men were filling it up already. We knocked and they hustled to get their stuff arranged so that we too could be accommodated in the tiny space. We awkwardly introduced ourselves with feigned delight to see them, and they cheerfully introduced themselves as "Nick" and "Nick". That was about the end of any awkwardness in our miniscule, moving home. Nick times two turned out to be double the laughs and
Greek Statue
We found thıs vacant statue column and had to put ıt to use! we all effortlessly shared snacks and stories with them until they disembarked in Athens, where Nick#1 was to visit his family who lived a few hours away, and Nick#2 would enjoy his holiday from "Uni" (that's how those Brits say "university") enjoying the benefits of being friends with a Greek. Nick the Brit and Nick the Greek ended up not smelling at all, really- not even the slightest. We talked about the cultural differences of our three countries, economics, politics, and when our minds were really numb from the heat we talked about almost nothing and laughed. Strange how close you can become to other human beings when you are trapped with them in a small space. I recall falling in love with my husband in the same way- one, twenty-four hour road trip and a fuzzy poster later, I was had. Those of you, who know the story, can remember how that trip changed my life. Good things-like love and friendship-can come out of close quarters and long distances.
Athens was great- the Acropolis was fantastic- another Greek image that in real life is exactly as imagined. Every time I saw a sign that read, "Acropolis" I sang
the word in my best mysterious yet "rappa" voice to the tune of Wyclef's song, "Apocalypse". I don't have the rapping part down yet, but I'll work on it. The less fun, but still very adventurous part of our stay in Athens was our accommodations. We stayed in the windowless basement of a backpacker's hotel. The room was jammed full of ten bunks and there were no lockers. (I think a thief figures that anyone staying here is broke anyways.) They charged fifteen Euro a night per person (about $18.00 US), which was a steal compared to what else was available in Athens. When I kindly asked the receptionist for the "most economical option", he answered dryly, "That would be the basement- no windows- we call it the dungeon."
"We'll take it!” was our enthusiastic reply.
After Athens, we were off with great anticipation for the Greek Islands- our first stop being Santorini.
You know Santorini because you have seen it in almost every photograph of Greece that is not of the Acropolis...whitewashed houses and blue domes? Yes, I knew it would come to you! The accommodations in Santorini did involve a window, two in fact, as well as
Nick times twosay goodbye at the train station
Parting is such sweet (and strangly un-smelly)sorrow! Nick-the-Greek on the left and Nick-the-Brit on the right- Two super cool fellas! our own bathroom and air conditioning! The ferry boat there was a cultural lesson in and of itself. When the boat arrived at the dock, travelers raced aboard to secure their own space. Griff and I hauled to the second deck of the ship and found ourselves two benches to hunker down on and make our own for the next ten hours, (hopefully sleep-filled). We pulled out our sleeping bags and joined forces with a group of women about my age, in making a stronghold out of plastic chairs to guard against squatters. Our plan worked but only for a short while. You see, the same night we were to travel the glassy seas of the Aegean, France and Italy were to go head to head for the title of the World Cup. Soccer is not such a big deal in The States, but to European and many Latin countries it is HUGE- think Super Bowl times ten. On our ferry boat were two large groups of both French and Italians, and the game was being broadcast in the downstairs lounge. At the end of the game, we witnessed the dramatic World Cup aftermath...people were drunk with excitement and gratification.
The Italians screamed and waved their flag as they sang Italy's national anthem. The French appeared as though their country had just been bombed. They had solemn, sober faces despite their game-time consumption. Many were crying, and I don't just mean shedding a tear or two, they were actually weeping- wailing in fact! Needless to say, it was not the breezes on the outside deck that kept us awake that night, but the celebrations and lamentation of the Europeans. Eventually we snuck in a few hours of shut-eye, our sleeping bags enveloped around us.
On our actual arrival into Santorini we were welcomed by the small hotel owner that we had made our reservations through, and he drove us to our home for the next four days. Santorini is a very squished little place. Everything is right up next to each other. The owner told us that we were one minute from town, but that seemed impossible from how everything was situated. We followed his directions around the corner, and there it was! A beautiful, stunningly-white village with ancient looking windmills on its hills, and blue adobe domes scattered throughout. Santorini is actually built around the edge of a
volcano ledge, better known in Greece as the "Caldera". Looking out over the sea, we could clearly see how the island was a part of a gigantic ring of land. Many think that this is what's left of the lost island of Atlantis. It's land mass is a cylinder shape, and it is surrounded by the sea, just as described in literature. Perhaps there is some findings behind the claim and perhaps its just hype, regardless, Santorini is a vision of a town.
We ended up renting a scooter for two days of our stay on Santorini. We frolicked from one beach to the next- one with sand the color of soot, another the color of a deep burn. We putted through twisty side streets and ended our day with the sunset in Oia, a small town on the northernmost point of the island, where lovers from every corner of the globe gather to watch the sunset while interlocking fingers with their partner. We probably would have driven that little scooter until sunrise, over the volcanic hills of Santorini and under the exploding stars of a Greek sky, but regretfully we had to return the bike to its rightful
Santorını Dome
Home to many a lazy cat...check ıt out on the roof! owner.
We had chatted earlier with two gentlemen from South Africa who were staying at the same place we were. We ended up eating dinner together in our little room that the owners passed off as an "apartment". We supped potluck-style as they brought cheese, crackers, salami, and juice to the table and we supplied a very humble dish I have dubbed, "Nothing Like Mom's Spaghetti". Griff and I have learned so much about counties that we have never been to by making friends from various parts of the globe. This friendship was no exception! We shamefully know very little about Apartheid and its affects on an entire country, but thanks to Paul and Paul (yes! another dynamic duo who share a singular strong name) we now know a little more and think we have a direction for our next big trip.
Santorini is not a place that calls one into adventure or any sort of activity that would work up a sweat. We spent most of our time reading, lounging, sleeping, and at the beach. Yes, life in Greece is burdensome.
I had always thought that the Greek Islands were relatively close to each other, maybe
I don't wanna pıckle....
I just wanna rıde my motorcıcle.
I don't wanna dıe!
I just wanna rıde my motorcy.....cle. a few hours by boat. On a map they are merely a fingernail's width apart, but it appears that I was wrong. Our next island hop was to a much less touristy and much quieter island called Karpathos. This ferry trip took about fourteen hours, though we got a decent amount of sleep due to a lack of football (a.k.a. "soccer") fans aboard. Again we were met by our friendly hotel owner, this time named Elias (thus the name of his business, "Elias Rooms" painted in bright red gigantic letter amidst the town's totally white walls.) The man was born in the very home which he now rents rooms in. A jolly fellow, who "For God's sakes, I don't want to take sides, but this bombing going on in Israel and Lebanon has got to stop! I don't want to talk about politics, but for God's sakes..." Elias then continued to go on about exactly the thing he did not want to talk about- politics- interrupting when others attempted to contribute to his soliloquy. (Griff and I joked later that at least he was politically correct with his "God's sakes" saying- albeit, without knowing he was being inclusive of not
just one god, but many.)
Our second day in Karpathos, we rented a 4 Wheel Drive car that the Greeks pass off and advertise as a "Jeep".
"Cool! A Jeep." We thought, as the rental car owner pointed to a Suzuki Samurai.
"Ummm. THAT's not a Jeep!" we thought as we forked over the money and started her up. She endured the gravel bumpy roads regardless of her tinny twanging car doors and extra-loose gears. It wasn't the easiest to drive after six months of absence from behind the wheel of a car, but I managed the stick shift pretty well and we made it safely to the city of Olymbos. Olymbos is a Greek town that is stuck in a time warp. Their ways are simple, the woman still bake their bread in huge brick ovens outside and dress in traditional clothing. The men herd donkeys with heavy loads down the hillside, tend to the gardens, and fish out at sea. It was a religious holy day for the town's people when we visited, so there were fewer of them out and about, however there were also far less tourists as well, so we called it a wash.
Antoher Beautıful Beach
Thıs was one only reached by boat or 4WD On our way to and from Olymbos, we stopped at a couple of very out of the way beaches that could only be reached by boat or 4WD. I have never seen beaches so clean or water so clear! No one was shouting or even talking, the landscape was too sacred for that. We basked on the beach for hours, walking to the water's edge and wading in, then laying in the sand with the warm smooth stones under-body; warming up our insides. The waves rolling up the masses of perfectly rounded white rocks by the thousands- the sound of them spilling from the sea and then back again with each wave. The sun illuminating the ocean into a shade of blue that Crayola could make millions off of if only to capture it in a crayon. The cliffs behind us of sandy, light stone separated us from the world beyond. Filling our nose with the smooth smell of the Aegean sea; salty and fresh. After a few days of this, one can become wordlessly convinced that a return to the Greek Isles might not be a bad idea...not bad at all...
And this is where my story begins-
Photos wıth Paul and Paul
Taken outsıde of out ''hotel'' room ın Santorını what i wrote in the beginning- where we are now, sitting on a painstakingly beautiful beach. Our float through Greece marked exactly six months of being on the road. It is a very appropriate place to celebrate a new sort of anniversary for us, though it felt more like a Honeymoon thanks to our surroundings.
Six months; the half-way mark! Within those six months abroad, so much has happened that we have not been witness to back home. Our close friends, Adam and Amy Long are expecting their first child before we even get back! My sister has a new beau. My students are no longer in elementary school, and have moved on to being Middle Schoolers! Our dear friends John and Julia Cho actually took a trip to our hometown without us able to be their tour guides! It is a sometimes saddening sacrifice; removing ourselves from loved ones and their histories in the making. We lament the absence of many in our lives. However, these losses are met by new discoveries- of our world and of ourselves. We have already changed in so many ways. I looked in the mirror the other day and took a double
take- I almost didn't see me, not the me I thought I was looking for.
As much as Griff and I make the necessary adjustments to the ever evolving "us", we know that many of these changes won't necessarily be understood or accepted back home. There are the little things like pinning back my hair in a lumpy ponytail every day, wearing the same shirt six days in a row, or sleeping through the alarm clock by several hours...yes these things regretfully will need to change. However there are things, places, people, situations that now weigh heavily on our hearts. We feel obligations to action that we had not felt before. The way that we spend and distribute our money will need to be re-evaluated. We have made promises to people and to ourselves that we intend to keep, their fruition won't come with the life we had before.
Greece in particular has not been inspiration to many "deep" conversations between Griff and me. The other evening I had jus tfinished reading a book about a guy from the Ukraine and his fictional pet penguin. Upon completing the book, Griff and I had a chat that went something
like;
"I wish I had thought to write a book about a pet penguin." I began.
"Ya. Me too, that would have been a good idea." Griff responded while staring at the dusky sky.
" Lloyd is like a penguin."
"Yes, Lloyd is like a penguin. Maybe we should make him into a penguin for Halloween."
"Ya! Good idea Griff."
"It would be easy, we could just make some flippers for his front legs, because they are already short. He already really looks like a penguin, we would hardly have to do anything."
"But, he already has a hot-dog outfit that looks pretty good on him."
"Ya. You're right. Hey, did we give the hot dog outfit to your parents?" (My parents are pet-sitting our dog, Lloyd while we are away.)
"Ya. They have it."
"Hmmmm, maybe we should remind them of how much he likes to wear it around."
"Yes. Maybe we should."
"It'd probably be easier to get a penguin to act like Lloyd, than Lloyd to act like a penguin anyways."
"I think you’re right."
Seriously folks, that was a real conversation between my husband and I! We have not been founts of wisdom during this leg of the journey. The thing is this though; we might not be conversing about our future or debating on how to bring about world peace, but these things are definitely present in our individual thoughts. The things that we have been witness to which have changed our lives are the things that on occasion need to be mulled over silently (maybe even while laying on a beach in Greece), before beginning in again with conversation. A vacation from our thoughts? Not exactly, just a vacation from the intense conversation that Griff and I love to wear ourselves out with. Romania's wounded are still fresh in our hearts. The orphans are a running movie in my mind, and the intermissions from their story are short. Many other experiences follow us as well, constantly reminding us that our "conversation vacation" must not last too long.
that I would be good even if I did nothing
that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds
that I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
that I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
that I would be great if I was no longer queen
that I would be grand if I was not all knowing
that I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingy
"That I Would Be Good" -Alanis Morissette
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Manuela!!!!
non-member comment
Hey Mrs!!!!
ITS SO PRETTY OVER THERE!!!