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Published: October 23rd 2012
Boat, plane, train, taxi, bus. On paper and in a straight line, Hydra to Hania on Crete isn't overly daunting. In practice it's a full day of backsliding from one form of transport to another.
Neither did the three hour bus portion from Araklio airport to Hania inspire. The drive itself is simple enough but scenically it is a mix of sun baked drab land, urban sprawl and a dappling of unkempt coastal hamlets on the wrong side of appealing.
Then there was the final 1 klm trudge from the bus station through the urban mediocrity of "New Hania", hangdog expressions ingrained on our faces. Following which:
Pay-dirt as we slid into the Old Town of Hania. Kind of walled in parts, the whitewashed facades banished and replaced by glorious stone buildings in assorted varieties of creak and the ubiquitous narrow, traffic free laneways snaking down to a port lined with tavernas cocooned into what little space is available.
The cherry on top on arrival at our pension?
"Would you mind if I upgrade you to my apartment? For the same price of course".
"Well if you twist our arms".
A homely 4 level
Paddingtonesque unit, more antiques than the Acropolis Museum and a rooftop terrace overlooking the town, a few doors down from Greece's only church with a turret AND a minaret (a throwback to Turkish occupation). The down side, a little too close to those church bells during nanna nap and four flights back down to the spoon you forgot for your breakfast fruit salad and yoghurt on the terrace.
On the cusp of the Old Town, our wee home away from home sat one block from a plaza patronised by real Cretans. Lining that plaza is the aforementioned church and a swathe of cafes and bars. The locals here are mix of Hania's university hipster armada, families and elder Crete statesmen playing backgammon and chewing the fat in voices wheezing with the initial stages of emphysema. Greeks know how to smoke. This week had languid tattooed all over it's forehead.
Did somebody say food? Its the sort of stock grandma used to plate up, if grandma happened to be Greek. (As a toddler I had to settle for haggis - sheep entrails blended with oatmeal and onions. Tastes as good as it sounds). My favourite local speciality was the
oven roasted rabbit, noshed down in a tiny taverna in an equally tiny village on Crete's isolated south coast. (Yes Bugs Bunny fans, it was wabbit season).
Following a main you will invariably be offered some traditional Crete dessert. The closet gourmand had outed. Then the host will proffer:
"Try some of this Sir":
If you are partial to all the layers of your top palate, try and find a polite way to decline a shot of raki. Enough said.
At the end of a meal, you recline in your seat to an angle of about 60 degrees and pat the ever increasing mid rift, which if it had a voice would be purring like a Hydra cat. That extra inch or so was a wake up call that a hint of exercise wouldn't be out of line.
Cleaved into the mountainous interior of Crete is Europe's longest gorge. Samaria Gorge crawls 16 klms down to the Island's south coast and hiking it is touted as "an essential ingredient of the complete Crete experience".
It's a hike for all seasons although I imagine stifling hot in summer and on the frigid side in the
depths of winter. October - ideal. The hike is actually fairly routine, the entire 16 clicks being either downhill or flat, unless you decide to do it in reverse. Fitness wise it shouldn't be an issue. Would-be trekkers with knee issues may have to consider whether discretion is the better half of valour as the steep downhill phases can give the lower joints a going over.
At trail end, a pebbly beach awaits with the Med's soothing waters. The whole scene overlooked by a brace of tavernas. Take your time, there's no rush as the sole ferry boat ferrying the hikers back to the "real world" ups anchor at 5.30 pm. This is an all day affair.
Time now to get down and dirty to what really makes Crete tick - the people. The smiling warmth of the average local is infectious. They are proudly Cretan but equally proud to be Greek. AND, they don't take themselves too seriously. There's nothing overly mercantile in the manner they conduct business because in the end all they want is a simple, hassle free way of life which they love to share with visitors. How's that for a broad brush.
That simple life is now somewhat under threat and a window into the current plight was found via a conversation with a lovely young waitress.
Through her enquiries she presented a fact without stating the fact - she's exploring the option of abandoning ship and Australia is at the top of her priority list. The line of questions mostly centred around visas, work availability and rates of pay. She seemed encouraged by the ball park figures we were throwing about. That was until I tossed in:
"Before TAX".
Did anybody else hear the needle scratch across the record, a glass smash in the background followed by a stunned silence and every Greek head turning in our direction?
The woman in question looked like the proverbial deer stuck in the headlights.
Income tax may be a concept the Greeks are vaguely familiar with but surely nobody has to actually pay it. This nation has a love affair with folding hard currency, right down to car rental, and there's no way they will allow;
"the government's grubby hands near our hard earned euros".
Is this Greek primal instinct the co-architect of its current financial dilemma
as it prepares for the end game Dodge City showdown with the EU?
Enough already with the back seat economic hypotheses.
Another fabulous week has been placed in the cue rack courtesy of this wonderful, earthy island. I've also pushed out an entire blog without a single reference to the obvious pun of "Con from Crete". Sheer willpower readers.
Yeatesy
Crete may not be the island to win a "beauty" contest, but after digging a little deeper, you would have to say it is a "beauty"...mate.
Where Athens and Hydra left implanted in my memory the feisty waiters we encountered, Crete will go down in my memory as the place where the taverna owners smother you with their hospitality.
Take Dimitri for example. In his late 50's with a head of thick black curly hair, matching moustache, wearing a singlet exposing his thick hairy chest, arms, neck and back. He is the taverna owner on the outskirts of a nondescript mountain village who greeted us swinging his hips and dancing up to the table to greet us and take our order. We had only stopped to take in the view of his
Loutro
Crete's south Coastolive trees and have a coffee and orange juice ( Crete has soooooo many orange trees, the juice is cheap). We were adorned with a plate of walnuts and chestnuts freshly picked from his garden and a demonstration from Dimitri on how to crack the shells. Him yelling and swearing in Greek each time we would attempt to copy him and fail.
We finally got our coffee and juice but it was followed by a bowl of green peaches, surprisingly scummy, some oranges from his trees, and two shots of pink raki. Rocket fuel. Regardless of the fact that we arrived by car and would be venturing on our way after this stop by car, we could not escape without the raki ritual. Down the gullet, minus our teeth enamel and 5 euro for all and sundry.
Dimitri was not a lone example, this hospitality was everywhere in Crete. The Cretans are a happy, friendly and extremely hospitable island of Greeks, half of them either have lived in Australia at some time, or have relatives there today.
Giorgios, his picture is on our blog. In fact he has these cards printed to proudly hand to his customers.
Again, in an attempt for a small purchase, in this case a gift for my father turning 85 next month. I thought some local olives and sweets would be a nice touch. Giorgios, again with full Cretan hospitality had us in his store for close to an hour sampling his honey, sesame seeds coated nuts, hand cream etc etc. He also was such a character with an infectious tale to tell. The Greeks also don't mind getting to the point. How old are you? How long you in Greece. What job you do, how much you get paid, and on and on the questions come.
If I wasn't born in Australian, I could swear I had some Greek blood in there somewhere.
Penny
More images at:
www.colvinyeates.zenfolio.com
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Robert
non-member comment
Intriguing history, amazing beaches, world-class hotels
I love visiting Crete, especially a bit off season, when it's much less crowded, but the weather's still great. There's a lot of truly relaxing, world-class hotels. You can find the best deals on sites that aggregate offers, such as holidare.com.