Greece: Day 4, or I eat a goat's head

Location: Sfakio/Loutro

This morning we left Matala and saw the ruins of Phaestos’ palace; checking out historical ruins has never really been my thing, but maybe it was good to inject some history into my Crete trip. I took a lot of pictures; even apathetic Alana was a bit impressed by the scale and the age of these ruins, which are four thousand years old and *huge*.

After that, we got some bad news - Samaria Gorge was closed for clean-up after yesterday’s torrential rainstorms. Interesting, that here the Gorge is closed due to possibly hazardous climactic conditions; the rangers close it when it’s too hot, too cold, too rainy, too windy. In America, you can go pretty much anywhere in whatever conditions you like, and no one cares if you slip and fall and die.

Anyway, this was a devastating blow for me, and I immediately tried to reason with the guides - “If the itinerary is shot now anyway,” (since we would rearrange/add new activities in order to make up for the day), “can we reschedule for another day?” The head-guide, Dirk, roundly refused.

That was when I got furious. Really, I think I could’ve bitten through wood. I understand that the guides aren’t responsible for the weather, but for them to just write off what we wanted? And it wasn’t just me who was disappointed, it was every single person I spoke to.

Because did I speak to people. I began to foment a rebellion right under our oppressors’ unknowing eyes. I thought to myself, “I have a guidebook and access to the internet - if they’re not gonna take us, we’ll take ourselves.” We would incur a few additional expenses and it was a bit off the beaten path, but I had a group of four people willing to ditch the group and go off on our own for a couple of days. Then, in a supremely brilliant political power play, I let slip to the junior guides, “Yeah, a couple of us are gonna take off for a few days to hike Samaria, and we’ll meet up with you guys later wherever you are…” and I proceeded to explain exactly how we were going to get there and back (can’t threaten effectively without teeth). Later on that night, the head-guide announced that he was taking the group to Samaria Gorge tomorrow. :D This happened to last week’s group, too (the trip was rained out), but nobody whined like I did, so they didn’t get to go. Squeaky wheel gets the grease, my friends.

In the meantime, we drove to Sfakio and took a ferry to the water/footpath-access-only town of Loutro. It’s pretty tiny, and when we got here, the weather was still rainy and cold. I was nervous - it takes about a minute to walk the entire length of the town, which is a small amount of space to be cooped up in for three days in the pouring rain. But to everyone’s delight, the sun came out, and suddenly Loutro looked a lot friendlier. All the walls are painted bright white, and the doors and trim are a deep blue. The water is lovely, clear, and aquamarine; we spotted a sea turtle and an eel today, just looking out from the shore. There are canopies everywhere, and people decorate their porches like one would a living room - framed photographs, vases of flowers, desks, armchairs. I don’t know if it’s legitimate or just for the benefit of us tourists, but it is very charming nonetheless.

Lunch.

We spent the afternoon and evening hiking; I’m a far faster hiker than anyone here, so I outstripped them quickly, and then walked back in the opposite direction, and then back in the first direction chasing the sun. I found a spot where the land turned, so I could watch the sun go down over the ocean - my first real Cretan sunset. Greece is like my yellow sun - I have super-powers here. Everyone in my group thinks I'm a bad-ass; haha, if only they could see me stopping every thirty feet for a break hiking a fourteener.

Most of the coastline by Loutro is made of razor-sharp igneous rock, which provided me hours of exploratory scrambling. Climbing along the rock on the coast allowed me to see some sights hidden from those who stuck to the path, the most exciting of which was a cave! It was a spotty climb down, but I found myself at the mouth of the cave and I was just about to begin my search for pirate treasure when an inhuman growl echoing from the cave gave me pause. Out of the cave, growling and screaming, came a big pink pig. Behind it were two other pink pigs, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder like a couple of toughs while the pig that was presumably their leader began to chase me across the rock. I screamed and the surge of adrenaline allowed me to clear the area in two strides and I perched on a rock, hoping that pigs couldn’t climb. Happily, it appears they don’t, so while the lead pig followed me on the ground as I hopped across the rocks ringing the cave entrance to return to the path (my interest in further adventures spelunking with pigs understandably dampened), as soon as I was a safe distance away, he went back to stand by his two minions; they satisfied themselves by growling at me as I left.

Here’s my personal highlight of today: I ate a goat’s head. I first noticed them as I was walking through town getting oriented - five goat heads skewered on a spit and slow-roasting over a woodfire. I immediately stopped and asked the waitress for one, but she told me they were only for night and that I should come back. I did, at 7:15 tonight - sure enough, the goats’ heads had been roasted to golden perfection, and it was brought out to me split in half on a plate. I ate its brains, its tongue, and its cheeks; the cheek meat was actually really good, like extremely juicy dark meat, and the roasted skin was crunchy and delicious. Alexis came with me for moral support, and she ended up broadening her horizons by trying the brains and cheek meat, too.

Greece: Day 3

Location: Matala

You’re probably wondering why I’m updating so frequently when I’m supposed to be having adventures in Crete. It’s because the weather has been really wet and cold (for Greece) for the last few days. Today got so bad that we had to cut short our first kayaking trip due to high winds. We got out there for a blissful two or three hours this morning, and then had to turn back from today’s destination, Red Beach, because ugly clouds were gathering and the wind was picking up. It’s only three o’clock here now, a bit too early for anybody in the States to be up to Skype with. So I’m updating the website under the influence of three shots of raki with one eye on the window waiting for the sun to come out.

I set my little travel alarm clock for 7:00 this morning (since there are no phones in a lot of hotel rooms in Greece, wake-up calls cannot be counted on), got into my paddling clothes, and trudged down to breakfast, which was my favorite, yoghurt and honey, with some bread and butter on the side. I drank a deep sip of what I thought was warm milk before I discovered it was cream. All the Greek people who run the hotel were probably like, “Stupid Americans, always drinking the coffee cream.” We headed out to the beach and got outfitted with kayaks, paddles, splash skirts, and life-vests. I'm in a little red called Minos. Our first lesson was how to do a “wet exit” - that is, when you tip your boat over and you have to extract yourself from swim skirt attaching you to the kayak to get to the surface. I went first, of course; it’s very unpleasant tipping over, but easy enough to get out of.

The kayaks we’re using for sea-kayaking are a lot longer and a lot thinner than the kayaks my parents own, which I believe are for lake/river use. They also have a rudder, which is controlled by foot pedals (e.g. push your right foot down, you go right). After a quick demonstration, we started to cross the water at Matala Beach to Red Beach, a nearby secluded (clothing-optional) area that you have to either hike to or kayak to. I’m a natural at paddling, according to the guides. :D The biggest hazard on the water for me ended up being the rest of my group, who flounder around the water like dying seals, and I spent much time making short stops and sharp turns to avoid them careening into my boat or cutting me off.

On the way, we got to explore a few sea caves, which was so eerie and fun. Having to squeeze through these narrow crevices in a kayak really put my steering skills to the test, and for the second time today, I was told I was a paddling natural. My red Black Diamond headlamp got water into it, and I’m afraid it’s kicked the bucket. I’m more upset about this than is probably rational. It’s just that was my first headlamp, given to me by someone really important to me, and it’s always the one I take with me on my adventures, and honestly it’s saved my butt more than a few times; there are a number of occasions when I would have been completely lost and bivvying under a tree if I didn‘t have it. I have a lot of good memories associated with that lamp. RIP red Black Diamond headlamp.

At this point, the wind began to pick up and the guides wanted us to turn back in the middle of the trip. It was rough-going over the increasingly large waves back to Matala. I’m a strong paddler, though, made even stronger because of my mile-high acclimation. I was a little disappointed we weren’t going to get to test our mettle in the rougher waves longer than we did; it reminded me a bit of white-water rafting.

Back in town, Alexis and I killed a few hours getting food (I got cheese pies, she got mousaka, a sort of lasagna-like dish with eggplant), which is where the three shots I mentioned earlier came in. Pretty much every Greek family here brews their own raki, and they’ll proudly give it to you for free at the end of a meal, and supposedly it’s considered rude if you refuse to drink it. If they’re really pleased with you, they’ll pour you an extra shot. And then another. Pretty much until you leave. Which is how Alexis and I got to pounding them down at this restaurant while we were waiting for our change. The waiter thought we were cute. Then we went to a bakery, where I got some sort of chocolate pastry thing and a donut, just because I was surprised to see one in Greece. America does it better.

Speaking of cheese pies, I've ordered cheese pies on three different occasions at this point, and each time, they have each been completely different - different dough, different cheese, different taste, different texture, different foods entirely - so I have no idea what a cheese pie actually is. They are all called τυρόπιτα, tiropitas, and the first time I had them, it was some sort of mild cheddar or something like that in puff pastry. The second time the cheese was wrapped in something more like pizza dough, and the third time (today) they were like crab-cheese wontons without the crab. I have liked them all, though, so I will gladly continue my cheese pie research while I'm here.

The rain has cleared up, although it’s still around 50 degrees and cloudy; this is not very cold, but keep in mind I packed for sunshine-filled 80-degree weather. The best way to warm up is to generate some body heat, though, so I'm heading out for a hike.

Matala at night.

LATER: Hiking was miserable, rainy, cold, and windy. The idea was great in theory - we went up this easy trail to the top of a hill looking down on a pristine empty beach; the guides brought a bottle of champagne and the timing was just right for us to enjoy the sun throwing its brilliant colors over the ocean... except the clouds were so thick and dark, you could only see a smudge of sun in a tiny corner of the sky, and the rain and the wind made standing around drinking miserable. We huddled up behind a bush to keep us out of the wind, and we were all soaking wet by the time we got back to the hotel.

Dinner was mussels, sea-bass, and seafood-stuffed mushrooms, with chocolate mousse for dessert. I successfully ducked out before the rounds of raki were served. Cats are everywhere here, and they stroll in and out of restaurants like, well, like cats. You have to be careful where you sit, because there might be a cat sleeping in your chair. They beg for food, they paw at your arm if you ignore them - today one even got his claws in the tablecloth and attempted to leap onto the table. No one here seems bothered by this.

To end on a good note, I'm starting to connect a bit more with my fellow kayakers. I've learned not to sit by the older people, and I'm hanging out more with the people who are my age. I'm also being less shy about leaving meals on my own, so I'm not forced to sit through two hours of uninteresting chit-chat.

Greece: Day 2

Location: Heraklion/Matala

Roommates woke me up early this morning, whispering hurriedly in Greek. I really believe I got ripped off by this ticket seller; for as many Euros as I spent, I feel like I should’ve received a lot more room. Oh well, getting ripped off seems like part of the international travel experience. There were taxis waiting for the disembarking ferry passengers, and I flagged one of them to take me to the Heraklion airport. Taxi is the most expensive way to travel here, but I’ve found that the number and quality of English speakers dramatically decreases the farther I get from Athens, and I am not sure how to navigate the public transportation system here on Crete (and was certainly not feeling up to figuring it out at five-thirty in the morning). The driver only ripped me off a little bit, so I was okay with it.

I was also okay with it because it let me fully experience driving in Greece. The rules of driving in Greece are that there are no rules. Stop signs and lane delineations are really just kindly suggestions, there appears to be no enforced speed limit, and cars will park and drive just about everywhere they can. Pedestrians walk in the middle of the streets, drivers swerve around them honking angrily, and bikes sneak in and out between them all. My taxi driver roared through neighborhoods at sixty miles per hour, and he’d viciously tailgate anyone going less than that until they moved out of the way.

Currently I am sitting in the Heraklion airport; it is 8:20a and I’m not meeting the rest of my group until 9:45. For breakfast I ate a pie made of fresh flaky puff pastry and filled with cheese.

LATER: met up with my group at the airport - all Americans. My Greek has been coming along quite well, between the letters I’d picked up wandering around reading signs the last couple of days and the few words I knew (“Pah-rah-kah-LOH, mee-LAH-teh ahn-glee-KAH?”). It’s helped a lot with my vocabulary; words are a lot easier to remember in terms of letters ("παρακαλώ, μιλάτε αγγλικά") rather than in nonsense syllables. However, after spending just a day in American company, my Greek is in shambles. The problem is I keep forgetting to use it, because I’ve only been talking to English-speakers for the last few hours.

Thoughts on the Greek language: it *sounds* a lot like Spanish, but the emphasis of the words is drastically different than anything I’m used to; a lot of words are pronounced with the emphasis on the last syllable, which feels unnatural to me. Take the word for Thank You, ευχαριστώ, pronounced “efh-khar-ee-STOH.” Any English speaker would instinctively pronounce it “efh-khar-EE-stoh,” which is how I say it if I’m not thinking. Aγγλικά, the Greek word for the English language, pronounced “ahn-glee-KAH” is another one - I want to say “AHN-glee-khah.”

We’re in Matala, a touristy little town on the southern coast of Crete. I’m a bit disappointed in my company; they’re all nice enough, but I was hoping to connect with a fellow adventurer. These people haven’t even bothered to learn any Greek! We made a stop at the ruins of Knossos Palace but found that the long arms of the strike have reached Crete, as well, and they are not open for business. This is very disappointing, as this was one of the few historical Greek sites I wanted to check out. This is the palace that was supposed to have housed the Minotaur and his labyrinth.

After we were assigned to our hotel rooms (I’m bunking with a very nice girl called Alexis), we were unleashed to explore the area. Matala Beach is nice, if you’re into that sort of thing. More exciting were the natural caves that line the coast. A fun scramble, this is where Bob Dylan and Cat Stephens secluded themselves to find inspiration in the 60s (this place is a huge former hippie hang-out, and there are still a few tie-dyed vestiges of its bohemian past here and there around town).

We lunched at a local restaurant run by an old Greek woman; I was looking for something light, so I ordered the yogurt & honey, a snack which I am desperately hoping I will be able to recreate back in the states. I’ve been carrying around this little Greek phrasebook, and it has a fairly sizeable list of Greek foods and their names, and one of the items in the list is brains; this piques my interest immensely. Everywhere I’ve been so far has just served gyros, souvlaki, or sandwiches, I hope I’ll get to try something a bit more unusual before the trip is up.

A lunch anecdote: The weather’s been really crappy here lately (you can see the cloudy skies in all my Athens pictures), so we were all relieved when the sun started to shine here in Matala. When it actually started getting hot out, I pulled a water bottle out of the fridge of the restaurant we were at and took a biiiig swig… only to find that I’d accidentally grabbed a bottle of raki, a clear powerful liquor that Greeks are just mad for. I’m a whiskey-drinker, and it goes down a lot smoother than whiskey, so I was able to hold it together despite having just done about three shots of it in one gulp, but it wasn’t quite the refreshment I was looking for. Since I’d started the drinking, everyone else took sympathy shots.

Also, happy 24th birthday to me!

EVEN LATER: Awww, they threw me a mini-birthday party at dinner tonight! I ordered the grilled octopus, but I got to try mousaka, a swordfish dish, and some sort of lamb-cheese-potato thing that I forget the name of. Maybe it’s Lamb Keritoki, or maybe that’s the name of a Hello Kitty character. Then as a surprise at dessert, they brought out baklava (which I love) and everyone sang Happy Birthday! This left me with a pretty positive feeling, as I had been sulking for most of the evening about having to make small talk. I’m starting to feel like a little kid hanging around my parents’ friends - they’re sweet to me, but we have absolutely nothing in common. Hopefully none of this will be as big a problem when I’m bone-tired every evening from paddling all day.

Greece: Day 1

Location: Athens

After I deplaned and got my Greece visa stamp (the Greek security guards were a lot nicer than the Canadian ones), I purchased a ticket for the bus that runs from the airport to central Athens, which was then never asked for. The destination was Syntagma Square, which I keep accidentally calling Stigmata Square.

One of many labor demonstrations I saw today caused the bus to stop and let us off a half-mile away, but a fellow bus passenger and local, an African man called Bertram, helped me find my way to the square. He showed me around town for a bit, and I really appreciated the help getting oriented. I felt like I had a more authentic Athenian experience than I would have just following my guidebook.

Athens is a paradox, both a dirty loud tourist trap and an historical spot so ancient beyond imagination it borders on sacred. As you walk around the city, the Acropolis on its hilly perch peeps out at you between modern buildings, fast food restaurants, and highways. Given that in America, the things we consider old are from about 1800, it's pretty surreal to be hassled by a street vendor selling "This is Sparta" t-shirts right next to the remains of a library built in 450 BC. I don't think I could live in this city.

Since it was about noon by the time Bertram and I made it through the storm of vendors in the Montastiriki Flea Market (an enormous disappointment, full of trashy souvenirs) to the square, we grabbed a quick lunch (I treated, to thank him for showing me around). Souvlaki, or σουβλάκια, is a native specialty; it is grilled meat (chicken, pork, beef, or veal) over a pita topped with French fries, onions, parsley, and tomatoes. It’s hard to get a bit of everything on your fork, and then get it all into your mouth, but it's delicious. I spent much of this vacation suffering from onion breath because of all the souvlaki.

Despite my not having slept on the plane at all, I managed to see quite a bit. Unfortunately, I gained an unwelcome "travel-buddy" in Bertram, who insisted on following me everywhere I went. I went on vacation by myself because I didn't want to worry about someone else. Suddenly my exciting independent vacation became a day of forced chit-chat and people-pleasing. I blew through the Acropolis at a hare's pace because I had this irrational worry that Bertram, my uninvited guest, would get bored. I plan on going back at my leisure when I return to Athens on Monday. I really have to learn to say No to people.

The Theater of Dionysus.

Speaking of the Acropolis, the tour guides are on strike, so I was unable to actually go up and see it (hopefully they'll have things a little more settled by the time I'm back in the city on the 24th). Instead I toured the open areas on my own (with my faithful shadow Bertram, of course) and got some cool pictures of the Theater of Dionysus, the Agora, the temple of Zeus, and the Parthenon (from afar). I also went to the Acropolis Museum because I noticed that Bertram seemed especially uninterested in it, and indeed, my decision to stop in there was the final straw for him, and he went home. Frankly, except for a couple of really large statues, the museum was kind of boring (not really my thing), but it was worth the five Euros just to lose my tail.

The Theater of Dionysus. 

The Theater of Dionysus.

Frieze on the Tower of the Winds, an ancient weather station.

However, I must wander around with the perfect damsel-in-distress look on my face because I unwillingly picked up *another* helpful gentleman, named Vanos, in the metro station as I was figuring out my route to Piraeus, where I would be boarding the ferry to Heraklion in the evening. He's in love with me, I am beautiful and he loves my voice, he says. What nonsense. After he followed me around all night, even riding with me on the metro to Piraeus (WTF?!), I agreed to hang out with him on Monday just to get him away from me, but I’m never gonna contact him.

Catching the ferry was easy, and I'm in the internet cafe onboard now. I really need to get some sleep, but I'm not tired at all; Greece is eight hours ahead of Colorado, so while it's eleven here, my body clock feels like it's about three in the afternoon. Additionally, my room is the size of a good-sized closet, it is stiflingly hot, I share it with three other women, none of whom speak any English, and this computer has CoD and CS on it, so I don't know if I'll be hitting the sack anytime soon.

Some more random things I wanted to record: there are stray animals everywhere in Athens, and they are like local celebrities among the people who live there. “This cat,” Vanos would tell me as we passed a gray tom laying under a tree, “used to run all over this street, now he just lays there, must be getting old.” Or “There is a very cute dog which lives on that street.” There is also trash everywhere, as the garbage collectors are currently on strike as well (ten days now).

Afterthought: Interesting, the way people view the US outside of it. Over our souvlaki, Bertram and I discussed our travel goals. Bertram is moving to Nants on Monday, but he is really interested in the United States (Florida, specifically). I told him about Antarctica, and my Kilimanjaro trip that fell through, and he was startled that I would go to a place like Nigeria. “Lots of big criminals there, very dangerous, you can lose everything you own, like in New York.” When I told Vanos I was an American, he smiled and said, “Ah, America - hunting and girls in bikinis!” I couldn’t deny it.

Athens from on high.

Greece: Day 0

Location: on-carriage

Despite my fears, I made all my planes on time, and none of them fell out of the air.

My first flight was to Toronto, about 3.5 hours long, where I received my first visa stamp (I feel like that one's cheating). Things got a little hairy was when Canadian security discovered I share a name with a flight security threat, but a quick phone call cleared up my identity as average-American Alana and not covert terrorist-operative Alana.

The flight across the Atlantic to Greece was a painstakingly long 9.5 hours, 99% of which I was achingly awake for, as I was freezing the whole time. I fashioned myself a Snuggie out of what available blankets there were on the unoccupied seats around me (the plane was probably only a quarter full), but I shivered the time away alternately reading Crime & Punishment and watching Mr. Popper's Penguins, Le Héros des animaux, and Transformers 3: La face cachée de la lune. Kevin James and Michael Bay are not any better in French.

Greece: Day -1

Location: Denver

Received the following information earlier this evening:

Latest updates on the labor actions in Greece.

On 14 October taxi services in Greece will not be operating for 24 hours due to industrial action. (Excludes any pre-arranged travel from Heraklion to Matala through the Hotel Zafaria and our office.)

On 14 -15 October bus, trolley bus, metro and tram services in the Athens region will not be operating for 48 hours due to industrial action. Private transportation will be available at an increased cost.

Air traffic controllers in Greece are currently participating in ‘work to rule’ industrial action which may result in passengers experiencing some delays and cancellations at airports. Check with your airline before traveling.

Certainly makes my flying fears and my worries about forgetting something seem pretty silly. My solace is that if the plane cannot land in Athens, it will have to land somewhere in Europe.

Besides the volatile Greek political climate, everything else is go. I have my passport, as of October 10th my flights weren't cancelled, my out-of-office notification is set to boastfully inform my coworkers that I'm spending my birthday in Greece, and I've got some powerful pills to choke my customary pre-flight jitters. Here we go!

White-water Rafting in Idaho Springs, Colorado

My very wonderful parents got me a pair of whitewater rafting vouchers from Clear Creek Rafting Company for Christmas last year, and I finally used them today with Dean. We took the beginner class; I recommend the intermediate class because the beginner class we took was a little lightweight, even for two people who’d never done it before. Still crazy fun, even though I didn’t get to fall in (was secretly hoping).