Crete

Ferry Super Fast XII in Heraklion, Crete

In Athens Curtis hopped on a ferry to Crete. The boat was called Super Fast XII. He filed on at 3:00 pm and landed in Heraklion (Crete’s biggest city, 130,000) at about 10:30 pm. Walking down the gang plank in the rain it was a mob scene. He was barely able to push his way through the crowd that was pushing to get on the ferry. He walked through Heraklion, slightly lost in the winding streets and found Room Rents Hellas. He schlepped his pack up five floors to reception and down five floors to his dorm room. The six bed room had two other occupants who barely acknowledged him.

2 kilometer long breakwater at Herraklion

The next day broke clear and beautiful. I walked to the bus station through the old town. I kept hearing English spoken. I kept wondering which hotel are these people staying at? I realized that 90 percent of the people were English speakers and it finally dawned on me that all these folks were off a cruise ship and were flooding the old town on a Sunday morning.

Venetian Harbor in Rethymno

I hopped a bus to Rethymno. Killing time between buses I hung out in the old town of Rethymno (Venetian walled center, about 400 years old). It was a holiday, Ohi (No) Day. This is the celebration of the day during WWII in 1941 when Italy (fascist) requested to cross Greece to fight Yugoslavia, Russia (Allies) etc. The Greek president said No. They were invaded and taken over by the Nazi’s and paid a terrible price.

In celebration of No Day there was a parade. School kids paraded. Some of the school girls had surprisingly abbreviated uniforms. I was sitting in a gyro place eating my pita gyro when a spontaneous and annoying procession of kids on scooters and motorcycles (like a hundred of them) came gunning by.

Plakias Beach

Finally I arrived at the town of Plakias on the south coast of Crete and the infamous Plakias youth hostel. The hostel has the reputation of people coming for a day a staying for months. The hostel has several bungalows that are dorm rooms and an indoor/outdoor common area. An extremely detailed oriented Brit named Chris has run the place for the last 14 years. A bed is 9.50 euro (cheap). It’s clean, newish and organized. The clients tend to enjoy themselves and the local wine and raki (hooch) flow freely.

Plakias Youth Hostel

I walked down to the beach where there is a rugged rocky mountainous backdrop. The water was passably warm and flat. I walked along a cliff face above the water. There was a cave in the cliff. As I went by a weird naked guy stepped out from the cave and waved at me. Hhmmm…… I passed on this and kept going.

One Rock Beach

The gang from the hostile went down to Niko’s restaurant (which happens every night). Everybody knew everybody. The air was filled with cigarette smoke; people were drinking ouzo and raki and sipping homemade wine from plastic bottles. It was getting loud. It rained hard and the roof leaked. I had lemon chicken. In Greece the custom is if you have a full meal they’ll bring raki or a half liter of wine or desert (or a combo) with your bill. We had a round of about 15 rakis.

Sunset over Plakias

That night the wind kicked up and it rained like hell. Next day I walked around some headlands. It was sunny but the clouds were on the mountains and rain was being blown on me. Later I walked up by the ruins of a 400 year old Venetian mill and further to a village where I watched sunset over the Libyan Sea at Taverna Panorama.

Myrthios Village

Crete has a long history. The Minoans had a highly developed civilization there in 2000 BC. Dorics where there, Greeks, Romans, Byzantiums, Arabs, and Pirates all ran the place. The Venetians took it over for a while. There are fortresses, roads, bridges, and old houses from that era. The Ottomans spent 28 years attacking Crete until they took it over. It went back with Greece around the turn of the century. The Nazis invaded Crete in 1941. Cretans killed thousands of Germany troops in the air as they parachuted in to invade. They were taken over during WWII, but they didn’t give up and they kept killing Germans all the time at a terrible cost to themselves.

Timeos Stavros Mountain

Chapel at the top of Timeos Stavros Mountain

Cretans are an independent lot. They like to be rule breakers. They like homemade wine and Raki. They have guns and they like to shoot them, especially at parties and weddings. They’re not particularly friendly to outsiders.

Amoudi Beach

The Plakias Youth hostel closed down for the season at the end of October. I met a German named Wolf who has a place in Plakias. I rented a room from him for a few days till I moved on. His house is above town and has a nice view out across the water. Another girl was staying there, Matilda from Sweden. She's a student and an acupuncturist and fluent in Chinese and at one time ran bar in western China.

Patio at Wolf's house

Wolf and Matilda

I bussed it up to Rethymno. I stayed at Rethymno Youth Hostel. I stayed in an eight bed room that only had one other guy; Andres from Germany. He introduced himself and filled a water bottle of wine from a bag. He came back and filled his bottle again and said he had a drinking problem. He went to bed and I could hear him unscrew the lid and drink. Later he got up and went out and had some drinks and came back. About then an argument broke in the next room. The wall looked substantial, but for sound it was literally paper thin. The guy who runs the place was dressing down his wife in a Slavic language, and she was making the occasional sobbing response. About then an alarm in a shop across the street from the dorm window went off. Looked like a long night. But then next door they slammed a door and the arguing ended; someone came and turned the alarm off; and Anders passed out. Peace.

I bussed to Hania and on to Paleohora on the southwest coast of the Crete. I walked around and checked into Anonymous Guesthouse. It has a nice garden and clean cozy rooms and the lady who runs it, Sofia, is a nurturing grandmotherly type. Perfect.

Anonymous Guesthouse in Paleohora

Paleohora is a small narrow town on a peninsula, about 5 blocks wide. If the wind is blowing west you go to the east beach, if blowing east, go to the west beach. I met up with a therapist at the guesthouse, a Norwegian called Nils. He had some good stories, and a sense of humor, and he loved to drink coffee. He was spending two weeks in Paleohora to rest.I walked along the coast east of town. It was mountainous and rocky and there was the occasional small beach or inlet.

A wild hidden beach east of Paleohora

In town it was election season so the candidates were speechifying. They closed the streets and played loud music and gave competing speeches from podiums along the street. The people sat around and drank coffee and raki. Paleohora is a small town with narrow streets. I was at the main intersection “downtown” when eight cars all arrived at the same time. It was grid lock with honking and cursing and finally some people backed up and then it was clear.

Venetian bridge

I walked up to a village called Azogires. I got half way and a guy stopped on his motorcycle and gave me a ride. He smelled like booze or hair tonic or both. It’s a small place with basically a restaurant and some houses. I walked around and ate and talked to the owner who had lived in Illinois. I had a nice walk back through: an old mill; an abandoned Turkish village; a monastery; along a rocky hill; and finally through a gorge to the beach.

Sandy beach east of Paleohora

After a few days, I took a couple of buses to Heraklion and caught the 6:00 pm ferry to Santorini Island.

Greece 1

Monk skulls at Monastery Megalou Meteorou in Meteroia

Curtis traveled alone from Bulgaria by evening train, first class of course. Once in Greece the train switched direction and sped up and the tracks were noticeably smoother. Curtis’s fellow passenger gave a few pointers, but their cell phone was dead to make a reservation at a hostel. Instead upon arrival in Thessaloniki, Curtis whipped out his netbook, got on line and tracked down a place which he called (a miracle for first time on a foreign phone). The nice lady gave directions and he bussed it over. Walking around in circles with his pack at midnight, the town was alive. Walking by fifty cafes all full and buzzing, it was nothing like sleepy Bulgaria. Finally he found Room Rents Thessaloniki. The nice lady stayed past her work hours to greet him.

Thessaloniki waterfront

Thessaloniki is a port town on the Aegean Sea. In has a nice waterfront and the weather was warm and sunny. I walked around in my shorts to absorb some sun. Apparently I was the only male in the City wearing shorts. I had a gyro and checked out some ruins (they’re practically on every other block). There was a protest with twice as many police as protesters.

The White Tower in Thessaloniki

Later at sunset I went for a jog along the entire water front. The café scene at some sections was amazing, just pouring out in to the busy street. Beautiful women in skin tight clothes and knee high boots were pared with well-groomed men in aviator sunglasses, fabulous haircuts, and a perfect one day’s growth of beard. Posh Spice and George Michaels sipping mojitos.

Rent Rooms Thessaloniki

On the other hand, I was at the hostel, but we had a time there too. Some of the lads swapped good travel scam stories till midnight.

Greek is, well, a Greek based language. They use the Greek alphabet. I have had some exposure to the alphabet through math and physics classes, and (I hate to admit) the Greek system at Oregon State. So like figuring out a word, lambda is L, sigma is S, pi is P. But what the word means is another problem. Guides, directions, etc. that I can read are in Latin alphabet. Signs, bus schedules, business names, street signs (anything useful) are all in Greek alphabet. There also seems to be some freedom in translating one to the other. P, B, and V are all interchangeable, and there is no problem adding or dropping a few E’s or A’s. The graffiti seems a bit intellectual (e.g. theta pi + sigma epsilon = heart).

Second class train

I booked a train to Kalambaka. I caught a bus to the station. The traffic was insane. What should have taken 10 minutes took 45. As the bus creped near the station the passengers begged the driver to open the door. Finally she caved in and instead of going to the bus area she let us out on the street. People sprinted to the station.

The train buzzed along and was at Kalambaka in 4 or 5 hours. Kalambaka is where a series of Monasteries were built on the top of rock columns about 500 years ago. It is called Meteoria, a fabulous place, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I looked at a couple of places but settled at Alsos House. It’s quite new and located at the base of a cliff. The desk person was a friendly Canadian guy named Alex. It was a bit dreary out and the tops of the mountains were in cloud, but I walked up anyway and wandered around in the fog. I ate at the friendly Taverna Paramithi and had mousaka (like lasagna only with sliced eggplant instead of pasta).

Kalambaka Town

Monastery Varlaam

Next day I caught a bus up to the highest monastery and walked for nine hours visiting monasteries, talking to other tourists, and following goat paths. I stopped back by the Taverna in the evening and chatted with people and ate and drank for three hours.

Monestary St Nikolau

Climber near Kastraki Village

Next day I was at the train station waiting on the train to depart. The ticket guy came on and said the train was not functional and would not run. The next five days there was a scheduled train strike. I think maybe the strike started a little early.

Nunnery Agias Varvaras Rousanou

Monastery Varlaam

I hopped off and got a room at Hotel Meteoria. The weather broke, the sun shined, maybe it was meant to be. I did some nice walking around the rocks and up and over and through and through.

Kastraki Village

Monk in tram to Agias Triados Monastery

Greek people smoke. They have no smoking laws, but they are universally ignored. They’re addicted to cell phones. If they have money they show it. Men wear black leather jackets. They wear tee shirts that say weird things like: New York – Minneapolis; Gangsta over the top of a peace sign. Like everywhere they drive scooters. They drive them like insane people on sidewalks and pedestrian malls and on little winding streets meant for donkeys. They smoke and chat on cell phones on their scooters and keep their helmets strapped to their elbow. Nobody wears seatbelts. Men spend the entire day in cafes; coffee in the morning, beer in the afternoon, and ouzo at night. They have fantastically loud discussions that I wish I could understand.

Old ladies wear black. They are like little black fireplugs. They toddle down streets scowling. They sit in windows or stand in yards or sit on benches staring; taking in everything.

Makrinista Village

I caught a bus to Volos, a port city on the Aegean Sea. I spent about 2 minutes in the tourist office and ran back to the bus station and got a bus to Makrinista.

Plane tree in the plaza at Makrinista Village

Makrinista is a pretty village set on the side of a mountain overlooking Volos and the bay and islands. I walked down the narrow main street in the rain looking for accommodation. Most are closed. Finally I tracked down a nice room (domatia) from an old lady who could barely walk up the steps to show me.

My place at Domtia Noikiazontai

I ate at a local taberna that shut down when I was done at 5 pm. The whole village shutdown. That night there was a thunder storm and it rained like hell. I walked around the empty winding streets. No one was out.

Donkey road in Makrinitsa

Next day was bright and clear. I hiked up a donkey trail through chestnut forests to the top of a mountain. The path which is who knows how many hundreds of years old was like a trench in places. The furry husks from the chestnuts filled the trail full. I picked some apples that were deep burgundy. Returning down I stopped off at the neighboring village and had an early dinner. I sat at the village plaza and enjoyed the sun.

The next morning I set out at 7:00 for a traveling day. I took the local bus in the dark down from the village. The huge bus could just barely make the corners of the road. Because there was a train strike I caught an “express” bus to Athens at the bus station in Volos. My seat was at the back. I sat next to a Greek guy who could speak pretty good English. About the third hour of the trip the wall next to that guy heated up (maybe it was next to the exhaust). It was like 105, we were sweat balls. We moved when some folks got off the bus near the end. I hopped off the bus with the guy and caught the metro in Athens. Theoretically I was supposed to take the metro straight to the port at Pireaus, but the tracks were f’d up. Fortunately I was with that guy so he filled me in. To go around we hopped off the metro a couple of stops down then on and off and on again. It was hot and humid and I was carrying my pack and was completely pitted out from the bus. They announced on the metro to take care for your wallet like 5 times. It was an incredible crush of people at the door to/from the train. An escalator worked like a conveyor belt in a grain bin to carry the people at the station. I arrived at the port at 2:15 and wanted to catch a 3:00 ferry to Crete. The port is immense. I crossed a busy road and scurried around till I saw a sign “Blue Star Ferries – Superfast”. I trotted down and bought a ticket (35 euro). The lady said the boat was 2 kilometers away. Fortunately they had a shuttle bus and I trotted a couple hundred yards to catch it. I made the ferry (Superfast VII) and it left 10 minutes early. My clean travel clothes I donned in the morning were completely trashed (unlucky ferry co-passengers).

Boat in Piraeus Harbor