Crete

Day 284: Kounali + Milatos Cave

We drove up to Kounali for lunch at Susan and Jerry’s friends’ restaurant. Best. Moussaka. in all of Greece. You know the food is going to be good when another patron walks up to the waitress at our table to ask for the menu, and she responds “I am the menu!” Friends with Susan and Jerry, the chef came out to greet us, the waitress sat down with us after we were done eating, it was my favorite dining experience in all of Greece. Even if it did include the obligatory shot of raki before Andrew and I walked through an abandoned village, and then down the mountain to Milatos Cave and back to Susan and Jerry’s house.

The village just outside of Kounali was abandoned about twenty years ago, if I remember correctly. Susan and Jerry suggested we walk through it and it was interesting, but mostly because it made me wonder about the families who used to live there. Where are they now? If they wanted, could they come back to this little rock pile and claim it as their own again? Will it ever be inhabited again?

We walked back through Kounali and started to make our way down the mountain to Milatos Cave. Susan and Jerry clocked the walk right around five kilometers. Going down isn’t so bad, but it made me grateful that we didn’t have to climb all the way up to Kounali from Milatos.

The cave was a little daunting at first. There were lights strung up inside, but they weren’t working and it was pitch black looking in. I saw a scary movie as a kid involving a cave. I can’t remember what it was, but the cave bit has always stuck with me. Creepy. Needless to say, I pretty much clung to Andrew’s back while he led the way towards the light. Literally, as there was another opening through the cave, along the edge of the mountainside where the altar had been built. You can read about the history of the cave here, if you’d like.

We didn’t linger long, be being afraid creepy people were going to come out of the darkness and grab me and all. We made our way back down to Milatos slowly, stopping at times to admire the view, or watch the mountain goats nibble on their cliffside dinner.

Day 283: Milatos

Waking up in friends’ (new friends at that) home after two nights spent in a hostel was a delight. We lounged. We drank drip coffee. We went for a walk around town. We ate a late lunch outside. We went for another walk. We sat by the sea. We went to a cafe and sipped on Mithos and downed an obligatory shot of raki before we went back ‘home’ to watch a movie. It was everything I envisioned a day in a little Greek village to be.

Day 282: Knossos

Knossos, also known as the oldest city in Europe was the center of Minoan civilization during the Bronze Age. In other words, it’s super old and it’s the thing to see when you visit Crete. I’m not super familiar with the Minoan civilization other than it being responsible for the two early writing systems, Linear A and Linear B. Arthur Evans was the archeologist responsible for the discovery, the excavation, and the partial restoration of the palace. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t really expecting what we saw. I shouldn’t have been surprised there was so little… but in a way, I was. It was a bit like going to see The Temple of Artemus in Turkey. We saw, we took a picture, we left. That’s probably not fair to Knossos as there is a lot more to see than just one remaining column (as there is at The Temple of Artemus). We walked around for about an hour, perhaps more than that. I found the restored artwork the most impressive part of the entire palace.

Another impressive detail of the palace were the many levels. If I caught myself looking at the stairs at a certain angle, I liked to imagine it used to be an Escherian stairwell back in the day of the Bronze Age.

According to Greek mythology (I had to look this story up), Minos was the King who lived at Knossos. He had a labyrinth constructed for his son, the Minotaur. Maybe you’re wondering how Minos came to have a minotaur for a son. Let’s back up. Minos received a bull from Poseidon that he was supposed to sacrifice to honor the god in order to keep his power as king, not giving it up to his brothers. Unfortunately, Minos kept the white bull, and instead sacrificed another less pretty bull of his own. As punishment, Aphrodite made Minos wife fall in love with the bull that Minos didn’t sacrifice. His wife figured out how she could mate with the bull, and subsequently gave birth to a minotaur. Crazy, right?  The minotaur grew ferocious and ate men instead of other traditional food. Obviously this was a threat, so Minos had gigantic labyrinth constructed to hold the Minotaur (in or near Knossos). It’s said that Theseus (a prince from Athens) killed the minotaur with the double axe out of love, I think for Minos’ daughter.

There were a few double axes visible at Knossos, coincidentally the double axe is labrys in Greek. Which is, if you haven’t figured it out, it’s part of the world ‘labyrinth.’ I think that sums some of the mythology behind Knossos up. If it doesn’t, please ask Google. It’s interesting to compare the mythology to the actual ruins that are there today. There were so many stories within this palace and it was a bit maze-like. You would go up stairs and around a corner and be at a different level unable to get to the level just below you. This image below was the King’s room. There was a line to walk past and take a quick picture. Not a lot of explanation was given on the site, unless you had a guide with you. We were approached by one guide, asking us if we spoke German.

I’m not exactly sure how much is the reconstructed bits from Arthur Evans and how much was standing upon excavation. Either way, I appreciated what was there for visitors to see.

Since Turkey, and the archeological museum there, Andrew has enjoyed pointing out any and all ‘jugs’ on display. “So many jugs!” he’d exclaim. “Look at those jugs.” he’d wink. “Now those are some big jugs!” he’d nudge me- in the middle of the Istanbul, in Athens, and now in the middle of Knossos.

I gave up trying to be the mature, responsible one and asked if he wanted to take a pictures with those jugs. He rolled his eyes, like I was sooo immature, and then posed with a big smile.

The stairway to the sky was my favorite. Where did it once go? Anywhere? Nowhere?

The very first picture of this post is a close-up of the picture below. It’s restored, but you can see the original pieces of it are raised up from the background. I thought it was simply incredible. How did they know this was what it looked like? What if this is not it at all and they have fooled everyone? Regardless I fell in love with the design aesthetic. I tried to take a few more images of other pieces, but the glare on the glass on some was too much and it took away from the paintings themselves.

And then we were finished. We made our way out of Knossos and headed back to Heraklion to catch another bus to Milatos, where we would meet Andrew’s sister’s friend and husband who have retired there. Both well traveled, they knew how to make us feel at home and immediately took us down to one of their favorite cafes right alongside the sea. When the water got a little rough, the waitress, and their friend informed us that “the shower was for free.”

Day 281: The Fortezza of Rethymno

The Fortezza of Rethymno is basically an old Venetian fortress. Its construction dates back to 1573, and then the Ottomans took over, and it was inhabited. A lot of the houses were destroyed during the war, and very little, aside from a small church and a much larger mosque with a couple of other buildings remain. It’s a short walk through the Venetian quarter, through the pretty streets (and sometimes past cute windows like the one below) up to the fortress on the hill above.

It’s fairly desolate within the walls of the fortress and there is so little that actually remains it makes you wonder just how big and grand it must have been when it was inhabited. I joked with Andrew that the large mosque built right next to the little church reminded me of North Korea building a taller flag pole across the DMZ from South Korea’s flag pole. We battled the wind throughout, and took multiple stops to simply admire the view of the beautiful sea below.

After the fortress, we found the most amazing gyro restaurant. Only Cretans seemed to be eating there and when the cook took our order in the most curt way, we knew we picked the right restaurant. The menu wasn’t in seven different languages. There wasn’t a sign in Russian. We were lucky there was English on the menu, but if you know us by now, you know that wouldn’t have stopped us from ordering a few different things to try even if it was us pointing to something in Greek without a clue what it was. What I won’t eat, Andrew will, so it’s a win/win for us both. We lingered, not wanting to be in the sun anymore, and had a few Mythos instead of strolling around more jewelry shops and squeezing through groups of tourists. After nine months of summer, I’ve begun to realize the importance of winter, and just like most of the Cretans, we snuck inside to rest- with another Game of Thrones episode of course.

Later that night, our favorite older hostel roommate returned to our room, promptly took off his shirt, and asked us where we were from.

“America?” he asked. “Aren’t you afraid to walk on the streets?” Confused, obviously, I asked him why would I be afraid.

“Because of all of the shooting. Everyone has guns in America. Isn’t it true?” I stopped myself from rolling my eyes, and instead we both gently laughed and informed him that not everyone has guns and that we aren’t afraid to walk around our country at all… Andrew and I were both answering at the same time, when suddenly he got rather indignant about Andrew’s grammar. Who knows if Andrew was right or wrong, as it’s more likely the older Dutchman misheard us speaking at the same time.

“You said much. It is many. I don’t think you are really American. You said much and it is many.” He wouldn’t let it go. Andrew was barely paying attention having signed out of the conversation after the gun debacle. The Dutchman kept repeating himself, waiting for Andrew to respond, to the point where I had to nudge Andrew and tell him of his poor grammar.

To which Andrew responded, “I AM American and I’m an English teacher, too!”

I was intrigued by the entire exchange, wondering if this was going to be our first face to face anti-American encounter of our entire trip. I was also intrigued from an English teacher’s point of view and from a traveler of nine months that anyone who speaks English as a second language would feel the need to point out someone else’s simple grammar mistake (one that Andrew probably didn’t even make in the first place).

It was so strange… and it didn’t stop there.

“You can go outside and work outside. Beds are for sleeping.” He said, looking at our open computers. We had been checking emails before watching another Game of Thrones episode (don’t judge) in bed before going to sleep. Until his arrival, we were the only ones in the room. We had headphones out. Watching a movie or an episode of tv in a dorm room this way has never been an issue. Granted, our bunkmates have always been under the age of thirty. Another girl came in at this point and ducked down so I could see her rolling her eyes after having heard him.

“Well, this is a dorm room, and you have your bed, and I have mine. I don’t want to go outside to be on my computer, I want to be here, in the bed that I am paying for, just like you are paying for your bed.” I said, in my most polite voice, you know, that kind of polite that probably won’t last long…

“But you are not sleeping, and that is what beds are for. Go outside on your computer.” He repeated himself.

“And dorms are also for keeping our clothes on, but you aren’t doing that, so it’s ok for me to be in my bed without sleeping.” I said, as Andrew slid his hand over to squeeze my leg. “If it’s a problem, there are four empty beds on the other side of the room, you can sleep there!” I tried again, to be polite. My new friend ducked down so I could see her and rolled her eyes again.

“Is there a problem?” She stepped in, demanding in French in the same I’ll-try-to-be-polite-to-you kinda voice. I could have kissed her. She motioned to the other beds and told him he could sleep there, but he seemed to let it go quickly thereafter. She motioned to me that he was crazy when he wasn’t looking. Andrew moved to the bed in between me and the Dutchman. We plugged our headphones in. Our new friend said goodbye to us before she left and throughout the rest of the night, others came in, opening up their computers to check their email before they went to sleep.

I like dorms. I like guesthouses that offer budget options. If I’m not sleeping in the dorms or even tents sometimes set up outside, it’s a great way to meet people and if nothing else, have a good story to share later on – be it good or bad. I also like the occasional night in a dorm because it makes me appreciate having our own room oh so much more.

Day 280: a morning in Chania, an afternoon in Rethymno

Because half of the shops were closed on Sunday, I wanted to hit the market in Chania in the morning before we left for Rethymno in the afternoon. I shouldn’t have been, but still was surprised by how touristy the market was. After living in Korea for so long, and photographing the many (many, many) markets in Seoul, I’ve realized my preferred ‘local market’ experience is far from the typical tourists’ preferred experience. If I’m not jumping over puddles of murky fish water, walking past pigs’ heads, and getting elbowed around every turn by older patrons annoyed that anyone -let alone one with a camera should interfere with their daily errands it feels a bit disingenuous. A few shops weren’t as touristy as others, but only a few. Nearly all of the others sold boxed olive oil or raki gift sets for tourists to take home to their loved ones. Unfortunately, glass and alcohol aren’t so easy to travel with and my loved ones will be spared of any and all raki shots in the future. (This is a good thing, I promise.)

We wandered around Chania before our bus for Rethymno. Amazed at the remnants of an older city, like you can see here in this random archway half demolished tucked behind some shops on a pedestrian street. I also liked how many shops or even studios had open doors so you could peek inside a bit to see what was going on. Some were tailors, some were artists, framers, I lusted after their studio spaces and reminded Andrew that one day I will have my own… And then there was the graffiti. We may have escaped it on Santorini, but not on Crete…

Wandering around Rethymno (the last picture above) in the afternoon felt very similar to Chania. The Venetian quarter was full of little alleyways and mostly pedestrian filled streets in between shops. Mostly jewelry shops. Lots and lots and lots of jewelry shops. It was nice to wander, as it always is, but it didn’t seem to be as unique as I thought it would be in comparison to Chania.

Both cities were surprisingly expensive as well, especially compared to Santorini. A private room was nearly double in price, so we thought we’d be responsible ’round the world’ travelers and check out the youth hostel instead. ‘Youth’ was a relative term because it seemed half of the guests were old- like really old- men. At first we thought it wouldn’t be so bad, because despite it being a nine bunk dorm (Yes, you heard me. NINE BUNKS. Eighteen beds) it looked as if only four people were sleeping in the room. We turned in early to watch an episode of Game of Thrones and had the room to ourselves, when not ten minutes later, one of the 70+ year old men walked in. He took off his shirt and climbed into the bottom bunk less than eight inches away from mine and promptly laid down facing our- my direction.

Of course. Out of the seventeen other beds in the room, he had to pick the bed next to mine to sleep in. Andrew, being the gentleman he is, promptly asked if I wanted to switch beds and took one for the team sometimes facing him throughout the night.

Day 279: Chania

Chania on a Sunday is quiet. Tourists are certainly milling about the second largest town on Crete, but many shops and cafes are closed and not as many people are working or are out running errands. It’s peaceful and calm, perfect for a stroll- especially after crowded Fira on Santorini. We walked along the water’s edge. We sat on a bench hoping we weren’t getting sunburned too badly. We ducked in expensive boutiques. We ducked back out when we saw the prices. We stopped for tzatziki (cucumber and yogurt dip). We wandered. We enjoyed the quiet town and appreciated the lack of hustle before the sun got the best of us (got the best of me) and we made our way back to our hotel just outside of town.

All of the restaurant touts tried, as expected, to get us into their restaurant. One cafe had a sign that proudly declared “No blah blah, just good food!” and then the waiter tried to get us to stop.

“But your sign says no blah blah!” I told him, and he laughed.

“Yes, I wondered why you stopped at that last restaurant… what is wrong with you? Take a look at my fish!” He told us.

The cafes in the back streets were my favorite.

They weren’t crowded, sometimes completely empty. More relaxed than the more obvious touristy restaurants on the waterfront. I especially loved this outdoor cafe decorated with old wooden doors. I have a weakness for old windows and doors. I blame the summer I studied in the south of France and the semester I spent in Italy. Old European doors are so full of character, it’s hard not to love them, isn’t it?

There were buildings in the old part of town that have not survived the wars, or maybe just time on an island when many younger generations have started going towards the mainland for education and careers. We’ve been told that properties stay within the family- so if the family leaves, the property likely stays in the family, but goes unused and sometimes forgotten.

Throughout our snack, we watched a family of four eat their lunch. They had two young girls, ages about five and two I’m guessing. They were not a fan of the cat that would come by waiting for some food to fall. The younger girl would yell at the cat until she saw others watching her amused and get really shy. The older girl would sometimes get up from her table and stomp her foot until the cat would run away. At first I thought they were Greek, but their aversion to cats it would seem would not make them Greek at all. As there are cats everywhere and sometimes if you’re paying attention there are little bowls of food set out for them.

There is also the occasional octopus or squid hanging out to dry.

I was proud of myself for getting the blog all caught up on Santorini. But I was also a little frustrated with myself for having spent so many mornings and evenings on my computer instead of relaxing and enjoying our time on Santorini even more than I already was enjoying it. As we get closer and closer to coming “home” we get more and more anxious about moving to a new city, and not having a job lined up, and of course, our savings dwindling down making this trip happen.

It’s been hard for us to strike a balance preparing ourselves (me blogging and working on my portfolio, and us both looking up neighborhoods in Brooklyn, sending out emails about possible jobs and/or connections, etc. etc.) and really enjoying the trip at the same time. We made some rules for ourselves to cut down on computer and internet time. We also started watching the most recent season of Game of Thrones. Which is partly why you haven’t heard from me this past week. But nearly a week more on Crete and then back on mainland Europe for the foreseeable future!

Day 278: Santorini to Crete

Again, we put off leaving when we should have and opted to lounge by the pool instead. Taxis on Santorini are overpriced. But so are the buses, at least if we paid more than we should for a taxi we’d be able to swim and lounge for two extra hours. So we did, and then we made the long slog from Santorini to Crete, Chania to be specific. What was included in this long slog? One taxi, one ferry, one walk to the bus station, one three hour bus ride and then another taxi to our hotel just outside of Chania. We were greeted with a shot of raki. It’s like taking a shot of soju before crawling into bed. When in Crete…