Cretans Wıthout a Cause

(Photos pendıng... and sorry about the ı's - on a Turkısh keyboard.)

We left our hotel ın Chanıa yesterday evenıng ın search of some grılled octopus (we heard ıt's good here) and perhaps some Rakı (clear lıquor fermented from grapes). As fate would have ıt, we found so much more.

As we walked along the seasıde, we came upon a small market and saw some prospectıve olıvewood souvenırs ın the storefront, so we entered.

We nosed around for the better part of a mınute and started to walk out; we do thıs for hours down the streets - ıts our equıvalent of channel-surfıng whıle travelıng.

As we entered, the shopowner (a whıte-bearded Cretran) polıtely offered us a sample of the honey he harvested from the nearby mountaıns.

Why not, rıght? Here's why not: because ıt's so good that you need to buy ıt, and you'll purchase so much that ıt's a bıt heavy, and you may not have luggange space; and then, even ıf ıt fıts, ıt mıght not get past USA customs; and ıf ıt does, you'll start eatıng ıt wıth apples, then wıth other fruıts, then on a loaf of bread, then you'll need more and more untıl fınally ıt runs out, and you're usıng a spatula, then your hands to get the last drop of nectar, but your hand doesn't fıt ın the jar - a year later, you fınd yourself traffıckıng honey overseas and cırcumventıng several US customs and trade laws, and you have to lıve ın fear of gettıng locked away - forever.

After some consıderatıon, we bought a .5kg jar of The Honey. The owner advısed us to purchase an avocado and eat ıt wıth The Honey, so we ate ıt on the steps of the lıghthouse before dınner.

Perhaps you, reader, wıll joın us for a small pastry wıth a small (small) dallop of The Honey.

To be contınued - thıngs to do ın Istanbul!

Crete

Crete - historically, home to the Minoan civilization, Daedalus, Icarus, and the Minotaur; presently home to us and a handful of relaxed Greeks.


Our itinerary affords us three nights on the island but that's not enough by a longshot. Our dilemma: the cities, ruins, and natural/geological sights we want to see are spread out along the island (it's a four-hour drive from East to West), we're not rich enough to taxi it everywhere, and we're too strapped for time to rely on the public, intercity, bus system. Our solution: we rented a car.


There she is - our Hyundai - less than $100 for three days with full insurance. Yeah, she's a real beaut'. We named her Kidney Bean, but more recently, we've been calling her K-Bean, or more commonly, Beans.


Boy, it's fun to drive here. No (enforced) speed limits, scenic cliffside drives with huggable turns and switchbacks, and the other drivers politely share the road.


So we spent our first day at the Palace of Knossos, the hub of the Minoan civilization, where we saw the world's first amphitheatre, the world's first paved road, the remains of 3500-year-old frescoes, and the remains of 3500-year-old indoor plumbing, which in its antiquity would still probably function better than parts of present-day Cambodia. We speak from experience.

We walked the beach and ruins of Malia, spent the night in Stalida, then departed for Western Crete the next morning.


Beans got us safely to Rethymnon, a small Venitian city, where we awed ourselves with the most impressive parallel parking - ever (pictured above). The locals who witnessed this feat begged us to pose so they might craft a public monument in our honor; but alas, we only had time to walk the harbor and "old town" and hit the Cretan road.


We reached Chania, the oldest Cretan city, by early afternoon, which is where we'll spend the evening. This city has been pillaged by Turks and Venitians, but both were kind enough to leave harbors, lighthouses, and other monuments in their wake.


We're going to get cleaned up and cause some trouble tonight, since we're splitting town back Eastward tomorrow morning.


Is it Saturday? We think it might be Saturday.


Everyday is Saturday. (Contented sigh).

Eudaimonia

The ancients spent much of their time, their conversations, and their wine trying to define "Eudaimonia," or the good life.

Instead of trying ourselves to define it, we'd just as soon spend our Athenian time living it, with lazy strolls through ruin-strewn parks, climbs to scenic hills, a little bit of museum education, and long meals of umbrella-shaded rickety cafe tables.

The Athens Archaeological Museum sports a massive collection of three millenniums of Greek sculptures and reliefs. Traversing the artifacts in chronological order illustrates the Greek understanding and appreciation of the human form. They begin where the Egyptians left off - stoic figures hesitantly stepping their left foot forward with their arms pressed tightly against their sides. Within half a century, as Greece grew and diversified, the statues relaxed their legs apart, they cast their arms upwards to grasp tridents and bind their hair, and their faces softened into arrogant smiles. All this by 500 B.C.

The acropolis is the most popular Athenian sight - the Parthenon, a temple to Athena, is the most popular structure therein. It's pretty big, sure - but the pediments were the most significant features, and they're tucked away in a museum now. Our favorite acropolis spot is the Erechtheum, the most holy ancient site. Mythology maintains that this is where deities Poseidon and Athena competed to become the patron God of the city. Poseidon struck the ground with the butt of his trident and made a huge gash in the floor; Athena created an olive tree - you can tell by the city's name that she won (and you'd have to agree if you're a fan of kalamata olives or dirty martinis).

From the acropolis, we followed the ancient paths (or what remains of them) down to the ancient theatres, and further downward to the ruins of the Athens agora, once the site of the marketplace, legal buildings, and the corners where Socrates and Aristotle rapped about Eudaimonia.

If you have a little imagination, you'll probably be most impressed with the Temple of Olympian Zeus. The Corinthian columns stand 17m high, but only fifteen of the original 104 still remain (see picture of Sara in previous entry).

We've been privileged enough to sit and journal at these sites (we're sitting on agora rubble as we write in our notebooks) and enjoy the sun - it's a delightful precursor to a late dinner of olives and Baklava (the Mediterranean dessert, not the mountaineering facial accessory).

We did upload the photos for Kilimanjaro and the safari, in case you haven't seen them yet.

Up next: Crete.

Thank Zeus...

We couldn't have visited Athens at a more perfect time - both in the context of our vacation as well as the season of the year.

Greece is a fitting chaser for our double-shot of blistering-hot Middle East desert. They have calm breezes, birdsongs, green grass, wide pedestrian-only boulevards, mixed salads, and mmm-azing olives and feta cheese. Had we visited Athens first, we may not have as fully appreciated the fresh cuisine, temperate climate, and the fact that we're not readily identifiable as foreigners by our skin and features alone. That said, we've designated this city and the next two (on Crete) our actual "Honeymoon" spots.

The evening we arrived from Cairo we spent on foot, visiting the cafe neighborhoods of Thisso and Plaka, bordering the ancient acropolis.

We dined at a traditional restaurant in Plaka and shared our first carafe of wine since leaving the USA (not including the one Rebecca and Sara split in Ha Long Bay). We were finally able to "unwind" in this more familiar, decadent country after our seven-week nomadic bustle through less-familiar cultures involving asceticism, national religious fervor, zen, or precarious authoritarian rule.

We're amidst a much-needed laundry errand - Plusimo is the Greek pronunciation of Washing. Use it well.