When we were considering places to go for our honeymoon in May of 2007, we considered our ancestors. My family comes from, mostly, the United Kingdom and Tony’s Great grandfather came to the US straight from Greece. As poor college students, financial concerns definitely played a role in the final decision, and we decided to go to Greece (half the price of Scotland). Being a very sensitive person, I decided I was going to learn the Greek language so that I didn’t have to be an annoying tourist. I bought a CD and popped it in my radio of my Toyota Echo and played that thing every – almost – every time I was in the car (it was boring) for over a year before the big trip. We researched and planned, we bought books, Tony made all the day to day plans and where we would visit and all the transportation and hotels. We were ready!
First thing that comes to mind about the trip was the plane ride. I was something like 15 hours on the plane where I could barely fit in the seats, not to mention Tony’s extra 4 inches of femur. That’s something that scarred us enough that even 13 years later, when people talk about far off fabulous trips, Tony and I still think “ugh!! the plane ride!” Then we made it to Athens, finally able to live out our wonderfully planned vacation as newlyweds. The first thing we found out once our plane landed was: The entire transit system – including ferries – was on strike. How were we going to get around to all of our reserved hotels and destinations without transportation? There were some taxis still working, but they were expensive and not in our budget for all the traveling we needed to do. We were not able to visit major sites like The Parthenon, but did wander around the city and explored the National Gardens. The next thing we quickly learned was that my Greek was worthless. I would go up to people and try to speak what I thought was the Greek language, only to have them find out I spoke English and say “oh, thank God.”
We quickly learned where NOT to get food on a budget. There was a guy who came up to us and told us that he worked for a travel agency and had a restaurant recommendation for us and led us a few blocks to this pretty outdoor patio area. The guy there said he could offer us a special of a sampler platter for 30euro which was way more than we wanted to spend at that time, but we were also wanting to be polite and accepted. He ended up charging us 45euro, the food was good, but we were ripped off first thing.
That night, about 1 am Greece time, I woke up and was starving. I went down 6 flights of stairs to get to the lobby (no elevator) and asked where I could find food at that hour. The front desk guy gave me directions so I went and got Tony and dragged him on the streets at 1 am to get some food. Now, THAT is where we found Greece’s best secret – street Gyros – AMAZING taste and only 1.5euros (and they stuff them with fries).
The next morning, we were scheduled to go all over Athens to see all the sites and then go to Pireaus to get on a ferry to Crete, but with all the transportation strike going on, our ferry got cancelled and the only way to get one now was to go and reserve one on a first come, first serve basis. So, we packed up, said goodbye to Athens, then went and tried to beg a taxi to take us to the port. The taxis were just doing circles, asking people where they wanted to go and would decided whether or not they wanted to drive that and tell you yes or no. Except their no sounds like “okay” with a head nod and their yes sounded like “nah” with a quick head shake. So, while we thought one guy agreed to take us and we’re grabbing our bags to put in the car, he’s driving away, and then when one finally agreed, we looked disappointed and started to walk away. Yes, I had studied Greek via the flawless method of in-car CD learning, but when you’re in the situation and everything is fast-paced, it’s hard to decipher when the mannerisms are so opposite of what you’re used to.
So, we hopped in a taxi, paid another whopping 45E and made to to Pireaus just after the crack of dawn, and once the travel agency opened, we were able to secure a spot on the next ferry – leaving at 8pm. 12 hours later. We didn’t want to spend another 45E on a taxi and not be guaranteed to get back in time for the ferry’s departure, so we decided to wander the bustling streets of Pireaus – they were not bustling – it was a tiny little port town (at the time). We did learn some valuable lessons while wandering the streets – after finding out that the archaeological museum we were planning to see was closed (after a 30 minute hike to find it) – we learned that towns that are more tourist-based are not as bad and we once thought. Public restrooms were not widely available or available at all, except in McDonald’s. Yes, we hated going to such a familiar place while in Greece, but we could buy a McFlurry (or a Heineken, oddly enough) and just sit and rest and use the bathrooms. We did find a fabulous bakery that, to this day, served the absolute best baklava I have EVER. HAD. Also, in this pre-cell phone era, churches were great for their clocks.
Eventually, after studying the in-depth idiosyncrasies of pigeon social hierarchy, the day passed and it was finally time to board our ferry to Crete. We had, in an effort to save money, purchased the least expensive tickets to get us over to the large island – deck seats. I’m not 100% sure what we were expecting, but the deck seats were literally metal benches on the deck of what looked like a cruise ship. We sat down, excited to watch the romantic sunset as we were whisked away to the beautiful island of Crete. As we left the port and started across the Mediterranean sea with the sun setting, it very quickly got cold. Very cold. I found myself wishing I had not packed my jacket in the suitcase that was stowed under the boat.
We stayed out on the cold deck for as long as we could stand, which was not very long, then wandered inside. Just inside, there was a hallway with a large room with closed doors on one side blaring club dance music. We knew that we had only paid for the deck seats and knew that we could upgrade to an actual room with a bed, but for a lot more money that we were not prepared to spend. So, we settled just a few yards into the hallway from the outside, afraid of getting into trouble if we ventured too much farther. There was a small reading desk with a lamp, one wooden chair sitting next to a window with a large, heavy red drape. We sat on the floor, huddled together for warmth, and finally, seeing as it was an overnight ride, I lay on the floor with Tony’s leg as a pillow and did my best to curl up in the drape to stay warm. Tony just read a book and let me sleep – or at least rest as it was freezing, I was shivering all night, and the music from the adjacent room was never ending.
Finally, the ship arrived in Crete at the port of Iraklion at 5:30am. We got off the ship, set off to find our hotel, and promptly got lost. We walked with our rolling luggage far past where we were supposed to turn and ended up in a not-very-touristy part of town. An older lady took pity on us and, even though she didn’t speak English, led us to a bus stop and told us to go to Astoria. We eventually figured out how to buy a bus ticket and got on the bus. We had no idea when we had gotten to our stop except a nice passenger told us to get off. We finally found our hotel, but it was way too early to check in, so we went and got breakfast.
We then hiked to the other museum that was on our schedule to see, but it was also closed until August. After some more wandering and time killing around the city, we were able to check into our hotel at 11 am, promptly fell asleep and slept until 7:30pm – we’d slept the day away. Better rested and with at least something going according to plan – we had a roof over our heads – we set off to explore the city and get dinner. The city itself was actually quite beautiful on well-rested eyes – many shops and restaurants.
When we finally settled on a restaurant, Tony ordered a beer and I ordered the “house wine” known as Raki. Quick tip: Raki is NOT wine. I thought it was odd that they brought it to me in a resealable glass bottle with a shot glass, but figured it was the way Greeks drink their wine and started to drink – or inhale what immediately evaporated upon contact with a warm surface. I don’t even remember the rest of the meal; I have some memory of cuttlefish, but don’t know if either of us actually ordered it. We then stumbled back to our hotel (after buying some cookies) and crashed again.
The next day we were scheduled to travel to Knossos – and, surprisingly, we did make it there and had a great time. Pictures:
Next on our schedule was to travel to Chania – first we got lost finding the bus to get there, then as we were travelling, admiring the beautiful dramatic views of sharp mountain peaks with glimpses of the gorgeous Mediterranean sea far below us, we noticed that our hotel whizzed on by. We knew we weren’t anywhere close to Chania where the address for the hotel was, so we figured there was just another hotel with the same name and didn’t say anything. About 45 minutes later, we arrived in Chania and went to a travel agency where they told us we would have to get back on the bus and go back to the place we had seen. So, we caught the next bus and Tony tried to talk to the driver to discuss where we needed to stop or find out the closest stop, but he didn’t speak a word of English so we sat down and formulated a plan. When we got to where we thought we were close and the bus stopped, I went up to talk to the driver to “distract” him while Tony grabbed our luggage, because at this point, we were prepared for disaster. Once I saw that Tony had our stuff, I leaped out of the bus and Tony and I practically high-fived at our level of genius.
We began to walk – large rolling pieces of luggage in tow. Countryside. No sidewalks, no real shoulder. Just the road and rocks. We walked. We passed some very small goat herds. And then we walked. The wheels on our luggage were started to get pitted and not roll as well. Then, we walked some more. Like a couple of idiots, there we were, walking with rolling luggage in the middle of nowhere, sure that we would never see our home in Georgia again, for 3.4 miles before we caught a glimpse of our hotel. It was beautiful, and ended up being a German resort (I hadn’t practiced this language) with lots of older naked folks. There, we got to take our first dip in the Mediterranean which was cold but absolutely beautiful!
We explored that area for a couple of days, finding a tiny temple out in the sea that could only be accessed by traversing rocks that were barely projecting from the turbulent waters, as well as a little outdoor restaurant hut that we ended up going to twice as the owner was so nice. He kept bringing us samples of different kinds of Raki (now we knew better) and taking shots with us. He and the staff were all singing and drunk and swinging their Greek Orthodox beads around. He even offered for us to stay at his house the next time we visit (he was very drunk). The food (like all the food we had in Greece) was AMAZING!
The next day it was time to go back to the mainland and back home. We made it uneventfully to the port but still had several hours to spare before our ship was leaving so we caught a bus to the main city of Chania. This was my favorite place so far. The streets were beautiful, the shopping/restaurant area next to the sea was spectacular! If you’ve even been to Savannah and know the Riverwalk – it was similar except more open air with blue waves of the Mediterranean crashing on the rocks while you shopped or ate.
Then came the absolute worse part of the trip. Yes, it could get worse. We had (smartly *winky face) reserved a faster boat this time which they called the “Flying Dolphins”. We sat in our seats (inside the boat this time) and had to strap in like you would for an airplane. There were about 10 rows of 6-7 people in the room we were in. Then, the trip started and it was like riding a speed boat in the ocean with high waves, with no breeze for 1.5 hours. I get motion sickness very easily, but, apparently, it didn’t matter on this boat. EVERYONE was rushing to the bathrooms by about 20 minutes in. There was so much vomit, it was running down the floors. I was able to hold on for about 30 minutes, then I exploded as well – but was able to make it to the toilet. It was the sickest I have ever been on a trip – there was a line to vomit and people weren’t making it.
Last bit of hell – we got to the port at 1am, the airport at 2am (with Tony practically carrying me at this point) and then arrived back in Atlanta, GA. Eighty. Hours. Later.
