Based on Krissoulas guidance from Thursday we felt up to the task of getting into, around, qnd out of Paris by ourselves, and thats what we did. ((Aside: I am using a French keyboard which has a subtely rearrqnged keyboard - most notably a repositioned a/q, the m in a different location, punctuation all over, etc. So please forgive any typos qnd perform the transliteration in your head when you see things like qnd - read as and)).
After a quick and simple breqkie in our hotel room we wandered down and caught the bus and "regional/country" train that tqkes us from Sannois (where we are staying) into St Lazare station in Paris itself. It is a trip in total of some 30 minutes only - ignoring wait times. Again a truly beautiful dqy - shorts qnd t-shirts weather all day.
The plan for the day was to travel qround on one of the open topped double decker buses, getting off and seeing whatever sights interested us, visit Notre Dame cqthedral, and stay in Paris till qfter dqrk so we could see the Eiffel Tower lit up (Paris - City of Lights). Pretty much we did exactly that.
We grabbed a metro (Paris underground - a truly great and easy to use system - but so is all the other French public transport we have used) over to the Opera stop...which is, as its name suggests, the Opera House. This is one of the 9 or so stop locations for these bus tours that we wanted to join - once you hqve bought your ticket you cqn hop on or off these buses for the next 2 days. They come by every 15 minutes or so, are lqrge qnd red, give an alternqte view from on-top to what you see at ground level, and hqve an audio commentary system (in about 7 languqges) that has about a 50 % chance of working - depending on the seat you are in.
So we took a quick look at the Opera House - extremely austentatious - even the French of the time criticised it - with all its busts and statues, and lqck of sufficient seating for an audience (see, in hindsight I can say the bus audio commentary was useful). Then we chased the tour bus round and round the block (opera house is its own block) until we caught up and were on. Phew. Maria and I plugged in (audio), within 10 minutes Grant "jacked-in" and was deep in his DS game.
I was interested in Notre Dame, and more generally the island on which Paris was founded. These were at the other end of the bus route, so we stayed on for an hour or more - going past sites we hqd visited the day before (e.g., Arc De Triump), and others we hadnt visited. By the time we got to Notre Dame it was lunchtime. So the first order of the day - after gawking at the cathedral exterior qnd the lqrge crowds outside, was to find some lunch. Like true Parisians (of the I-hqve-no-money-kind, those that are cashed-up dine in the little cafes and restaurants) we grabbed some baguettes, a quiche, and water qnd sat between the Seinne river qnd the cathedral - enjoying the sunlight and the food.
Then into Notre Dame. Admission is free (it costs to climb the towers or visit the tresury), and you could even tqke confession there if you zere so inclined. The cathedral is extremely beautiful qnd awe inspiring with its high vaulted veilings and exquisite stained glass windows cqtching the early qfternoon light. I cqn only imagine what effect seeing such an edifice and artwork must have had on medieval residents of the city and their belief system. Its quite qn experience joining the swirl of tourists as they traverse the cathedral counter-clockwise, and one I highly recommend.
Then its outside if you wish to climb the towers for the famous views, and even more famous gargoyles - each different. Access is in groups of 20 at a time, with qbout a 10-minute wait at eqch of the "way-stations" (shop, bell room, lower tier etc.). The system works quite well but does mean you wait outside in a line for some period. The climb was surprisingly strenuous - very narrow winding stone stairs thqt seem to ascend and ascend. However the views truly were great and I loved all the different gargoyles (most qre sheltered but some uncovered show the ravages of the elements). The bell loft with its massive wooden beams was also wonderful.
The climb back down left us hot qnd sweaty. After a long drink break followed by some souviner shopping (Don, I found a hat to replqce the Pork-Pie hat I lost in 1983 one night at Wgong Uni) it was back on the bus qnd qll the way over to the Eiffel Tower in the early evening (around 6pm).
After a bit of a sit on the grass just people and tower watching, and an envious look at a nearby group that had brought picnic supplies, we headed down to the Seinne (only the matter of 200 metres or so) and straight onto a 1-hour cruise on one of the large flat boats that specialise in these things. Maria and I love the movie Charade (Cary Grant - my favourite actor, and Hepburn) which is set in Paris and features a river boat cruise - so this was a must-do for us. Certainly the experience was highly enjoyable qnd gives yet another perspective on this wonderful city (yes - I am another one of its admirers/victims) - but not only the romantic side such as boqt restaurants and strolling couples but qlso the seamier such as homeless under some of the famous bridges.
Back qt the tower and with dusk fallen we went up to the Trocadero (famous area up-hill from the tower) and found a tiny store from which we could buy the makings of q picnic dinner - tatziki dip, bread, ham, lettuce, juice. Then back partway to the tower to find some "comfortable" grass with a view of the tower. Of course, there qre lots of other people with similar ideas, as well as skqters using the hillsides for high-speed slalem practice, the every present police qnd militqry (walking about with assualt rifles), the "Afgan-women-beggers-with-their-postcard-messages", the guys hocking key-rings of the Eiffel tower etc. etc. - the light show is almost an after-thought ... but not quite. Lying on the grass, in the warm evening air, gazing at the golden tower (just the scale of the tower qnd the "open spqce" it implies tends to draw your eyes back to it again and again) is yet another of those special memories to be slotted away.
Just before 10pm we realised the light-show was not going to improve (wed had hopes thqt the fountains of the Trocadero would be lit qnd running) we decided to head home. Getting back to Sannois proved no difficulty - metro to St Lazare, then the regionql train. However in the final leg we hit a hitch. No buses running, the station very quite qnd almost "dead" and no taxis at the taxi stand. Public telephones here need a card - and we had no card (so couldnt call a cab). So we decided to "leg it" - walking the 3 or 4 kilometres bqck to the hotel qnd qrriving tired just before midnight. The walk was particularly hard for Zoe as her stomach had continued to play-up throughout the day...but she soldiered through and I was very proud of her.
26/4 - Into Paris
Went to the Eiffel Tower and the Arc De Triump today. Weather was fantastic. We were very very tired but improved as day went on. Spent a lot of time resting in the park, and Maria even fell asleep under the Eiffel tower (pictures later). Zoe has been crook, but is improving. Gotta run.
25/4 - In France
Just a placeholder to let everyone knw we made it safely to France. There were delayed flights, and expensive taxi rides, but all is good.
19/4 - 24/4 - So Much to Say, So Little Time
Its 9:30pm Tuesday (24/4), Maria is just hopping into bed here in the hotel room in Athens, the kids have been in for a while. Tomorrow morning early we fly off for Paris.
Its with a sense of great frustration that I realise that I am not going to be able to do the last several days justice. Even the dot-point notes I have written cover several pages - breaking them down into a day by day form is at least a solid day's work. I really dislike the thought of putting up a bare-bones summary of what we've been up to and what has happened - a blog should be much more than a postcard (to my mind). However given where the last entry finishes off (the pick-pocketing - note that the Acropolis Now post is out of order and 2 days before that), and just how significant the events of the weekend were, that I needed to give some brief report on everything.
Thursday and Friday (19th and 20th) were primarily concerned with recovering from the difficulties arising from the theft of our wallet and purse. Basically we were left with next to no immediate cash, no cards, and a hotel bill yet to pay.
Thursday morning George (Marika's husband) and Gavin came to our rescue. George dropped around cash in person and Gavin wired us a substantial amount. There were real dramas with the Gavin situation with phone calls, adjustments to what was needed for id etc. A story to be told over a drink or 2. There was a police re4port to file (kids came along - was a real eye opener for them...BTW I didn't see a single computer the whole time, just old ledgers, photocopies and even the use of whiteout) and later pickup. There was also real comedy with the safe in our room. Held our passports (hence getting wired money was hard) and tickets. Key had been in my wallet...hotel didn't have another...first a key was going to be couriered from Italy...then a local locksmith came in and spent several hours drilling the lock out. Eventual it was opened. Replacement/Emergency Mastercards arrived though these turned out to be less than we might have wanted - not linked to our bank in any way so that the only way to obtain cash for us is to visit a bank during business hours and ask for an over-the-counter withdrawal. We had a very trying hour on Friday at Citi Bank (had already tried another) when they said they could not do it because there was no bank backing the card and hence they couldn't tell whether there was credit on the card. Weird...when with a single swipe retailers can still do that (we did that today).
There was further comedy and stress on Friday with us eventually sending a box of goodies home to lighten our burden (had already done that in Nihon). Comedy in that we actually scavenged through dumpsters in the local streets in search of a suitable box to hold our items (I even have photos - ohh how frustrating this incomplete version is), comedy in that the post office closed at 2pm and because of problems with Citi Bank plus lack of language skills on either side at the post-office we ran over time. Still it eventually went...and if we're lucky even to the right address (Jane you should be receiving it within the week).
Saturday, Sunday, and Monday were huge for us in terms of emotional significance. We visited the home villages of both Maria's mother and father in Northern Greece in the area of Florina (just the Greek side of the former Yugoslav border). As real fast background Maria's father died when she was really young, she doesn't recall him at all, and has had no contact with the family till Marika and her sister Krisoula (Maria's cousins and the daughters of Maria's uncle Stavros) contacted her by email and post a couple of years back. So this was the big quest to meet the family that Maria never knew. We had had a briefing from Marika and some of it sounded very labyrinthine - fueds and disputes about land etc.
Its a full day's bus trip either way, and that was an experience itself, but yet another story for another time. We were received with great warmth and generosity by Micho (a distant cousin on Maria's side who had stayed in Cowra with Maria's grandmother 2 years ago and who we had met a couple of times) and his family, plus Stavros. I find it impossible to put into words the feelings that their generosity engendered in us.
We stayed with Maria's uncle Stavros and despite his bluff exterior his warm heart and love were clear from the start. Maria took to him straight away and I have to say all 5 (Stavros' wife is in France with Krisoula who has recently had a child so he is alone currently) of us cried when we said goodbye on the Monday afternoon. Of course it was very funny trying to communicate - he speaks Greek, Macedonian, and German (having worked in Germany for most of his life), while we speak next to no Greek, Maria has some recollections of Macedonian from childhood, and of course English and Japanese were completely useless. There was an aweful lot of gesturing and sign language - I have even added a number of characteristic Greek hand gestures to my body language/vocabulary - lets see if they last.
Stavros lives on the outside of the village and doesn't get on that well with the rest of the brothers (there were 10 siblings in all - 9 boys and a girl; 2 of the boys now dead). So Sunday Micho came and took us in to the village proper to see the house in which her father was born and grew up. One of the brothers (just to confuse the issue this guy is called Micho also) lives there now, and most of the extended family - other brothers, sisters, cousins etc. live in houses next door, across the way etc.
What started as a "sneak" walk down a battle-axe to take a couple of pictures of a house turned in the next hour into a swarm of relatives emerging from their houses to meet the prodigal daughter returning home. There were double kisses on the cheeks for Maria, the kids and I from all and sundry. Old widows bent with age, possessing Greek noses that had continued to grow all their long life, and swathed in black were grabbing and kissing Grant and Zoe - I asked the kids later (in jest) if they thought they were in a fairy tale and the wicked witches had come for them. This greeting was very special for Maria and I was very happy for her.
But we also had Maria's grandmother's and grandfather's (on her mother's side) houses to visit in another village. These were abandonded but of particular significance because Lina (Maria's mum) and a couple of the other uncles had grown up there - so we took much footage for home. Then yet another meal we didn't pay for (I don't believe Micho - Maria's mother's side) let us pay a single cent the entire weekend, even buying our return bus tickets (a large sum) against voluble and extended protests.
Sunday we returned to Maria's father's family for a more extended and formal visit. I have lots of notes just about this event itself; and a fair bit of footage as well. There was photo showing, questions (why don't you speak Greek, why did you come for such a short time), food, drink, conversation (halting at first, but better towards the end when a cousin-in-law Mary arrived who spoke excellent English), food, and drink. As you might imagine it was quite overwhelming at times for all of us (especially the kids who have only please/thankyou level Greek), but it was with a sense of sadness and disappointment that we said goodbye and returned to Stavros for lunch - though not before grabbing a couple of addresses.
For me the simple pleasure of sitting outside in Stavros yard (unmown grass - he keeps it long for the rabbits he keeps) in the hot spring sun, with a beer, some bread, and cheese for lunch is something I will hold inside for a long-time.
Farewells to Stavros, then Micho (Maria's mother's side) and family were extended and painful, but made us feel so lucky to have such family. "This was the most important part of the trip mum" said Grant - and there was total agreement from all four of us - for Maria to by association get some knowledge of her father through these relatives, and find that she (and we) were loved. Saying goodbye is hard, but its only because the times together are so good - and who would ever give up those times together just to avoid the pain of farewell?
So we caught the night bus back and arrived in Athens at 5am this morning - with very little sleep (the bus path is through some beautiful mountains - but the twisting roads are not the best for sleep on a coach). Again the hotel Dore were wonderful in letting us into our room at such a time and we caught an hour or 2 of sleep. We then dived down to Athens central for our last day in the city and spent the time walking to Plaka, having lunch at an outdoor cafe, visiting the temple of Olympian Zeus, and then the Olympic Stadium nearby. Then back to the hotel for some dinner and packing. And now...you are up to date...but what a pale shadow of the rich events we experienced this is. Ohh well.
Its with a sense of great frustration that I realise that I am not going to be able to do the last several days justice. Even the dot-point notes I have written cover several pages - breaking them down into a day by day form is at least a solid day's work. I really dislike the thought of putting up a bare-bones summary of what we've been up to and what has happened - a blog should be much more than a postcard (to my mind). However given where the last entry finishes off (the pick-pocketing - note that the Acropolis Now post is out of order and 2 days before that), and just how significant the events of the weekend were, that I needed to give some brief report on everything.
Thursday and Friday (19th and 20th) were primarily concerned with recovering from the difficulties arising from the theft of our wallet and purse. Basically we were left with next to no immediate cash, no cards, and a hotel bill yet to pay.
Thursday morning George (Marika's husband) and Gavin came to our rescue. George dropped around cash in person and Gavin wired us a substantial amount. There were real dramas with the Gavin situation with phone calls, adjustments to what was needed for id etc. A story to be told over a drink or 2. There was a police re4port to file (kids came along - was a real eye opener for them...BTW I didn't see a single computer the whole time, just old ledgers, photocopies and even the use of whiteout) and later pickup. There was also real comedy with the safe in our room. Held our passports (hence getting wired money was hard) and tickets. Key had been in my wallet...hotel didn't have another...first a key was going to be couriered from Italy...then a local locksmith came in and spent several hours drilling the lock out. Eventual it was opened. Replacement/Emergency Mastercards arrived though these turned out to be less than we might have wanted - not linked to our bank in any way so that the only way to obtain cash for us is to visit a bank during business hours and ask for an over-the-counter withdrawal. We had a very trying hour on Friday at Citi Bank (had already tried another) when they said they could not do it because there was no bank backing the card and hence they couldn't tell whether there was credit on the card. Weird...when with a single swipe retailers can still do that (we did that today).
There was further comedy and stress on Friday with us eventually sending a box of goodies home to lighten our burden (had already done that in Nihon). Comedy in that we actually scavenged through dumpsters in the local streets in search of a suitable box to hold our items (I even have photos - ohh how frustrating this incomplete version is), comedy in that the post office closed at 2pm and because of problems with Citi Bank plus lack of language skills on either side at the post-office we ran over time. Still it eventually went...and if we're lucky even to the right address (Jane you should be receiving it within the week).
Saturday, Sunday, and Monday were huge for us in terms of emotional significance. We visited the home villages of both Maria's mother and father in Northern Greece in the area of Florina (just the Greek side of the former Yugoslav border). As real fast background Maria's father died when she was really young, she doesn't recall him at all, and has had no contact with the family till Marika and her sister Krisoula (Maria's cousins and the daughters of Maria's uncle Stavros) contacted her by email and post a couple of years back. So this was the big quest to meet the family that Maria never knew. We had had a briefing from Marika and some of it sounded very labyrinthine - fueds and disputes about land etc.
Its a full day's bus trip either way, and that was an experience itself, but yet another story for another time. We were received with great warmth and generosity by Micho (a distant cousin on Maria's side who had stayed in Cowra with Maria's grandmother 2 years ago and who we had met a couple of times) and his family, plus Stavros. I find it impossible to put into words the feelings that their generosity engendered in us.
We stayed with Maria's uncle Stavros and despite his bluff exterior his warm heart and love were clear from the start. Maria took to him straight away and I have to say all 5 (Stavros' wife is in France with Krisoula who has recently had a child so he is alone currently) of us cried when we said goodbye on the Monday afternoon. Of course it was very funny trying to communicate - he speaks Greek, Macedonian, and German (having worked in Germany for most of his life), while we speak next to no Greek, Maria has some recollections of Macedonian from childhood, and of course English and Japanese were completely useless. There was an aweful lot of gesturing and sign language - I have even added a number of characteristic Greek hand gestures to my body language/vocabulary - lets see if they last.
Stavros lives on the outside of the village and doesn't get on that well with the rest of the brothers (there were 10 siblings in all - 9 boys and a girl; 2 of the boys now dead). So Sunday Micho came and took us in to the village proper to see the house in which her father was born and grew up. One of the brothers (just to confuse the issue this guy is called Micho also) lives there now, and most of the extended family - other brothers, sisters, cousins etc. live in houses next door, across the way etc.
What started as a "sneak" walk down a battle-axe to take a couple of pictures of a house turned in the next hour into a swarm of relatives emerging from their houses to meet the prodigal daughter returning home. There were double kisses on the cheeks for Maria, the kids and I from all and sundry. Old widows bent with age, possessing Greek noses that had continued to grow all their long life, and swathed in black were grabbing and kissing Grant and Zoe - I asked the kids later (in jest) if they thought they were in a fairy tale and the wicked witches had come for them. This greeting was very special for Maria and I was very happy for her.
But we also had Maria's grandmother's and grandfather's (on her mother's side) houses to visit in another village. These were abandonded but of particular significance because Lina (Maria's mum) and a couple of the other uncles had grown up there - so we took much footage for home. Then yet another meal we didn't pay for (I don't believe Micho - Maria's mother's side) let us pay a single cent the entire weekend, even buying our return bus tickets (a large sum) against voluble and extended protests.
Sunday we returned to Maria's father's family for a more extended and formal visit. I have lots of notes just about this event itself; and a fair bit of footage as well. There was photo showing, questions (why don't you speak Greek, why did you come for such a short time), food, drink, conversation (halting at first, but better towards the end when a cousin-in-law Mary arrived who spoke excellent English), food, and drink. As you might imagine it was quite overwhelming at times for all of us (especially the kids who have only please/thankyou level Greek), but it was with a sense of sadness and disappointment that we said goodbye and returned to Stavros for lunch - though not before grabbing a couple of addresses.
For me the simple pleasure of sitting outside in Stavros yard (unmown grass - he keeps it long for the rabbits he keeps) in the hot spring sun, with a beer, some bread, and cheese for lunch is something I will hold inside for a long-time.
Farewells to Stavros, then Micho (Maria's mother's side) and family were extended and painful, but made us feel so lucky to have such family. "This was the most important part of the trip mum" said Grant - and there was total agreement from all four of us - for Maria to by association get some knowledge of her father through these relatives, and find that she (and we) were loved. Saying goodbye is hard, but its only because the times together are so good - and who would ever give up those times together just to avoid the pain of farewell?
So we caught the night bus back and arrived in Athens at 5am this morning - with very little sleep (the bus path is through some beautiful mountains - but the twisting roads are not the best for sleep on a coach). Again the hotel Dore were wonderful in letting us into our room at such a time and we caught an hour or 2 of sleep. We then dived down to Athens central for our last day in the city and spent the time walking to Plaka, having lunch at an outdoor cafe, visiting the temple of Olympian Zeus, and then the Olympic Stadium nearby. Then back to the hotel for some dinner and packing. And now...you are up to date...but what a pale shadow of the rich events we experienced this is. Ohh well.
16/4 - Acropolis Now
So after a long, unusual, and not too painful (but not that restful either, 
though the kids did sleep almost a full night’s sleep) the ferry began pulling into Pireaus (the major port connected to Athens by rail and bus) before 7am in the morning. There were a lot of bleary faces amongst the passengers…but the intensity of activity in the preparation and urge to get off was just the same. We took our time, trying to stay out of the press…but you also need to get off quick as they want to turn the ferry around fast for the outward bound journey.
One interesting aspect of the disembarkment was that there were a number of Greek orthodox church images – saints, Mary etc. on the wall in the “foyer” area of the ship (where we stood bewildered 9 hours before). I noted a number of the passengers going up and kissing the icons (actually the glass covering the icons) – I’m sure as a thankyou for a safe trip.
Off the ship (dodge those cars driving on, those driving along the pier, and the motorbikes etc.) the port was a hive of activity and to our eyes near chaos. However being the seasoned ferry travelers we were now (hah!) and knowing the layout of Pireaus better we followed the main body of foot passengers to the Metro (train) station. Of course that meant dragging bags and carrying backpacks plus additional bags (food and presents from Marika for instance) across, beside, and sometimes along the port road busy with morning traffic … with 2 tired kids.
In the metro we performed our usual well rehearsed manouevre when meeting a busy
transportation hub with 100s or thousands of people going about their business with purpose and certainty – we stood about uncertainly. Maria went off and bought tickets and we jumped on a train to whisk us into Athens and to the station closest to our hotel – Victoria station. That still left a walk of a kilometre or 2 through Athens streets to get to the hotel at 8am in the morning. We arrived hot (it was a fairly nice spring day) and tired.
The hotel people (Best Western Dore in Kypseli – highly recommended and just a bus ride into the centre) were wonderful. The plan had been to drop off our luggage and go sight-seeing till the room checkin time (noon), but they let us in within 5 minutes. Wonderful to have a shower and recuperate for half an hour.
Then, it was off to the big one – the Acropolis. Armed with our guidebook for Athens and the map from the hotel we grabbed a bus and rode it down past Syntagma to the Plaka area. Of course the bus trip was an experience in itself – crowded bus, crowded street (mopeds and bikes darting in and out) and bumpy ride. We had the common Greek (Athens?) experience – the extreme friendliness of a man who befriended us – telling us where to get off etc. – and the confusion and chaos of a million things going a million different ways. Seeing the Acropolis on the skyline as we approached the inner city was quite a sight and surreal feeling.
I’ve been careful to avoid comparison between Japan and Greece for all sorts of reasons but one parallel I noted again and again (when compared to oz) is the close juxtaposition of the modern world/life (of Athens or Tokyo) and the old world and culture of those places. In particular I’m talking about the physical “space” of the city – in Athens old archeological digs and uncovered sites can be found right next to cafes etc. Where Athens seems (to my amateur eyes) different to Tokyo is that the history goes back much further (in part that’s what you get when you build in enduring marble versus perishable wood [Japan]), and that it is layered – a site may have a Byzantine church, built on top of a Roman market, which sat on some older (less understood) site. On the other hand, in Japan the temples and shrines are still a part of modern people’s religious life – in Greece the archeological sites are a source of national pride and the primary income of the nation (tourism).
So the Acropolis is the highest point on the skyline in Athens and sits pretty much in the
“centre” of the city. The city itself has a number of hillsides inside the city, some green spaces, and surrounding hills, though it is also a sprawling concrete mass. The Acropolis is one of the best places to see the layout of the city. The Acropolis is chiefly the hilltop on which the temple of Athena, Erecthion etc. stand (go read about it if you’re interested), but also a region about the hillside, including a theatre, other temples etc. This later came as a surprise to me (because even the maps I’d looked at didn’t show the outlines of the hillside, just the relative locations and sizes of the attractions).
Anyway, seeing the Acropolis – the theatre, the Parthenon, and the Erecthion up close and in
person – is really a feeling that for me is indescribable. Further, you realize just how significant a world site this is when you hear the stories of the thinkers, movements and styles inspired by this architecture…but perhaps what brings it most home is to look down at the rocks you are walking on – they are polished so smooth in places from the million plus visitors each year, that you slip and slide dangerously on them. It is history that you can reach out and touch…but should you do so one of the unobtrusive (to then) wardens found at all the archeological sites will pounce with a stern “please don’t touch sir”.
By mid-afternoon we were still on the Acropolis, but the kids were flagging – no wonder. We happened to pass a tour group who’s leader really knew his stuff – lots of stories and explanations – snakes and the Erecthion, Poisiden and Athena’s competition, the angular tricks used on the Parthenon, etc. that we tagged along for 30 minutes while the kids waited near the main entrance.
Then, not to waste an opportunity it was over to the nearby Aeropagus Rock – a site with much
history also from ancient mystery rites, judgements of criminals, through to the 1st preaching and conversions by St. Paul (that led to the founding of the Christian church in Greece). This was history we could walk around on and get a good view of the Agora and parts of the Plaka.
Tired, hot, and thirsty we grabbed some rip-off drinks and icecreams from the cafeteria just outside the Acropolis exit. The lemon juice drink was interesting – totally unsweetened. Then down to nearby Hadrian’s arch – right beside a major roadway. Then another quite short walk to Syntagma and the parliament building there – home of the famous Evzone soldiers and their pleated “skirts” and pom-pommed shoes. They are said to be amongst the most handsome soldiers in the army…I guess its just
a matter of taste.
Worn out from a long day we jumped on a crowded bus for the trip back to the hotel. Observing on the map from the hotel it was some 10 minutes in when we realized we were on the wrong bus. Maybe it just describes a circuitous route we first thought. It turned out we had caught a 15, when we could/should have caught a 3, 5, or 13. We ended up out in a suburb somewhere, but had a quick word to the driver. Stay on the bus he explained (in Greek), he would take us back a place where we could catch the bus we needed. And that’s what we did while he popped into a local supermarket for a drink, then got the bus turned around and back down to a stop where we could get the right bus. Another example of the generosity of heart we have encountered so often here in Greece.
Finally back in the region of the hotel we grabbed a Souvlaki for dinner, then headed in for some note taking and much needed rest. Quite a day.
though the kids did sleep almost a full night’s sleep) the ferry began pulling into Pireaus (the major port connected to Athens by rail and bus) before 7am in the morning. There were a lot of bleary faces amongst the passengers…but the intensity of activity in the preparation and urge to get off was just the same. We took our time, trying to stay out of the press…but you also need to get off quick as they want to turn the ferry around fast for the outward bound journey.One interesting aspect of the disembarkment was that there were a number of Greek orthodox church images – saints, Mary etc. on the wall in the “foyer” area of the ship (where we stood bewildered 9 hours before). I noted a number of the passengers going up and kissing the icons (actually the glass covering the icons) – I’m sure as a thankyou for a safe trip.
Off the ship (dodge those cars driving on, those driving along the pier, and the motorbikes etc.) the port was a hive of activity and to our eyes near chaos. However being the seasoned ferry travelers we were now (hah!) and knowing the layout of Pireaus better we followed the main body of foot passengers to the Metro (train) station. Of course that meant dragging bags and carrying backpacks plus additional bags (food and presents from Marika for instance) across, beside, and sometimes along the port road busy with morning traffic … with 2 tired kids.
In the metro we performed our usual well rehearsed manouevre when meeting a busy
transportation hub with 100s or thousands of people going about their business with purpose and certainty – we stood about uncertainly. Maria went off and bought tickets and we jumped on a train to whisk us into Athens and to the station closest to our hotel – Victoria station. That still left a walk of a kilometre or 2 through Athens streets to get to the hotel at 8am in the morning. We arrived hot (it was a fairly nice spring day) and tired.The hotel people (Best Western Dore in Kypseli – highly recommended and just a bus ride into the centre) were wonderful. The plan had been to drop off our luggage and go sight-seeing till the room checkin time (noon), but they let us in within 5 minutes. Wonderful to have a shower and recuperate for half an hour.
Then, it was off to the big one – the Acropolis. Armed with our guidebook for Athens and the map from the hotel we grabbed a bus and rode it down past Syntagma to the Plaka area. Of course the bus trip was an experience in itself – crowded bus, crowded street (mopeds and bikes darting in and out) and bumpy ride. We had the common Greek (Athens?) experience – the extreme friendliness of a man who befriended us – telling us where to get off etc. – and the confusion and chaos of a million things going a million different ways. Seeing the Acropolis on the skyline as we approached the inner city was quite a sight and surreal feeling.
I’ve been careful to avoid comparison between Japan and Greece for all sorts of reasons but one parallel I noted again and again (when compared to oz) is the close juxtaposition of the modern world/life (of Athens or Tokyo) and the old world and culture of those places. In particular I’m talking about the physical “space” of the city – in Athens old archeological digs and uncovered sites can be found right next to cafes etc. Where Athens seems (to my amateur eyes) different to Tokyo is that the history goes back much further (in part that’s what you get when you build in enduring marble versus perishable wood [Japan]), and that it is layered – a site may have a Byzantine church, built on top of a Roman market, which sat on some older (less understood) site. On the other hand, in Japan the temples and shrines are still a part of modern people’s religious life – in Greece the archeological sites are a source of national pride and the primary income of the nation (tourism).
So the Acropolis is the highest point on the skyline in Athens and sits pretty much in the
“centre” of the city. The city itself has a number of hillsides inside the city, some green spaces, and surrounding hills, though it is also a sprawling concrete mass. The Acropolis is one of the best places to see the layout of the city. The Acropolis is chiefly the hilltop on which the temple of Athena, Erecthion etc. stand (go read about it if you’re interested), but also a region about the hillside, including a theatre, other temples etc. This later came as a surprise to me (because even the maps I’d looked at didn’t show the outlines of the hillside, just the relative locations and sizes of the attractions).Anyway, seeing the Acropolis – the theatre, the Parthenon, and the Erecthion up close and in
person – is really a feeling that for me is indescribable. Further, you realize just how significant a world site this is when you hear the stories of the thinkers, movements and styles inspired by this architecture…but perhaps what brings it most home is to look down at the rocks you are walking on – they are polished so smooth in places from the million plus visitors each year, that you slip and slide dangerously on them. It is history that you can reach out and touch…but should you do so one of the unobtrusive (to then) wardens found at all the archeological sites will pounce with a stern “please don’t touch sir”.By mid-afternoon we were still on the Acropolis, but the kids were flagging – no wonder. We happened to pass a tour group who’s leader really knew his stuff – lots of stories and explanations – snakes and the Erecthion, Poisiden and Athena’s competition, the angular tricks used on the Parthenon, etc. that we tagged along for 30 minutes while the kids waited near the main entrance.
Then, not to waste an opportunity it was over to the nearby Aeropagus Rock – a site with much
history also from ancient mystery rites, judgements of criminals, through to the 1st preaching and conversions by St. Paul (that led to the founding of the Christian church in Greece). This was history we could walk around on and get a good view of the Agora and parts of the Plaka.Tired, hot, and thirsty we grabbed some rip-off drinks and icecreams from the cafeteria just outside the Acropolis exit. The lemon juice drink was interesting – totally unsweetened. Then down to nearby Hadrian’s arch – right beside a major roadway. Then another quite short walk to Syntagma and the parliament building there – home of the famous Evzone soldiers and their pleated “skirts” and pom-pommed shoes. They are said to be amongst the most handsome soldiers in the army…I guess its just
a matter of taste.Worn out from a long day we jumped on a crowded bus for the trip back to the hotel. Observing on the map from the hotel it was some 10 minutes in when we realized we were on the wrong bus. Maybe it just describes a circuitous route we first thought. It turned out we had caught a 15, when we could/should have caught a 3, 5, or 13. We ended up out in a suburb somewhere, but had a quick word to the driver. Stay on the bus he explained (in Greek), he would take us back a place where we could catch the bus we needed. And that’s what we did while he popped into a local supermarket for a drink, then got the bus turned around and back down to a stop where we could get the right bus. Another example of the generosity of heart we have encountered so often here in Greece.
Finally back in the region of the hotel we grabbed a Souvlaki for dinner, then headed in for some note taking and much needed rest. Quite a day.
18/4 - A Day in 2 Parts - Part 2: Of Pick Pockets
So, the Delpi Tour bus dropped us in Omonia (the other central suburb and a good deal wilder than Syntagma) and we rushed to find a loo. Into Macdonald's it was; though I'm proud to say that we've yet to eat at any western fast food place - just a much needed dunny stop.
Then we walked along the street that led to our hotel (several kilometres away); looking for a bus stop at which the buses that ran up to our area stop, and a place to buy bus tickets (just 50c - very cheap). To set the context I need to describe the experience of catching a bus in Athens - the actual bus trip itself and the little kiosks near the shops that sell tickets.
The kioks are small rectangular buildings with overhanging eaves and merchandise "all over the shop". I'm talking your typical lollies/candy, newspapers, etc., but also books (often archeological if its near a site), cards - including fake imagery of "ancient Greek sex" and pornography hanging from the eaves - some very explicit. About these kiosks gather dozens of people at the popular stops. When a bus arrives there is a crush (not equally Japanese trains though) to squeeze onto the bus - with lots of people standing.
The bus trip itself is a jerking start/stop ride who's rythm comes from the Athens traffic - and perhaps the whims of the driver. Passengers sway about, pressing against and bumping into
each other as they hold the rings attached to the railing along the top of the bus.
So, we walked and walked till we got to the stop in front of the archeological museum. Lots of people there, it was about 6:30 or maybe 7pm. The first bus that passed was so crowded we didn't even attempt to get on. The second bus we entered and found the usual crush. The kids stood between us, swaying even more-so than an adult (and subsequently buming us even more) because the reach up to the rings (for Zoe) or our arms/body was less stable for them.
During the ride to the next stop I felt a subtle pressure but recurring more than you might expect from random contact against my left hip. It was below that level of active awareness - I knew there was a small woman there right beside me and that it seemed slightly unusual for a woman to be so close. But I wasn't going to be rude and turn and look. All this is hindsight though, and I know my attention was on Zoe and Grant as they bumped and swayed between Maria and I. Whatever it was, as the bus pulled to a stop I suddenly checked my left pocket where my wallet was; and it was gone. By this time the doors at the back, in front of which we were standing, had opened and one stream of people were exiting and another entering. In surprise I exclaimed that my wallet was gone, Maria looked done at the bag she had slung on her hip; found the double clips undone and also say that her purse was missing. As the doors were about to close we jumped off the bus, in the hope of finding the people/person who had so magically taken our wallet and purse. I recall feeling sheer consternation that it could be done to me and I wouldn't be aware of it.
I was unsure of the appearance of the person that had been beside me; but was fairly sure that one woman I saw turning up a side street might have been her. I pursued; telling Maria and Grant to stay and wait. I caught up to her gradually and a block later stopped her in my halting Greek+English (chiefly English). She waved her handsw at me, pleading no understanding and walked on...and I stood there. Around me people rushed back and forth about their own business, while in my head Japanese words for asking for assistance, calling for police, announcing a thief teemed - but no Greek. I just lacked the conviction/guts/? to grab her and so she walked away. Now I tell myself that even if it was her she would have passed off the wallet and purses as her first act and that I would have looked like the aggressive male acosting an innocent women...but I wonder.
Returning to the corner I found Maria, Zoe and Grant in full distress mode with the kids crying uncontrollably. It was a moment when it seemed that all pretense that we understood Greece and we were in control of what we were doing seemed stripped away - we were worse than victims (of a crime) because people streamed around us, oblivious to our distress. We decided to walk to path the woman had taken, hoping she may have tossed the wallet+purse into a bin after removing the money. No luck.
So we went back to the bus stop, now distrustful of everyone around us and rode another bus up to near our hotel. I don't think the concierge at our hotel (I have to say these people at the Dore have been more than wonderful to us - some of that may emerge in what I write next) knew what him him in the forelorn and bereft people who confronted him with their tale.
In our wallet and purse we had a reasonable amount of cash, all our keycards (our "daily" source of cash), our credit cards, and our driver's licenses. So we were suddenly bereft of cash and the ability to get cash in a hotel we would be leaving in 2 days. Ohhh, and our passports and airline tickets were in a safe in our room - but the only key to that safe had been in my wallet (I'm sure you're starting to see the setup of some great pathos here).
So it was time to split up. Maria to remain in the room with the kids and start the painful business of cancelling cards, thinking about financial arrangements etc., and I to find the local police station and make a report. Now the interesting detail of the next 4 hours is in the detail of everything that happened...but I'm afraid I'm so tired through lack of sleep and emotional downs, ups, and downs, that I'm going to leave out too much. Let me start with the police station and report.
I had instructions from the Concierge, and it was only a few blocks away; but still I became lost. I asked one kindly old gentlemen - who had no English - and who gave me the wrong directions. Then down to a flourist on the main street who did put me right.
An Athens police station is a totally unique environment which I will not be able to convey adequately. Our local one seems fairly typical. Multi-storey, plain and rather drab (inside even more so) and with a white pill box out the front. That pillbox is "manned" by a policeman with an MP5 or other similar modern sub-machine casually slung across his chest. He stands right beside the door. As I approached the front steps this guard policeman asked me what I wanted; I explained I had my wallet stolen - "First Floor" he said jerking his thumb behind him. Ascending to the first floor I found a bare lobby area - a couple of hard seats - with close to a dozen listless and wan people standing about. Behind a glass partition I could see someone (plain clothed cop?) sitting behind a desk and perhaps taking a statement from someone. I stood around for a few minutes, glancing down the one corridor and into the partitioned room. Nothing. I descended to the ground floor, wondering if the Greeks used American floor numbering and found a policewoman in uniform behind a desk just completing some business. I asked her, she said go up to the 1st floor, I said there's all these people just standing around, she said go straight into the glass room. Don't wait around. So I did...to be yelled at by the plain clothes officer and told to get outside. So I waited. Eventually he called me in.
Across the next hour, amid numerous interruptions of phone calls, people coming into the room - both Athens citizens and other officers (despite the lack of uniform the difference was, as you'd expect, obvious), and my lack of Greek combined with the primary (two other officers came in at various times, each with better English) officer's poor English, my story of what had happened finally unfolded for the officers. They had me write a list of what was missing. Then, because Maria wasn't with me they told me to go away and come back the next day - you both need to make a statement. Should I come back later tonight I asked; no come tomorrow.
Returning to our rooms I found Maria worn down by the emotions of the day, the phone calls of cancellation, and (most distressing to her), her inability to contact our travel insurance company; no matter what number she used. So I started making calls. Here's one sequence I recall well, and which took probably about an hour. I went to the Concierge and got the number for the Aussie Embassy, hoping they'd be able to help - we were facing the situation of no money for food or our bill in a hotel in AThens - or thats how it seemed that night. We had a total of EU$20 (Zoe's money), some US currency (in the unaccessible safe) and a sum in our Australian bank that we no longer had any "funnel" to (other than internet banking...how would we use that we wondered). Anyway, I called the embassy. Closed of course, but by following a number of prompts I was routed through to someone in Canberra for emergency assistance. After go around in circles and not explaining my needs properly I got him to contact our insurance company and connect me to them. He then left the conversation. The agent for the insurance cfompany was very nice and I got to know her rather well in the next hour. After explaininjg the situation to her she explained that there was little that the company could do for us (e.g., no cash advances or such), but that she would put me in touch with Mastercard International to set about issuing an Emergency Card. She stayed on the line while I spoke to the stoltifyingly polite and formal American operator (but stayed in the background). Then the American operator said we needed the Commonwealth Bank (our bank) in on the conversation. So she called them, but (accidently?) dropped out. So I was left explaining the situation to the Commonwealth lady who wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed (as became more and more apparent). Finally Mastercard International was called again and a kind of stand-off in understanding occured between Commonwealth Bank Woman (she lacked the understanding) and Mastercard International Woman. Finally we got rid of the dumb aussie and set about the laborious task of having an emergency card issued. It was totally sureal having the insurance woman ride quiet shotgun in the back most of the time, and then chat to me during the intermidable "I just need to put you on hold for a minute sir"s. It actually lightened my spirits having a laugh with her about what was happening.
In the meantime Maria was burning credits on her mobile phone calling all and sundry. She had earlier awoken Jane (thanks Jane!) in the middle of the night to ask for help with the insurance company contact. Finally she got onto Marika who came to the rescue - she would have George drop around some cash the next morning (I think he was even going to come that evening), and would cover the hotel bill if necessary. I'd also gotten an emergency card (actually pair) issued from Mastercard that should turn up within 48 hours; though these cards would have limitations in how/where they could be used (thats still unclear even after talking to Mastercard International operators about exactly that today - great). So some time around 10:30 or 11-something, with the kids crashed on our bed we had a bit of a family pep talk and climbed into bed. However Maria and I were so nervous and worried that neither of us slept very much - though we felt emotionally and physically drained.
Then we walked along the street that led to our hotel (several kilometres away); looking for a bus stop at which the buses that ran up to our area stop, and a place to buy bus tickets (just 50c - very cheap). To set the context I need to describe the experience of catching a bus in Athens - the actual bus trip itself and the little kiosks near the shops that sell tickets.
The kioks are small rectangular buildings with overhanging eaves and merchandise "all over the shop". I'm talking your typical lollies/candy, newspapers, etc., but also books (often archeological if its near a site), cards - including fake imagery of "ancient Greek sex" and pornography hanging from the eaves - some very explicit. About these kiosks gather dozens of people at the popular stops. When a bus arrives there is a crush (not equally Japanese trains though) to squeeze onto the bus - with lots of people standing.
The bus trip itself is a jerking start/stop ride who's rythm comes from the Athens traffic - and perhaps the whims of the driver. Passengers sway about, pressing against and bumping into
each other as they hold the rings attached to the railing along the top of the bus.So, we walked and walked till we got to the stop in front of the archeological museum. Lots of people there, it was about 6:30 or maybe 7pm. The first bus that passed was so crowded we didn't even attempt to get on. The second bus we entered and found the usual crush. The kids stood between us, swaying even more-so than an adult (and subsequently buming us even more) because the reach up to the rings (for Zoe) or our arms/body was less stable for them.
During the ride to the next stop I felt a subtle pressure but recurring more than you might expect from random contact against my left hip. It was below that level of active awareness - I knew there was a small woman there right beside me and that it seemed slightly unusual for a woman to be so close. But I wasn't going to be rude and turn and look. All this is hindsight though, and I know my attention was on Zoe and Grant as they bumped and swayed between Maria and I. Whatever it was, as the bus pulled to a stop I suddenly checked my left pocket where my wallet was; and it was gone. By this time the doors at the back, in front of which we were standing, had opened and one stream of people were exiting and another entering. In surprise I exclaimed that my wallet was gone, Maria looked done at the bag she had slung on her hip; found the double clips undone and also say that her purse was missing. As the doors were about to close we jumped off the bus, in the hope of finding the people/person who had so magically taken our wallet and purse. I recall feeling sheer consternation that it could be done to me and I wouldn't be aware of it.
I was unsure of the appearance of the person that had been beside me; but was fairly sure that one woman I saw turning up a side street might have been her. I pursued; telling Maria and Grant to stay and wait. I caught up to her gradually and a block later stopped her in my halting Greek+English (chiefly English). She waved her handsw at me, pleading no understanding and walked on...and I stood there. Around me people rushed back and forth about their own business, while in my head Japanese words for asking for assistance, calling for police, announcing a thief teemed - but no Greek. I just lacked the conviction/guts/? to grab her and so she walked away. Now I tell myself that even if it was her she would have passed off the wallet and purses as her first act and that I would have looked like the aggressive male acosting an innocent women...but I wonder.
Returning to the corner I found Maria, Zoe and Grant in full distress mode with the kids crying uncontrollably. It was a moment when it seemed that all pretense that we understood Greece and we were in control of what we were doing seemed stripped away - we were worse than victims (of a crime) because people streamed around us, oblivious to our distress. We decided to walk to path the woman had taken, hoping she may have tossed the wallet+purse into a bin after removing the money. No luck.
So we went back to the bus stop, now distrustful of everyone around us and rode another bus up to near our hotel. I don't think the concierge at our hotel (I have to say these people at the Dore have been more than wonderful to us - some of that may emerge in what I write next) knew what him him in the forelorn and bereft people who confronted him with their tale.
In our wallet and purse we had a reasonable amount of cash, all our keycards (our "daily" source of cash), our credit cards, and our driver's licenses. So we were suddenly bereft of cash and the ability to get cash in a hotel we would be leaving in 2 days. Ohhh, and our passports and airline tickets were in a safe in our room - but the only key to that safe had been in my wallet (I'm sure you're starting to see the setup of some great pathos here).
So it was time to split up. Maria to remain in the room with the kids and start the painful business of cancelling cards, thinking about financial arrangements etc., and I to find the local police station and make a report. Now the interesting detail of the next 4 hours is in the detail of everything that happened...but I'm afraid I'm so tired through lack of sleep and emotional downs, ups, and downs, that I'm going to leave out too much. Let me start with the police station and report.
I had instructions from the Concierge, and it was only a few blocks away; but still I became lost. I asked one kindly old gentlemen - who had no English - and who gave me the wrong directions. Then down to a flourist on the main street who did put me right.
An Athens police station is a totally unique environment which I will not be able to convey adequately. Our local one seems fairly typical. Multi-storey, plain and rather drab (inside even more so) and with a white pill box out the front. That pillbox is "manned" by a policeman with an MP5 or other similar modern sub-machine casually slung across his chest. He stands right beside the door. As I approached the front steps this guard policeman asked me what I wanted; I explained I had my wallet stolen - "First Floor" he said jerking his thumb behind him. Ascending to the first floor I found a bare lobby area - a couple of hard seats - with close to a dozen listless and wan people standing about. Behind a glass partition I could see someone (plain clothed cop?) sitting behind a desk and perhaps taking a statement from someone. I stood around for a few minutes, glancing down the one corridor and into the partitioned room. Nothing. I descended to the ground floor, wondering if the Greeks used American floor numbering and found a policewoman in uniform behind a desk just completing some business. I asked her, she said go up to the 1st floor, I said there's all these people just standing around, she said go straight into the glass room. Don't wait around. So I did...to be yelled at by the plain clothes officer and told to get outside. So I waited. Eventually he called me in.
Across the next hour, amid numerous interruptions of phone calls, people coming into the room - both Athens citizens and other officers (despite the lack of uniform the difference was, as you'd expect, obvious), and my lack of Greek combined with the primary (two other officers came in at various times, each with better English) officer's poor English, my story of what had happened finally unfolded for the officers. They had me write a list of what was missing. Then, because Maria wasn't with me they told me to go away and come back the next day - you both need to make a statement. Should I come back later tonight I asked; no come tomorrow.
Returning to our rooms I found Maria worn down by the emotions of the day, the phone calls of cancellation, and (most distressing to her), her inability to contact our travel insurance company; no matter what number she used. So I started making calls. Here's one sequence I recall well, and which took probably about an hour. I went to the Concierge and got the number for the Aussie Embassy, hoping they'd be able to help - we were facing the situation of no money for food or our bill in a hotel in AThens - or thats how it seemed that night. We had a total of EU$20 (Zoe's money), some US currency (in the unaccessible safe) and a sum in our Australian bank that we no longer had any "funnel" to (other than internet banking...how would we use that we wondered). Anyway, I called the embassy. Closed of course, but by following a number of prompts I was routed through to someone in Canberra for emergency assistance. After go around in circles and not explaining my needs properly I got him to contact our insurance company and connect me to them. He then left the conversation. The agent for the insurance cfompany was very nice and I got to know her rather well in the next hour. After explaininjg the situation to her she explained that there was little that the company could do for us (e.g., no cash advances or such), but that she would put me in touch with Mastercard International to set about issuing an Emergency Card. She stayed on the line while I spoke to the stoltifyingly polite and formal American operator (but stayed in the background). Then the American operator said we needed the Commonwealth Bank (our bank) in on the conversation. So she called them, but (accidently?) dropped out. So I was left explaining the situation to the Commonwealth lady who wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed (as became more and more apparent). Finally Mastercard International was called again and a kind of stand-off in understanding occured between Commonwealth Bank Woman (she lacked the understanding) and Mastercard International Woman. Finally we got rid of the dumb aussie and set about the laborious task of having an emergency card issued. It was totally sureal having the insurance woman ride quiet shotgun in the back most of the time, and then chat to me during the intermidable "I just need to put you on hold for a minute sir"s. It actually lightened my spirits having a laugh with her about what was happening.
In the meantime Maria was burning credits on her mobile phone calling all and sundry. She had earlier awoken Jane (thanks Jane!) in the middle of the night to ask for help with the insurance company contact. Finally she got onto Marika who came to the rescue - she would have George drop around some cash the next morning (I think he was even going to come that evening), and would cover the hotel bill if necessary. I'd also gotten an emergency card (actually pair) issued from Mastercard that should turn up within 48 hours; though these cards would have limitations in how/where they could be used (thats still unclear even after talking to Mastercard International operators about exactly that today - great). So some time around 10:30 or 11-something, with the kids crashed on our bed we had a bit of a family pep talk and climbed into bed. However Maria and I were so nervous and worried that neither of us slept very much - though we felt emotionally and physically drained.
18/4 - A Day in 2 Parts - Part 1: Of Prophets
This day has had such repercussions for our trip as well as "darkening" our physche that I've broken my usual pattern of writing the days in chronological order. The day started with a wonderful trip to the beautiful delphi and ended with us feeling bereft and adrift in a strange land...and in between there's quite a bit of pathos. This is the first part - the beauty.
George, Marika's husband, had organised for us to go on a 1-day bus trip to Delphi at no cost to us. Delphi was one of my "ohh I so wish we could go there but can't due to the time and distance"
locations. Delphi (incase you're a bit light on with regard to greek classics and mythology) is the "navel" of the world - discovered when Zeus set one eagle flying east and one flying west. Where they met - Delphi - was the centre of the universe. It was also the home for nearly 11 centuries of the Delphi oracle - really a priestess or 2, attached to a temple of Apollo (he has aspects for Light, Music, Archery, and Divination, amongst other attributes). The Delphi orcale was incredibly powerful both politically and financially - consulted by great kings, statemens, and warriors, and given offerings of equal status. So its a great archeological site; even though it was looted at least 4 times.
So, we joined a 1-day package tour. Whisking in early into Syntagma (kind of the centre of new
Athrns) for the 8:45 start. These bus tours are strange things. On one hand you get given a bunch of information from someone in the know and don't have to worry about navigation etc., but on the other hand you're on a pre-determined path through time and space - we'll meet outside the museum at 1:35, the bus will depart at 2:15 (actual times of part of the tour) so that there's little scope to make the trip "your own" experience - you run the real risk of having a movie-watching-like-experience - everyone sees the same thing with the same focus.
The kids soon bored of the spiel on the bus - particularly as it was done in English, followed by the French version. However I got a real kick out of seeing the physical context of the story of Marathon (you drive past it and it is a large water catchment area) - the race and the battle; as well as driving path mother Thebes - built on top of ancient Thebes one of the mighty old kindgoms - while once again hearing the legend of Oedipus.
As a side note I'll say that there were a few aussie apirs on the bus; including the most obnoxious example of an Australian I can recall meeting. Think of the classic "Ugly American Tourist" put put a passive-aggressive aussie spin on it - sneering, whining, making snide comments about Greeks bearing gifts - and you get the picture of this 50 year old guy and his sidekick.
From the ugly to the beautiful, and Delphi is certainly that. Set in an extremely mountainous
region of steep cliffs, hillsides scattered with pines and sweeping gorges it creates a sense of awe even today (with dozens of tourist buses parked in the carpark) - imagine what it must have been like 2 millenia ago. Like other archeological sites it consists of a few foundation level buildings, another 1 or two with partial walls or a few partial columns (like the temple of Apollo) and 1 or two reconstructed buildings; plus a museum. Like the Acropolis it has one of the half circular tiered theatres, and even a full size classic athletics arena - very impressive. However the thing that made the greatest impression on me was the physical environs - I really wished I could have had an afternoon (indeed a week) to sit quietly and listen to the birds, or climb a 
hillside. However, despite it being a full day tour - we only had about 2 hours at the site. Disappointing.
After a relatively simple lunch that was part of the package it was the long drive back to town. It became a real question of endurance as we neared Athens and entered the traffic jams - both kids were dying for a loo (its the major theme of this entire trip - I know there's a "new" form of travel where you pick destinations at random; e.g., opening a book - we could do something similar just by navigating/orienteering from dunny to dunny for Grant).
George, Marika's husband, had organised for us to go on a 1-day bus trip to Delphi at no cost to us. Delphi was one of my "ohh I so wish we could go there but can't due to the time and distance"
locations. Delphi (incase you're a bit light on with regard to greek classics and mythology) is the "navel" of the world - discovered when Zeus set one eagle flying east and one flying west. Where they met - Delphi - was the centre of the universe. It was also the home for nearly 11 centuries of the Delphi oracle - really a priestess or 2, attached to a temple of Apollo (he has aspects for Light, Music, Archery, and Divination, amongst other attributes). The Delphi orcale was incredibly powerful both politically and financially - consulted by great kings, statemens, and warriors, and given offerings of equal status. So its a great archeological site; even though it was looted at least 4 times.So, we joined a 1-day package tour. Whisking in early into Syntagma (kind of the centre of new
Athrns) for the 8:45 start. These bus tours are strange things. On one hand you get given a bunch of information from someone in the know and don't have to worry about navigation etc., but on the other hand you're on a pre-determined path through time and space - we'll meet outside the museum at 1:35, the bus will depart at 2:15 (actual times of part of the tour) so that there's little scope to make the trip "your own" experience - you run the real risk of having a movie-watching-like-experience - everyone sees the same thing with the same focus.The kids soon bored of the spiel on the bus - particularly as it was done in English, followed by the French version. However I got a real kick out of seeing the physical context of the story of Marathon (you drive past it and it is a large water catchment area) - the race and the battle; as well as driving path mother Thebes - built on top of ancient Thebes one of the mighty old kindgoms - while once again hearing the legend of Oedipus.
As a side note I'll say that there were a few aussie apirs on the bus; including the most obnoxious example of an Australian I can recall meeting. Think of the classic "Ugly American Tourist" put put a passive-aggressive aussie spin on it - sneering, whining, making snide comments about Greeks bearing gifts - and you get the picture of this 50 year old guy and his sidekick.
From the ugly to the beautiful, and Delphi is certainly that. Set in an extremely mountainous
region of steep cliffs, hillsides scattered with pines and sweeping gorges it creates a sense of awe even today (with dozens of tourist buses parked in the carpark) - imagine what it must have been like 2 millenia ago. Like other archeological sites it consists of a few foundation level buildings, another 1 or two with partial walls or a few partial columns (like the temple of Apollo) and 1 or two reconstructed buildings; plus a museum. Like the Acropolis it has one of the half circular tiered theatres, and even a full size classic athletics arena - very impressive. However the thing that made the greatest impression on me was the physical environs - I really wished I could have had an afternoon (indeed a week) to sit quietly and listen to the birds, or climb a 
hillside. However, despite it being a full day tour - we only had about 2 hours at the site. Disappointing.After a relatively simple lunch that was part of the package it was the long drive back to town. It became a real question of endurance as we neared Athens and entered the traffic jams - both kids were dying for a loo (its the major theme of this entire trip - I know there's a "new" form of travel where you pick destinations at random; e.g., opening a book - we could do something similar just by navigating/orienteering from dunny to dunny for Grant).
15/4 - A Night on the Ferry
Sunday the 15 was our day of leaving Santorini; though we wouldn't head out till that evening on an overnight ferry.
So that morning Marika took us into another travel agent (she doesn't issue ferry tickets) and we purchased tickets for the 4 of us on the overnight ferry - leaving 10:15pm and arriving in Pireaus at 7:25am the next morning. Tickets we EU$28 per adult - giving an indication of how a standard ticket is on these things. After a wander around a little hidden village (Marika was looking for uniqur photos) it was home and a lunch of huge pork chops which we cooked.
Then, while Grant played his last game of soccer with the village
boys, Maria, Zoe and I wandered the heights and by-ways of Pyrgos - our farewell to this strange land of enchanting whitewashed houses and contrasts.
For dinner we had pretty much the same meal as we had on the first night of arrival - Souvlaki from Mythos grill (just 50 metres up the hill from their house). Then it was time to say goodbye to Stavros who was off to a soccer dinner. This was particularly hard for Grant who had become very attached to his older 3rd cousin. Tears from Grant became a theme of the entire trip to Athens.
Then, before we knew it, it was time to head down to the port for the ferry. So one of Marika's
mini-buses arrived and down down we went along the winding port cliff-face in the dark. Marika had to leave us at the port as she had another transfer from the airport at the time of our departure. It was another tough farewell for us - we'd spent far less time with Marika than we would have liked due to her extreme work ethic and passion for doing the best job; but we felt very close to her and very sad.
The ferry boarding and seat finding was another of those experiences that made us feel dumb outsiders and out of rhythm with the Helenic way. There was the usual rush of people, trucks and cars to leave the newly arrived ferry, then an equally mad rush by those waiting to get on when it was our turn (trucks were loaded on first). So there we were in packed corridors and
stairways with stacks of luggage. It nearly killed Maria hauling her bag up 2 steep decks (very large cargo hull decks) to get to the passenger level. Then as people vanished off to their seats (or so we assumed), we stood around in bewilderment and a diminishing crowd till it was just us. Quadruple checking our tickets and the various signs over the passages from the central area we discoverd that we were in the smoking section (statistic: The % of Greeks that smoke is over double the EU average and it is found everywhere - restaurants, public etc.) up the back in airline like seats (whos arms could not be raised), and it was already filled with smoke. So, we made the bold move (so we thought) of going and sitting in the much smaller non-smoking section. A ferry like this is large; it has a bar, an all-night disco (with a very funky 70s style announcement that it would be running all night, so why not come dance the night away), a cafeteria, some sleeper cabins for the wealthier, and several decks.
Taking a stroll I noted people already lying on blankets under stairwells, talking and smoking in
corridors etc. I also noted that the cafeteria was not serving any food, lightly populated, and possessing green sofas on one side - as ideal a sleeping location as we could hope for in the circumstances. And thats how we spent the night - sporadically (kids slept well) sleeping in a brightly lit cafeteria with airline sleeping masks on and the throb and shudder of the huge ship engines both in our ears and our bones. In was a very surreal experience; particularly when I took a walk around 2am. And thats how we travelled from Santorini to Pireaus.
So that morning Marika took us into another travel agent (she doesn't issue ferry tickets) and we purchased tickets for the 4 of us on the overnight ferry - leaving 10:15pm and arriving in Pireaus at 7:25am the next morning. Tickets we EU$28 per adult - giving an indication of how a standard ticket is on these things. After a wander around a little hidden village (Marika was looking for uniqur photos) it was home and a lunch of huge pork chops which we cooked.
Then, while Grant played his last game of soccer with the village
boys, Maria, Zoe and I wandered the heights and by-ways of Pyrgos - our farewell to this strange land of enchanting whitewashed houses and contrasts.For dinner we had pretty much the same meal as we had on the first night of arrival - Souvlaki from Mythos grill (just 50 metres up the hill from their house). Then it was time to say goodbye to Stavros who was off to a soccer dinner. This was particularly hard for Grant who had become very attached to his older 3rd cousin. Tears from Grant became a theme of the entire trip to Athens.
Then, before we knew it, it was time to head down to the port for the ferry. So one of Marika's
mini-buses arrived and down down we went along the winding port cliff-face in the dark. Marika had to leave us at the port as she had another transfer from the airport at the time of our departure. It was another tough farewell for us - we'd spent far less time with Marika than we would have liked due to her extreme work ethic and passion for doing the best job; but we felt very close to her and very sad.The ferry boarding and seat finding was another of those experiences that made us feel dumb outsiders and out of rhythm with the Helenic way. There was the usual rush of people, trucks and cars to leave the newly arrived ferry, then an equally mad rush by those waiting to get on when it was our turn (trucks were loaded on first). So there we were in packed corridors and
stairways with stacks of luggage. It nearly killed Maria hauling her bag up 2 steep decks (very large cargo hull decks) to get to the passenger level. Then as people vanished off to their seats (or so we assumed), we stood around in bewilderment and a diminishing crowd till it was just us. Quadruple checking our tickets and the various signs over the passages from the central area we discoverd that we were in the smoking section (statistic: The % of Greeks that smoke is over double the EU average and it is found everywhere - restaurants, public etc.) up the back in airline like seats (whos arms could not be raised), and it was already filled with smoke. So, we made the bold move (so we thought) of going and sitting in the much smaller non-smoking section. A ferry like this is large; it has a bar, an all-night disco (with a very funky 70s style announcement that it would be running all night, so why not come dance the night away), a cafeteria, some sleeper cabins for the wealthier, and several decks.Taking a stroll I noted people already lying on blankets under stairwells, talking and smoking in
corridors etc. I also noted that the cafeteria was not serving any food, lightly populated, and possessing green sofas on one side - as ideal a sleeping location as we could hope for in the circumstances. And thats how we spent the night - sporadically (kids slept well) sleeping in a brightly lit cafeteria with airline sleeping masks on and the throb and shudder of the huge ship engines both in our ears and our bones. In was a very surreal experience; particularly when I took a walk around 2am. And thats how we travelled from Santorini to Pireaus.12/4 - 14/4: Monasteries, Wind, Colds & Travel Arrangements
We're about to enter a new phase for our travels - living out of 
hotel rooms and suitcases rather than from houses. The day after tomorrow (it currently being about 2pm Saturday afternoon) we expect to catch the ferry to Athens and spend the next 4 days there (assuming we can sort out the accommodation...its looking scarce and pricey). Then up to Florina - the home village area of Maria's parents for 2 days (and a day's travel each way). Then onto France. I expect that its going to be much more difficult maintaining the blog from now on - in terms of frequency of posts, amount said, and images (this last perhaps? most difficult).
hotel rooms and suitcases rather than from houses. The day after tomorrow (it currently being about 2pm Saturday afternoon) we expect to catch the ferry to Athens and spend the next 4 days there (assuming we can sort out the accommodation...its looking scarce and pricey). Then up to Florina - the home village area of Maria's parents for 2 days (and a day's travel each way). Then onto France. I expect that its going to be much more difficult maintaining the blog from now on - in terms of frequency of posts, amount said, and images (this last perhaps? most difficult).The end of our time here on Santorini has come quickly and its been a wonderful time for us - no doubt an absolutely unique location that must be not only seen, but experienced.
I'll try and quickly summarise the last few days (I'm waiting for Marika to return to the office and expect her any minute).
On Thursday (12th) we said goodbye to George and Stavros (though he should be back tonight) who were going on the ferry to Athens. The winds were very strong and there was concern that the ferries would not run. Marika spent the day running around sorting out delayed arrivals and departures. George called after arriving in Athens and said virtually everyone on the ferry had thrown up - the seas were that rough (and the ferry had to stop several times in open water 
because it was vibrating/rocking too much). Lets hope we don't have that rather unique experience when we leave.
because it was vibrating/rocking too much). Lets hope we don't have that rather unique experience when we leave.After lunch Maria and I (we left the kids to rest and watch cartoons) decided to take a walk up the "mountain" (I think about 600m in height) behind Pyrgos (our local village) to the Profiti Ilias Monastery on top. Its a very beautiful walk with red poppies and other wildflowers in bloom, plus a lot of exposure to give a great view across parts of the island. However the wind was phenomenal along certain sections; making for hard going. However our spirits were continually lightened by the fact that we were accompanied by one of the local dogs (looks like a slightly smaller version of a dingo) all the way up and back. As I recall Grant once again played soccer with the lads from the village (with Stavros away some of the other boys came and fetched Grant).
Friday (13th) was extremely quiet, with Grant's cold having spread to both Zoe and I. I particularly seemed to possess very little energy. As such we spent virtually the whole day at home. Grant went off to play soccer (in this case it ended up being Playstation 2 games, not soccer) before lunch; while Zoe, Maria, and I toured around Pyrgos village (its on a hillside with lots of climbing, descending, and one or two encircling narrow whitewashed streets) looking at the architecture and trying to ascertain the outlines of the fortress that the town used to be. We subsequently learnt (talking to Marika that night) that the walls had been incorporated into the houses. Once again Grant went off for soccer, and in the evening Maria and I did some online travel arrangements (just as we have done earlier today).
11/4 - Bus Rides and Dunnies
Wednesday was a particularly warm and pleasant day. After some 
“debate” about holiday plans (both local, Greece, and France) we decided to head into the village (Pyrgos) square and catch the bus into Fira for some sightseeing and perhaps shopping.
“debate” about holiday plans (both local, Greece, and France) we decided to head into the village (Pyrgos) square and catch the bus into Fira for some sightseeing and perhaps shopping. Catching the bus was “interesting”. There is no timetable at the bus-stop. We asked at a couple of the local shops on the square, one didn’t know, the other said the bus came every hour. So we waited…and waited. Still no bus, so we took a walk to look at the local museum. Closed – the season had not started. Then back again to find others waiting for the bus. Another wait of nearly an hour and finally the bus arrived. At least we had the opportunity to observe village life for an hour or two – the teenage boys strutting, the girls flirting, workers arriving for their lunch, the priest coming down for something, etc. The busses used on the island are of the large coach type – I admire the drivers’ skill to be able to safely navigate the winding narrow roads.
Arriving in Thira (very quick) Grant, as usual, wanted to go to the toilet. We found a W.C. (the sign commonly used here) next to the bus stop and I took the opportunity to take a leak also. Using a cubicle (there was no urinal) there was a knock on the door and a question in Greek about paper – I had noted there was no toilet paper in the loo. I said Ohi (no). Emerging I found
a middle aged woman who offered me a few sheets of toilet paper and insisted that I pay 50 cents for the use of the toilet. It’s the first experience we’ve had of this kind and while kind of laughable and a joke is also sad (imagine having this woman’s job and “extorting” money from tourists) and also cause for some anger (the island rakes in millions and millions every year – to charge for a basic necessity such as a toilet right in the centre of the largest and most elite township is ludicrous). But then Santorini (perhaps Greece also) is a place of contrast – exquisite beauty in the natural landscape, the distant churches, the warmth of the people – but also possessing some real problems in dilapidated and crumbling buildings (seen about the place), and 
insufficient infrastructure (e.g., no town water, toilets that can’t take having paper put down them). It’s a wonderfully earthy place of contrasts where old friend having a normal conversation look and sound like they’re seconds away from throwing punches, and great sunsets can be viewed from white-washed parapets while dog droppings must be avoided on the cobbled street at your feet.So we grabbed some lunch (Gyros and Souvlaki – yum, but not as nice as the Souvlaki we’d had near The Two Brothers Bar the other day we were in town) and headed to the Pre-History (I think – main museum in Fira) museum. By then we only had 30 minutes because the museum, like many other services closed at 3pm (the post-office at 2pm). Still, the museum was quite
small, and though possessing a number of the stunning wall frescos, we didn’t feel too rushed.Then we did a bit of shopping – the kids found a bead shop and made necklaces. Finally, we did what we had promised ourselves, we took coffee and cake at one of the “up-market” cafes on the caldera face. At 4:30pm it was still empty (sunset is when they are the most busy), but the cake with icecream was scrumptious – though 4 cakes plus 1 coffee set us back AU$85 – not something we’re likely to do again. Expensive – yes!, but sometimes its worthwhile having, and paying for, the full experience.10/4 - Cards and Cars
Tuesday was a slower day for us. Again, Marika, to our great appreciation, was able to lend us her car for most of the day. So, around midday Maria and I went out to make good on our plans of the previous day and do some serious grocery shopping. I’d already done some in the morning at the local “supermarket”, but this was a visit to the island’s biggest supermarket at Mesaria. To put that in context it was probably half to a third the size of one of our Woolworth’s or Coles.
Of course, shopping in a foreign supermarket is an adventure and challenge unto itself. Not an unfamiliar one but the combination of slowness with the characters of the Greek alphabet, combined with the fact that we have a very small vocabulary of words, and didn’t bring our dictionary meant that we were often unsure of what we were looking at (e.g., trying to find sour cream as opposed to normal cream). You can learn lots about a culture based on how much shelf space they dedicate to different items and the prices they charge for things. There was a whole isle of bottled water (remember water from the tap is too salty) and its cheap (under AU$1 for 1.5 litres), a wide choice of beers (500ml and 250ml seeming to be preferred sizes – I have to say I don’t mind the Mythos beer which seems to be the most common local beer), butchers that keep most of their wares in the back room (not on display), loaves of sliced bread that equate to 2 aussie loaves in length (that’s opposed to Japanese loaves that are often 6 large and thick slices), etc. etc. We did pretty well in finding most of what we wanted.
With that done, and some lunch eaten, we went for a drive along the black sand beach front; that
is from Kamari way up to Monolithos (quite a bit of land for sale there), and Karterados. As on previous days we found over half the businesses closed, and the tourist areas often possessing a run-down, dilapidated look. Santorini has a strange calendar driven by tourism and the seasons. For 7 months of the year – from May - the island is full-bore with tourism. Marika talks of working 20-hours a day, 7-days a week during this period. Outside this time, much of the island’s services shutdown – the buses run less regularly, many hotels, restaurants, and shops are simply closed (for 5 months) etc. We are here during the lead-up period to the tourist season. In the core centres of tourism such as Fira and Ia the shops are mainly open. However even significant centres such as Kamari (sort of a beach resort) have less than 10% of their businesses running.
It is an interesting time to be on the island, and I certainly welcome the fact that its not
crowded. But it can also be frustrating. We stopped in Karterados when we saw an internet café sign. Investigating further we found the business simply had not opened as yet. We also looked for a charger for the kid’s DSs, but were unable to find one (only chargers for the DS Lite).We arrived back in time for Grant to head off to soccer with Stavros – a major event in each day for Grant, while I dropped down the office to post the Easter entries (uploading the images takes a long time on Marika’s connection). Finally, we cooked dinner, after which Marika taught us two cards games that we could play with her father.
Of course, shopping in a foreign supermarket is an adventure and challenge unto itself. Not an unfamiliar one but the combination of slowness with the characters of the Greek alphabet, combined with the fact that we have a very small vocabulary of words, and didn’t bring our dictionary meant that we were often unsure of what we were looking at (e.g., trying to find sour cream as opposed to normal cream). You can learn lots about a culture based on how much shelf space they dedicate to different items and the prices they charge for things. There was a whole isle of bottled water (remember water from the tap is too salty) and its cheap (under AU$1 for 1.5 litres), a wide choice of beers (500ml and 250ml seeming to be preferred sizes – I have to say I don’t mind the Mythos beer which seems to be the most common local beer), butchers that keep most of their wares in the back room (not on display), loaves of sliced bread that equate to 2 aussie loaves in length (that’s opposed to Japanese loaves that are often 6 large and thick slices), etc. etc. We did pretty well in finding most of what we wanted.
With that done, and some lunch eaten, we went for a drive along the black sand beach front; that
is from Kamari way up to Monolithos (quite a bit of land for sale there), and Karterados. As on previous days we found over half the businesses closed, and the tourist areas often possessing a run-down, dilapidated look. Santorini has a strange calendar driven by tourism and the seasons. For 7 months of the year – from May - the island is full-bore with tourism. Marika talks of working 20-hours a day, 7-days a week during this period. Outside this time, much of the island’s services shutdown – the buses run less regularly, many hotels, restaurants, and shops are simply closed (for 5 months) etc. We are here during the lead-up period to the tourist season. In the core centres of tourism such as Fira and Ia the shops are mainly open. However even significant centres such as Kamari (sort of a beach resort) have less than 10% of their businesses running. It is an interesting time to be on the island, and I certainly welcome the fact that its not
crowded. But it can also be frustrating. We stopped in Karterados when we saw an internet café sign. Investigating further we found the business simply had not opened as yet. We also looked for a charger for the kid’s DSs, but were unable to find one (only chargers for the DS Lite).We arrived back in time for Grant to head off to soccer with Stavros – a major event in each day for Grant, while I dropped down the office to post the Easter entries (uploading the images takes a long time on Marika’s connection). Finally, we cooked dinner, after which Marika taught us two cards games that we could play with her father.9/4 - Driving on Santorini
Mid-Monday morning Marika called (from work) to say we could borrow her car for the day, as she wouldn’t need it. So off I rushed down to MeGa Travel (Marika and George’s travel agency, and one I can’t recommend highly enough based on the service I have seen them provide and what I have learnt in discussions of their business) to grab the car. The car is a very small 2-door manual Fiat and of course a left-hand drive. When I say small I mean that the foot pedals (clutch, brake, and accelerator) are so close together that I have to turn my left foot slightly on the side in order to get past the brake and the clutch all the way to the floor. 
Further, just to increase the difficulty factor, the roads of Santorini are very narrow (I can’t count the number of times I had to pull over to let an oncoming car get past), very very twisty, unknown to me, and occupied by drivers with quite a different sense of safety and what constitutes obeying the road rules (or perhaps its just elan) to myself. All this is by way of saying it was relatively embarassing driving Stavros home from the company office and stalling the car along the way at an intersection…but I did improve throughout the day.
Further, just to increase the difficulty factor, the roads of Santorini are very narrow (I can’t count the number of times I had to pull over to let an oncoming car get past), very very twisty, unknown to me, and occupied by drivers with quite a different sense of safety and what constitutes obeying the road rules (or perhaps its just elan) to myself. All this is by way of saying it was relatively embarassing driving Stavros home from the company office and stalling the car along the way at an intersection…but I did improve throughout the day.At first Maria and I setoff to do some grocery shopping in order to restock the house after easter. However we found all the supermarkets closed. Hence, switch to plan B -> go to the 
beach.
beach.We grabbed the kids and with Maria as navigator we headed for the Red Beach in Kambia. Stopping for some lunch at a little “classic” café (that had just opened that day for the season) we then headed onto the beach. There is no direct access to the beach. Rather you park (in front of a little church – what else on Santorini?) and then walk maybe a couple of hundred metres up and over a head-land of volcanic (of course!) rock. From the top of the head land the beach is revealed as a narrow strip of pebbles/sand a couple of hundred metres in length with bluffs at either end. As on all previous occasions we found the Aegean almost perfectly flat (to such an 
extent that when I took a walk up onto the cliffs I could watch the chaotic dance and play of the breezes and gusts as they moved across the surface), and the Santorini definition of beach somewhat different to Australian. Still it possessed its own charm, and postcards of the place show it full of sunbakers (on recliners) in the summer. Speaking of recliners there were a bunch just lying around the beach and on the hillside behind, being used by the dozen or so people sharing the beach with us. Perhaps most surprising were the cave-doors in the wall of the cliff face, some with coke refrigerators sitting out the front on the sand. Its my understanding that in the summer these are cave shops selling drinks etc. – the amazing thing is just how close these doors (and the whole cliff) is to the water’s edge – not much more than 10 metres.
extent that when I took a walk up onto the cliffs I could watch the chaotic dance and play of the breezes and gusts as they moved across the surface), and the Santorini definition of beach somewhat different to Australian. Still it possessed its own charm, and postcards of the place show it full of sunbakers (on recliners) in the summer. Speaking of recliners there were a bunch just lying around the beach and on the hillside behind, being used by the dozen or so people sharing the beach with us. Perhaps most surprising were the cave-doors in the wall of the cliff face, some with coke refrigerators sitting out the front on the sand. Its my understanding that in the summer these are cave shops selling drinks etc. – the amazing thing is just how close these doors (and the whole cliff) is to the water’s edge – not much more than 10 metres.So, the kids played in the water (it chiefly looked like throwing rocks into the water to me), while I explored a bit and Maria roasted. The wind here on the island is cold, but the sun is very warm; so you can go from hot (in the sun and an area protected from the wind) to very cold (windy and in the shade) very rapidly.
After a while the charms of the red beach paled (though not for Zoe who was particularly disgruntled at leaving) and we decided to make the most of the opportunity of the car and head for Ia. Ia is on the tip of the caldera (Thira is fairly central), is the 2nd major town, and is famous for its sunsets. So its very picturesque with all the cave houses, cliffs, little churches, etc., as well as many expensive shops, cafes, restaurants, etc.
The drive was quite an experience as the island narrowed and narrowed as we got near Ia – winding narrow roads with lots of exposure, and no railing. It was exhilarating, but required a fair bit of concentration.
We spent the next couple of hours waiting for the sunset by exploring the town. Like Fira it is composed of lots of narrow cobbled streets just for pedestrians, and around each corner you seem to find a new surprise or interesting shop. Of course there are the shops with postcards, ice creams, and junky souvenirs; but more common are the jewelers (with masses of gold and silver encrusted watches etc.), the clothing stores, and perhaps most common the restaurants and cafes. Dining in Greece is an absolute pleasure – we loved Japanese cuisine – but we also love Greek, even though its so different. Ohh, and it really helps if you love your meat (though there are great vegetarian dishes also).
Speaking of interesting shops, we came upon a jeweler specializing in amber (Maria’s favourite) and she was able to pick up a rather unique piece that will forever serve as a memory of our trip and Santorini.
As sunset approached we joined the large number (the mind boggles at just what it must be like 
in high summer) of people lining the north-western parapets around the area of the old fort. The sunset was “nice”, but I’m glad we didn’t make the trip to Santorini on the basis of the reputation of its sunset.
in high summer) of people lining the north-western parapets around the area of the old fort. The sunset was “nice”, but I’m glad we didn’t make the trip to Santorini on the basis of the reputation of its sunset.While waiting for the sunset Maria hooked up with 3 Japanese women who were so pleased to find someone who spoke Japanese. However, I think Maria’s joy at speaking Japanese (she has been studying Greek each day) and being able to say exactly what she wanted and meant, out-weighed even their pleasure.Joining the mass exodus as the sun was lost below the distant clouds along the water-line we made our way to “Thomas Grill” (I have their card here in front of me – it’s a common practice here for each business to have these little cards
[bit bigger than a business card] with details of the business and singing its praises) for a lovely dinner of various meats (note to self – remember to order a separate dish of salad as none comes with a normal main meal). Then the thrills of the drive back – now in the dark - and we were home in one piece, tired but with full bellies and happy hearts.
[bit bigger than a business card] with details of the business and singing its praises) for a lovely dinner of various meats (note to self – remember to order a separate dish of salad as none comes with a normal main meal). Then the thrills of the drive back – now in the dark - and we were home in one piece, tired but with full bellies and happy hearts.8/4 - Easter Sunday
Easter Sunday starts early in Greece, despite the lateness of the previous night. The lamb needs to be put on the rotisserie early in order that it be ready for lunch or at least the early afternoon. So around 8am George and 
Stavros headed over to Kamari to get things started, while we had a sleep-in till 9am when Marika came back from making a transfer.
Stavros headed over to Kamari to get things started, while we had a sleep-in till 9am when Marika came back from making a transfer. Then it was over to Yani’s restaurant for us to see how preparations were going (all was looking and smelling very good) for the 20-odd people that would be having lunch. With everything in order, and us as guests, we were encouraged to go for a walk and explore Kamari beach.
Kamari is one of the three famous beaches on Santorini – famous as their black beach. For aussies this might sound like a “dirty” beach, but in fact is composed on half-fisted
sized pebbles down to fine sand that are chiefly black volcanic stone. It is quite beautiful, particularly when looking out at the perfectly flat sea; though walking on it for any distance is more tiring than our sand beaches. Maria made a number of easter calls back home at this time and (of course) the kids went for a wade.
sized pebbles down to fine sand that are chiefly black volcanic stone. It is quite beautiful, particularly when looking out at the perfectly flat sea; though walking on it for any distance is more tiring than our sand beaches. Maria made a number of easter calls back home at this time and (of course) the kids went for a wade. Then, at 11am, Marika whipped us back to the village of Pyrgos to witness the shooting of Judas. A life-sized effigy (sort of a doll) of Judas had been hanging from the telegraph/power cables in the village square since at least the 
day before. Arriving there we found a collection of tourists, locals, and teenaged boys with firecrackers, waiting for the main event to start at midday.
day before. Arriving there we found a collection of tourists, locals, and teenaged boys with firecrackers, waiting for the main event to start at midday. We sequestered ourselves at a café table and were able to watch, over the next 40-minutes, as locals arrived with their shotguns, and various firework “battles” took place between different groups of boys – only ocasionally having one detonated close to us. At midday a local authority, on the roof that the “hunters” possessing shotguns were using, roused the crowd against Judas. Then the shooting started and the doll danced as the shots tore into it, slowly tearing off clothes, then limbs, the wig, head, torso, etc, till nothing was left hanging. The funny thing is that the sound of the shotguns (about 10 in number) firing was “small potatoes” compared to the detonations of the fireworks. Perhaps this shouldn’t be surprising as George tells me that the 
fireworks are constructed using not black powder (as our fireworks have), but rather the contents of dynamite. With the doll down on the ground the boys moved in close and we were “priviledged” to another crescendo of fireworks; till the dummy was ablaze.
fireworks are constructed using not black powder (as our fireworks have), but rather the contents of dynamite. With the doll down on the ground the boys moved in close and we were “priviledged” to another crescendo of fireworks; till the dummy was ablaze. Then Marika whipped Stavros and us back to Kamari – more than a tight squeeze in her little 2-door car. More guests had arrived – extended family, a friend or neighbour or two, and even a travel agent from Athens that Marika was currently hosting. The meal began in dribs and drabs as 
various “samples” of different meat being cooked (I recall at least 5 types) were placed on the table for those sitting there, but before long the meal was in full swing, including the traditional easter eggs (dyed red and used in a competition where you each try to smash the other person’s egg by striking it hard with yours), salads, wine, etc. By the time the lamb arrived we were full – but “bravely” we found room for it. It was a great and very casual atmosphere sitting outside on a tiled pergola area, with a covering of vines above.
various “samples” of different meat being cooked (I recall at least 5 types) were placed on the table for those sitting there, but before long the meal was in full swing, including the traditional easter eggs (dyed red and used in a competition where you each try to smash the other person’s egg by striking it hard with yours), salads, wine, etc. By the time the lamb arrived we were full – but “bravely” we found room for it. It was a great and very casual atmosphere sitting outside on a tiled pergola area, with a covering of vines above. As the meal wound down we learnt that Stavros’ group of boys were playing soccer again that afternoon, so off he and Grant went with George. Zoe, Mari, and I took another stroll along the beach; with Zoe, as is her want, getting somewhat more wet than intended. Then back to the Kiwi Restaurant (with Zoe getting to talk to Sabrina on the phone – something she loved) to find 
Marika waiting for us and everyone else gone. Opps. Back home everyone crashed from a combination of lack of sleep and lots of food and drink; before we had another extended chat with Marika about family and life while she ironed (she seems to love ironing and find it very calming). What a day.
Marika waiting for us and everyone else gone. Opps. Back home everyone crashed from a combination of lack of sleep and lots of food and drink; before we had another extended chat with Marika about family and life while she ironed (she seems to love ironing and find it very calming). What a day.
7/4 - Easter Saturday
Saturday was expected to be a particularly long day for everyone – but then that’s something this family has become much more used to in the past month.
In the morning Grant went off to football (soccer) again with Stavros, Maria and I accompanied Marika to her office to make plans for the Paris/France leg of the trip, and Zoe stayed home because she was not feeling too well. I went into full faste mode. The early to mid afternoon was set aside as a rest period to ensure everyone had enough energy for the evening’s activities. It is the first time I’ve sat down and played a game (I have a particular old favourite of mine and classic known as Xcom: UFO Defence on the PDA) since the trip started. For me that’s a sign of not only how full of activities the trip has been, but also how fulfilling it has been.
In the late afternoon the men – George, Stavros, Grant, and I - went off to attend to matters for Sunday’s meal; while the women – Marika, Maria, and Zoe went off to do some shopping for easter. They subsequently came back with beautiful candles for the evening – Zoe’s with a
masquerade style mask attached, and Grant’s with a soccer ball badge. What we did was prepare the lamb and goat for the rotisserie the next morning. For that we went off to Kamari to a business called the Kiwi Restaurant (yes, as in New Zealand). Kiwi Restaurant is a wonderful place – an awesome beer style garden – but the season has not started on the island (particularly the beaches) as yet; so there were no customers. Anyway, we did the usual butchery stuff of removing entrails and shoving a long metal rod through the carcass and out the skull. I was proud that Grant observed it all with little sign of squimishness.
Then back home and a further rest of a couple of hours until the evening’s activities began. Some slept, but then had to wake cold and out of sorts for the walk up to the church. And cold it was – a piercing wind blowing and seeming to go through all clothing. By 11:30 we had climbed the winding streeets again to the church. On this occasion teenaged boys were much in evidence and had already begun using their firecrackers. Australian firecrackers are a pale imitation of these things. There are two main forms – a kind of “throw down” (about 4x the size of Australian throwdowns) of brown paper wrapped in string. These are detonated by throwing them hard against any unyielding surface (road, wall, etc.). The second are wickless cylinders ranging in size from a man’s pinkie finger to pointer finger. They are struck by rubbing their end against an emery pad – the same way a match is struck. I can’t emphasise just how loud these things are other than by two illustrations: On the walk up one was detonated inside an arched walkway I was passing through – my ears were still ringing 10 minutes later and my left ear was still in pain. Also, on Sunday (see that entry) shotguns were used as well as these firecrackers – the shotguns were much, much quieter than the fireworks.
So, the boys roam about – usually in packs – with plastic bags full of these crackers. They
congregate at the church, where – at midnight – theyinitiate a cacophony of detonations that must be heard to be believed. However, much leeway is given to them, and it is tolerated that they throw these fireworks at the feet of people. So late-comers to the church face a sort of gauntlet to the run – coming up the last steps to the church the boys stand along the parapets above them and ocassionally drop a cracker on them. So we spent a less than pleasant 30 minutes huddled against the cold and ocassional firewalk tossed in our direction.
Then, at midnight, as the priest exited the front of the church and gave the final benediction, the real crescendo began…
As everyone stood huddled in a pack against the front of the church, faces turned away (many
blocking ears as well as possible) and enduring as well as possible; the boys possessing the fireworks went into a frenzy. Flares were set off and fireworks flung and detonated as fast as possible by some 30-odd boys. Small pieces of the abbrasive rocks found inside the throwdowns would hit us, and while most “action” was concentrated on the walkway/stairs leading to the church, some “found their way” near us. It felt like being in a cross between an Italian soccer riot (sans the policemen with truncheons) and the battle of the Somme.
Finally, after about 10-minutes (but which felt like an eternity) the detonations had died off enough that we were able to assail the stairs down and make our way as rapidly as possible to the restaurant where we were to break our faste.
Ahhh; and what a meal (never mind the warmth and comfort compared to outside). A special set
menu of easter dishes it started with a delicious soup (I’m sorry I don’t have the names for all these) redulant of lemons and made with much vegetables as well as the kidney and lungs of lamb. It was delicious. Then greek salad and tzatziki (yogurt dip), another ofal dish (this one not as enjoyable to my palate), roast lamb, a special kind of biscuit/cake. Stacks of everything, and plenty of wine to go around also. It was a great meal and a great time. It was nearly 2am before we were home and into bed.
In the morning Grant went off to football (soccer) again with Stavros, Maria and I accompanied Marika to her office to make plans for the Paris/France leg of the trip, and Zoe stayed home because she was not feeling too well. I went into full faste mode. The early to mid afternoon was set aside as a rest period to ensure everyone had enough energy for the evening’s activities. It is the first time I’ve sat down and played a game (I have a particular old favourite of mine and classic known as Xcom: UFO Defence on the PDA) since the trip started. For me that’s a sign of not only how full of activities the trip has been, but also how fulfilling it has been.
In the late afternoon the men – George, Stavros, Grant, and I - went off to attend to matters for Sunday’s meal; while the women – Marika, Maria, and Zoe went off to do some shopping for easter. They subsequently came back with beautiful candles for the evening – Zoe’s with a
masquerade style mask attached, and Grant’s with a soccer ball badge. What we did was prepare the lamb and goat for the rotisserie the next morning. For that we went off to Kamari to a business called the Kiwi Restaurant (yes, as in New Zealand). Kiwi Restaurant is a wonderful place – an awesome beer style garden – but the season has not started on the island (particularly the beaches) as yet; so there were no customers. Anyway, we did the usual butchery stuff of removing entrails and shoving a long metal rod through the carcass and out the skull. I was proud that Grant observed it all with little sign of squimishness.Then back home and a further rest of a couple of hours until the evening’s activities began. Some slept, but then had to wake cold and out of sorts for the walk up to the church. And cold it was – a piercing wind blowing and seeming to go through all clothing. By 11:30 we had climbed the winding streeets again to the church. On this occasion teenaged boys were much in evidence and had already begun using their firecrackers. Australian firecrackers are a pale imitation of these things. There are two main forms – a kind of “throw down” (about 4x the size of Australian throwdowns) of brown paper wrapped in string. These are detonated by throwing them hard against any unyielding surface (road, wall, etc.). The second are wickless cylinders ranging in size from a man’s pinkie finger to pointer finger. They are struck by rubbing their end against an emery pad – the same way a match is struck. I can’t emphasise just how loud these things are other than by two illustrations: On the walk up one was detonated inside an arched walkway I was passing through – my ears were still ringing 10 minutes later and my left ear was still in pain. Also, on Sunday (see that entry) shotguns were used as well as these firecrackers – the shotguns were much, much quieter than the fireworks.
So, the boys roam about – usually in packs – with plastic bags full of these crackers. They
congregate at the church, where – at midnight – theyinitiate a cacophony of detonations that must be heard to be believed. However, much leeway is given to them, and it is tolerated that they throw these fireworks at the feet of people. So late-comers to the church face a sort of gauntlet to the run – coming up the last steps to the church the boys stand along the parapets above them and ocassionally drop a cracker on them. So we spent a less than pleasant 30 minutes huddled against the cold and ocassional firewalk tossed in our direction.Then, at midnight, as the priest exited the front of the church and gave the final benediction, the real crescendo began…
As everyone stood huddled in a pack against the front of the church, faces turned away (many
blocking ears as well as possible) and enduring as well as possible; the boys possessing the fireworks went into a frenzy. Flares were set off and fireworks flung and detonated as fast as possible by some 30-odd boys. Small pieces of the abbrasive rocks found inside the throwdowns would hit us, and while most “action” was concentrated on the walkway/stairs leading to the church, some “found their way” near us. It felt like being in a cross between an Italian soccer riot (sans the policemen with truncheons) and the battle of the Somme.Finally, after about 10-minutes (but which felt like an eternity) the detonations had died off enough that we were able to assail the stairs down and make our way as rapidly as possible to the restaurant where we were to break our faste.
Ahhh; and what a meal (never mind the warmth and comfort compared to outside). A special set
menu of easter dishes it started with a delicious soup (I’m sorry I don’t have the names for all these) redulant of lemons and made with much vegetables as well as the kidney and lungs of lamb. It was delicious. Then greek salad and tzatziki (yogurt dip), another ofal dish (this one not as enjoyable to my palate), roast lamb, a special kind of biscuit/cake. Stacks of everything, and plenty of wine to go around also. It was a great meal and a great time. It was nearly 2am before we were home and into bed.
6/4 - Easter Friday
Easter is a particularly significant religious observation for the Greeks (Greek Orthodox Church), and we are priviledged to be here to both 
observe and take part in the celebtrations. Marika and George have been giving us a background to Greek easter observations, and as I understand the most significant facts it goes something like the following. As for other forms of christianity, easter in Greece “celebrates” the death and resurrection of Christ. Friday and Saturday are days of fasting – the fast being broken at/after midnight Saturday night. Friday has two religious observations – one in the late morning, and the other in the evening.
observe and take part in the celebtrations. Marika and George have been giving us a background to Greek easter observations, and as I understand the most significant facts it goes something like the following. As for other forms of christianity, easter in Greece “celebrates” the death and resurrection of Christ. Friday and Saturday are days of fasting – the fast being broken at/after midnight Saturday night. Friday has two religious observations – one in the late morning, and the other in the evening.As to the fasting, strict/traditional observation requires no food for the 2-day period (and I understand there’s an even longer period for the truly devote on a constrained diet). A core set of constraints particularly preclude meat and any items associated with blood (so milk and eggs are also disallowed as they come from animals) as well as oil. Halva, and as I understand it olive 
based products have an exclusion (can be eaten) due to God (Christ?) being said to have blessed the olive tree.
So the kids had been hearing this talk of fasting and were particularly concerned – they are used to eating whenever they are hungry and have never really gone without a meal in their lives. As it has turned out so far (Friday afternoon as of the time of writing this) they are having it fine – bread and jam, Halva, fruit, etc.
based products have an exclusion (can be eaten) due to God (Christ?) being said to have blessed the olive tree.So the kids had been hearing this talk of fasting and were particularly concerned – they are used to eating whenever they are hungry and have never really gone without a meal in their lives. As it has turned out so far (Friday afternoon as of the time of writing this) they are having it fine – bread and jam, Halva, fruit, etc.
This morning around 11am George returned from work to escort us (and Stavros) up to the village church to take part in the ceremony. The village church (dedicated to Mary) sits at the top of the hill which the village straddles. Cobled narrow streets weave back and forwards between the white-washed houses, other churches (including private), on their way up to the village church. As we drew closer to the pinacle we encountered more and more locals in the dark suits (typically black) making their way in the same direction.
The church itself is a large white-structure with a set of external bells on the front (such as seen 
in Mexico), the Greek and Greek Revolution (Byzantine) flags on either side, and a cylindrical roof rising in the centre of the building. The entranceway was draped with (chiefly) black and purple material. We found the church entrance cluttered with people peering inside, with even more standing quietly talking off to either side. From within the church emanated captivating singing and chanting. The ceremony was already in progress (we knew this would be the case), with the church being too crowded for people to enter. Maria made the observation that all these swarthy men standing around in black suits and sunglasses bore a striking resemblance to a particular Sicilian organisation. Many of the younger women were dressed in striking black dresses and long stilleto shoes (recall, they are walking on irregularly cobbled streets).
in Mexico), the Greek and Greek Revolution (Byzantine) flags on either side, and a cylindrical roof rising in the centre of the building. The entranceway was draped with (chiefly) black and purple material. We found the church entrance cluttered with people peering inside, with even more standing quietly talking off to either side. From within the church emanated captivating singing and chanting. The ceremony was already in progress (we knew this would be the case), with the church being too crowded for people to enter. Maria made the observation that all these swarthy men standing around in black suits and sunglasses bore a striking resemblance to a particular Sicilian organisation. Many of the younger women were dressed in striking black dresses and long stilleto shoes (recall, they are walking on irregularly cobbled streets).So we waited outside in the pleasant Spring air with George and Stavros for probably around 40 
minutes. Somewhat after midday some boys emerged and began ringing the central bell by the mechanism of an exterior rope (attached directly to the “clanger” [Maria just laughed her head off when I suggested clanger might be the name for this central part of the bell]) that came out the front of the church. We learnt that this tolling was a lament for the death of Christ – the bell is rung once, then just as its reasonances have all but faded it is rung again…and so forth all day. In practice it seemed typically Greek (based on my limited experience – heh, what would I know), there was a lot of gusto and attention initially from the boys in charge of the task, then they took a break, then a bit more, then a longer break, Grant got a turn (he rang the bell twice), etc.
minutes. Somewhat after midday some boys emerged and began ringing the central bell by the mechanism of an exterior rope (attached directly to the “clanger” [Maria just laughed her head off when I suggested clanger might be the name for this central part of the bell]) that came out the front of the church. We learnt that this tolling was a lament for the death of Christ – the bell is rung once, then just as its reasonances have all but faded it is rung again…and so forth all day. In practice it seemed typically Greek (based on my limited experience – heh, what would I know), there was a lot of gusto and attention initially from the boys in charge of the task, then they took a break, then a bit more, then a longer break, Grant got a turn (he rang the bell twice), etc.Finally, with the ceremony ended there was a more sedate form of the “Helenic-rush” by those outside the church to get in. We waited till the crush had mainly disapated, entering right at the 
back. The inside of the church was quite stunning and too complex for my untrained eye to pick-out (or name) a lot of the details (further, it would have been sacriligious to photograph inside, so we’ll have to do with this poor description). There were altars to left and right, chandelier-like structures depending from the ceiling, candelabra of all shapes and sizes holding candles and what looked like scrolls (on their end), stained-glass windows, and a painted ceiling. It was quite overwhelming and even though I had 5-minutes or more to observe it all; I still can’t do it justice. About 5-metres inside the doorway was a wooden, canopied “altar” of about body-length, that all were waiting to take a turn at. On the altar lay a wooden icon of Christ in his emaciated manifestation – about 50cm in length, and a embossed, metal bound copy of a large bible. Like everyone else we took our turns, crossed ourselves, then kissed the icon followed by the bible, by bending 
under the canopy. Then lit as long yellowish candle and placed it on one of the candelabra. As I explained to Zoe, though we are not Greek Orthodox and this is not our belief system, we are showing respect for the local cultures, customs and most importantly the people by acknowledging and taking part in a ceremony of great importance to them. With that done the ceremony was over and we meandered our way home, George pointing out the numerous cans (small house paint tin in size) containing sawdust and something I take to be like our fire starters, lining the walls and roofes of houses, that will be lit as part of tonight’s ceremony.
back. The inside of the church was quite stunning and too complex for my untrained eye to pick-out (or name) a lot of the details (further, it would have been sacriligious to photograph inside, so we’ll have to do with this poor description). There were altars to left and right, chandelier-like structures depending from the ceiling, candelabra of all shapes and sizes holding candles and what looked like scrolls (on their end), stained-glass windows, and a painted ceiling. It was quite overwhelming and even though I had 5-minutes or more to observe it all; I still can’t do it justice. About 5-metres inside the doorway was a wooden, canopied “altar” of about body-length, that all were waiting to take a turn at. On the altar lay a wooden icon of Christ in his emaciated manifestation – about 50cm in length, and a embossed, metal bound copy of a large bible. Like everyone else we took our turns, crossed ourselves, then kissed the icon followed by the bible, by bending 
under the canopy. Then lit as long yellowish candle and placed it on one of the candelabra. As I explained to Zoe, though we are not Greek Orthodox and this is not our belief system, we are showing respect for the local cultures, customs and most importantly the people by acknowledging and taking part in a ceremony of great importance to them. With that done the ceremony was over and we meandered our way home, George pointing out the numerous cans (small house paint tin in size) containing sawdust and something I take to be like our fire starters, lining the walls and roofes of houses, that will be lit as part of tonight’s ceremony.In the late afternoon we took a walk down to Santo Wineries – a great spot for views and almost directly above the old port. We were surprised to see the site the cruise liner had gown down during the night – marked by washed ashore large bring orange inflatable life rafts and 
spreading oil slicks. These cruise liners are huge – absolutely dwarfing the giant ferries that move between the islands (such as the one we arrived on). Its so hard to believe that one sunk.
In the evening, around 8:30 (sunset here is 7:30 currently – a time that all the tourists and tour guides know well as there is a claim that Santorini possesses the most beautiful sunsets in the world) Stavros (George and Marika would wait at the bottom of the village) took us back to the top of the village and the church’s location. This time the crowd of villagers was much denser than in the morning and we selected a location on a stairway not too far below the church. Stavros had thoughfully provided us with candles, and as we waited in the near darkness amongst the crowd we could hear a chorus of chants coming the church doorway above us – a leading male voice issuing a loud directive in chant, to which the impromptu (based on the range of voice pitches)
choir responded. Just as we considered going to the base of the village to wait (the number of people and long wait proving difficult for the kids) the chant changed and before we knew it the procession had emerged and had drawn level with us. Led by a man beating a fairly fast rhythm with a mallet on a small cross (? – details were hard to pick out as it happened fast and in low light), it was followed by a metre or so cross and then the “altar” we had seen (with the icon and bible) in the morning being carried by four men. It descended the steps rapidly, to the accompaniment of the vocal lead-response we had been hearing earlier. A tight press of people followed and we struggled momentarily to stay in place before joining the flow of people behind
the procession. Confined by the streets and the number of people we fell behind (and never caught up to) the front of the procession. But by then we had the beauty of the flaming canisters – atop every building and wall – to admire (this being a tradition for which Marika and George’s village of Pyrgos is famous – there are other traditions in other villages and on other islands), as well as our candles to find a light for and keep alight down the breezy streets. It took us perhaps 15-minutes to descend down to where George and Marika were; the other feature of the walk being that people leaned over the walls of some of the houses we passed and offered or sprinkled us with scented water (?). The real wonder of the lighted canisters emerged as we obtained distance and perspective on the hilltop. From the base of the hill the township looked as though transformed into a medieval fairy castle – the old physical structure being remapped by the locations of the 
canisters. It was really something to see, and I’m afraid the camera’s photos (which couldn’t really deal with the lack of light) won’t do it justice. Then it was home for a vegeterian meal and to bed.
spreading oil slicks. These cruise liners are huge – absolutely dwarfing the giant ferries that move between the islands (such as the one we arrived on). Its so hard to believe that one sunk.In the evening, around 8:30 (sunset here is 7:30 currently – a time that all the tourists and tour guides know well as there is a claim that Santorini possesses the most beautiful sunsets in the world) Stavros (George and Marika would wait at the bottom of the village) took us back to the top of the village and the church’s location. This time the crowd of villagers was much denser than in the morning and we selected a location on a stairway not too far below the church. Stavros had thoughfully provided us with candles, and as we waited in the near darkness amongst the crowd we could hear a chorus of chants coming the church doorway above us – a leading male voice issuing a loud directive in chant, to which the impromptu (based on the range of voice pitches)
choir responded. Just as we considered going to the base of the village to wait (the number of people and long wait proving difficult for the kids) the chant changed and before we knew it the procession had emerged and had drawn level with us. Led by a man beating a fairly fast rhythm with a mallet on a small cross (? – details were hard to pick out as it happened fast and in low light), it was followed by a metre or so cross and then the “altar” we had seen (with the icon and bible) in the morning being carried by four men. It descended the steps rapidly, to the accompaniment of the vocal lead-response we had been hearing earlier. A tight press of people followed and we struggled momentarily to stay in place before joining the flow of people behind
the procession. Confined by the streets and the number of people we fell behind (and never caught up to) the front of the procession. But by then we had the beauty of the flaming canisters – atop every building and wall – to admire (this being a tradition for which Marika and George’s village of Pyrgos is famous – there are other traditions in other villages and on other islands), as well as our candles to find a light for and keep alight down the breezy streets. It took us perhaps 15-minutes to descend down to where George and Marika were; the other feature of the walk being that people leaned over the walls of some of the houses we passed and offered or sprinkled us with scented water (?). The real wonder of the lighted canisters emerged as we obtained distance and perspective on the hilltop. From the base of the hill the township looked as though transformed into a medieval fairy castle – the old physical structure being remapped by the locations of the 
canisters. It was really something to see, and I’m afraid the camera’s photos (which couldn’t really deal with the lack of light) won’t do it justice. Then it was home for a vegeterian meal and to bed.
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