GREECE!
Erik Drives Europe's Roadways
Before we could actually get on the road, Erik picked up the rental car. Note: The rental agency was a bit hesitant to rent to an American, but Erik had his international driver's license and was willing to pay cash. Besides, he knew all the questions he needed to ask to ensure that we were fully insured:
Erik: So, this price includes liability coverage and collision coverage?
Rental Agent: Yes.
Erik: So, if I hit another car while driving, what do I have to pay?
Rental Agent: Nothing.
Erik: So, if I injure another driver while driving, what do I have to pay?
Rental Agent: Nothing.
Erik: So, if I get hail damage, what do I have to pay?
Rental Agent: What is hail?
Rental Agent: Oh. Nothing.
Erik: When might I have to pay more?
Rental Agent: If you get in an accident in a parking lot.
Erik: Oh.
Yep, we were on our way!
Getting to Greece meant a four hour drive south down to one of the peninsulas of Halkidiki. Our luxurious conveyance ended up being some shrimp Hyundai version of a vehicle. But, with Erik's moxie, we were able to fit everything in we needed for our water loving excursion.
Passing through one of at least two mountain tunnels in Macedonia to get to Greece.
The Road to Greece
As we traveled through Macedonia to Greece the countryside went from vineyards and rolling mountains to olive trees and rolling mountains with rock falling warning signs. We noticed that along the curvy, rural mountain roads are little enclosures that could be large, even palatial, mailboxes . . . a closer look reveals that they are roadside shrines.
Roadside Shrines--Kandylaki
Kandylaki are made of wrought iron, concrete, or wood. Some are ornate with colored glass and impressive ornamentation, others are smaller; and no two are alike. Mostly they are dotted along the roadway for the purpose of thanking a saint for safety in a close brush with tragedy or in remembrance of a life lost in an accident. Often you will find newer ones with much older ones behind them. They are carefully tended with lighted candles, pictures, and often momentos that have significant meaning placed inside by the dedicator. Family members may also recite prayers at the kandylaki.
Erik and a Kandylaki
Map of Where We Roamed
Our apartment was on the beach in between the Kassandra and Sithonia peninsulas in Psakoudia, which you cannot find on a map until you get to the region where it is located. We spent most of our time combing through the beaches and road stops of Sithonia with a couple of trips inland to Polygaros and Ormylia.
Jannis und Maria Hous
When we first arrived, we knew that we were in for a bit of a different Greek experience than we had envisioned. The proprietor, Jannis, spoke only Greek and German. He didn't know what to do with us because we are a bit rusty on our German. We understood a lot more than we could communicate--it was hard to remember the words to say in order to have an actual conversation. Eventually, we found out that our room was not ready, but we would have a *bigger* room for the first night and move to our regular room the next day. (All Sheila could think of was that she was going to have to move after she unpacked.) The first night was a bit rough with acclimating Everett into a new place that had party music going until midnight and finding ways to combat the Mosquitoes. (yes, they are a proper noun in this instance) Enter in: Erik-the Boy Scout Who Plans for All- He brought with him a plug-in mosquito repellent devise that kills all mosquitoes and keeps them away for long periods of time. Result, no Mosquitoes. (Previous to this occurrence, Sheila had always been slightly annoyed as Erik dragged this device that he bought in Egypt everywhere they went. She was sure that as soon as they used it that they would suffer from chemical poisoning and end up with some horridly oozing rash or a limb would fall off, none-of-which happened, gratefully.)
The next day Jannis tells Sheila in German that the other room is ready, and so they start the move to the next apartment. In the middle of this move, he starts yelling at Sheila for moving a bed into the kitchen. Sheila starts getting a bit irritated because he switches to Greek and that makes her angry because he is just mouthing off to mouth off because he is put-out. Yelling at her in Greek, as he knew, was not going to solve the problem. Note: Moving the bed was the only way to get Everett away from the noise and into a cooler area so that he would sleep. So, without putting up with this tirade and responding in a way that would cause an international incident, Sheila sent the mild-mannered Erik in her place and watched Everett instead.
The next time we were yelled at was just before siesta time. Sheila had noticed that there was a sign in English that stated that there was no noise from 2 to 5. Quiet time is between 2 and 5. Sure enough, at 2:00, there is a pounding on the door, Frau Maria (Jannis' wife) explains to us, very emphatically, that there is to be no noise between 2 and 5. In German she says,"If the baby isn't sleeping between that time, then you need to take the baby out. No noise between 2 and 5." And, uh, we weren't even making any noise. Too bad. If you are gonna get yelled at, you might as well be yelled at for actually breaking the rule--otherwise, where is the fun?
Despite very rule driven hosts, we had a delightful time relaxing on the balconies at night and at lunch, walking along the beach, playing in the water, and laying out in the sun. Sound great? It was!
Erik and Evy
Early Morning in Greece
The View
Hughes Getting In Early Morning Play Time
Our Beach
Every morning, the bread van would drive through the road that winded along the beachfront accosting the residents with a continual push on his horn, selling his wares of freshly baked products. Throughout the day, except during strictly enforced siesta (of course), vans with megaphones would drive through selling pottery, windshields, and some just drove through the town spouting . . . well, we didn't even know what . . . it almost sounded like they were just giving a message out: maybe a spiritual message, maybe propaganda, maybe a reminder of the strictly enforced siesta?
This is the oddest little bunny patch located down the road from our apartment.
We also found that it wasn't just our hosts that were fluent in Greek and German--so was the rest of this little town. So, we used our rusty German to found out that the only place to get cash (this is a cash only area, people) was to travel to another small town, Ormylia. Okay, no problem.
Ormylia
Ormylia, a town of 3,500 residents, is nestled at the base of the Holomonta Mountain about 10 minutes from the beach. We initially went there to get some cash-o-la and ended up spending time exploring around the town eventually eating great gyros, finding the most decadently laden bakery, and getting lost.
Driving through Ormylia was like getting lost in the smallest human maze that went on forever, paths and roads squirreling willy-nilly up and down the mountainside, the epitome of a village devoid of town planning. Sheila was grateful for the minuscule chariot they were driving as they weaved up and down and back and forth small, well, pathways really. This was the first time ever that Sheila had truly felt lost . . . and she didn't like it. Her unusually infallible sense of direction was useless in navigating the roads of Ormylia. The different styles of architecture, flora, and random shops sprinkled through the drive made the whole experience (and for Sheila that was an almost anxiety-ridden experience) worth it.
Envision rows and rows of the most delicate looking pieces of edible art. Your eyes scan the glass encased treats . . . some covered in chocolate, some wrapped in shiney foil, some rolled in coconut, and then you spy the . . . baklava. Cut in diamonds, soaked in honey, and the amazing color of amber. And, it was DELICIOUS! If we had stayed another week, Sheila believes we could have charmed them into letting her work in their bakery picking up some of the tricks of the trade. And, yes, she would be willing to work early morning bakery hours to learn how to make *that* baklava.
Erik with the morning bakery attendant. We must admit that we were known to all the bakery attendants.BEACHES!
We went to several beaches while in Greece. Our favorite was Karidi Beach. There was a cove where the water stayed lower than mid-thigh for, well, a good distance. Just on the other side of a set of rocks was a great area to snorkel. On the opposite side from the snorkeling area, you could see Mt. Athos, meaning "Holy Mountain," which is located on the third peninsula of Halkidiki. A short walk up a hill from the beach was a vendor that sold the usual fare of food and DONUTS. Selling donuts on the beach was something that we ended up seeing quite often. On other beaches, the vendors came along carrying the donuts on large trays or boards that hung around their necks.
When you swam through the cove toward the open water, you could see the waves curl up . . . and the water was so clear, you could see through the wave. Marvelous! For Sheila, experiencing that was one of the highlights.
The Food . . . Sheila especially enjoyed tzatziki: a salad made of cucumber, garlic, yogurt, olive oil, lemon juice, and dill or mint. We both were pleased with the calamari and olives, of course. There was feta cheese in everything . . . salads, pastries, sauces. One of the favorite feta snacks ended up being spanakotyropita (phyllo dough, spinach, and feta cheese).
On a couple of the mornings, we had a cinnamon and powdered sugar covered pastry filled with baked cream. It ended up being much more delicious than it looked. What Sheila can't figure out, though, is if it is a Greek dish or a German dish that the small town makes because they get so many German tourists. Whatever the case, it was tasty.
One of the oddest things Sheila tried were cookies that were rolled in corn flakes. This is one thing she won't be duplicating back home.
Polygyros
On one of our final days in Greece, we explored the mountain town of Polygyros. We were relieved to find the air cooler, and Greeks that spoke Greek . . . not German. It is a town that tourists don't frequent, and we were an anomoly everywhere we went. In one restaurant, we had a difficult time being understood. Each request or question was met with, uh, laughter. None of the languages we spoke were spoken there. No problem. That is the fun part of traveling . . . charades.Towards the end of our meal, we met Mario and Caroline. Mario, a native of the area and a regular at the restaurant, and Caroline, his girlfriend from the Netherlands, helped us understand a couple of things that we didn't get . . . like how to get the check at the end of the meal. It was fun to talk to them, and they were extremely generous as we ended up eating at their table gathering tidbits on where we should go next.We really enjoyed Polygyros and made sure to drive through it one more time on our way back to Macedonia.
Evy's First RockWe had a marvelous time visiting with a local jeweler in Psakoudia. We spent over an hour talking with him, seeing the jewelry he had crafted by hand, discussing politics in America, giggling and moaning over the first lessons of parenthood (he has four children), analyzing different rocks and how best to view them to see the varied facets of their coloring. As we left Thasso's shop and said bye to him, we said, "Say bye, Evy." And lo and behold, Evy said, "Bye!"It was so funny, and Thasso was thrilled to be the recipient of Everett's first word. In honor of the occasion, Everett was allowed to pick out one of the polished rocks on his displays. Everett picked out the following, though, Erik notes that there were several others that were much more dynamic in color. As we were leaving, once again, the jeweler was exremely emphatic that, "This rock is for Evy. No one else." Yes, sir! It is now in a shadowbox in Everett's room.
The Bye! Rock
Lounging:
Click on the pictures to turn the pages.
The Prison
Mom and Evy
There were two or three kittens that found a home outside, and we spotted them through our waterfall window. Small, small, small little kitties that meowed and stole the hearts of the kids . . . and an adult or two. Now, these kittens were not content to just pose adorably. Nope, they were *hungry* and wanted in to eat with us at the table. Not to worry, at least one kind hearted group member did make sure that they had our scraps when we were done with the meal.
