Howard’s Blog

It was Just Another Gorgeous Day in Greece. The incredible gift shop we had seen the night before was about 50 meters to the south of our lodging, making our decision crystal-clear, and northwards we drove. We figured keeping a northerly bearing would get us to where we had to be(Patras), when we had to be there(Thursday night). It was Wednesday morning, and we had 2 days to make up about 200 kilometers. We decided to stick as close to the beach as possible, and finally, in the middle of nowhere, we found where the Austrians were hiding. They camp. They camp on the beach, in remote areas, where they don’t have to pay. Not a bad deal, when you think about it. They tiny roads leading to the beach were dangerous for open-air driving though, we were getting bombarded with huge grasshoppers, so we made it back to the main road that runs up the west coast. This stretch of road is great, not much traffic, huge watermelon plantations, just a really nice drive – warning – do not, EVER, tailgate watermelon trucks. If the many watermelon corpses on the road don’t clue you in, the first flying melon will. We stopped when we got lost to grab a bite to eat, and get our bearings at the beach. Normally we didn’t worry too much about where we were(keeping the coast on our left at all times), but this sight made us slightly uneasy about our navigation skills. Finally we saw a huge beach in the distance – and decided to head there to find shelter… and failed miserably. I have no idea how we managed it, but once again we ended up in a place that wasn’t on the map – Arcoudi Loutra Killinis. In doing so we somehow overlooked a beach at least 4 kilometers long. We drove through the quiet little town, and stopped at the end (a very small town) at Faros… Restaurant, hotel, you name it. Nice, very nice people. Here is the view from the hotel.. and here, and here. We headed off to the beach, where it looked like some cars had dared drive on to the sand. The Joker made it a bit farther, and as usual, made a fine figure on the beach. Also as usual, the local ladies were much more interested in the Joker than the passengers. Oh well. The water on this beach was absolutely freezing in comparison to the bathtub temperatures we experienced in Crete, so we didn’t wait to long before heading off for refreshments.

Sometime around 5:00 AM, without warning, they attacked. My immediate response was to close the window – that’s where mosquitoes come from, right? This wasn’t a 4 star hotel, no air-conditioning, so the window had been opened on arrival. How were we to know, right? After flailing around clumsily at the blood sucking monsters to no avail, A. decided to go sleep on the beach. I was too tired, and bundled up as well I could in blankets, substituting the insanity threatening whine of mosquito wings for sweat-drenched blankets until the sun came up, and the evil winged things left. I went to take a shower and discovered why closing the window hadn’t helped. They came from the bathroom. And that is apparently where they lived and bred. And, on that morning, died. A tip for all dwellers in Faro. Close the bathroom door before going to sleep.

Hier sind einige Spendenmöglichkeiten:

* Rotes Kreuz
PSK, Kontonr.: 2.345.000, BLZ: 60.000, Kennwort “Hochwasser in Oesterreich” und auf der Website

* Katastrophenhilfe Österreichischer Frauen
PSK, Kontonr.: 2.400.000, BLZ: 60.000
und Erste Bank, Kontonr.: 04830830, BLZ: 20.111

* Caritas
PSK, Kontonr.: 7.700.004, BLZ: 60.000, Kennwort “Hochwasser Österreich”

* Diakonie Katastrophenhilfe
PSK, Kontonr.: 23.13.300, BLZ: 60.000, Kennwort “Hochwasserhilfe Österreich”

* Malteser Hospitaldienst
PSK, Kontonr.: 1.000.999, BLZ: 60.000, Kennwort “Hochwasserhilfe”

* Volkshilfe Österreich
PSK, Kontonr.: 1.740.400, BLZ: 60.000, Kennwort “Hochwasser in Österreich”

* Arbeiter-Samariter-Bund Österreichs
PSK, Kontonr.: 1.834.000, BLZ: 60.000, Kennwort “Hochwasserhilfe 2005″

* Hilfswerk
RLB NÖ-Wien, Kontonr.: 222.224, BLZ: 32.000, Kennwort “Hochwasser in Österreich”

I had actually believed the owner’s wife. I was in fact surprised to be the only moving creature in the entire hotel at 7 AM. No coffee. I should have known better. She and her family were still pounding back the ouzo when we crashed, and as my head was telling me in no uncertain terms, that was much, much too late. We got moving as quickly as possible and headed to the port – with hopes of coffee. The coffee shop was opening up as we arrived, and even the worst coffee in the world(which it was) was welcome. This guy showed an amazing amount of sympathy for our hangovers, but only until he had finished our omelettes(which matched the coffee in taste and quality) for us. We were supposed to check in 2 hours before departure, but (a) we didn’t, and (b) it wouldn’t have mattered, because the ticket office didn’t open until shortly before departure. We made it on to the ferry, parked – above the cars, and went up to the deck. Fortunately we hadn’t heard the horror stories about this ferry, or we may have swum. There is a visible layer of filth covering every single part of the ferry – making an attempted nap on the deck benches as brief as it was unsuccessful. The washrooms make the deck look sterile in comparison. The first stop on the way to the mainland was a tiny island, Antikithira(1,2,3,4,5), and a port so small, and so shallow, that when the ferry prop braked it threw up tons of silt from the bottom. Très cool. Next stop was Kithira(1,2,3,) and I screwed up big time. I was on the deck without a camera when we cruised past a shipwreck. Bummer. Oh well, I did get some pics of Kithira – honestly, this island looked like heaven for the Joker, but I can’t for the life of me imagine what else you would do. There is so much nothing…
When we left port it seemed as though some one had had parked a few 18 wheelers on one side of the ferry. It took us about 30 minutes to clear the port, and we had a serious list. Just before we reached Gythio, the wind picked up – and we were travelling right into the teeth of it. It was almost impossible to stand on deck – ans no, he doesn’t wear his shirts like that, it was the wind.

Finally we cruised in to port(1,2,3,4) where for the third time on the trip, the line had to be thrown at least three times to the pier before it actually made it there – the captain was seriously pissed off. Just by looking at the mountains to the north and west, I had a feeling the cliff driving wasn’t quite completely behind me. Correct. We hit the road to Sparta(1,2,3,4,5,6,7). Then it was west toward Kalamata. This was the most incredible section of road I have ever seen. We have lots of pictures, but unfortunately the most incredible parts couldn’t be photographed because there was just no room to pull over. Twice we drove under – completely under, solid rock, where a corner had just simple been cut out – leaving the rock suspended over thin air. One fine day gravity will have it’s way, it’s only a matter of time.
Despite the natural beauty, it was with no small measure of relief when we finally spotted Kalamata(1,2,3,4,5,6,7) from the mountains. We had planned on spending the night there – but didn’t know that it was a city, so we headed on to Pylos, which we also didn’t quite reach. The sun went down on the way, and we were reminded quite clearly that we weren’t as close to Africa as we were in Crete. Cold it was in them tar hills. After passing by a carload of people from Baden(a town south of Vienna), we turned right where we should have turned left and finally – after being turned away at a campground and turning back – found a room. Quite a nice one actually. 26 euros a night, if I remember correctly. We headed into ‘town’(I don’t remember what the name was, it probably isn’t on the map though) and had supper, then stopped at a grocery/souvenir store to get refreshments. This was the most incredible souvenir store of the trip. Next time I want a half ton truck. Everything was gorgeous, and everything was cheap. We promised we’d be back the next day. We weren’t.
Refreshments on the balcony, and that was the end of a very long day.

The best thing about Hotel Malia was the fact that it was the first bathtub we had seen in 2 weeks. Showers are all well and good, but removing the dust of over 2000 Joker kilometers requires soaking. The room itself was nice, with a view of the pool and pool bar.
The ‘all-inclusive’ part of this hotel borders on a scam. First of all, there are refrigerated units on every corner with bottled water and soft drinks. These are not free, in fact, they are a long way from free. This is, of course, not mentioned anywhere. The very same drinks are available at the bar, but by the time you find this out, it’s too late. The same goes for the ‘ice cream’ break in the afternoon, where, it’s written, ice cream is free. But don’t grab an ice cream out of the deep freeze located in the pool bar. Oh no, the free ice cream is hidden behind the bar, and you have to order it separately. The local beer at the beach bar is only free until midnight – which is probably a good thing, because Mythos beer isn’t really a good idea shortly before going to bed anyway, but still… midnight??? Please. In a hotel where everything else was ok(or better), this sleaziness took the shine off completely. It would have been fine if things had been labelled – ‘not included’ – I mean, no all-inclusive hotel has everything included, but this nickel and dime petty crap just shouldn’t be necessary.
Anyway, the Sunday was spent for the most part by the pool. a. managed to avoid his father for the most part, but A. succeeded in capturing the youngster on film during a water-polo game.
It is a little known fact that wookies are actually superb swimmers until adulthood, where their weight makes flotation unattainable – as a good freind of mine, and one of the greatest minds in Stockholm would say, they just aren’t ‘aquadynamic’. You can clearly see the young a. struggling to stay afloat in this picture, so his aquatic days are obviously numbered. The weather had turned decidedly toasty by now, a constant reminder of our proximity to Africa. The water in the hotel pool was about 30°. Not exactly refreshing, but wet. I think I spent more time under the pool shower than in the pool – the water was much cooler.
Sunday evening was pretty much a repeat of Saturday. We did see a group of , um.. ladies, with t-shirts saying ‘Manchester’s Finest’. I never wanted to go to Manchester anyway.
And then it was Monday, and time to hit the road again. The drive from Malia to Kissamos – where we had to catch a ferry back to the mainland on Tuesday, is about 200 km long, and a great scenic route, stretching basically the entire north coast of the island. We stopped for coffee on the outskirts of Malia, and while we were gone the Joker had reproduced. Not bad for 20 minutes.
The heat on the way up the coast was incredible. Even at 85 kph, on a quad, it was like driving into a hair dryer. It just sucked the air out of the lungs.
We made it in to Kissamos before sundown, and found a hotel with a free room immediately. We were right on the beach, so we had to take advantage of our last day in Crete and hit the surf. The water here is almost as warm as the hotel pool, and goes out a long way before getting deep. For about the 15th time on this trip we ordered a large bottle of water, and for the 15th time, we forgot to take it with us. A. said he wanted a picture of the Joker. Sure. We wandered down the beach looking for a decent place to eat – when we saw this sign, we had to ask – and no, you don’t get to take the sun bed with you. When we first saw the sign, we thought it said ‘sunsets’, and not ‘sunbeds’, which would have been a bit disingenuous, given the restaurants location…you can’t see the sunset from here.
We decided to eat sensibly for a change, and ordered a mixed grill for 2. We had no way of knowing. We sat by the pool with the owners all evening, and I have no idea how many shooters they treated us to, but it was more than necessary. I think the name of the Hotel was Aphrodesia, named after the bosses wife – who promised us she would be up early to make coffee for us Tuesday morning. She lied. Despite this criminal deception, the hotel gets two thumbs up. Great place, great people.

Time to head out from Agio Nikolaos, and we were late getting checked out, so the key-freak charged us extra. To add insult to injury, on the way down in the very tiny elevator, crammed in with our bags, we got stuck between floors. If you’ve never been wedged in a miniscule elevator with a wookie and his baggage, in 38 degree heat, you don’t know the meaning of the word oppressive. Thankfully a bit of panicky punching of the buttons got us moving again. This was the only hotel on our travels that I wouldn’t recommend – Ikarus, the rooms are nice, but the management sucks. We decided to take the long way to Malia, over the plateau Lassithi. Gorgeous place, and the drive there is half the fun. We took every opportunity we found for a bit of off-road, we knew that a. didn’t get in ‘til 2 AM, and we weren’t in a hurry. Especially knowing what Malia was like. The road up to the plateau travels through olive farm after olive farm. It seems as though every available centimeter gets planted with an olive tree. There is a road that goes around the inside of the plateau, with lots of places to go caving. We decided to go directly across, it just seemed more suited for the Joker. Shortly after that we drove through a section of road where huge flocks of small black birds flew around our ears – A. said later he didn’t want to say anything about them in case it was a hallucination. He figured I’d see them soon enough, one way or the other. The view on the way back from the plateau was just as nice, at the top there are the ruins and the obligatory giftshop, and then it’s the curvy road that eventually gets, very, very narrow, and finally, and somewhat suddenly, pops into town. We found the hotel eventually – Hotel Malia, where we had paid for all-inclusive. With this in mind we went into town for a beer after getting settled in. Common sense finally won over though, and we headed back to the hotel in time to catch sundown, and stayed for a bit …

Friday, and our last full day in Agio Nikolaos. The hotel manager freaked out at us for not remembering to lock the hotel door the night before – brave man. By the time we got mobile it was afternoon, and we drove up the coast to the whale watching beach. We didn’t actually know it was a whale watching beach until we got there, and we would have taken more than two pictures, but it would have been rude. We didn’t stay long. It was back to the beach club for pool swimming by the bar until late afternoon, and then back to town. We headed out to the ‘usual’ first stop bar for a rare beer break, where the slightly psychotic Dutch waitress showed us new ways to use wine bottles. We took advantage of the bar’s view of the salt water lake to take some pictures(1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10). After that it was straight downstairs to the Blue Lagoon restaurant – where we had met the Maitre ‘D Chris the night before. This is a guy who never, ever forgets a name. Too weird. Anyway, the restaurant is highly recommendable despite the annoying harassment on the lakefront. Today the wookie had a craving for shark.
After supper we went to the pub, where we met another Chris – a Welsh DJ and a huge fan of Dwight Joakam and Johnny Horton. The Norwegian contingent showed up again, and the absolutely cutest little girl selling flowers. The Norwegians were impressed too. They took off to the disco – we hung out a bit with Chris, singing Johnny Horton songs . We dropped in at the disco a bit later, but it wasn’t very ‘Greek’, at least not like Johnny Horton, so it was back to the pub for a nightcap, and off to the hotel. We locked the door – my suggestion to prop up a chair under the handle was vetoed by the wookie.

Ok day 14 and it was off to explore the beaches of Crete – but first we stopped off to visit Yes Please and grab a bite of lunch. He was so impressed with the Joker he let us park in the restaurant. Nice guy. He even stood watch for us to protect the Joker from runaway trains.
After lunch we hit a smallish beach close to town, considered briefly taking a jet-ski out, and then dismissing the idea as at best, risky, and at worse, homicidal. After a dip or two in fairly filthy water we decided to head up the coast. There we found a beach club. It looked fairly ritzy, and I assume you have to be a hotel guest to swim in the pool, but nobody asked, and we didn’t tell, so the next few hours were spent with cold beer and clean pool water.
This is where I obviously did something really stupid with my camera, because ALL of my pictures today were taken in ‘night shot’ mode, making them useless. Sorry.
Later it was back to Yes Please where a kid tried to steal the Joker. We beat the crap out of him, took his money, and moved on to a pub…. Where we met the Norwegians( I think). At some point in time the Wookie had to go get money, or something like that, and got lost on the way back – which turned out to be a good thing. He finally made it back to the pub where he dragged me to a bar he had discovered on his wanderings, and there was a folk music group playing there. All I can say is ‘wow’. I have no idea what the name of the band was, but the music was fantastic.

Wie versprochen hier ist das ‚Baby’ Bild von H. und N., und nein, sie wissen nicht ob Bub oder Mädel, und nein, sie wollen es nicht wissen, falls es im Bild für einen Experten sichtbar ist . Ziemlich coole Sache. Here’s the ‘Baby’ pic I promised from H. and N., and no, they don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, and no, they don’t want to know, just in case it’s visible to an expert . Pretty cool stuff.

It was one last hair-raising drive down the port road. For once we didn’t have to wait long, and we were off again with the Daedalus, Time to say goodbye to Santorin, and unexplainably, we took a grand total of 9 pictures. I have no idea why, but that’s how many I have. The ferry trip was uneventful – no stops between Santorin and Crete, so we took refuge from the sun under the canopy that covered the ‘dog pound’, where we made some new friends. We arrived in Iraklia sometime after lunch, and hit the road immediately to Malia. We had to make reservations in Malia for Saturday – that’s when a. (A.’s son) arrived, and we were going to stay from Saturday ‘til Monday. We arrived in Malia and discovered London. Well no, that’s not fair, I like London. We discovered Birmingham. English pubs, English shops, and English drunks. There is nothing Greek about Malia. We booked a room for Saturday and got the hell out of there. We travelled further on down the coast to Agios Nikolaos, or, Santa Claus. Bet you didn’t know Saint Nick came from Greece. We found a hotel fairly quickly, and the room looked ok, so we checked in, found a good parking spot for the Joker under our balcony, and went down to the waterfront.
The hotel manager had some kind of weird key fetish, and seemed quite upset when we didn’t speak Greek – he on the other hand, didn’t speak any other language, so that worked well. Eventually we understood that there was one key for the room, and another to get into the hotel, and we should never, ever, ever have both with us. Ever. And we should lock the hotel door if we came in late. Always.
Immediately upon arriving at the waterfront, we were accosted by ‘Yes Please’. I’m sure he told us his name at some point, but I forget. ‘Yes Please’ was the head waiter at one of the restaurants on the waterfront. He greeted any and all passers-by with exactly the same phrase: ‘Yes Please!’. We took a seat, after all, he did say please. The restaurant was almost on top of the main street, precisely where it(somewhat of a crescent in shape) changed from a two-way street into a one-way street. Much beeping of horns at he quietest of times, but minutes after being seated, the horn-beeping took on an intensity that stopped being the normal Greece conversation, and hinted at something out of the ordinary. A trucker had found his way onto the street, and found himself facing a one-way street, with no hope at all of making the sharp, narrow turn that traffic was expected to make at that intersection. It was either back up about 200 meters, or truck on down a one way street the wrong way. No contest. No doubt caught up in the excitement of the horn cacophony, he hit the gas and barrelled on up the wrong way. It actually looked like it was going to go smoothly – until a cop car came cruising over the blind-crest, and had to swerve HARD over to the wrong side of the road to avoid the truck. I sat up in my seat, anticipated some serious trouble for the errant trucker, and the cop … just kept on driving. Didn’t even beep his horn. Disappointing.
A bit later, a convoy of trucks came from the direction that the truck had disappeared. They were garishly painted, and crawling along, so I leaned as one was driving by to try and read the Greek words that were painted on the side… and found myself staring at an elephant’s trunk. I immediately started regretting not having spent more time with the therapists, but fortunately everyone else saw it, which was reassuring.
We were pretty tired already(it was another early morning ferry), so we didn’t overdo it, and it was back to the hotel to crash.

Da ich jetzt offensichtlich auch als Geburtsregister agiere, muss ich einen etwas weniger wichtigen Nachwuchs bekannt geben, und zwar Schnuffi von Schnuffi. Since it seems I’m now responsible for announcing impending births and newcomers, it behooves me to announce – if somewht tardily – the arrival of Schnuffi von Schnuffi.

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By now we had a routine of sorts – enjoy the midday sun at the hotel pool, and then explore the island when thirst overcame us. Monday(the 4th of July, you know, when the Americans celebrate the countries they’ve invaded and the people they’ve murdered) was no exception. We had also ditched the Bepanthol and Vaseline in favour of a healthy coating of sun block over the new tattoos, Gippy would not have approved, but hey, it was vacation.
The east coast of Santorin was on today, and away we went. This has to be the only boring part of Greece we saw the entire 3 weeks. There is absolutely nothing going on on the east coast of the Island. And I do mean nothing. Thankfully there is some nice scenery along the way – and the best souvenir shop on the island(where we of course, didn’t actually buy anything, thinking there would be lots of opportunity later – we were wrong). On the way to the coast you drive down towards the sea on a winding road – the pictures are self-explanatory, so here they are – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17.

That night we went to a pizzeria across the road from our hotel. Too strange. It seemed like we might have been their first customers – ever. But the pizza was yummy.

Tuesday morning followed the usual pattern. After being lazy at the pool it was off to visit the southern tip of the island. This was our last day on Santorin, and the southern tip was the only part of the island we hadn’t seen – intentionally or otherwise. By this time I had become accustomed to dizzying heights – not, so of course it was another white knuckle drive on the edge of cliffs that seemed to hang out over the water, and then… the road stopped. For a good reason. There was no more land to put a road on. Which was the perfect place to put a lighthouse(1, 2, 3, 4). A. got adventurous and wandered out onto the cliffs, I felt it was my duty to photograph the scenes for posterity. No way you’ll ever see me hanging out over a cliff just to get these kinds of pictures though. But wookies are famous for their climbing abilities. And for showing off. Like here. And here. And here. And here.
After that it was down the south coast, where once again our need to drive over rough terrain led us to find this restaurant, hidden away beside a beach of sorts below the cliffs. A bite to eat and a beer and it was back to the beach for a last visit. This is where, in all seriousness, A. looked at my tattoo and said, “You realize your tattoo doesn’t look like a real dolphin, don’t you?” Having never seen a flaming dolphin, I was prepared to agree with him, when he continued, “on the other hand, mine doesn’t look like a salamander, either.” Now, for those of you that didn’t get a chance to see it before it was deleted, this is the tattoo he was talking about. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it didn’t look like a salamander because it wasn’t a salamander… But we were rescued by refreshments. Fortunately we met a therapist later, who, although she couldn’t help us with the salamander confusion, was nice enough to take a picture of us – she and her friend were Canadian, so there ya go. It was back to the hotel later for one last beer by the pool, and a toast to Santorin. I have never seen a city that offers the kind of spectacular views that Thera does. I would highly recommend a week on the island. The people aren’t as friendly as the people on Mykonos, but the views almost make up for it.