Here’s one theme of our trip: When we have a task to accomplish (ordering dinner, catching the bus, making it to a new island…) we just can’t be completely certain that things will work out the way we expect them to. We’ve been fortunate to come across people who speak some English at times when we need help, but honestly, we’ve met very few people who speak English as a first language. So the language difference has been one obstacle. Another has been existing in a new culture. A couple examples – We’ve finally realized that when you ask for water in a café, you will typically be brought a bottle of water you’re expected to pay for…it is not a bottomless supply as I’m used to. This ended up costing us more than we’d bargained for, especially on Santorini where everything costs a million dollars. And you’re only expected to tip 10%, which always feels very piddly to me. I’ve finally come to understand, though, that dining out is so different here. In the states it’s all about being taken care of if you’re the one dining, and it’s all about turnover if you’re the one making tips. Not so at all here. You better make sure that when your food is dropped off you have everything you need, because you’re likely to not see the server again. Even when you’re ready to pay the bill…we still haven’t figured out how this is supposed to work. Another difference we LOVE – many times, when you’ve finally tracked down someone to bring your bill, they’ll also deliver a plate of something sweet and a small jug of raki (a strong alcoholic spirit, says the dictionary), and say, “On the house.” USA – think about it.

Also, there’s something we’re learning about called Greek time. Timetables and schedules function more as general guidelines than binding contracts. From an American point of view, I think this could create lots of problems. But if a whole country is on board, maybe it’s ok. The morning Sarah and I left Santorini, we did not budget enough time to make it to the port. After some confusion with checking out of our place and getting behind a very slow moving truck and 2 failed attempts at the ATM, we realized that it was very likely we’d miss our ferry and need to spend another day on Santorini (which was a tough reality to swallow...see “Santorini…Hmmmm…”). When we got to the port, however, there was no ship in sight. We joined a mass of waiting travelers and found out that the ferry must be running on Greek time. So we waited around for nearly an hour and talked about how we’ll never learn our lesson if we don’t suffer consequences. So we vowed to budget more time in the future. Incidentally, when we left Folegandros, we arrived at the port with loads of time to spare, which was fortunate because our ferry arrived and departed a half hour ahead of schedule. We just can’t figure out how this works out for people.

So our arrival on Naxos is what got me thinking about this theme. We knew that there was a bus that could take us to a town near where we were staying, but we weren’t sure if the bus would be running since it was a Sunday. We also weren’t exactly sure where we needed to end up – our new friend Astrid (her family owns and runs the farm where we’ve been staying) said that she could pick us up in one of two towns and that we should let her know where we’d be. Because of all of our adventuring on Folegandros, we hadn’t finalized plans with Astrid. So there were lots of unknowns on the journey from Folegandros to Naxos. The first, as mentioned earlier, was that our ferry departed a half hour earlier than scheduled. No idea why…but we sure were glad we’d left time to spare for once. It turned out that this got us to Naxos in time to catch an early bus and to meet the first of a long string of some of the most wonderful people we’ve ever encountered. With all of our bags strapped to us, we headed away from our ferry and toward the buses. We stopped at the first one we came to, asking if it was headed to Apeiranthos, hoping we were pronouncing it correctly. A man who was not the driver but seemed to be in charge told us that it was, but that we needed to purchase our tickets in a nearby building.

So the plan, not at all airtight, was to find a café in Apeiranthos with wifi. We’d come across these on all other islands, so we were hoping to check Sarah’s email one last time to see if Astrid had confirmed plans with us. Apeiranthos is an incredibly charming area, and by charming, I mean very old school. Some of the people we came across probably don’t know what wifi is. We stopped in one of a cluster of cafes and met two more wonderfully helpful women. They told us that there are no internet cafes, but the guy around the corner has internet on his own computer. Because I was carrying 50 pounds through 90+ degree heat, I was certain I could smooth talk my way into some computer time. On the short walk around the corner, we decided to ask for a phone instead, hoping for a quick conversation to figure out our plans. Enter the next woman, personality similar to a bulldozer, but completely kind and helpful. We asked about using a phone, she asked if we had a phone card, we told her that we didn’t, she ordered the man behind the counter to hand her his phone. To paint the full picture, Naxos is where we’ve come across the least amount of English and the most confused and apologetic looks when we try to speak with people. So this lady, as well as the two who sent us to her, was a relief. We told her our ultimate need – to find a way to our cottage. She told us that she’d call us a cab and that we should call Astrid to find out where to meet up. She did the dialing and I did the talking. Astrid speaks a fair amount of English, but is soft-spoken and has a thick German accent, so the conversation, which took place in a narrow entryway of a café with 50 pounds still strapped to me, was a bit exhausting. We got cut off once, so the bulldozer called her back. I had a memory of being a kid at school, making plans with a friend to get together and saying something like, “Have your mom call my mom.” And that’s what I desperately wanted. This strong Greek personality was taking such good care of us, two complete strangers, but I just wanted her to take the phone from me and then tell me what to do. But I powered through and made our plans. The Greek woman did call the cab for us and told him where to pick us up and where to drop us off. She pointed us in the direction of the cab, and we tried our best to humbly express our deep gratitude. We were realizing that we really would have been up a creek without her. As we passed the first café we had stopped at, the two women asked us if everything had worked out. The genuine kindness we have encountered has been a real inspiration.

The cab picked us up and we relaxed. As usual, we weren’t exactly sure if we’d get to where we needed to be, but it seemed as though we were at least headed in the right direction. Sarah showed the driver the address and he seemed to know the farm. We drove for quite awhile through the winding switchbacks. At one point my timing was just so lucky that I looked over the edge of the mountain to see a small white car, very smashed up, tucked down in the valley. I think I’ve figured out how it got there. The driver told us that he couldn’t take us all the way to the farm because the road was too rustic, so he asked for the number of the farm. And my childlike wish was realized. He called Astrid and rattled off lots of Greek. They were making our plans for us, leaving me to sink further into me seat, thinking that things might just work out. Not long after their conversation, he pulled over to the side of the road and dumped us off. He was kind, but that’s what it felt like. Back in the suffocating heat, strapping our bags to us once again. Here’s hoping the plans were set because our last connection with a phone and a set of wheels was about to drive off, leaving us in totally unfamiliar territory, mostly mountains and very few buildings in sight. Before I had much time to fret, Astrid pulled up and took our bags from us. I really feel like we came to this island with a very shaky plan and lots of hope that we’d find our way. It humbled and encouraged me to be at the mercy of so many people – genuinely kind and helpful – who didn’t think twice about stopping what they were doing to help out a couple of sweat drenched backpackers. We’re so grateful to have come across all of them…it’s been quite a week here on the farm.

I’ve been pondering the word “sweet spot.” The word reminds me of my softball days. For all you non-sporty people (mainly you Jessica) the sweet spot is the optimal part of the bat where you want the ball to hit. If you hit the ball directly on the sweet spot, you’re more likely to have really great results. You will have hit the ball solidly, connected perfectly…. it’s a pretty great feeling. The same term can be used when catching a ball. Failing to hit the sweet spot often has varying results…usually it just means the ball doesn’t go as far, but sometimes it could result in a decent amount of pain…catching a line drive in the middle of the glove, or hitting the ball off the end of the bat really hurts.

I’ve come up with my own meaning for the word “sweet spot” today.

As you may already know, Jessica and I have spent a fair amount of time on this trip in the sun. We’ve gone swimming, we’ve hiked, we’ve snorkeled, and of course, we’ve “laid out.” A rather funny term I guess, that really just means we’ve spent hours in a horizontal position reading, sleeping, working a crossword, listening to music, talking, or just watching the steady motion of the waves. One would think that this “laying out” doesn’t require much thought or skill, but there is a bit of a science to it. First there’s the application of sunscreen. How much is too much? Using a higher SPF may be the healthy choice, but if you’re going for that great tan you really need to stick with the lower numbers. Where is the best place to lay out? Back at home my options are pretty basic. Backyard on a towel, backyard in a chair, or on the roof, which to be honest I’ve never tried given the fact that I value my life, and the roof easily lends itself to a fatal fall, or more likely, a fatal heat stroke…although I’ve come close to the latter with both backyard options. Greece is different. There are beach options, boat options (see previous blog J), and rock options. Jessica and I prefer the rocks. I know, I thought I would pick the sandy beach too. But we have found that rocks are a lot less messy, they tend to be way more secluded than the beach, and they offer easy access to the water. (The best rocks are those actually in the middle of the water, but they require just a little more work).
The only negative with using a rock is sometimes the comfort level. You really need to find just the right rock…flat and smooth…You also need to position your body in just the right way, so as to become one with your rock, fitting perfectly with the indentions of the rock. This is a rare thing. Usually at least one leg or arm is in pain, and you have to tough it out, but every once in a while, it will happen, that special moment, the moment when you forget that you are laying on a hard, bumpy, piece of nature, and instead, think that you’ve just sunken into the softest bed….that’s when you’ve found it… your sweet spot.

Even as I write this entry, I can’t help but think of “sweet spot” in yet another way. I’d have to say I’m in a bit of a “sweet spot” right now. I’m sitting on my front porch outside my cottage in Azalas, Naxos, watching the clouds slowly change color as the sun is thinking about setting. Listening to the waves of the Aegean, just a few steps away, hitting the rocky cliffs that jut out into the water (tempting the adventuristic side of me- I see another cliff climb in my future). All is beautiful, all is peaceful. My entertainment though has been the sweetest of all. Four adorable German/Greek blond headed blue eyed children…just being kids. Singing, screaming, laughing. The youngest, dressed in shorts and a bright blue puffy winter coat. A sight to see in the heat of summer. He’s dragging a very large red rubber ball that I believe to be filled with rocks. A Sparta hat with red plume is on his head, and a sword is tucked into his shorts. He’s chanting something in German, and has just stopped to flail his ball into a tree and whip out his sword to attack his pretend enemy. He sees me then, and gives the most heart-melting smile. So that makes three boys I’m in love with on this trip…The cute slightly sarcastic waiter from Folegandros, the sexy from afar surfer dude who also plays paddleball from today, and the four year old little boy who reminds me of JJ.

When it comes to Sweet spots, this Greece trip has not disappointed me. On a daily basis I find myself exclaiming… “this is amazing, or awesome, or I can’t believe how beautiful this is.” Some of the highlights, which may show up in a future blogs, but I’ll just mention them here now to keep with my sweet spot theme, have been:

- The balcony in Athens on the first night
- Sitting on the deck of our first ferry boat waiting to blast off to Crete, reading and talking with Jessica and Susan
- The café in Hania with the sweet old man
- The other café in Hania with strawberry crepes and the high top table
- The middle of the Sameria Gorge
- Standing in the middle of the crystal clear waters of Elafonisi
- Our first dinner in Crete, Tanam, where I ordered shark
- Our last dinner in Crete, the one with the most amazing ambiance, the one where we meant to order something small and split it, but instead, ordered half the menu J
- Sitting on the steps of the Hania lighthouse at night, looking at the moon, the stars, and the city lights
- The view from the top of Skaros on Santorini
- My own personal bedroom…the loft at our place in Santorini
- The restaurant with the Caldera view in Santorini (before they overcharged us for water)
- The café in Folegandros with the cute waiter and the warm Nutella covered donuts
- The view of Katergo beach after the long hike
- The top of the Mountain Jess and I free climbed and then claimed by writing our names with rocks
- The giant rocks we laid out on after the free climb…the ones with the crashing waves, like fireworks
- Watching the sunset on top of the church at one of the highest points in Folegandros
- The first 5 minutes of our mule ride to Ambeli beach
- The bus ride to our current place in Naxos. The winding road…each turn giving better views of our newest island.

Jessica and I like to think of this trip as more than just a vacation, but really just living life in a different location (a pretty awesome location, free from most everyday stress, but still just regular life- it’s ok if you don’t buy this J) With life though, sometimes you hit the sweet spot and sometimes, well, you just hit the end of the bat. I won’t share with you the painful “mis hits”, but I will say that one involved not being able to pop some much needed popcorn. I know, such problems…..I’m happy that those days are very rare, and I’m excited to add to my sweet list…as we continue our time here in Greece.

The plan for the day was simple. We headed to the second largest town in Folegandros…Ana Maria. We’d hoped to poke around the town and then head to a beach. We heard that there were several you could either walk to or catch a cique to (that means boat…yes we are learning here.) So the bus let us off and as far as we could tell, this so called town consisted of one, maybe two buildings, and a lot of dirt roads leading to more dirt roads. Our companion bus riders, who appeared to be heading to the same place as we were…sporting the classic beach attire, all exited the bus with us, but in the time it took us to do a quick scan of our surroundings, these people had disappeared, and we were left standing with a Swedish mom, her two kids…..and a tiny little Greek man named Nicholas who wrapped his arms around Sarah and began talking very quickly in Greek, unphased by the fact that we had no clue as to what he was saying…he just continued to ramble on, leaving Sarah and me trying to make sense of the situation. After a few minutes, we realized just what sweet little Nicholas wanted. He was trying to convince us that the best way to the beach was to rent donkeys from him (or were they mules? or maybe hinnies?) and let him lead the way. He promised to take us to the most beautiful beach. We counted, and Nicholas spoke six words in English, so it was a real feat for us to realize that this was the offer on the table. We conferred briefly and realized that this was an opportunity we could not let go. Riding donkeys through the Folegandros countryside, lead by the tiny Greek Nicholas (he was really tiny)…And to be completely honest, what else were we gonna do? We had no idea where the beach was, and now that all the other beach goers had somehow vanished, we couldn’t even follow the crowd. The price seemed fair enough, so we shelled out the euros. And to further validate our decision, we saw that the Swedes were in as well. Even though we had no idea what exactly lay ahead of us, it was nice to know that we’d be sharing this adventure with other travelers. The mom, Monica, spoke relatively fluent English, which was a real comfort, and seemed to have a knack for communicating with Nicholas even though she didn’t speak Greek. So lots of pictures later, we had all mounted our donkeys and set off down the dirt road. Something you should know – Nicholas helped each of us on to our donkey and then lead his over to find a stone or hillside to stand on to give himself a boost on to his. In the time it took to do this, the poor Swedish kids were a quarter mile down the road. They seemed to stay pretty calm, though.
We rode along for quite awhile, really enjoying this excursion. Nicholas jabbered pretty much nonstop, which was a real mystery to us because we clearly weren’t understanding so much of what he was saying. He was a persistent fellow, though. With the added pantomime, we were able to catch bits and pieces of what he was telling us. Most of our brief conversations ended with him grinning and saying repeatedly, “No problemo.”
Many conversations later, we realized that we’d been trotting along on these donkeys for a very long while, and we wondered how we would have made this journey on foot…And where had those other beach goers disappeared to? And how were we going to make it back? Nicholas sure delivered on his promise, dropping us off at one of the most secluded and gorgeous beaches we’d seen. Relieved to have made it, we started a very long and no less confusing conversation about how to get back. It basically consisted of Nicholas saying – bus, 6 o’clock, Nicholas, penta – and then he’d point to some numbers on his watch. And we’d furrow our brows, so he’d repeat the whole routine. We were pretty hot and ready for the water, and realized that the more he repeated these phrases, the more frustrated we would become, and not get any closer to understanding the plans for our departure. We had high hopes that penta meant 5 o’clock, which seemed a likely time to make the 6 o’clock bus. We said good-bye and settled in with the water stretching out before us.
It didn’t take long for us to realize that even though this was one of the most beautiful beaches yet, it was by far the hottest. It’s like the blazing hot sun was allowed in, but even the slightest breeze was forbidden. We stretched out on our towels until we were dripping in sweat, and then headed to the water. Turns out, the water surrounding Folegandros is freezing. It was definitely refreshing, but unless we were swimming, it was almost too cold to bear. We split our time between snorkeling and sweating on the beach until we were surprised by Colin, the Swede, telling us that the donkey man was back. It was only 4 o’clock, and my first thought was that Nicholas was stealing an hour of our beach time. I thought about what to do and lifted my head from where it had been resting on my hand to find that a pool of sweat had gathered in my palm. Nick could take the last beach hour – ain’t no way I was walking back. So we gathered our things and followed the Swedes.
Here’s how the departure went: Nicholas helped Colin and his sister Christine mount their donkeys and then sent them on their way, a different way than we had come. They climbed a steep hill that lead to the top of a cliff overlooking the beach. Monica was next. My heart was beating a bit faster on behalf of the kids who had reached the cliff’s edge. I desperately wanted the rest of us to mount our donkeys so we could save the Swedes. Nicholas walked over to my donkey, but instead of helping me, he reached into the saddle bag and pulled out an unfamiliar piece of fruit. Then he peeled it and ate it. Then he pulled out another and offered it to me. So I shouted at him, “What in heaven’s name are ya thinkin, Nicholas? Forget snack time! We have to save the Swedes from plummeting into the ocean!” (Well I said it in my head.) I declined the fruit, so he ate it, and we finally started our climb up to the cliff’s edge. My heart continued to race as I watched my donkey’s hooves landing carefully on the boulders that climbed the hill in front of us. Sometimes I stopped watching, as it seemed better for my health.
The ride back was beautiful, and we were grateful to be seeing a whole new part of the island, but it was very unsettling following a man we really couldn’t talk to. We rode and rode until finally we reached the bus stop. But we kept riding. Uhhh, Nicholas? What’s the plan man? He just kept leading us toward Chora, where we were staying. I started to wonder if he would take us the whole way home. It’d be great to save the bus fare, but I was certain that our chafing selves were not up to it. Since the sun had sucked every bit of assertion I had previously possessed, I just bobbed along. Every now and then when we passed an oncoming car, I would look at the driver and say, just loud enough for Sarah to hear, “Help. I’m being held captive on a donkey.”
Just when I had mastered balancing my legs up by the donkey’s head and reclining back in the saddle (and by saddle, I mean slats of wood) we pulled over. Not at a bus stop. Not at our home. We were at a watering hole. I guess when you traipse around endlessly in the hot sun, the donkeys work up a thirst. I continued to recline on my donkey, my thoughts darting back and forth between frustrated confusion and deep gratitude for such a ridiculous experience. But mostly I was wondering if we’d ever make it home. Just when I thought we were finally going to start the last leg of the trip, Sarah whipped out her Greek phrase book. She motioned Nicholas over, seeing this as a prime opportunity for a lesson. Are you kidding me?!? I knew that Sarah had been wanting to learn the correct pronunciations of a few phrases, and I recognize this as a completely appropriate endeavor. But are you kidding me? I’d been blasted by the sun, my thighs were about to call it quits from holding me securely atop my donkey, and I was beginning to resign myself to the fact that Nicholas was just taking us home with him to be his farm hands. And I’d seen how easily he was distracted from caring for the Swedes. Remember the fruit incident? It wasn’t until he’d assisted her with an entire page of her book and I had sighed several times that we set off again.
It was indeed the last leg. Nicholas, despite the minimal communication, lead us right to where we needed to be…another bus stop directly back to Chora. And to be completely honest, he did much more than that. He showed us far more of the island than we ever would have seen on our own, took us to a beach we never would have found, kept us laughing with his nonstop charm, and all for such a low price. Here’s to that little Greek man for not selling out to make a killing off the tourists, for staying authentically Greek (and eccentric), and for teaching Sarah several phrases she has repeatedly put to good use. I did have moments of frustration during this excursion, but they were far outweighed by moments of thinking – I can’t believe that this is my life. What a ridiculously wonderful addition to my story.

I love a great day….A day when you wake up, not quite sure what the plans are, not really having any real expectations, and by the end of it all, you find yourself in bed thinking, “wow, how fantastic was that?!” That’s pretty much how things were for Jessica and I the other day, on what is quickly becoming our favorite island…Folegandros.

The day started out fairly regular. We woke up late as usual, which isn’t entirely our fault. We’ve found that during the day, things on Folegandros are quite peaceful, but the spunky Greeks come out at night…and they can be quite loud….all night long. We don’t sleep much here in Folegandros. So this morning, we strolled over to our favorite café…the one with the cute waiter and the best Nutella covered warm donuts, and sat for probably a good two hours. Surprisingly, this has become one of the things I love most about this trip to Greece. I love not feeling rushed, and being able to sit as long as I like at a restaurant or café, not having an agenda, or a list of to do’s, but being able to simply sip a hot drink while enjoying a good book, or writing, or just people watching. These cafes have quite the ambiance going on. Each one is so unique and charming. They could be serving me dog food, and I’d probably still come back for the beautiful setting. No offense to Starbucks or Muggswigs, but you just don’t get that in Ohio.

Now incase you were nervous that I somehow traded in my scrappy, slightly crazy, adventure seeking personality for the calm simple life of a coffee sipping book reader, you have nothing to fear…this is where our day gets really good.

On our first day in Folegandros, Jessica and I went running. We took separate routes, but crossed paths about midway into our run. We were both grinning….a little giddy I guess over seeing for the first time just how beautiful the island was. Jess removed her headphones just long enough to tell me, “We have some adventuring to do!” I knew exactly what she meant. The mountains all around us were practically begging to be climbed and explored. I knew it was only a matter of time before we set off on what I like to call a free climb.

Today was the day.

Now incase you missed it in the above paragraph, it was actually Jessica who first mentioned the idea of “adventure” here on this island….not me. Sometimes I get blamed for a lot of the crazy situations we get ourselves into…and most of the time that is a fair accusation, but despite being the totally chill, laid back Jessica that we all know and love, you should also know that she has quite the spunky, tough, wild side. So even if she claims that things were my idea first (like buying that ridiculous dog raft)…..you can’t always believe her…she’s a crazy one that Jessica, and this was as much her idea as mine…and what a great idea it was.

Back at our place, we packed a bag, and put on our hiking gear. We opted for tennis shoes this time (this was serious, no sandals allowed). We set off walking. Our goal was to find the perfect challenge. We walked out of town a ways, and then spotted it…our mountain. The one we were destined to climb up. We mapped out our route. Turns out getting to the mountain would be quite a challenge in itself…hiking up and over the countless stone fences and thorny bushes that litter the Folegandros landscape was no easy feat, and with me stopping to take pictures every five seconds, it wasn’t very fast either. We finally made it to our mountain, and began to climb. This would be the easiest part of the whole day. Like mountain goats, we scurried up the mountain with ease. At the top we took in the exhilarating view, and claimed the mountain as ours. No, we didn’t pee over the side, but we used the pretty green rocks we found to spell out our names….we’re pretty artsy.

On the way down, we decided to head for the water. This opened up a whole new set of challenges for us. At one point we were climbing sideways along the rocks, sandwiched between two cliffs….It was great:) We did come across a skull, that unfortunately was right next to what Jess called a shear drop off (although in my opinion, it wasn’t that bad), so we had to turn around. The final stretch of our decent to the sea below was a little treacherous. I found myself sliding down the mountain on my back, while Jessica, slower to act, and probably a little bit wiser, found a path. I have to admit to being a little freaked out after my fall, and just a little bit injured, so I was very close to throwing in the towel, and heading for home…this is where I am thankful for my friend. When she asked, “what do you want to do?” and I answered, “I don’t care” (which really meant…ouch, that really hurt, and I want to leave), Jessica said, “Let’s do it”, and so we continued on. I’m so proud of my gutsy friend.

We made it all the way down to the giant rocks, where the waves crash, and it’s as good as watching fireworks. We took off our shoes and socks, and stayed for a while, reading our books, snacking on popcorn, and taking in the show. What an awesome site.

The way back was a little less dramatic. We luckily found a path that weaved us right back to the main village square. We were probably quite a site, all sweaty, dirty, and bloody. It was around 8:00 so we decided to finish the day by watching the sunset from the famous church that sits atop the island…As only the two of us could do, we somehow managed to sit on top of the church….amazing…. a perfect ending to a perfect day.

I had been climbing for a while. It was hot. I was thirsty, and I was pretty sure Jessica was going to be upset with me for leaving for such a long time. But I just had to find this beach. I was on a conquest, and the longer I walked, the more time I invested into this personal challenge (that was now seeming more and more stupid),….the more certain I was of two things. Number one….there’s no way I can stop now, and number 2…I really don’t think the water is going to be way up here. Then the path ended and I did another dumb thing…I continued to climb. Higher and higher…the sensible voice in my head no longer a whisper, but a yell, was screaming…. The beach is not up here you moron!” and also, “hope you like vacationing alone.”

So lets flash back about two hours or so, to a better time. A time when Jessica was still speaking to me.

The morning had been nice. We’d easily caught the local bus back to the port (about 3km away) and had decided to walk to a beach. The guide book said you could do it, so by golly we were going to try. We had a map (not very helpful when it’s in Greek- but I didn’t want you to think we were going at this exploration thing completely unprepared). We asked a cute old man who was sitting out on his porch for directions. (What is it with all these cute old men?) He pointed us in the right direction, and we began to walk. We had our beach stuff with us- towel, ipod, book, snorkel stuff…you know, the essentials. I had opted for a nice little water bottle, so as not to be weighed down by my heavy Nalgene. Who needs water anyways…it was only another 90 degree day here in the Greek Iles where the sky is always cloudless….Man I’m smart when it comes to this survivor stuff. After walking about 15 minutes along the gorgeous coastline, we saw a great beach spot….below us. Not the beach I was looking for, Katergo, but a nice secluded beach, nestled between two giant rocks….very nice. We made our way down and laid out our towels…sharing the spot with only 6 or 7 other people….perfect.

But within 5 minutes I was restless. I wanted to find the beach from the book…supposedly the best beach on Folegandros. I was feeling very Kate like from Lost (ironically she’s the character who in my opinion always does the stupidest things and gets herself into trouble). I took a drink of water, slung my camera bag over my shoulder ( filled with all my survival gear…..my new great camera :)) and set off to scope out the area and report back to Jessica. Now in my defense, we never did specify a time to meet back up, and also….oh who am I kidding, even I would take Jessica’s side on this one. I wasn’t very respectful of the feelings of my travel mate….I wasn’t thinking clearly, I was obsessed, a woman on a mission.

The first part of my journey was so great. I passed a nice beach called Livadi, which probably would have been fine to spend the day at, but next to that sign was another one, pointing the way to Katergo…yes! I turned right instead, and set out along a mainly deserted road completely out in the country. The mountains and fields ahead of me the blue water behind me, and of course the scorching hot sun above me. This part of my adventure was my favorite. There was a breeze, I wasn’t dying of thirst, and I made friends with all kinds of farm animals along the way. Mostly goats who I think are so funny. Also some ugly sheep, and two sweet donkeys. Occasionally a moped would pass, or I’d see a few people working out in their fields, but mainly I was happy to just be by myself, taking in the unique scenery of Folegandros.

Now, I will say, I was a little confused by the way the sign told me to travel. Wasn’t the sea behind me? In front of me was great beauty, but nothing even remotely beach like…we’re talking straight country here. I pushed the thought away and continued to walk, always hoping the beach would be around the next turn. This wasn’t the case, and I was just about to turn around….admitting defeat when God sent me two angels, ok, not angles, but two girls, dressed in beach attire, sunburned, and hallelujah, they spoke English! Conquest still on! They were just at Katergo, and said I was close to the path that would take me there. Well, I wouldn’t say close girls…but thanks for pointing me in the right direction. After going down a few definitely wrong paths, I came to a sign….ok, not a sign, but the word KATERGO written in sidewalk chalk, or maybe a sharpie, in the middle of the road with an arrow pointing up….so that’s where I went. So really if you think about it, I wasn’t doing anything dumb, I was just following someone’s crappy directions.

So the path straight up ended and I kept climbing…positive by this time that there wasn’t going to be a beach at the end of this little fiasco, but just prideful enough to want to make it to the top of the mountain I had been climbing. Now very thirsty, and also very aware of the time, I thought of my friend Jessica sitting on the little beach where I left her, Oh man was I in trouble. I was running now. Dodging little dry bushes with their extremely spiky branches, trying to blaze my own trail to the top. Thank goodness I had slowed a little before reaching my final destination, otherwise I would have fallen straight off the towering cliff to the sea below (sorry for the image mom). I will admit, it takes a lot to scare me, but this did. What a drop off….gorgeous of course….but terrifying. That was that. Conquest over…now about saving that friendship. I took off running down the mountain. Wow, gravity makes you fast :) I slowed just long enough to talk with a couple who pointed me to the right path to the beach. Said thank you, cursed a bit under my breath and continued to run. When I got to the road I took off my shoes, trying to make the run a little more interesting. The animals I had met earlier seemed to now mock me with their bleats and funny looks.

I made pretty good time back to our original beach. Jessica wasn’t too happy with me, and I really wasn’t in the best mood either. Going all that way and still never finding the beach was a little depressing. So I sulked for a good hour or two on the beach. All the while formulating a plan to go back and find Katergo…I just couldn’t let it go. I mustered up some courage to ask Jessica if she wanted to go looking for the beach with me….we hadn’t really been talking much, I assumed she was still a little irritated. She surprised me by saying yes and the two of us packed up our stuff and set off….again…down the dusty country road. This time around I would not be disappointed. After following a not so well marked trail up another mountain, we came to an overlook and spotted way below us the most beautiful beach. Katergo at last!

The walk down to the beach took a while, but the view was breathtaking. Once at the bottom we walked around all the other beach goers (who we later discovered had gotten to this great spot by boat), dodging the topless and the couples….turns out it was a pretty romantic beach. We found the perfect spot and relaxed for a while, taking in our beautiful surroundings. We did go on one mini adventure. We swam out to this huge rock in the middle of the sea and then preceded to climb to the very top of it….we’re pretty tough. My only complaint was how thirsty I was the entire time. Never again will I travel without my trusty Nalgene. The baby water bottle just didn’t cut it. Surprisingly, the trek home went very quickly. We made it back to the port just in time to grab a water and a diet coke and catch the boat back to Hora (that’s what they call the town center).
We ended the day having a Gyro at one of the many outdoor restaurants, and then watching the Bachelorette online. What a great day on Folegandros!

Our time on Santorini wasn’t exactly what we were hoping it would be. I think this island was the backdrop for a movie, maybe the one about the traveling pants. Something has happened recently that has brought some fame to this island, and during our time there, it was clear that it is where the tourists want to be. Let me try to explain our take on Santorini.

It is, without a doubt, beautiful. When you think of Greece, if you picture countless white cube buildings covering the side of a mountain, this is Santorini. The architecture is absolutely impressive. We drove to 2 different towns on this island to explore. Here’s how it works: Neighborhoods spill down over the side of the mountain, and at the top is where shops, restaurants, banks, post offices, etc. are located. So you walk along the ridge at the top and peer over into the mess of houses and hotels. These fit together like puzzle pieces…walkways, stairs, balconies all nestled together. Roofs of one layer of buildings become sitting areas for the layer just above it. We loved this sight.

But here’s what you need to know: There really should be a cap of how many tourists they let in. It is such a maddening mess of cars and scooters and gawking tourists, that it’s a real challenge to appreciate the beauty. My blood pressure has always been shockingly low, and I fear that our time on this island really threw that for a loop. The streets are barely wide enough for two cars. When you’re not driving through a town, you’ve got a drop off down to the ocean on one side of you and when you are driving through a town, you need to understand that you’ll probably take a wrong turn (or lots of wrong turns) that will wind you deep into the tiniest sliver of a road, at which point the only way out is a twelve point turn with the assistance of Sarah standing behind the car, saying – a little more, a little more, STOP! And an audience of about a million tourists passing by. And when you’re not making a twelve point turn, you will find yourself squeezing through streets lined with parked cars. It’s a good thing our rental wasn’t wider by even an inch, or we would have come back minus a mirror.

And the people on Santorini…well they’re just not very nice. Obviously that’s a generalization, but I’m having a hard time remembering anyone we met who didn’t fit that description. At one point we pulled over to ask directions from a lady sitting outside a shop. Susan rolled down her window, and in her very polite voice said – Excuse me, do you speak English? The lady’s response – long drag on her cigarette as she turned her head away from us and raised her cell phone to her ear. And we’re pretty sure she wasn’t even talking on it. Boy did we get the giggles.

So the island seems to be a destination for very high class travelers, and maybe this is why prices were offensively high to us. We were only there for two nights, and I certainly would have had to sell an organ if we had stayed longer. The first night we strolled around and stopped in a tavern that overlooked the water. Again, breathtaking. But it’s really hard to enjoy a view when you’ve just spent $4.00 on a 12 oz. bottle of water and $8.00 on what the menu advertised as toast with ham cheese, and tomatoes, but seemed to be nothing more than a hamburger bun with a slice of bologna. And for a country that boasts such a variety of fresh veggies, the tomatoes were a bit appalling.

A highlight – we hiked to the top of a promontory (bonus points if you know what this word means…we had to look it up…) where a castle used to stand. We loved it. It’s a relatively grueling hike, not long, but a bit treacherous along the way, so the uppity tourists tend to stay away. We only passed a handful of people also doing the hike, one of whom was a man running, blaring Rocky from his headset. He was a real inspiration to us all. I’m not going to say too much about the peak of the promontory, because if Carol is reading this, her heart will start racing. But I will say that you can ask the very scrappy Sarah for a description.

Also – we looooved our accommodations here…completely cozy with a swanky pool.

The Santorini sum up: Completely beautiful, too crowded for our taste, so expensive you might need to cash in your retirement, and really beautiful (I guess I used that one twice. Oh well).

I woke up on a pirate ship today.

That’s the great thing about life, and I know I’ve said this before, but you always have a 50/50 chance of something really awesome happening, and also that same chance that something really crappy will happen.…and you really have no idea which it will be, or even what kind of experiences you’re going to have in a day, or a year, or a lifetime…It’s kind of a crapshoot. You wake up, and BAM, you’re given this amazing gift- 24 hours of unexpected surprises. If you would have told me a year ago that I would be writing a blog that starts with the sentence I woke up on a pirate ship in Greece today, I never would have believed it for a second….Life is pretty exciting eh? But don’t worry if your day hasn’t started off on a pirate ship….tomorrow’s a new day…dream big.

Where was I…..oh yeah, the pirate ship. Now you must understand that with this blog, some things may be a wee bit exaggerated….You see, I’m currently caught up in the middle of this fantastic book of adventure, which means I’ve been thinking in book. If you’ve ever been lucky enough to get sucked into a great read…you may know what I mean. Suddenly, after a few days of reading, I am a main character, and every thought I have is somehow part of my own adventure story that I’m authoring in my head.

The unbelievable settings of Crete have created the perfect backdrop with which to let my imagination run wild. Within the last four days, I’ve been in the middle of a breathtaking Gorge, hopping from rock to rock. I’ve lounged on a beach with water so clear and blue, you’d think you were in a dream. The side streets and people of Hania have enough charm and character to satisfy any type of storyline, and then of course there’s this pirate ship in the middle of the Mediterranean. Seriously, right now, my life is a book.

It’s hard to say how I got in such a predicament, but there I was unable to move…lying on some type of table or bench. My view to the left endless blue sea, above me the large mast of the ship against the brilliant cloudless sky… it’s flag waving fiercely in the wind…taunting me with it’s freedom.

I drifted in and out of conscienceness, rocked by the constant swaying of the boat, vaguely aware of the hot sun burning my exposed legs and arms, and the taste of sea salt on my lips….I was trapped….my only escape would be to somehow jump off the boat and swim to the island of the Kri Kri. My swimming skills were mediocre at best, but it was the jump that worried me most. Both thoughts I pushed from my head, I had no time for fear now…I needed to stay sharp and figure out a way to ……

Now that’s book talk. It’s also lying. Ready for the real story? Ok, you’ve been patient with me and my tangent :)

It’s true. Today I did find myself on a pirate ship (AKA really cool boat looking like a pirate ship), but I wasn’t being held captive. I boarded on my own with my traveling buddies. We made our reservations the day before, during one of our many walks along the harbor. First we passed all of the persistent restaurant owners who wanted our business. (We became known I’m sure as those American girls who always say “no thank you”). Then we picked up about five different flyers from tour companies wanting us to spend the day with them on their boat, snorkeling and swimming. We had lots of options, but in the end, the amazing pirate ship boat won us over and the next day we embarked on our three hour tour…a three hour tour:)

The three of us started out in the very front of the boat, and then made our way to the very top where we discovered three benches surrounding a large table. This quickly became our own private laying out quarters. I felt a little bad about monopolizing such a great spot, but I soon got over that….as Chandler on Friends says, “It’s so hard to care when you’re this relaxed.” I somehow managed to drag myself off that bench twice for snorkeling which wasn’t quite as great as in Hawaii, but of course still a fun time. Oh, and we really did jump off the boat. We made sure the younger kids survived first and then cowabungaed right into the sea….so sweet!

Two side notes: The islands we stopped at were actually just big rocks supposedly home to the kri kri (that’s a goat incase you didn’t know)…I didn’t see any. Also, the free fruit and drink the flyer originally enticed us with wasn’t exactly as advertised. I had a slice of watermelon and a shot of that burning alcohol, which was more than my comrades got.

These trivial things in no way lessened the awesome experience of basking in the Cretan sun atop a ship, skipping across the Mediterranean. Life is full of unexpected surprises, and I am thankful.