Get me out of here! The crowd raves for the island of Santorini … I rave from a different perspective.

Picture it; your rooms are little cells sitting on the downslope of the side of a crater, as if any minute they’ll slide down to the water below. There’s no flat, no sand outside your door, no trees, but wee patios spotted with lots of multicolored flower pots. All white buildings, blinding white in fact … great in photos but hard on the eyes when there.

Steps to your hotel … yes, many many hillside steps and walkways to get to your hotel. They’re made out of sharp rocks, including unmarked turns greeting you while you’re trying to drag and wrestle your luggage over cleverly laid bumpy cobblestones.

There are hundreds of these darling decorator steps and paths to negotiate everywhere you go (no exaggeration here). “You can walk from the hotel to Fira, the main town, on the path along the side of the mountain, only takes 25 minutes,” says the concierge. Yes, bloody hot, feet hurting, knees aflame, up and down, losing  way, arriving 25 hours later it seemed. The path is clever though, one very unique feature that gets our raves. No need to walk the crowded, fumes-filled streets above and I mean thick fume-filled and it’s off-season! The walking path goes for miles and miles. It winds through all the hundreds of tiny hotels tucked together liked sardines along the side of the caldera.

Caldera? Hey folks, the formation of Santorini with no land in the middle of the semi-circular caldera except for small leftover islands was caused by a volcanic eruption between 1500 and 1600 BC, resulting in marvelous antiquities being preserved intact. With an earthquake happening in 1956, what’s not to have another one soon? And with the hotels terraced down toward the sea, the slide would be instant. From our mini hotel pool patio the sea’s almost straight below, said by one with vertigo.

Being met by a woman sweating puddles and in a big hurry was not the most entrancing way to be greeted to such a much heralded island. She rapid-fire announced the tours we must go on as the minivan driver swore at hundreds of other buses and vans picking up eager tourists at the ferry dock.

As we lurched up the hill, I pictured everyone fleeing to these few sites, pushing and shoving to see old ruins, and a handful of villages on this small island.

Plus, give me patience. There is a street to walk (no cars) called Gold Street … hundreds and hundreds (I’m known to exaggerate) of jewelry stores, each with a person standing out in front saying anything to attract you …  “How are you? What a pretty belt that you’re wearing!” … anything to get you inside. Blocks and blocks of this …

 

We chose to visit the very small but super museum…lovely displays of antiquity, from the years 3300 BC to 1700 BC, found here. It was cool, and NO ONE WAS THERE! Took lots of photos to send to various friends and to remember this awesome art. Really impressive and worthwhile.

At this point we’d only been there less than 24 hours.

Like to eat? How about going to one of the best restaurants and having 3/4 of a small zucchini, shredded, called Santorini Salad and costing $24 (17 euros), or a chocolate parfait thing (plus the overly soliticious lady didn’t like to be asked twice about anything) that was topped with white eggplant and geranium herb. Didn’t order that, needless to say…we just fell over laughing and beat it out of the beautiful outside patio setting, again hanging over the cliff.

Now our breakfast is being delivered to our tiny terrace where I can’t look to the side as we are at the end of the row of hotels and it’s STRAIGHT DOWN, well you know that already. Not too shabby to have breakfast delivered. (They don’t do it any other way at this hotel … do you suppose it’s meant to keep you here forever? We’re both wearing the complementary white robes, looking like patients in a mental institution.)

Everyone seems to love Santorini, especially those who like to party all night, as it’s known for that. The island is packed tight now. One can’t even compute what it’s like in the summer months. Maybe it’ll just sink. Only two more nights to go, then off to the more obscure island of Mytilini also called Levos. A British lady who lives on Santorini  had never heard of it, she who said she had visited 30 of the Greek Islands. (It’s only the largest Greek island next to Rhodes.) So we’ll be saved soon…

At first, antiquities were found in 1862 when digging up ash/pumas blocks for the Suez Canal. Later, one man wanted to prove his theory that the Minoan civilization on nearby Crete was ended because of the volcanic eruption (never was proven). So another dig commenced in 1967 and has been going on ever since. Some of the somewhat perfectly preserved artifacts were the ones we saw in the small Santorini museum and a huge number of them are at the Archeological Museum in Athens. Santorini agitates to this day to get those back.

The more recent earthquake just about destroyed the town of Oia perched at the end of the island. It has been restored and was our favorite. We discovered some true artisans and enjoyed the views but didn’t walk the steps down to the water. Just to be clear, the view of and from this left-over half-moon shaped island is dramatic and impressive! Nothing like it! Daughter Liz writes that what she remembers when she visited here years ago was the terrible smell of uzo…maybe I should have had some…

 

         For a change of pace from reading, let me take you with photographs to enjoy NAXOS … and experience a second Greek island adventure.  

 

Judy and Bill’s trip to Spain, France and Greece

We want to pass on our incredible good fortune by describing how it felt to us to be in three countries in Europe.

 

Today is our final day on our first Greek Island, Paros. It’s sparse, dry, the hills dotted with box-like traditional white structures, surrounded with green gardens. Bougainvillea, and the dry weather plants in bloom everywhere, the earlier blooming red poppies almost gone. Roses in bunches, filling the air with their scents without anyone asking.

At the beginning of this European odyssey in Barcelona, we rented a car without a hitch.

Our drive north along the coast (the Costa Brava) reminded us of many other coastlines; cliffs, rocks, deep blue water. The most thrilling were the discovery of small hidden coves.

The curvy road is a gorgeous drive which we’d do again in a second. Our two overnights, Begur and Cadaques were small towns, colors of ancient building ranging from soft orange to stone.

One was tucked against a hill, the other laid out along the waterfront, both were for walking the stone streets. Daughter Teresa has history in Begur, with even a street named for her grandfather.

As we drove, we viewed Roman ruins, a huge monastery carved into a high mountain, squeezed through ancient village streets, saw few cars and wide open countryside farms growing varieties of crops. One moment after passing the border of Spain into France (by the way, this was Catalonian country and they do NOT consider themselves from Spain), miles of vineyards lined the rolling hills.

In France, lunching, wine and dinners with their multi-cultured friends describes our delightful return visit with effervescent and gorgeous Pat and a favorite man of ours, Bob B in Uzes. Their Uzes, tucked into the most western part of Provence, has our favorite plaza in all Provence…we made it on time for the heavenly Saturday market under the plane trees. 

 Imagine a stone courtyard filled with colorful stalls filled with every conceivable fresh food and product from that area.

Bill, such a capable driver with his navigator beside him, drove to eastern Provence to meet with our dwindling but most loved South African family. Lunch of white asperge with two French sauces, put us square on for the time with the beloved Sue and Len, all of us together at daughter Kate and Lane’s (such a handsome, fun, capable, and clever couple) newly renovated hillside country home.

Their buildings lie comfortably on a slopping hillside, the view south toward Aix. This part of Provence is little traveled, and these small villages aren’t on some maps…Vaugines, their tiny hamlet, and Cucuron where mother and father Sue and Len have bought a place.

The latter village has everything, from scotch tape, to mechanics, all

built around a square where the movie “A Good Year” was filmed. With South African services and security in shambles, Sue and Len have left their home country behind to follow their only daughter and son-in-law to start what will be their new adventure. From Cucuron, one can drive to the Alps, to the sea at Nice, to Italy, or to the train to Marseille or Paris.

On we went to meet son Andrew in Carcassonne, the planner of the next part of our tour. Carcassonne, which is an ancient city in the south of France, is built around a massive and imposing fort. Our trip would never have happened if not for him;  Andrew writing ages ago, encouraging, scouting and describing.

Our hotel, inside the citadel, was luxurious, the narrow streets now filled with enticing shops. In a “cookie heaven,” we filled a bag with cookies, from baskets each filled with a different type cookie, all the same price. This same practice has now been copied by many US markets. In France this first time view was most enchanting. The euro was still high to the dollar, but we avoided any worries, beforehand deciding to go the trip with positive experiences.

We wandered the next day to Girona, Spain, our following day an early flight to the Spanish island of Majorca! Towns explored, wonderful old hotels to hunker in,

cheese, wine and sausages on a deck overlooking the Med., and always the time for photo stops. So far over 500 for me…many more for Andrew. With him driving, Bill got a four day rest, and I directed from the back seat.

This island is one to study, one of mountains, flat lands, curving roads, many beautiful beaches, and villages filled with delicious shops, cafes and restaurants. And I haven’t even spoken of all the churches, monasteries, and abbeys.

Flying back to Girona, Spain, the town where the Tour de France riders stay and practice, was again our place for a night and we explored to make the best of it. Another old village with much history built on each side of a river, the houses alongside fill travel photo albums everywhere.

The next day a flight to Athens minus Andrew brought our first disappointment. Athens, for us, was a  negative…worse than Los Angeles traffic, graffiti everywhere. 

Our hotel and the museum saved the experience…the hotel roof restaurant viewed the Parthenon on one side and the Zeus ruins on the opposite side, the latter which our room viewed. The Archaeological Museum is fascinating, huge, with sculptures, artifacts, and jewelry which reminded me of daughter L Liz’s jewelry. I took tons of photos!!  

 

On Paros island and experiencing the complete opposite, we soaked up the last day by the pool and lazed around. We had toured around the entire island with ease in a rental car, then returned to our favorite town Parikia for some more walking.

 

     So moments of kindness from the Greeks, we were overwhelmed at times. They gave  us “special” starters, desserts, Masticia or another after dinner drink plus so much hospitality along the way. 

Tomorrow, with service we booked from the start in Athens, a driver will pick us up, deliver us to the ferry for Naxos, our next four day adventure…then Santorini for three nights, and the last, Mytilini for five nights. Ferry is the wrong term; ferry to me is a plain somewhat worn out boat with lots of people and cars jammed together, maybe getting seasick or windblown. The Greek ferries are HUGE, a cruise ship size with inside spaces for first class cabins and all, plush seats for the next class, and cafes, and restrooms equaling hotel quality. Ending with toilet talk seems appropriate, as we are still doing the everyday things, eating, sleeping and bathing, the difference being we’e doing them in colorful surroundings filled with voices of every language, unreadable signs and memories of moments to fill a book.

(A reminder – all travel made possible by Bill’s generosity and kindness.)

Travel is not only about places, but about the senses that make our days. Our tummies, eyes, ears, noses and mouths have been making their waves wanting to share some things too.

Nose: Which scents are everywhere in the south? You guessed it, jasmine, honeysuckle and magnolia. Jasmine and honeysuckle wind around doorways, fences, gardens and rooftops. Magnolia trees are in profusion …  everywhere. The breezes are filled with these sweet aromas and also carry the smell of the salt sea air and a touching of faraway places. Finally, the nose perks up when passing a café, ah, food. Be it Cajun, Acadian (originally from Nova Scotia), Southern, all menus shout seafood. Be it along the Gulf Coast, the Emerald Coast or the First Coast of Florida, (which is the beginning coastal area of northeastern Florida), some kind of water born creature is on a plate to enjoy.

Tummy: Mr. Munch-Mouth-Taste-Everything-LOOOves-to-Eat, husband Bill tried alligator for an appetizer. What was it like? You’ve heard this before with other odd treats, “It tastes just like chicken.” He had oysters baked with spinach and cheese another time, as oysters are regular fare everywhere. We both tried a new fish found in the estuaries, Cobia, a white fish, grilled with lemon and  butter. Great martinis too This we had at a low-lit roadside café on Santa Rosa Island off of Pensacola, FL. We’ve had shrimp done every which way, but the topper was the Ruby Red Shrimp, big succulent babies served in the shell. Another night on St. Augustine Beach, I ordered crab legs and Bill did all the work of digging out the meat, while I piled it up in the bowl of melted butter and then leisurely ate it. We never ordered Grouper which was on every menu. It’s what we have at restaurants on Roatan where we have an island home.

The moment of ecstasy came included with one of those moments in time. It began with exploring a small road toward the water in Mississippi after spotting a sign reading “Historic District.” We were hungry. The Historic District turned out to be one street with two shops … the rest of the area had been decimated by hurricane Katrina, no waterfront buildings left standing at all. As we drove by a small building on the side street, people sitting out front on a bench waved. This turned out to be Nancy of Nancy’s, a cooperative warren of connected shops, art galleries, gifts and clothes, of owners who had earlier lost their businesses … Nancy’s idea was to do this as her building escaped the damage.

As we asked about the sign outside that said “Food,” but seeing no café, we were told the tables were set in nooks in the shop rooms with different style and size tables. So we ordered at the desk, picked a table in a corner with gifts of all description for sale surrounding us. We were served the yummiest lunches. The big moment came with the dessert. Bill ordered bread pudding lavishly covered with whiskey sauce. It was the best tasting dessert I’d ever had. It turned out that Nancy’s mother makes this pudding. Bill ordered two extra servings “to go.” Some of the whiskey sauce leaked through the paper bag on our journey to Mobile, Alabama. We still remember the deliciousness of this southern memory that we tucked away the next morning in our hotel room. Desserts are sometimes the very best breakfast, forbidden and heady.

Today, in Savannah, Georgia we had a second try with bread pudding … didn’t even touch Nancy’s mother’s perfection. No wonder I’ve always disliked bread pudding. Another try, in Charleston … they should all take a lesson from you know who.

Speaking of desserts, “stressed” spelled backwards spells what?  Notice the course of food that’s getting stressed!.

In the south, pecans show up in everything, breakfast, lunch and dinner. We’ve had ‘em all, sweet potatoes too. Sweet potato fries, sweet potato pie, sweet potato pancakes, take your pick. Bill had shrimp, crab and lobster over grits with a lobster butter sauce. Another famous southern dish … wonderful.

Local fresh fish includes Georgia sea bass, Carolina red grouper, and Outer Banks sea scallops fixed a multitude of ways and they are also a road map of the surrounding areas. But along the Gulf of Mexico and Florida, Crayfish ruled! We filled up along the way with sweet, delicious Crayfish, a taste never to be missed and long remembered.

Ears: The river boats blow their horn and you know you’re next to the water. On the beaches, the wind can be strong, competing with the sounds of the breaking waves. Our car, Toothless, has a seat belt ding that is so sweet and polite yet insistent. Gertrude’s voice, our GPS is definitely from outer space. And the many shades of southern accents are a soft delight to the ear.

Which brings up the Mouth: In Savannah and Charleston sugar, y’all hear “Yes sir” and “Yes mam.” The tour guides on a boat or city tour are well worth the money and time. House tours introduce you to a family and empathetically we walk their lives for a time. History unfolds. These dedicated guides give out such a wealth of information and bring the territory alive.

We’ve been stopped and talked to in restaurants and on the streets by strangers, attracted I think by Bill’s Panama hat. He looks so distinguished and stands out with his white hair showing around the brim. We’ve made momentary best friends, learning of other’s lives, their travels, suggestions of what to see, directions to a special spot.

Our favorite in north Florida is Cap’s, I say “is” because it’s a place to which to return. Cap’s is located on Vilano Island, off of St. Augustine, fronting on the Intracoastal Waterway. It’s one of those comfortable wooden waterfront restaurants with a dock, with a big winding deck under huge live oak trees. We stayed as long as we could, watching the small and large boats go by while eating pear stuffed raviolis with cheese and pine nut sauce (Bill) and eggplant slices stacked with goat cheese (Judy) while the soft breezes blew on a perfect temperature and clear blue sky afternoon.

Eyes: Must I repeat myself about the ever-present azalea and camilla gardens, the magnolia and pine trees, the variety of homes/mansions with their antique pine floors, the changing blue colors of the water, the burnished whites of the beaches, and the good looks of my husband? Shall I bore you with the weather? It’s been perfect, so far!
Are you getting the picture yet?

Now y’all behave, ya’ hear?