Greekings (greetings from Greece). I apologize that I won’t be throwing a lot of Greek at you, but I was too lazy while preparing for this trip to learn much of the language. In my defense, it’s not an easy dialect, and old dogs struggle with new barks. Everyone we encountered spoke sufficient English to understand us or at least faked their way through it.
Greece is nice. Visiting during their off-peak season is highly recommended, as the weather was (generally) sunny and warm and the crowds were better than what you’ll encounter in peak summer months. Being the anti-socialite that I am, I still thought there were too many people, but YMMV.
Day 0 – Wednesday, 10/2
Teddy’s third international trip before the age of three had him disembarking from Dulles with mommy and daddy on a Wednesday night. We changed him into his pajamas at the airport and utilized pullup diapers for the entirety of the trip. Proud as we are of his potty-training, relying on it on the airplanes, ferries, boats, buses, cabs, laps, etc. did not seem like a great idea.
Flight 1 from DC to Munich via Lufthansa featured individual TVs, and this was one of the highlights of the trip for Teddy. Because mean mommy doesn’t let him watch TV at home, he was ecstatic over being able to watch Paw Patrol on the tiny screen during this long flight (I overruled Sai and let him watch, repeatedly, since it beat having him go nuts climbing out of his seat for a short while).
Unfortunately, the second, smaller plane did not have individual screens, leaving Teddy to complain that he wanted Paw Patrol the whole flight. He would recite this mantra every time he saw a TV, or whenever he didn’t see a TV but thought that he should have one. At one sitting, he repeated this message to me several times, before I promised him that if he told me ten straight times… (I want Paw Patrol. I want Paw Patrol. I want Paw Patrol. I want Paw Patrol. I want Paw Patrol. I want Paw Patrol. I want Paw Patrol. I want Paw Patrol. I want Paw Patrol. I want Paw Patrol) … that I still didn’t have a remote for the TV in that restaurant, nor did I think we’d be able to find Paw Patrol even if I had control. His response? “I want Paw Patrol.”
Teddy slept for parts of the flights. Sai slept a lot. I slept a little. We lost six hours to Germany, laid over for a few more, then lost another hour in the roughly three-hour leg to Athens, arriving around 7 p.m. Thursday local time, some 13.5 hours after our original departure but 20.5 hours later by the adjusted clocks.
Day 1 – Thursday, 10/3 (what was left of it, at least)
Figuring the cheap wife would want to use public transportation, I had mapped out a route from the subway (Syntagma Station) to our first Air BnB accommodation. We were informed that the subway was closed due to strike. Sai surprised me in suggesting a cab, which I thought was a no-no every time because she hated being victimized by ruthless cabbies in foreign countries. Each time, she would blame me for looking like a tourist, whereas the Thai chameleon seamlessly blends in in Argentina, Italy, South Africa, etc.
Part of the guidance from my guidebook and online readings of Greece warned to expect the unexpected in terms of strikes and service disruptions, and to roll with it. This was part of my excuse for not planning things out in more detail for this trip.
Fixed fare for the cab from the airport to the center of the city ensured that we would not be abused by a busted meter. This proved particularly useful as the cab sat and sat in traffic, inching closer and closer to our rented apartment, before learning that the road was closed in front of us (more civil strife). The U-turn took us farther away, but we looped around and eventually reached our place some two hours after leaving the airport. (Without traffic, probably a 25-minute trip).
We were staying in Plaka, a terrific central location for all things touristic. The National Gardens were a block away. The touts touting restaurants and endless shops were three blocks in the other direction. The Acropolis was a twelve-minute walk. Syntagma was maybe eight-minutes opposite. Other than the fear of Greek gods in crossing some of the streets, it was a great place to stay.
After dropping our luggage and receiving instructions on how to handle the apartment (turn on the hot water circuit 20 minutes before you want to take a shower, but don’t leave it on; know that the circuit is the one with a small asterisk next to it, but not labeled as hot water. Don’t flush toilet paper in the toilet; use the small trash can next to the can. When you leave the apartment, flip the electric key upside down to turn off power to the apartment. Europe is different than the US), we headed out to eat.
Greek food in Greece tastes (to me) like Greek food at Greek restaurants in the US. No offense to the Greeks (gods forbid), but I simply lack complex tastes. I thought the Japanese food in Japan tasted like Japanese restaurants stateside, same as Thai… The food was good, but I don’t love it like I do Italian, so I won’t be raving about any of our meals during this trip. While I like greasy food, Greece food is not the same. My picky, foodie wife is worse. She is apparently not a big fan of Greek cuisine either, such that whereas she usually talks about wanting to move to whatever city we’re visiting, not once did she utter that sentiment on this trip.
Her parents and brother would be joining us for Days 2 through 11 (arriving the next morning), and they concurred with the lack of appreciation for our local diet, to the point where we dined in-house with local ingredients used to make Thai dishes for a couple of dinners towards the end of the trip.
If you’re looking for specific restaurant recommendations, look elsewhere.
They do have gelato shops everywhere, and it is just as good as ice cream anywhere else, which is good enough for me. We partook after our adequate first Greek meal, before returning to our place for some well-needed rest.
Run #1?
One of the challenges leading into the trip was my hope to be able to run every day. I’d started a streak some three months earlier and didn’t want to end it just because we were in a foreign country (with scary drivers, stray dogs, and a runner with a bad sense of direction). I ran on Wednesday before work before flying out, but the potential plan of utilizing the fitness center at the Munich Airport (I did some research!) did not work out as Teddy was too clingy (my boy’s a daddy’s boy!) and the timing between flights seemed a little too tight.
We settled back in our room and quickly fell asleep. My sleep was somewhat restless, with disappointment in my failure to maintain the streak appearing imminent on the first day. I awoke, looked at my watch, and decided WTF, let’s check out Athens at midnight! It’s a lively city, but most of the lives spend that time of night either in the bars or clubs or in their cars driving to one of them. Not many people out running with me, but I’m okay looking like a weird American (not that I have any choice in that matter). Playing chicken with traffic crossing the busy road, I managed to reach the National Garden with only a few tailfeathers shook loose and ran through the dimly lit park. Half a mile later, on the other side, I saw the Panathenaic Stadium, host to the first modern Olympics in 1896. Check that monument off the list! Unfortunately, it was closed so I could not run laps like a long-dead trackster. Instead, I had the option of backtracking, running my “safe” route through the not terribly dark park, or expanding the loop outward (while trying not to get too far from a point of reference whereby I’d be able to find my way home again). Loping along the outer edge of the park, I espied some high ruins looming above us in the distance (Acropolis, check it off the list!), some lower standalone columns uplit at night (Temple of Olympian Zeus, I’d later learn), Hadrian’s Arch, and hell, not even a couple miles into it and I’d seen enough of Athens to consider it a success. My circles expanded outward again because I still hadn’t gotten very far, and I found the Greek Military Museum, Zappeio Hall, Parliament Building, ten thousand more cars and buses, and I was back at the same point again. I looped up a big hill right beside the Panathenaic Stadium, through a quiet neighborhood, coming back down the other side passing some lively corners, back to the Garden, and finally I’d trekked enough to call it ~6 miles (5 being the minimum threshold for the current running streak). It was around 1 a.m. by this time (I did stop a couple of times en route to gaze at Grecian former glory, as well as one less than glorious portapot break), but the run started before midnight and it was still only 6 p.m. by my internal clock that had not fully jumped ahead yet.
Going forward, I’ll try to separate the Run from the Fun for each day of the trip, so that those of you who find my writing about running unbearable can skip that paragraph or two. I even used Red text to identify the boring running parts – REDRUN! For the rest of you that find all my writing unbearable, skip the Fun part too and you should be good.
Day 2 – Friday, 10/4 – Atop the Acrop
The in-laws arrived early, waking us from our deep slumber when they were stuck outside the apartment.
They seemed less than eager to follow their lengthy flights from Thailand with an immediate jump into tourism, preferring to settle in for a few hours to see their grandson and daughter. This left me the odd one out (I’m okay with that), so I opted to go for another run while they regrouped.
The Run
In daylight the cars and trucks were just as busy, but with more tour buses in their midst. I had no intention of trying to recreate my terrible patchwork route of the night before. I ran to the hills. Like the Panathenaic appearance, the Acropolis was reached way too quickly from our place in Plaka. I circumnavigated the venue, running up the left side past countless tourists (it was still relatively early, sot the crowds weren’t too bad), coming around the top side, entering another neighborhood with the Ancient Agora in its midst, before again coming to realize that I was still way too short of a full run. I had to loop back in the National Garden again to round out another 5.5 mile effort. The Acropolis did not stand out quite as starkly in the distance in daylight, but it was even more impressive closer up. Plus I was now a worthy tour guide for the rest of our group.
The Fun
The in-law parents are up there in age. The wife and kid are not the easiest to load up and move either. Therefore, there was plenty of time for me to return and shower while they were still gathering strength to get out and see the Acropolis (been there, done that!). With a flimsy stroller, two septuagenarians, and a pregnant wife, the repeat trip to the historic site took much longer. I won’t blame Uncle Id (Sai’s brother), since he generally seemed able to keep up a decent pace and because he had the unfortunate task of navigating via GPS on his phone for most of our travels. This meant that he would incur the wrath of my angry wife whenever she felt like he was going the wrong way. Sai and I fought far less frequently when she couldn’t blame me for getting us lost!
The Acropolis is the ancient complex of temples built atop a big hill in Athens. It was a fortress for retreat during invasions, a place for leaders to gather, a lookout point, and after some evil Iranians (nee Persians) circa 480 BCE, a collection of ruins. While acropolis is a generic term for a citadel atop a city, the Acropolis in Athens is the most famous one. It is home to the famous Parthenon, a temple for Athena, the namesake goddess for the city.
Whenever there’s not a big building right in front of you, you can usually look up and see the towering structures, such as remain today. They’ve seen better days, some two millennia ago, back when they were birthing democracy, philosophy, Marathons and Olympic games.
Today they stand as a reminder of the grandeur of the past, much like the Coliseum in Rome or Fremont Street or something else old and no longer used for anything other than tourism today. While maintaining the Acropoliptic bones is noble, I still wonder if we couldn’t get more out of these places if they were restored to their original glory and put to modern use… a Trump hotel banner perhaps? The Greeks invented sarcasm too.
The very thought (even in jest) was offensive to the Olympian gods, and they struck down with furious anger and drenched us as we entered the apex of the Acropolis. We got extra cozy beneath an overhanging series of stone beams (with every other missing), trying to escape the downpour that added hail to its arsenal of thunder and lightning. Uncle Id had an umbrella in hand. Teddy and I squeezed under it, while I tried keeping the masses behind us from crushing my child. Fortunately, it was not the busiest season but there were still plenty of people seeking some shelter with us, even if it was mostly exposed.
I’d say it was raining cats and dogs, but more aptly it was raining cats and kittens. Throughout our Greek travels, there were countless stray cats and not too many canines. To all you dog lovers I apologize, but I’ll take wild cats over dogs any day of the week, having been terrorized by enough stray barkers in my days. Twenty-minutes later, the storm abated, people spread out, and Teddy figured out that the best part of walking around the Acropolis was alternately jumping and throwing rocks in the deep puddles.
There is also a very modern-looking museum beside the very old-looking rubble of the Acropolis, so you can contrast the drastically different architectures from the outside or learn more on the inside. Learning is for losers, so we skipped the museum.
We made our way down and headed over to Hadrian’s Gate and the Temple of Olympian Zeus (again revisiting sites I’d already checked off from my runs). Zeus’ temple had a handful of hardy marble columns, with as many missing or having fallen over. Olympians really deserve better treatment. Send Michael Phelps to rehab. The Arch of Hadrian was built some 1900 years ago for a Roman Emperor who inspired the naming of Rocky’s wife many years later (her H is silent). It is much less impressive than the Arc de Triomphe but better than the golden arches unless you’re desperately hungry. Teddy slept through Hadrian’s Gate and Zeus’ lost marbles since they did not offer the same puddle-jumping opportunities.
Because we were busy repeating the nearby sites I’d scouted, Panathenaic Stadium was next. It is a large, long, horseshoe-shaped set of white marble stands rising around a dark track. You can climb the stands and run the track, but apparently not for the packaged ticket price we’d paid at the Acropolis (different package). Or, you can snap a few pictures through the pickets on the fence and move on.
Dinner featured more Greek food (go figure), and I figured out I really don’t like moussaka that much. By Day 3 I’d be looking for a pizza or something different.
Day 3 – Saturday, 10/5 – Hill and Market
The Run
I woke up early (relative to the wife and child) and ran out the door before they could stop me. Reviewing google maps from the WiFi, I’d figured out that Lycabettus was only about a mile and a half away from us. However, I didn’t take the phone with me and the Greek street names are not that easy to read or remember. Plus, I’m impatient and bad with directions. Put together, this meant that when I reached the crowds and cars at Syntagma, rather than waiting for the long light to cross the way I was supposed to go, I simply turned down another road and headed away. I figured I could cross back somewhere else and still get where I needed to go. Like the Acropolis, Lycabettus stands out when you’re in a clearing. But when you’re in a congested space with lots of buildings taller than you, it may not be as readily apparent. I found myself running through some interesting neighborhoods, with some seeming a little sketchy, but not many sketchy people want to bother with a smelly American in the early morning hours.
After being a bit turned around, realizing that I should have already arrived at my destination, I headed for higher ground, choosing streets that rose up from wherever I was. This involved a lot of stairs. Still, I climbed on, suddenly finding myself in the middle of a several block long farmers market. It was a nice respite as I walked and watched the wares being offered (no point in trying to run through this crowd), when I saw a break between buildings with a big hill looming in the gap! I was on the right path, albeit a roundabout way of getting there.
Lycabettus Hill has a road to the top, but the Greek drivers are scary. There is also a funicular, but that is cheating. The switchback trail is the way to go if you’re trying to burn calories (moussaka is heavy), or if you’re hoping to find a secluded spot to drop a deuce (there are in between dirt trails with lots of bushes for cover running more directly up the hill) … The switchbacks keep going, up and up, with more and more of Athens being unveiled before you as you rise, including an Acropolis standing out starkly in the distance but coming closer to eye level.
At the top there is a small church and a great view. This gave me an opportunity to plan a more direct route back, using the Acropolis and the Panathenaic Stadium as markers. It worked! And I was ready to lead the group back to Lycabettus for our daily adventure.
The Fun(icular)
No one was keen on repeating my run. Id had his GPS app, which we followed instead to head to Lycabettus part duo (something like that is Greek for two if you couldn’t guess). As we approached Syntagma, we noticed a dearth of traffic (highly unusual) before we heard the cause – a large protesting parade of hundreds of people, chanting something and waving banners saying something (all Greek to me). I didn’t have a clue what it was about until I started seeing some signs that read “Pompeo go home.” Clearly more support for the Trump administration. I tucked myself in tighter with my Thai travel companions so that no one would associate me with the evil Americans apparently being protested.
We passed the Parliament Building, which was probably the focal point of the protest, and watched the goofy guards out front. Two guys in clown shoes did a mirror matching march routine, taking exaggerated steps and turns before stopping into a fixed position. There was quite a crowd watching this silly spectacle, so we joined for a few minutes before all agreed that this was a silly spectacle and we continued toward the Hill.
All of the steps I’d complained about during my run were even less fun with Teddy’s stroller. The other people in our group didn’t like the climb either. When we reached the base of the actual hill, the funicular option was chosen for the group, for some fun in case ur lazy ass rides (bet you didn’t know that’s what funicular stood for). The cable car dumps you out just below the top where you can dine at a nice outdoor café with terrific vistas before taking the last batch of steps up to the Church of St. George for more views of Athens.
We headed down and back in the general direction of Plaka, detouring to explore Monastiraki, a large marketplace below the Acropolis. The crowds were overwhelming. The stores were underwhelming. We did get to see more ruins from our Acropolis tickets such as the ancient agora (an open assembly point even more open today after the ravages of time). Teddy found more rocks to throw. It’s okay, he doesn’t live in a glass house.
Afterwards, with all of the walking we’d done, we missed the chance for napping (aside from Teddy, who napped in stroller). Time for dinner. We went to a well-reviewed traditional Greek restaurant where I ordered my pizza and Sai gave me grief for it. She then somehow sabotaged the dough because the manager came back and said there was a problem and the pizza dough was no good so I had to order something more traditional. Souvlaki? I’ll admit that the tzatziki sauce was the best I’ve ever had.
Day 4 – Sunday, 10/6 – Hellhounds, Oracles, Blood and Sushi
The Run (from Hell)
We had plans to head out of town on a daytrip to Delphi. The first bus left at 7:30 a.m. Not knowing when we’d get back or what the dinner plans would look like, I figured my best bet was to get an early run in to get it out of the way. By early I mean that I left the house at 4:30 a.m.
For once the traffic did not seem terrible! I also made my way down the empty streets of Plaka where the outdoor cafes were closed for a change, and my footsteps on the stone streets echoed off the quiet buildings as I scared the few cats out and about at this ungodly hour. I reached the far side of the Acropolis and ran up alongside it, like I’d done two days before, but instead of looping around the top, I kept going. The road continues on, leading to another hill with a well-lit something at the top. To reach its apex, you have to eventually abandon the road and head up trails, but the moonlight offered enough ambient glow to get by without stumbling too often.
The Hill of the Muses is a low-key climb also known as Filopappou Hill if you prefer words that are harder to pronounce. It’s a cool place to see the Acropolis with Lycabettus lit up beyond. After a few minutes of enjoying this different view and complete solitude, I was inspired by the muses to keep running. I took the dirt trails down rather than the way I’d come up, circling around this knoll not knowing where exactly it would take me, but confident enough that I could find my way back to the Acropolis and figure it out from there.
The pre-dawn tranquility was suddenly interrupted when out of the depths of hell Cerberus attacked! Maybe he didn’t have three heads, but this Hades hound had the voice of three, announcing his unhappiness with my approach to his position. Unfortunately for me, I had run past his post before his hackles rose to their fullest, meaning that I’d need to pass him again to make my way back. Looking forward, I found myself at the foot of a pretty nice-looking climbing wall. Behind me, Cerberus continued his boisterous, brash barking, surely waking everyone in the city, but no one came to claim him or to free me from his blocked path. There really did not seem to be anywhere to go but up, over the climbing pass, or back, past the hellish beast. So I scrambled, clambered, crawled and clawed my way up the least steep section I could, coming down somewhere beyond Cerb’s turf so that I could head away from his angry, fading barks behind me.
If you’re ever worried about being tired on a super early run, try encountering a very large, very mad dog that you’re not expecting, and it will wake you up better than any amount of caffeine ever could.
I headed back to civilization, using the roads for the rest of the way. I passed a few clubs that were still open, reminding me how old and lame I am that I am waking to start my day at a time when those crazy kids are still out partying from the previous night.
The Fun
My brush with death or at least near mauling did not impress the wife. Much like most of you, she does not find my stories of running very exciting. Still in the dark, Sai, Teddy, Id and I loaded up and headed out to look for a cab to the bus station. G-mom and G-pop opted to skip the trip and stay in for the day.
The first cab we found offered us a bargain prix fixe of 30 euros to take us, but the wife didn’t trust him. A second cabbie used his meter, zipping around the empty Athenian streets, delivering us to our destination for a full fare of 6 euros. Of course Sai blamed me for looking like a tourist to the taxi that tried to rip us off.
Outside of the urban graffiti, pollution, and population of Athens, the Greek countryside beckons with a beautiful bucolic counterbalance. The mountains offer green to the city’s gray, with fresh nature the focus instead of decrepit remnants from ancient times.
Unless you’re riding on a bus with a two-year-old, in which case your only goal is to try to convince him to sleep. Already annoyed that they weren’t playing Paw Patrol on the bus (there weren’t even TVs, but that didn’t stop him from asking for it, repeatedly), Teddy’s next mantra became “no sleeping daddy” every time I even blinked my eyes. Sai and Id caught some shuteye while I carried the 30 lb. load of the boy for the bulk of the nearly three-hour trip.
Delphi combines the beauty of the mountains with the wonder of the ancient ruins. It is home to the famous Oracle, a half egg-shaped big rock that used to speak to people to cryptically foretell their future, like a stonier Maggie the Frog. It is one of the many big rocks to see as you climb up the mountainside of Parnassus, touring the archeological remains of Apollo’s Temple and the Delphi Theatre (not to be confused with the Apollo Theatre in Harlem) and other tributes to this ancient holy place. At the top of a very long trek is a stadium that was used for the Pythian Games, held in parallel to the ancient Olympics. Teddy enjoyed climbing as much as we would let him, and I’d give up and pick him up when he lingered too long at a particular group of rocks (we were not allowed to use the stroller on this walk, not that it would have been able to navigate the terrain anyway).
We were fortunate to have taken the early bus to Delphi, because even late morning the tour buses were piling up, with crowds only growing as the day progressed. On the easier walk back down, Teddy decided it was time to race and he ran ahead of us, only to incur the wrath of Apollo (spiteful god that he is), who smote him down upon a rock. Or maybe the toddler is just clumsy and tripped. Either way, Teddy vocalized his own objections to having fallen on his head, echoing off the side of Parnassus like an angry guard dog terrorizing his father (or something). Teddy had a nice headwound. Several baby wipes and some pressure slowed the flow of blood from his forehead, but the snot and tears ran on unabated for a quarter hour or more before we were able to calm the child. That’ll teach him to run!
At the base of the mountain, after some thirty minutes of carrying Teddy down, they had a first aid kit and helped patch him up a little better. The gods had a taste of the innocent’s blood and were satisfied to let him go.
We had a late lunch at a restaurant with an expansive view of the mountains around us and the Corinthian Gulf far below. I ordered the house special of the day, Goat in the Oven, which I think may have been an oracular message from Delphi that my prego wife is either carrying the greatest daughter of all time, or a very stubborn creature that will eat us out of house and home. But it was some tasty goat.
Having expended a lot of energy running, jumping, climbing and falling, as well as having donated some pints of blood to Apollo, and seeing as there was no Paw Patrol to be seen on the bus, Teddy slept a good portion of the ride back to Athens. Delphi is a beautiful distraction, worth an inexpensive bus ticket from town.
For dinner, Sai’s father decided he still didn’t want to venture out of his underwear, and she was tired from the Delphonic trip, leaving Id, the kid, g-mom and I to fend for ourselves. Id led us to a well-reviewed sushi restaurant, where I ate what tasted like any other generic sushi (namely soy sauce and wasabi). However, Uncle Id found it to be the most offensive assault on his taste buds ever (and this from someone who eats durian). He spent more time complaining about how disappointing the sushi was, and how outraged he was that so many people could have contributed to giving it good marks. I suggested that he try some other Greek Sushi restaurants to gain a relative appreciation, to which he retorted that bad sushi is bad, regardless of the competition. Seeing as none of us got sick, I think he was overreacting.
Day 5 – Monday, 10/7 – I don’t practice Santorini
I woke up sick. Maybe it was the sushi not fit for the street cats. Maybe it was from drinking from the mountain spring at Delphi. Or maybe g-mom yai, who had been spending the better part of every night hacking up a lung, had spread the symptoms. Regardless, I had a sore throat and no desire to run around Athens at the break of dawn before our flight to Santorini. We had originally planned to take a ferry, but Sai took offense to the ferry ticket agent and stormed out of the travel office. Instead of a nice six to eight-hour boat ride, we had to take a 45-minute flight to our next stop on the trip. (The flight is shorter and less expensive, but the view from the ferry is supposed to be very nice).
A pre-arranged van met us at the airport and drove us our few miles to Fira, the capital city on the isle of Santorini (also spelled Thera, but we’ll stick with the four-letter F word that I prefer). A block from our rental, we were deadlocked in traffic (reminiscent of our first trip to the place in Athens). There were pedestrians, cars, ATVs and scooters everywhere, making it practically impassable to reach our place. First impression of Santorini – this place sucks. Too many people, tourists, air pollution, etc. – reminded me of Ocean City in peak season. Reminded Sai of Patong Beach in Phuket. Either way, this was the non-busy season! I can’t imagine how crowded it must be during the summer. We decided F@#! this, headed back to the airport and flew somewhere remote.
Except that Sai had already been charged for the Air BnB, so we stayed in Fira, hoping that the initial impression would wear off and we would be charmed by the beauty of the caldera.
We checked in and checked out our centrally located place, ate lunch at Falafel Land next door, then the old people and Teddy took naps, and I took off for a run while Sai and Id made plans for the next day.
The town of Fira hugs the western cliff of the caldera, the remaining rim of a volcano that long ago erupted and blew apart the mass of land. It is roughly midway up the island. Heading north, there is a 10k trail along the top of the ridge that connects it to Ia (also spelled Oia, pronounced Eya), never to be confused with IA (eat your hearts out cornballs), at the far north end. Ia is where you’re supposed to go to see spectacular sunsets, or so my guidebook and that of everyone else alive would have you believe.
The Run
I walked a couple of blocks up to the cliffside to find the trail, figuring I could enjoy the seaside view running away from town. Unfortunately, I was not alone in attempting to enjoy the trail. The masses of people quickly ended my idea of trying to run or find any personal enjoyment. Damn tourists! Plan B, head east, getting as far away from the caldera and its crowds as possible. Funny, less than half a mile away from the postcard view (heavily edited to remove the people), there is a long, downhill climb to the opposite shore, with only occasional houses along the way. There are a few major arteries connecting the two coasts (by major I mean fully paved two-lane roads), with a lot of little lanes that head down to the far shore.
I took one of the latter, down a dirt road that passed some small donkey pastures (you can rent a donkey to carry you and your stuff up from the port if you want to go it old school; there are donkey toys and tees throughout Santorini in honor of this old dumbass system). I reached a major N-S highway with adequate shoulders for me to run on, being steadily passed by local and tour buses, cars and rented ATVs (the most popular way to tour the island, apparently), but few enough fellow pedestrians that I could count them on one hand with fingers to spare. I try to spare the middle one when I can, so that it is fresh when I need to use it.
Passing a small, dilapidated school building, I watched a lonely guy playing soccer by himself, kicking the ball into an old goal without any netting. How sad, I unironically thought, him not having anyone to play with, as I ran on past enjoying my solitude.
Another mile on, I saw a small pier next to an empty beach! I tested the waters and they were refreshing but not too cold. Santorini was redeemed. You just have to get off the beaten path.
The Fun
I arrived home from my run after a longer effort than I’d managed on any of my Athenian excursions (not counting time lost while trying to escape wild dogs, because I had stopped the watch at that point), only to find that half our crew was still sleeping. We would not be venturing up to Ia to catch the sunset tonight.
We found a nice seaside restaurant that charged tourist rates but had a great view of the water. The stroller was incredibly difficult to maneuver up and down the steps of Fira, but whenever Teddy insisted on climbing out, he was just as tough to manage to keep from running into people and bouncing off. The goal was to keep it to one big band aid on his head at a time.
Day 6 – Tuesday, 10/8 – Captain Teddy
The Fun
Sai and Id’s planning had us picked up early the next morning for a van ride to a small harbor where our own private boat would tour us around the island. Captain Chris and First Mate Alexandra took excellent care of us as we motored around to different places. Chris did not speak much English, or at least that was his act to get out of talking to us. Alexandra had the unfortunate job of trying to tell us about Santorini, even though she knew no answers to any of my off the wall questions (just make it up, none of us knew any better). Most of my queries were much like Teddy’s to me – “What’s that?… What’s that?” Sadly for me, I’m not as cute as my son, so my questions are more annoying. At the end of the ride, Alexandra wanted to keep Teddy. At least I wasn’t asked to walk the plank.
We stopped at one point for swimming. There were supposed to be underwater thermal springs but most of it just felt cold to me. We were warned that because of the volcanic action, the water had high sulfur concentrations. Do not open your eyes in the water. Do not drink the water. Do not go in the water if you’re pregnant. Do not take a toddler who can’t swim in the water. Id and I were the only two to go in, and I didn’t stay for long because it did burn my eyes (not to mention the already sore throat), even with following the warnings. Despite my complaints that swimming there wasn’t much fun, Teddy was heartbroken that he wasn’t allowed in.
There are three kinds of beaches around the island – Red, White and Black. Before you badmouth segregationist Greeks or try to guess where my Asian relatives would be allowed to go, know that the beaches are labeled by the rock formations above them. Black volcanic rock surrounds the black beach, giving it its dark sand and name. Red rocks for the red beach, etc. With the other boats following the same itinerary as us, and their multitudes of tourists, I preferred my private beach from the day before.
Lunch aboard the boat was a big plate of meat (beef sausage, chicken, shrimp, pork patties) and a shared Greek salad. Even though he couldn’t swim, Teddy did enjoy himself when he was allowed to play with the captain’s wheel while we anchored. We had to keep stopping him from pressing any of the other buttons or using the throttle, which he kept reaching for. At the end of the excursion he was rewarded with a super cute Captain’s hat that he would only wear intermittently during the rest of the trip (and rarely when we asked him to wear a hat).
The Run
By the time we got back to our place, everyone was ready for a nap. Instead of spending the late afternoon in bed, I went back to exploring the far side of the island on foot. Much like the day before, I encountered many people on the busier roads, but no fellow pedestrians.
I reached a far beach at a different point before, finding a Church of St Nicholas (patron saint of sailing, I’d learned hours earlier) before turning back. I tried different roads to return. Some of these roads crumbled into literal dead ends (I saw a vertebral column of some kind of creature on one of these “paths” but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t human. Best guess is it was a long-ago disposed of donkey? I did think about the two recent scientists that died in Greece while running this summer, but they were both women and both much smarter than me, so I felt like I was somehow safer). Once I finally found a real road to take me back up to the top, I spent the next two miles steadily climbing.
Towards the top, I stopped to allow the passage of a caravan of asses. Two guys each led a link of ten donkeys back from the tourists to their respective fields of glory or wherever donkeys go at the end of the day.
Once I made it to the top of the caldera, I was a little confused when it was less crowded than normal. I found myself on the famous trail between Fira and Ia, and it was not impossible to run a little before getting stopped by the next person in the way. Something was amiss. Looking out along the coastline, I realized that I had overshot Fira and was closer to the next town north. It was generally pretty easy not to get too lost, even for me, because you had cliffs on one side and a coastline along the other, so you were boxed in with seamarks (landmarks of the sea).
When I finally got back after some eight miles of running, Uncle Id and Teddy were in the parking lot because my dutiful son wanted to look for me. He recognized that Daddy was out too long and was worried. Meanwhile Mommy was still asleep.
We missed the Ia sunset again.
Day 7 – 10/9 – Mad Dogs and Uncovering Atlantis
The Run
The plan for the next day was to head to Akrotiri, but there was no need to go too early. Instead, I went for a morning run. I headed south for a change of scenery, but the ridgeline road still ran with too many vehicles so I quickly abandoned it and headed east down the big hill. This time I found myself in a labyrinthine residential neighborhood, where I wound my way past schoolkids heading up the hill as I tried to escape their confusing complex and confused stares at the weird old white guy running past them. I vowed to find a better way back.
I found another nice, quiet, black beach, where I picked up a smooth, round pebble by which to remember it (actually just to give to Teddy – he likes rocks). I ran up a different path to avoid the local neighborhood, and unsurprisingly, the road ended abruptly. This time, there was a continuing footpath that seemed to go up in the right direction, so I tried that for a while. I felt confident that I was heading toward a real road ahead when a nearby property unleashed its own arsenal of arsehole dogs, three beasts a barking, rushing at me enraged.
If I wasn’t already not a dog person, this trip would have pushed me over the edge.
I know I can’t outrun our four-legged “friends”, (in this case there would have been twelve legs chasing), so I didn’t try. I stopped and stood my ground, staring them down, while slowly trying to back away. One of the dogs seemed only half-heartedly threatening me (call him Gamma), one was just fine (Beta), while the third, who we’ll call Alpha, was out for blood. Alpha kept advancing, no matter what I did, getting uncomfortably closer and closer. Beta, sneaky bastard that he was, came around to the other side of me. Holy shit, I thought, are these super-smart velociraptor dogs? The hands up in the air pose was used to appear more threatening when my non-threatening retreat wasn’t working, but now I had to use it quickly on Beta to get him to back off a bit before turning around and facing Alpha, who really didn’t like me. Gamma was on Alpha’s side, but he didn’t seem that hangry.
I tried yelling at the dogs – No! Go away! But between my hoarse voice (sore throat was even worse this morning) and lack of doggy translator (it was all gibberish English to these Greek dogs), I don’t think they were getting the message.
Then I remembered Teddy’s rock in my pocket. I really wished I had brought him back something bigger or sharper, but you have to make do with what you have. Not that I thought I could brain these brainy canine assassins… I swung my arm in Alpha’s direction as if I was going to punch him (he wasn’t that close yet), and he flinched! It wasn’t a full retreat, but he gave some ground. More swings and hoarsey yells, and he backed up some more (advancing again between the motions). Beta backed off even more. I started to think that maybe these weren’t the smartest animals. Instead of aiming my shadow punches at Alpha, I aimed a fake throw much higher and was pleased to see the stupid dog turn to give chase to the imaginary ball! A handful more of these maneuvers and I was out of range, and running back the way I’d come. I was starting to think that maybe I’d be better off sticking to real roads for the rest of the trip.
The Fun
Akrotiri consists of a huge warehouse housing the ongoing excavation of a previously buried Minoan civilization, lost for centuries under the ash of the Santorini volcano that exploded some 3600 years ago. Like Pompeii, except not the subject of a crappy movie with Jon Snow in it. Akrotiri is also right next to the popular Red Beach.
The facility is humongous, as they’re unearthing a small, ancient city. Cable rails keep the visitors outside the hole but offer a little ladder for Teddy to try to get in. He did not like the idea of looking at all of those big opportunities to climb and play only to be told he could not. Archeologists were hard at work, meticulously handling ancient artifacts with creepy hands of blue gloves; I pointed out to Teddy that he could not play with the rocks because they were special old rocks and he did not have the right blue gloves. I assumed my message was as meaningless to the tantrum-tossing toddler as my Firefly reference above, but later in the trip, Teddy asked for special gloves when he wanted to play with different rocks. He was listening to me! I missed most of the history being shared in Akrotiri because I spent most of the time either chasing Teddy or trying to calm him down. The cliff notes – Minoans, volcano, buried, now being excavated.
We rode the city bus back, stopping for lunch on our way to the Atlantis Experience. I mention lunch because Teddy got to take away an extra bendy straw from his meal, which he thought would be fun to run up his nose just before our tour of Atlantis started. The tour guide seemed a little annoyed as my son bled all over the lobby. Teddy wasn’t happy about it either, especially when I took his nose straw away for good.
The Atlantis Experience premise is that the lost civilization of Atlantis was really the Minoan settlement we had just visited in Akrotiri. A holographic Plato explains why this makes sense, and a 3D movie rocks you in your hydraulic seat, spraying mist in your face as it simulates the inescapable horrors of the Thera eruption that was one of the biggest volcanic eruptions in human history. A fan and spray of water does not seem to quite capture the magnitude of destruction. It’s an interesting theory, anyway.
The Sun
We resolved to finally catch a sunset in Ia on our last night in Santorini. To be ready, no naps and we took the bus north to the far end of the island late afternoon. Days ago I’d complained about the crowds of Fira. Even though we were now a few days further beyond the peak tourist season, people hadn’t left. In fact they all seemingly sought the same sunset as us in Ia, as it was packed hours before the sun was even close to done.
Ia is a beautiful, seaside village overlooking cliffs down to the clear blue sea. Looking south, you can see the gleaming white buildings of the next towns down (Imerovigli, Fira, and beyond). Out to sea you can see other islands (some of which broke off from the old volcano) and cruise ships touring the gap. There are more shops and restaurants like Fira, as well as the domed churches everywhere, either with white tops (like everything else) or special blue domes.
The (discernible) difference between Ia and Fira is just that Ia is the farthest point of the pointy island. Contrasting these two hubs with the suburbs / boonies away from the caldera coast, there are the same style concrete buildings everywhere (concrete slabs, supports, roofs, and domed tops), but they are far fewer and farther apart. There are also many, many incomplete buildings all over the island. It was hard to tell if the market fell out or they were just in incredibly slow development, because there were not many crews working on them during the few days that we were there. (People may have been on strike, since this is Greece).
Crowds crowded for prime viewing space, waiting the golden orb to drop to sea level. Elbowing among the masses while chasing an antsy Teddy was not a lot of fun. He was disinclined to sit still and wait for a picturesque selfie moment. After much longer than either of us would have liked, we abandoned our shared post on a castle-like promontory to head into an establishment that offered other benefits, such as a toilet for Teddy and sweet nectar of the gods (Greek beer) for me. Most of the beers I found were Hellenic Lagers, and they were perfectly okay. At this particular stop they served Volkan Blondes, beer brewed with mineral water filtered through local lava rock. It sounds cool and beats the heat of hanging outside with the rest of the island.
The waitress at this establishment became the latest to fall in love with Teddy, asking him to promise to come back in twenty years for her. I understand that my son is cuter than me and I expected that I’d have to live vicariously through him at some point. I just didn’t think it would happen so quickly.
Eventually the sun set, we snapped some pictures, and it was magical. By magical I mean that it was nothing worth the effort. Left in the dark, we joined the crowds for the packed bus ride back to Fira. Teddy was tired and he wanted pizza. Midmeal and he was falling asleep. It takes a lot of energy to not climb into an open archeological dig, stab your brain with a straw through the nose, spend all afternoon staring at the sun, and picking up Greek waitresses while your dad cries into his beer.
Day 8 – Thursday, 10/10 – M-Y-K-O-N-O-S (Rhymes with Mickey Mose)
The Fun, Part One
We took the bus to the Santorini ferry terminal to hitch our ride to Mykonos. The bus picked up an English-speaking creepy old guy who tried to hit on several of the lady passengers on their way to the dock, some of whom feigned incomprehension of English to avoid his “charms.” Sitting nearby, I overheard his sorry game (easy enough for me to recognize the same lack of skills in another). I offer this not as a knock on the creepy old guy, but as a lead-in to the interesting part of his story. He said that he came to Santorini as a tourist a dozen years ago and fell in love with the island, never leaving since. His main selling points? The fact that there are no traffic lights and a good Mexican restaurant. I hadn’t appreciated the absence of traffic signals until he mentioned it and I’m not sure I agree with this as a good thing. The terrible traffic (pedestrian and vehicle) around the center of Fira could benefit from some structured opportunities to cross without holding your breath and hoping that you would not be hit. I’m an admitted jaywalker (and runner) way too frequently, but I might have stopped and waited a minute or two to more confidently clear some of the congested roads. Thanks Creep, for giving me something to think about.
The port is a madhouse of people coming and going, with a terminal building accepting only the people for the next boat while the rest of us wait outside and try not to get run over by the cars and trucks loading in and out of other ferries. Once it was our turn to get in line, Sai, Teddy and I were placed in a separate line with a few other families with small children and a guy on crutches for what we thought was preferred boarding. When the boat opened its doors for new passengers, it became a free-for-all, and we were herded like cattle into the midst of another line, forced up a set of stairs with all of our luggage (whereas another line had an escalator), left wondering what was the point of pulling us out of line with the rest of our group.
Once aboard, we found some seats and tried to encourage Teddy to take a nap, but he refused to take the bait. There was a “kids corner” that consisted of a glassed-in enclosure with two cheap, small plastic chairs to play with. That distracted Teddy for a while (the chairs were somehow imaginatively converted into cars for he and I to “drive”). He also befriended an Albanian boy who he chased around the boat for a while.
We arrived at Myknonos almost four hours later in the middle of the afternoon. The crowds quickly dispersed while we slowly made our way over to the Sea Bus for a short trip to Mykonos Town where we unloaded and started our walk to find Air BnB #3. There are shops and restaurants along the water of Mykonos Town, with steep, narrow climbs up lots of steps to the residences behind. Id charted the course and we left the family with most of the load as he and I carried the larger suitcases up in the first trip. Lucky for me, Teddy finally fell asleep in his stroller so that I didn’t have to carry him up each time too (when awake, he rarely let me leave him with others; Thai people are scary).
It was a brutal climb. By the time we reached the apartment, we were exhausted and dripping with sweat. We then turned back, down to the bottom, to repeat the run with the next batch of bags. The third trip was accompanied by the rest of the crew, including carrying a sleeping Teddy up to the top, whereupon he immediately awoke when I tried to lay him down in a bed.
The Run
I felt terrible and figured I would have to finally skip a run because the sore throat had fully progressed to a nasty cough and general lethargy. Sai had told me that there was a fitness center on the boat but that turned out to be untrue, which was fine with me. Guess we took the cheaper big boat. I felt so bad that I didn’t even drink on the ferry. Can you imagine?
Once we settled into our room at the peak of Everest, I really wanted to take a nap, even if Teddy gave up on his. However, Sai asked me if I wanted to run, so I couldn’t look weak and out the door I went. I found out afterwards that Teddy was really upset in my absence until he figured out that he could watch TV with grandpop. Even though it wasn’t Paw Patrol, it was still enough of a distraction to forget about daddy.
Our place was right next to Boni’s Windmill, which acted as a good marker to not get lost, until you realized that there were a lot of other old windmills on the island and they all kind of looked the same. Nonetheless, I started at Boni’s and headed due south, keeping a nice view of the sea below to my right. The narrow two-lane road had slight shoulders to hug tightly every time a car, truck or bus came careening around a blind curve, but for a change there were actually a bunch of other people out running this same route. I felt like less of a freak for a change. After a little over a mile, I lost sight of the sea on my right, only for it to pop up on my left. A mile after that, it was back on my right as I passed a nice beach resort. I was very confused. Santorini running kept the two distinct sides of water easy enough to tell apart. Mykonos did not offer the same lateral lines of liquid. Was this an isthmus or an island? (I really just always wanted a chance to use isthmus in a sentence).
Bad as I felt in general, while running my symptoms seemed to abate and I could breathe better. Afterwards I’d be back to suffering, but for about an hour I’d be alone and free of family drama. Just to be safe, I stuck to the roads to (hopefully) avoid evil dogs.
The Fun, Part 2
Without the weight of all of our luggage, the walk down to the water was not too wearisome. We went in search of sustenance, Sai’s favorite activity, and were told that the place she and Id had picked could not accommodate our group for another half hour, but we could wait at the bar. This was a great outcome for me, and they had a nice microbrew that tasted different from all the boring beers I’d had to this point. Their Sorachi Ace Saison was hoppier and much more interesting than all the lagers found elsewhere. While we waited and I drank, Sai was not as patient, grilling the bartender and manager every time a party left about why we couldn’t have their table rather than waiting for the one big table to come available. Personally, I could have spent hours waiting, while her parents chased Teddy around the nearby beach and the tap was still open.
Dinner was chased with a gelato next store, and we then headed out for a late night of partying it up at Lindsay Lohan’s Beach Club until the break of dawn. Except that Lohan’s club is closed, so we just went home and slept after ice cream instead. Guess we won’t be seen on MTV this season.
Day 9 – Friday, 10/11 – Beach Bums
The Run
I started off the day with a run north, seeing how many different seas could confuse me in the opposite direction. I found the main port from the day before and confirmed that it could be reached via vehicle without all of the steps that we’d taken from town. Good to know for getting back. Again running along the narrow roads with a steep drop to the side was a little scary, but I’m a survivor. Saw a few more runners, convincing me that Mykonos is much more active than Athens or Santorini.
The island is not as scenic as Santo, with the hillsides less impressive than the large caldera cliffs. It is generally better developed and seems higher end (i.e. pricier). Fewer empty shells of buildings, and the ones there were being worked on. Every building was the same bright white to stand out against the blue sky and sea, offering uniform postcard images. The roads were more winding. Still didn’t see any traffic lights.
The Fun
The old man opted to abandon our tour again today, so the rest of us hiked down to town and wound our way through the maze of little alleys over to Little Venice on the opposite side of our island protrusion into the sea (I’m sure there’s a more technical or nautical term for that). Little Venice is a series of colorful residences / cafes that overhang the water (the only splashes of color beyond the standard whites of the rest of the sea-facing properties). There is a series of windmills nearby that we walked to before agreeing with Donald that they were horrible bird killers that were hurting property values and should be immediately replaced with American coal mines.
After lunch we walked to the main bus station a half mile away and rode down to Elia Beach. This beautiful beach looked much like every other beautiful Greek beach, except there is a famous gay nude beach nearby that I guess Sai wanted to see. It’s also not too far from Lindsay Lohan’s closed beach club, for what it’s worth. (I’m guessing it’s not worth much or it would still be open).
Teddy and I picked up rocks from the water that he named as different kinds of cars. After a couple of hours of this (me chasing Teddy, Sai sleeping on a beach chair dreaming of gay nudes), Id and grandma walking back and forth, I noticed Teddy turning blue and surmised that maybe he’d had enough. Teddy angrily protested when I would not let him take his full collection of car rocks home, but we managed to get him kicking and screaming back on the bus where he promptly fell asleep.
Sai and Id decided enough with the Greek food and they went grocery shopping while I took Teddy back to torment grandpop da. My only request – Greek beer. The love of my life delivered as only she can, coming back with a bottle of Heineken 0.0, which is a non-alcoholic brew from the Netherlands. 0 for 2 on my simple request. There is a Birra Birra beer restaurant at the base of the hill in town, and I strongly considered going there, but laziness prevailed and I instead went to bed after some Greek-ingredients-based Thai cooking for dinner.
Day 10 – Saturday, 10/12 – Hellos Delos
The Run
I headed east to continue to mix up my directions around Mykonos. Only one remaining would be to go west, which would take me straight into the sea where I’d likely drown. That would have to wait for Sunday.
To the east were more hills (we weren’t truly at the top after all the steps, but we were plenty high enough for carrying suitcases). Running inland, I followed a very busy road to a roundabout where I came extremely close to becoming roadkill under a very large red truck. That sucked. I detoured to a smaller road shortly thereafter to preserve my structural integrity. Here the narrow lanes were almost empty of vehicles and completely devoid of other pedestrians. There were some sheep and a lot of scary crows cawing me out for not having become their fodder under the fender of the red truck before. Without the fear of cars running me down or squeezing me off the side of a cliff, it was a rather enjoyable run. Even though I still felt terrible, I knew I could squeeze out one more day of slow trekking to have survived the trip with my running streak still intact.
The Fun
A mere 30-minute ride from Mykonos is the island of Delos, birthplace of twins Apollo and Artemis, ghost town for the last millennium plus. Our perfect weather (minus the twenty minutes of fury at the Acropolis) was challenged today with the addition of strong winds. The usually calm sea was whitecapped with waves that rocked the boat, making it a more interesting cruise.
Delos was at one time the major port in the Mediterranean, revered for its prime location as well as its sacred history. However, after a few sieges and changing times, the residents vacated the island so that it could be used to lure tourists like us from Mykonos for a short daytrip to see their ruins. It is like a greatest hits collection of Athens (Acropolis), Delphi, and Akrotikri rolled into one small island, with the remnants tight together for a nice walking tour. There are guides available and a suggested loop to follow. Id attempted to trace this route, while I instead followed wherever Teddy’s whims took us. I did convince him that there were three rules: 1. No running; 2. No climbing; 3. No picking up rocks or touching the artifacts. Teddy is not a fan of Delos, nor an adherent to its rules.
There is a museum on the isle with some recovered statues that were previously outside but moved in to avoid the wrath of the cats. On this island, a clowder of cats roams wild, swarming unsuspecting families that unpack their prepacked lunches for a snack like furry vultures without wings (the cats being like vultures, not the snacks). Inside the museum there are phallus-less sculptures as well as stand-alone dicks on display. I blame the wild pussies for the broken-off cocks.
To Teddy, the statue of Artemis was the favorite. Somewhere in our travels, Sai picked him up a nine-piece puzzle with cubes offering six different sides for scenes of Greek gods / heroes: Aphrodite, Ares, Poseidon, Heracles, Zeus and Artemis. For some reason, Teddy became obsessed with Artemis, night goddess of hunting. I think it may have been Teddy’s passive-aggressive revenge on Apollo, the sun god who tripped him up at Delphi.
Whenever we turned the puzzle to another image, he screamed and freaked out until we gave him back his Artemis. He likewise liked the big status of her on display in the museum. Why is my son obsessed with Artemis? I have no idea. At least the puzzle version and the sculpture are less scary than the character on It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia, and better than one of the castrated dudes he could have fawned over.
There is a distant set of steps up past a neat-looking temple fragment to the top of the island where you can appreciate the overview of the Delos rocks that Teddy wasn’t allowed to abuse. Id and I were allowed to venture to this vantage point while the older / younger / pregnant people stayed behind to play with the cats. Temple of Isis? I had no idea those terrorists ranged this far afield that long ago. Didn’t Obama make ISIS? Very confusing. Up more steps and we reached the summit where there was a nice panoramic view. Ruins in one quadrant down to the rough seas. Nothing but sparse plant-life (sharp shrubberies) in the other three quarters. ISIS iceholes must have scared away developers from building anything beyond their crumbling temple.
In (loosely) planning our trip, I tried to figure out which would be better – the daytrip from Athens to Delphi or Mykonos to Delos. It worked out that we were able to do both, but if I had to choose, aside from Teddy’s nasty head wound, I preferred Delphi. The mountain scenery is a bigger change of pace. But Delos is a shorter trip.
The wavy boat ride back was turbulent fun, bouncing us from crest to trough and back again. Teddy clung to me like I was the goddess of hunting or something, but he was otherwise okay on the short trip. Back on the mainland island of Mykonos, we revisited Little Venice, windmills, shops, etc. again so that grandpa da saw all that he had missed the day before.
Still boycotting local cuisines, the Thais homecooked non-Greek food for dinner. But at least Id picked me up real beer to wash it down.
Day 11 – Sunday, 10/13 – Cocaine Run and This is Spata!
The Run
For my last fast foot tour of Greece, I ran again inland on Mykonos (though I avoided the scary traffic circle from the day before). While the coastline is nice, it felt safer to run somewhere wider on another windy day, without the risk of blowing off the side of a cliff.
Nearly halfway into my planned out and back route, I was coming down a big hill when two sketchy-looking Greeks crossed from the opposite side of the road to my path and politely offered me cocaine. Apparently, I looked like I could use a little pick-me-up. Alas, what can you get for ten euros and some unused toilet paper? In the current Greek economy, apparently enough. Three hours later, I arrived back at Boni’s after a warp-speed blur of a sprint across the entire island and back. I then declared Victory and keeled over with a heart attack. Pheidippides would have been proud.
Except that the myth of Pheidippides has been disproven, as outlined in a separate story by me (among others more qualified). And I didn’t buy any cocaine.
After declining the drug, I continued on, spotting another runner ahead. I wondered if she had been offered illicit substances by the same blokes. She seemed unnerved by the third creepy guy in the last half mile, so I let it go and ran past, continuing down the same long hill until it dead-ended at another pretty Mykonos beach. The return climb was roughly a mile of ascent, with a steady strong wind in the face the whole way. Definitely could have been aided by some Coke, but that ship had sailed.
The Fun
We had a late afternoon ferry ride booked back to Athens because our original, earlier ferry was seemingly canceled a week before. Sai received a text telling her that the cruise company was shutdown for the season. She called their number and checked their website, confirming as much. She booked an alternate arrangement, and when she requested a refund, was told that the ferry was still running. Greek unpredictability is reliably unpredictable. In addition to tragedy and comedy, the Greeks also invented poor customer service.
Regardless, we had time to kill in Mykonos, but no one but myself had any interest. I went souvenir shopping alone and picked up a cool Artemis statue for Teddy, along with a few other keepsakes, for which Sai scolded me since there was not enough room in our luggage. Something had to give. She left me behind. At least Teddy liked his Artemis gift.
Sneaking onto the carrier behind her, (Teddy would have missed me too much), we took our seats on a relatively empty ship bound for Athens. Along the way we stopped at Tinos, a tiny island full of people on pilgrimage to its famous church. Their religious rites sated, these pilgrims loaded our boat like the Mayflower, packing it in to the brims for a miserable couple of hours on the water. Teddy lacked his positive energy from the day before and was a miserable mess most of the way. The fellow passengers wondered why we hadn’t had this demonic child exorcised on the island of Tinos, but we had missed our window.
The big boat eventually unloaded us and the religious masses onto the quiet port of Rafina. Piraeus is the primary port, but Sai picked this destination as it’s closer to the airport and we’d be staying nearby and flying out early the next day. Rafina is supposedly more scenic, but not having seen Piraeus I lack the comparison to offer. But it is very scenic, causing me to wonder why we had to leave Athens at all when we could have simply gone to the beach at this end of town.
Spata is a quiet suburb of Athens, with empty streets and no business on a Sunday night. We dropped our luggage and headed out in search of food (I wanted one last real Greek meal; if I wanted to eat Thai every day, I’d go to Thailand or marry a Thai woman). The quiet neighborhood then revealed itself to be anything but, as house after house unleashed hound after hound angrily barking away at us as we walked past. It was dark in the dimly lit early evening streets, but felt like we were intruders in the middle of the night from the rabid reception we received from the f@#ing dogs. At least the properties were all gated and none of the beasts were able to reach my throat (I missed my lucky rock from Santorini).
Id ably led us to a central business district that had a few open establishments, and we enjoyed traditional Greek cheeseburgers and fries. Okay, maybe it wasn’t an exciting, authentic experience, but it was greasy and filling. Id and I also shared a small carafe of Ouzo, the famous Greek alcohol. It tastes like black licorice, except I like licorice a lot better. At least I could finally check it off the list of Greek experiences.
I was relieved that we would be leaving early the next morning and arriving stateside with hours still to spare (picking up 7 hours in time change), so that I would not have to worry about trying to run in Spata, what with all the angry dogs and all. I’d seen (and heard) enough of them for this trip.
Day 12 – Monday, 10/14 – I’m Done
The Fun
We woke up at 4:30 a.m. to prepare for our 5:15 cab ride to the airport, taking the Americans back home. The Thais had a later afternoon flight to the opposite side of the world, though they woke up early to say goodbye to the grandson.
Teddy slept most of the way through the first, short flight to Frankfurt. That was nice. At the airport, he fidgeted and fought me through the security checkpoint, drawing the attention of some Indian gymnasts waiting behind us in line. We had a long layover before our next flight, during which time we toured the terminal and ran into the girls again. They were on their way back from the Gymnastics World Championships in Stuttgart. When they saw Teddy climbing and swinging like a monkey from different railings, they suggested that he might have a future in their sport. I pointed to the large scab on his forehead and explained that he does not know how to coordinate his landings, so maybe it wasn’t his calling. The girls were very sweet. Since I didn’t see Simone, come the next Olympics Teddy and I may have to cheer for the girls in saffron, white and green instead of our red, white and blue.
A big Bavarian pretzel and a half liter of beer helped me to pass the time between planes. There was also a legitimate playground for Teddy (better than the sorry kid’s corner from our earlier ferry ride), where the boy could burn off energy to hopefully sleep again on the next flight.
And it worked! Teddy started off the next flight with a three-hour nap. After I’d watched a movie uninterrupted (except by Sai occasionally asking me something), ate my meal, took my own short nap, and Teddy continued to sleep, I checked for a pulse to make sure he was still okay. We finally woke him so that he could eat, and then allowed him to watch TV for a couple of hours (Paw Patrol!). Three quarters of the way through the trip, the guy on the other side of us finally understood why I’d apologized in advance when he first sat down, because that was when Teddy lost his shit. Not literally, no poopy accidents (though he was still wearing pull-up diapers to be safe), but Teddy had had enough after some five plus hours aboard this plane. “I’m done” he announced to mommy, before trying to climb over her and out into the aisle. “What do you mean, “you’re done”?” we asked, to which he just repeated that he was done and tried again to get out. I’m not sure where exactly he thought he would go, but we wrestled with him for the remainder of the flight to keep him from somehow escaping the plane.
The plane eventually landed. We spent an inordinate amount of time in line for clearing customs (only in America), cabbed it home, with Teddy falling asleep during the ride. At home he refused food and insisted upon going straight to bed, which is unheard of for him, but it had been a long day after a long trip.
Teddy did very well overall. Mommy wasn’t too bad either, as she directed most of her anger at her brother and not me. When we don’t drive and I don’t get us lost, we do a lot better together.
Greece is a nice country. Despite my many complaints, it’s worth checking out. To quote the tyke – “I want Paw Patrol.” Sorry, wrong one. “I’m done.”
Traipse Reports - Trips and Races 