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Coming to you from London, with a 9 hour layover after returning from Greece. So. Mykonos. What is there to say? It’s pretty, it’s a party, and oh, yeah, I didn’t book enough nights at the hotel. And I spent my last night on the island sleepless. Here’s the story:
After several days of partying in Greek fashion (including a 5 am 4 mile walk back from the center of town with Ted back to the Inn while screaming out the lyrics to Tom Waits songs), I found myself alone on Mykonos. This was planned, but what was unplanned was the fact that I didn’t have a place to stay because I booked the room for less time than I was to be on the Island. The German innkeeper was kind, let me have a room for 20 Euro a night the was literally the size of a walk in closet, but it worked. Ted was already on his way back to the States, and I had successfully burned the hell out of one side of my face after falling asleep on the beach. With one side of my mouth a little puffier, one eye a little smaller, and the left side quite redder, I was content to just take things easy. I ate crepes on the roof of a beautiful snack bar, which had a pool that a gorgeous Parisian woman swam in with one of those teeny bathing suit bottoms, sufficiently distracting all the men from my eerily accurate impression of two-face. Or quasi-modo. Which ever.
Anyway, I read a ton, enjoyed the sun as much as possible, and took myself out to dinner at the restaurant my innkeepers Greek husband’s aunt and uncle own. The name is written in Greek so I don’t know what it’s called, but the food was super tasty. The Mama and Papa of the inn were there, and they speak virtually no English except to say “naughty Mama” and “bad papa” to each other and giggle, and swat at each other with the fly swatter.
Anyway, my Greek waiter made me finish my entire dinner, which was horrifying and impossible because there was so much food. After he deemed I ate enough he gave me a free desert (thanks?) and asked where my husband was, and why I was alone on the island, and was I safe, and was I crazy, and then, unsatisfied with my answers, just told me to be careful.
I returned to the Inn around 1 am, and then I found a huge cockroach, screamed, woke up the inn keeper and her husband, he ransacked my closet-room, killed it, and then patted my shoulder and left.
I cocooned myself in the covers and did not sleep. The end.
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- Amazing Mojitos
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- View from the roof top snack bar
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- Picture to document room and post-cockroach fiasco
The longer I’m in Syros the more I like, though for the sake of time I’m going to number some of what I love about it.
1. Numerous, hidden side streets, canopied in pink flowers. Restaurants spill into the street at night, filling quickly. The decor inside many, however, are very beautiful and under-appreciated by those in favor of the outdoor dining.
2. The sea-side bars lining the street that snakes the edge of the Island. Produces a beautiful glimpse of the low lit boats when moving from bar to bar.
3. Nannetta’s, an amazingly tasty restaurant with homemade, made upon ordering, savory treats. The best dish on the menu is literally called “That which will remove you from a difficult situation.” I asked Nannetta why her food was so amazingly good, and she said “from my heart, I make this, everyday no matter.” She stopped often to share a coffee with her patrons.
4. The little plazas, which were distinctly different from the architecture of the other islands, reminded me more of Spain.
5. The beautiful Orthodox Churches. Many of them have little stores attached where you can buy bibles, incense burners, and little prayer tins, all made on the island.
Enjoying the food at Nanneta's
Flowered Ceilings
Leaving the Church
So, I had to come back here to frantically type my brief misadventure. Shortly after my post yesterday I made my way further into town so I could find a traditional Greek Orthodox church. Well I did, and I became so enchanted by the place and the rituals there (the glass encasing idols is literally stained with thousands of kiss marks) that I placed my camera down and walked away from it. I didn’t notice the fact that my hands were empty for at least 5 minutes (I was keeping my money and my chapstick in the camera case, so stupidly). I then became immediately frantic, harassed Ted in a completely silent rage, still respecting the quiet, and then ran out of the church, literally, so Ted could look around for it while I calmed down.
Once outside, I notice a group of people gathered in a small circle, speaking rapidly in Greek. Instincts being my strong suite (maybe, but stick with me) I ran over and sure enough they were looking at the pictures on MY camera! I thanked them while at the same time snatching the thing from their hands. They spoke no English, and I will happily assume that they had no intention of stealing it, though I feel like a moron. Hopefully they recognized me from the pics.
Anyway, off to another LONG day of sailing. Can I get more tan? Possible. But I’ll miss the food here, the best out of all the islands.
Hill Side Church on Kea
The Square where I found the Greeks with my Camera
I’m on Syros, settling down for a bit to share a few days without sailing with my new comrades. The Islands of Kea and Kythnos were both beautiful, secluded, and special. Our boat was docked right on the edge town, and I felt like quite the cool broad when I helped a group of Irish men failing to properly moor their boat.
View from where we docked
Sailing his been… intense. We hit some gales that we thought may break our mast, and though I know we can’t flip, well I was practically bathing in the ocean water.
The Islands are beautiful: the other day, on Kea, we left the beautiful town to treck to an ancient statue of a lion. Dated to around 300 BC, the Lion was an idol meant to protect the woman from being raped and kidnapped by neighbouring islanders. We didn’t have to share the moment with anyone, the site was hidden in the hills, completely promotionless.
Syros is much more populated than the other stops we’ve made. Lot’s to explore, so I’ll get off this computer and let one of these anxious boys get back to their World of Warcraft games (phenomenally popular here…).
The Lion on Kea
Three pairs of lovers on the beach
Cape Sounion:
So the first day of sailing was so lovely. We set sail around 9 am, somewhat awkwardly acquainted ourselves with the skipper, a 30 something from Finland, and the two Germans, two Canadians, and two other Americans joining Ted and I as crew members on the 50 foot sailing yacht. She’s a pretty boat, mates.
View of the temple from the boat
There was barely even a draft pushing curtains, let alone sails, so we made it over to Cape Sounion in nearly five hours. Because of the glassy water we anchored for a secluded swim which held us back even more. The landscape is so peculiar here, because the water is such a deep blue you just expect this feeling of fertility, however, the lands are almost like desert oases. Apparently thousands of years ago the Greeks cut down all of the trees to build boats, and since then the islands have not been able to sustain trees larger than the famous Olive Tree. Anyway, since most summers pass without rain for three months, if not more, you can understand why the islands are so brown.
The draw to Cape Sounion is the Temple of Poseidon, the cape is otherwise deserted. Located atop a seaside cliff, the temple dates back to over 700 bc, thought it was technically destroyed by the Persians in 480 bc. I can’t really tell the difference between a temple that’s been attacked, or has succumbed to over a thousand years of aging, so I think it is faring pretty well, all things considered. Joking aside, it is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been.
After climbing to the top of the Temple to watch the sun set over the Mediterranean we ate dinner at a lovely little restaurant by the beach. There is no real “town”, just a hotel and three restaurants, all of which are supposed to be tasty. And the Sounion is on main land Greece, an easy day trip from Athens.
A look to sea from the temple
A fun tip about ordering fish at a Greek restaurant. They take you into the kitchen to pick out your fish! It was absolutely hilarious when I, with my non-existant Greek language ability, was dragged into the kitchen by a little old man who began passing me fish. I think I picked a fish entirely different than the one I ordered at the table because he kept laughing at me, and I kept changing my fish whenever I saw how much it weighed on the scale. I was trying to have a cheep dinner! I ordered the smallest fish they had, it was delicious, and we all cheersed to our Skipper and our first day of successful sailing with some ouzo (tasted like absinthe to me, no green fairies but the twinkling boat lights could have passed for some gold ones).
Fairy lights
Temple of Poseidon
I’ve spent one night in Athens, arrived late last night from London, and have found my first Internet cafe. A VERY brief update. London was lovely, spent the day with some friends from home, saw my old flat and my old pub, went into Camden market, and drank tea. What else can I do with a twelve hour layover?
Meeting Justine in Covent Garden for Tea
My old tube stop, Warwick Avenue
My old flat in Little Venice
Now, Athens is very hot and I am about to head out to the water to go find the boat I’ll be on for the next couple of weeks! I’ll try to find some more Internet hubs en route to Mykonos, and I’ll update these posts with pictures when I come back to the States.
Searching for our boat, a quick rest
Ciao!
Perhaps it is the area where I always return to, but the Outer Banks don’t strike me as being as out of the way as most people like to make them seem. Heading (much) farther out you’ll find more of the quiet that some people evoke when describing this place; however, in just the three years I’ve been vacationing there it has become more accessible and convenient. Also, expanding outlets, restaurants, and sports companies allow for more “to do.”
Not that I need more to do. The perks of the Outer Banks include getting a huge house (7+ beds) with your friends and family for a decent price, and then spending every possible amount of daylight on the beach. I think it is the feeling of utter relaxation that makes me drawn to the beaches there, and because they are so expansive there is plenty of room between you and your neighbour. I think I became sadly used to the crowded nature of the Narragansett and Scarborough beaches in Rhode Island.
The beaches can be so HOT
The one thing that always nags at me when I come, however, is how the houses are so big and strangely propped up on those tiny stilts. It feels like the neighborhoods were erected so quickly. And, apparently, they were. According to folks that have been visiting the Outer Banks for years, the beaches used to be a nearly deserted, natural landscapes. Oh, well.
I can say that the beaches are very pleasant, there are some fantastic crab shacks, good shopping, starry nights, and lovely sunsets. The beaches are virtually empty at night for those seeking some solitary night-swimming; though that may be the closest to solitude you’ll find because the Outer Banks is acquiring more and more visitors and a glance back from the beach only shows endless rows of floating houses.
I look forward to more sand and sun when I leave for Greece in a few days!
Breakfast in town before catching the Ferry
I’d forgotten how foreign the Island feels to me, like I’m thousands of miles away. It reminds me of my time spent in the UK, the jovial spirit, the heavy drinking, backdropped by a fantastic landscape. I’m surprised they don’t believe in fairies and elves.
The pre-wedding festivities were, well, quite festive. There was dancing, drinking, and much too much driving afterward (like I said, two cops). Luckily the Inn was just a few hundred yards from the Sandbar, so we made the arduous (there was a lot of weaving involved) trek back around 3, only to get right back outside so I could sober up a little. The sobering up walk lasted well over an hour, but it was such a nice long walk! I don’t get to spend much one on one time with my mother and she was surprisingly good humored about it. Must have been the tequila shots she took.
Before the ceremony
Anyway, we went to the wedding surprisingly not hungover. Set in an open barnyard on the water, it was humble in its preparation (most of the food was made pot-luck style by locals) but resplendent in its location. I have a hard time not speaking so favorably of the Island because I love it so much. In fact, yesterday I went looking at real-estate, and I was shocked to find nearly three acres running at about 65k. One house was selling for 125k. I suppose the recession is good for something. Anyway, owning a house on the island, regardless of what you paid for it, is no cheap affair. The cost of delivering wood and equipment is astonishing, thus many buildings tend to fall into disrepair.
In so many ways Vinalhaven is still behind the times. A big complaint is the rising cost of ferry tickets. I believe we paid $7 round trip. What does a ticket to Block Island cost now, $12 each way? Yes, I just checked, it does.
Son giving Mum away
Anyway, the wedding was very nice, the food was tasty, and people from allover the island and nearby Northhaven stopped by as well. It brought back so many memories of being out on the boats, hauling Lobster during sunrise, traveling to uninhabited islets for black moon stones. I remember our parents the let the lobster loose on the kitchen floor and we (the kids) used to play with them/run from their bandless claws until they were dropped head first into the pot.
Festivities after the wedding were perhaps a little quieter than the night before. Though, I didn’t stick around late enough to find out. We caught a ferry early this morning and woke up early for a bite to eat. I was so sad to leave. This place makes me feel so effervescent! But I can’t complain, I head for the Outer Banks tomorrow.
Leaving reception for the Sandbar
Departing view
It is so, so wonderful being back here. I’m being hit by thousands of memories that had been catalogued somewhere deep in my brain. My mother and I are staying on one of the only Inn’s on the island, the owner of which actually used to live on Block Island. I guess there’s something to be said about the hold islands can have on a person. Anyway, like most people on Vinalhaven, Paul hauls in the morning and manages the Inn in the afternoon. Most of the teachers, restaurateurs, and retirees still haul when their able. It’s a wonderful uniting force on the island.
One of many pictures I took on the walk
Anyway, we spent most of the day wandering around, visiting old friends. Such a special strange little world. Last night was a typical Maine night, with more stars than I’ve ever seen in a single sky. I think there were at least 12 shooting stars, nearly commonplace.
Now we’re heading to the “Sandbar” (har har) for some pre-wedding celebration!
Relaxing outside the Inn
Meadow
More traps
Not the tropical kind, however. Tomorrow I head to Vinalhaven, Maine, a tiny island about a 75 minute ferry ride off of Rockland. I used to spend parts of my summers on the island as I was growing up but the last time I’ve been there I had just graduated from High School. Now, I head back for a wedding. I am so excited to be back for the first time in four years.
Before I go and report on my Island adventures, some facts: the island has about 1200 year round residents (this number triples or quadruples in the summer months), one k-12 public school, a public library, several swimming quarries (including a dog quarry and a nude quarry), a few seasonal restaurants, and two bars. The island was originally populated to farm granite (thus the resulting quarries), though that resource, for all intensive purposes, has been tapped. Now most residents are lobstermen, a profitable, draining, and seasonal trade. They are up around 3 or 4, drunk and to bed by 8. Traps are strewn in many yards, nearly as prevalent as the granite steps, posts, and other rough hewn features that dot the island.
Some traps laying in the yard
I found this link via NYTimes Travel about the island: http://travel.nytimes.com/2006/06/16/realestate/16havens.html?pagewanted=2
It’s a pretty good story, though as a non-visitor I think the author missed some points. First of all, the island isn’t as wholesome as he made it out to be (or as the summer folk would like to think it is). Yes, in the past decade’s summers an onslaught of Mainers and otherwise are coming to the island baby bumped, yoga mats in hand, and with organic fiber journals tucked safely among “Life is Good” t-shirts into their Northface gear. Understandably so, after all the Island is BEAUTIFUL, green and blue, salty, fresh, vital, and the perfect place for a fantasy summer. However, the real Vinalhaven is perhaps a little darker than this. Totally immeshed in eachothers lives, there is cattiness, deception, drama, intrigue, and drugs, the makings of a soap opera, really. The young marry the old, divorce, and then marry the ex’s sister. Seriously. And the drinking on the island is out of control. With only two cops in residence, the locals (seniors and minors alike) haven’t much of a reason to behave.
We’ll see if much has changed!
