It's all Greek to me - Chapter Two
Chapter 2 .....
I had a wonderful time in Athens. It is one of the most incredible places. Excavations of folks that lived there in 3000 BC. That's further on that side of Christ than this one! It's just incredible how all these massive stone structures were built so long ago. Ok, most of these were built around 2000 years ago, but what's a few years when you're talking thousands. And so amazing still.The Greeks just ooze sexuality and indigance, a marvelous combination that results in a very interesting culture.
The food was fantastic and, of course, with Ouzo to finish everything off, you always go to bed happy!So, after a day and a half in Athens, it's off to Crete for the conference.
It's only a 50 min flight from Athens to Crete. I'm feeling pretty confident in retracing the steps BACK to the airport...45 min later, all good. The flight to Crete was smooth, with the most amazing views over the Mediterranean coming into Heraklion, the major city on Crete. The conference is at another town, called Hersonissos (pronunications pending), which is about 30 km to the east around the northern coast.
The conference is at a resort called Royal Knossus Village, which is also where I'm booked to stay...unfortunately, I have no phone number this time, but not to worry. It's a major international conference, right? Once again, I come out of the airport, looking around for something that says AgEng2008 (the name of the conference) or transportation to Hersonissos. Nothin.... Heraklion airport is very small....picture Williamsport, PA (or Hamilton, NZ) here without the English.
Ok, I've learned my lesson in Athens. I'll ask someone right away. Here's a tourist bus driver standing with a sign waiting for his posse. "Sir, I need to get to Hersonissos, to the Royal Knossus Village. Do you know it?" "Oh yes, sir...I recommend the bus, which is right up around the corner there (pointing)." "Oh, great, thank you very much." Let's just call this guy, Greeko #1.
Now, there's a sideline to this chapter. At the baggage terminal, I look across and see my PhD advisor from UC, Davis waiting for his bags. Mike is renowned at pinching every penny he can, especially when travelling. I start to think about a conference in San Diego once, where I quickly paid $35 to get a taxi to the venue. Mike paid $1 to take the public bus. So, I thought I might wait for Mike at the bus stop that's just been referred to me. He'll be here shortly, I'm sure. So, up to the bus stop I go.
The bus stop is really a small shed with 4 Greeks smoking cig's inside. "Hello. I need to go to Hersonnissos." "Oh, Hersonnissos. Yes, that bus right there." "Do you have a ticket?" "No." "No problem. That's 90 cents." "Really! Only 90 cents. This was definitely the right way to Hersonnissos. Mike is going to love this!
No sooner do I climb onto the bus with my handy luggage in tow than the bus driver leaps in, fires it up, and off we go! Geez, that was lucky timing. I'm gonna make the conference hotel, have a swim and be on my second Ouzo by the time Mike gets here!
Weaving our way through the streets of Heraklion, I start to wonder, "I think we're going west. I thought Hersonissos was east?" Oh well, Greeko #1 told me this was the way. Smoking Greek guy at the bus told me this was the way. It must be the way!
Six stops later, in the middle of the most run-down decripit streets I've ever seen, the bus driver spins around, looks at me and says, "This is your stop!" When Greeks talk to you, it's usually quite commanding, so you don't spend alot of time arguing. "Oh, ok. Are you sure? (I say in this mousy little voice.)" "YES (he booms), you go over there (pointing about three more decripit streets down)." Alright, here we go.
I get off the bus and nervously watch as he drives away. (little did I know this would be a scene repeated again.) Well, no ones attacking me yet. I guess I'll go in the direction he pointed. After about half a block, I'm thinkin, "this can't be right." So, back to the bus stop...thank God, there's a map. After a considerable Greek translation period once again, I make out a station that seems to say "Intercity Bus Terminal." And, what do you know, it's about 3 decripit blocks down!
Ok, with renewed confidence, I head over to find said station. I go in, buy my ticket for Hersonissos, leaving 20 min from now. This is good. I check my watch to calculate that I'll still beat Mike to the hotel, maybe minus the time for the Ouzo's. Finally, the bus leaves, packed to the hilt...but headed in the right direction at least!
Well...just as I'm settling back for the 30km haul to Hersonissos, the bus stops...and then it stops again...and again. Just about every freakin' block. Turns out that this is accepted practice in Crete...just walk out to the roadside and wait and the bus will pull over and get you. It's standing room only now, but the bus ain't turning down any revenue. There's even a 2nd guy on this bus who's job it is to collect $$ from people as they board (we'll call him Greeko #2).
A typical Greek lady sits down next to me. About 60 years old, with purple eye-shadow. Trying desparately not to look her direction, I'm staring out the window and thinking, I wonder if the Royal Knossus Village Resort will be obvious once I get to Hersonissos.Turned out to be a prophetic thought. After about an hour on this bus (Mike's gotta be close by now!), I'm getting nervous that I've somehow missed the seaside haven. I finally take a big swallow, turn to purple-eyed lady and ask if she knows where it is? "Oh, I don't have my glasses," she gesticulates in a way to say she can't see...I think it's the purple glare. So, the next time Greeko #2 looks my way, I motion him back and repeat the question. "Ah...the Royal Knossos. Oh yes, I let you know when it's time." Whew! That's good.
I haven't passed it yet and now I have my main man looking after me. After another 15 min or so, the bus pulls over to what looks like a run-down veggie stand from about 200 BC. Even the dust whipping around it looks old. Greeko #2 looks back at me and says, "This is you!" I tentatively squeeze past purple-eyes and gingerly make my up the bus, the whole time thinking, "This can't be right!" He looks at me like I'm holding up the whole works...as if it hasn't already taken an eternity to get this far...and, quite angrily, motions me down the stairs. I'm scared! I go...adding as I pass him that he might want to consider delivering my luggage from under the bus. As he's removing my bag, I ask him, as politely and un-insultingly as I can, "Are you certain this is the right stop?" Now, he's really upset...and waves across the road, and says "Go that way!" I can see the sea out there somewhere, but it's over a hill. "About how far?" "What?!? 200 m." And that was the last I saw of Greeko #2.
Well, it's about this time that I'm thinking an expensive taxi would have been just the ticket. But, here I am...me and my luggage. At least it's on wheels. So, off I go, across the road and down the hill toward the sea. "How far is 200 m, I think." After what must have been 1 km and about 10 near misses on this narrow cow-path Greeko #2 has sent me down, I can see the sea-side village in the distance. Ah, finally! I've made it. Starting to look for a substantial building that at least resembles a resort, I am again disappointed. Nothing but run-down shacks, with one two-story apartment block. If that's the Royal Knossos, I'm swimming back to Athens!
As I near the village, I spot a small shop at a corner intersection. Two ancient Greeks are sitting outside smoking, so I figure, they've gotta know where this place is. I amble up, give it my best smile and kindly show them Royal Knossos on my paper. The old lady's eyes light up like the sun and waves me over to the middle of the intersection. Pointing down the coastline, she motions if I can see the large white building with the red roof. "Yes, yes, yes!" I say. Even though it looks another 5 km away, I can see it! But then....she says, in surprisingly good English, "No, over that." "What! You've gotta be kidding!" "No, no, see the red roof. Go straight past this!", smiling like she's just solved world peace. "Oh...I must have a taxi for that!" "Oh no," she says, "you will walk!" "Really (whimpering)? How far?" "Ten minutes." I look again in the distance at the red roof and think back to Greeko #2's "200 m." There's a pattern in here somewhere.
Just before heading off, I repay her by buying a bottle of water. Then, back to the trek. The next 30-45 min is kind of a blur. The bottle of water has gone straight out my pores (it is about 35C...95F). And I'm feeling like Chevy Chase in National Lampoon trekking across the desert. Just as I'm about to tie my shirt around my head, I spot a sign that says Royal Knossos. I now know what the old-time mariners felt like when they spotted land!
Down the road I head, finally seeing the large gates and lighted tennis courts of what looks very much like a resort. Hoping it's not a mirage, I walk into the lobby of the Royal Knossos, just about collapse on the counter. I must have looked like I just ran a marathon. The girl looks at me and asks if I'm ok. "Well, I've been better. But I'd like to check in, please." After giving my name, I see a troublesome look in her eyes. "Just one minute sir." She picks up the phone and starts arguing in Greek. This can't be good...Finally, she gets off the phone and says, "This hotel is full. You've been re-booked in the hotel back up the road!" This is when I go hysterical and start laughing. Of course, I have to explain my story. She's nice enough to have someone drive me back up the hill.
Finally checked in to the right place, I look at the clock. The total trip has taken me about 3.5 hr and I'm certain nearly 5 km of walking. All I want to do is go jump in the sea or the pool. So, I get into my room, drop trou right where I am, throw on the togs, grab my resort card to get a beach towel and head out the door. You can imagine my disappointment when it turns out that it was too late...the pool was closed and there would be no beach towels 'til morning. Ok, I could have still went and jumped in the sea, but the thought of what I felt like doing to myself sort of frightened me. I limped back to the room and went to bed.
Oh well...the conference turned out to be great. The Crete setting was awesome. And I finally had that swim I had coming.I've always said that the key to good travelling is coming out of it with a story. This trip was well worth it...I can't wait to come back.
I had a wonderful time in Athens. It is one of the most incredible places. Excavations of folks that lived there in 3000 BC. That's further on that side of Christ than this one! It's just incredible how all these massive stone structures were built so long ago. Ok, most of these were built around 2000 years ago, but what's a few years when you're talking thousands. And so amazing still.The Greeks just ooze sexuality and indigance, a marvelous combination that results in a very interesting culture.
The food was fantastic and, of course, with Ouzo to finish everything off, you always go to bed happy!So, after a day and a half in Athens, it's off to Crete for the conference.
It's only a 50 min flight from Athens to Crete. I'm feeling pretty confident in retracing the steps BACK to the airport...45 min later, all good. The flight to Crete was smooth, with the most amazing views over the Mediterranean coming into Heraklion, the major city on Crete. The conference is at another town, called Hersonissos (pronunications pending), which is about 30 km to the east around the northern coast.
The conference is at a resort called Royal Knossus Village, which is also where I'm booked to stay...unfortunately, I have no phone number this time, but not to worry. It's a major international conference, right? Once again, I come out of the airport, looking around for something that says AgEng2008 (the name of the conference) or transportation to Hersonissos. Nothin.... Heraklion airport is very small....picture Williamsport, PA (or Hamilton, NZ) here without the English.
Ok, I've learned my lesson in Athens. I'll ask someone right away. Here's a tourist bus driver standing with a sign waiting for his posse. "Sir, I need to get to Hersonissos, to the Royal Knossus Village. Do you know it?" "Oh yes, sir...I recommend the bus, which is right up around the corner there (pointing)." "Oh, great, thank you very much." Let's just call this guy, Greeko #1.
Now, there's a sideline to this chapter. At the baggage terminal, I look across and see my PhD advisor from UC, Davis waiting for his bags. Mike is renowned at pinching every penny he can, especially when travelling. I start to think about a conference in San Diego once, where I quickly paid $35 to get a taxi to the venue. Mike paid $1 to take the public bus. So, I thought I might wait for Mike at the bus stop that's just been referred to me. He'll be here shortly, I'm sure. So, up to the bus stop I go.
The bus stop is really a small shed with 4 Greeks smoking cig's inside. "Hello. I need to go to Hersonnissos." "Oh, Hersonnissos. Yes, that bus right there." "Do you have a ticket?" "No." "No problem. That's 90 cents." "Really! Only 90 cents. This was definitely the right way to Hersonnissos. Mike is going to love this!
No sooner do I climb onto the bus with my handy luggage in tow than the bus driver leaps in, fires it up, and off we go! Geez, that was lucky timing. I'm gonna make the conference hotel, have a swim and be on my second Ouzo by the time Mike gets here!
Weaving our way through the streets of Heraklion, I start to wonder, "I think we're going west. I thought Hersonissos was east?" Oh well, Greeko #1 told me this was the way. Smoking Greek guy at the bus told me this was the way. It must be the way!
Six stops later, in the middle of the most run-down decripit streets I've ever seen, the bus driver spins around, looks at me and says, "This is your stop!" When Greeks talk to you, it's usually quite commanding, so you don't spend alot of time arguing. "Oh, ok. Are you sure? (I say in this mousy little voice.)" "YES (he booms), you go over there (pointing about three more decripit streets down)." Alright, here we go.
I get off the bus and nervously watch as he drives away. (little did I know this would be a scene repeated again.) Well, no ones attacking me yet. I guess I'll go in the direction he pointed. After about half a block, I'm thinkin, "this can't be right." So, back to the bus stop...thank God, there's a map. After a considerable Greek translation period once again, I make out a station that seems to say "Intercity Bus Terminal." And, what do you know, it's about 3 decripit blocks down!
Ok, with renewed confidence, I head over to find said station. I go in, buy my ticket for Hersonissos, leaving 20 min from now. This is good. I check my watch to calculate that I'll still beat Mike to the hotel, maybe minus the time for the Ouzo's. Finally, the bus leaves, packed to the hilt...but headed in the right direction at least!
Well...just as I'm settling back for the 30km haul to Hersonissos, the bus stops...and then it stops again...and again. Just about every freakin' block. Turns out that this is accepted practice in Crete...just walk out to the roadside and wait and the bus will pull over and get you. It's standing room only now, but the bus ain't turning down any revenue. There's even a 2nd guy on this bus who's job it is to collect $$ from people as they board (we'll call him Greeko #2).
A typical Greek lady sits down next to me. About 60 years old, with purple eye-shadow. Trying desparately not to look her direction, I'm staring out the window and thinking, I wonder if the Royal Knossus Village Resort will be obvious once I get to Hersonissos.Turned out to be a prophetic thought. After about an hour on this bus (Mike's gotta be close by now!), I'm getting nervous that I've somehow missed the seaside haven. I finally take a big swallow, turn to purple-eyed lady and ask if she knows where it is? "Oh, I don't have my glasses," she gesticulates in a way to say she can't see...I think it's the purple glare. So, the next time Greeko #2 looks my way, I motion him back and repeat the question. "Ah...the Royal Knossos. Oh yes, I let you know when it's time." Whew! That's good.
I haven't passed it yet and now I have my main man looking after me. After another 15 min or so, the bus pulls over to what looks like a run-down veggie stand from about 200 BC. Even the dust whipping around it looks old. Greeko #2 looks back at me and says, "This is you!" I tentatively squeeze past purple-eyes and gingerly make my up the bus, the whole time thinking, "This can't be right!" He looks at me like I'm holding up the whole works...as if it hasn't already taken an eternity to get this far...and, quite angrily, motions me down the stairs. I'm scared! I go...adding as I pass him that he might want to consider delivering my luggage from under the bus. As he's removing my bag, I ask him, as politely and un-insultingly as I can, "Are you certain this is the right stop?" Now, he's really upset...and waves across the road, and says "Go that way!" I can see the sea out there somewhere, but it's over a hill. "About how far?" "What?!? 200 m." And that was the last I saw of Greeko #2.
Well, it's about this time that I'm thinking an expensive taxi would have been just the ticket. But, here I am...me and my luggage. At least it's on wheels. So, off I go, across the road and down the hill toward the sea. "How far is 200 m, I think." After what must have been 1 km and about 10 near misses on this narrow cow-path Greeko #2 has sent me down, I can see the sea-side village in the distance. Ah, finally! I've made it. Starting to look for a substantial building that at least resembles a resort, I am again disappointed. Nothing but run-down shacks, with one two-story apartment block. If that's the Royal Knossos, I'm swimming back to Athens!
As I near the village, I spot a small shop at a corner intersection. Two ancient Greeks are sitting outside smoking, so I figure, they've gotta know where this place is. I amble up, give it my best smile and kindly show them Royal Knossos on my paper. The old lady's eyes light up like the sun and waves me over to the middle of the intersection. Pointing down the coastline, she motions if I can see the large white building with the red roof. "Yes, yes, yes!" I say. Even though it looks another 5 km away, I can see it! But then....she says, in surprisingly good English, "No, over that." "What! You've gotta be kidding!" "No, no, see the red roof. Go straight past this!", smiling like she's just solved world peace. "Oh...I must have a taxi for that!" "Oh no," she says, "you will walk!" "Really (whimpering)? How far?" "Ten minutes." I look again in the distance at the red roof and think back to Greeko #2's "200 m." There's a pattern in here somewhere.
Just before heading off, I repay her by buying a bottle of water. Then, back to the trek. The next 30-45 min is kind of a blur. The bottle of water has gone straight out my pores (it is about 35C...95F). And I'm feeling like Chevy Chase in National Lampoon trekking across the desert. Just as I'm about to tie my shirt around my head, I spot a sign that says Royal Knossos. I now know what the old-time mariners felt like when they spotted land!
Down the road I head, finally seeing the large gates and lighted tennis courts of what looks very much like a resort. Hoping it's not a mirage, I walk into the lobby of the Royal Knossos, just about collapse on the counter. I must have looked like I just ran a marathon. The girl looks at me and asks if I'm ok. "Well, I've been better. But I'd like to check in, please." After giving my name, I see a troublesome look in her eyes. "Just one minute sir." She picks up the phone and starts arguing in Greek. This can't be good...Finally, she gets off the phone and says, "This hotel is full. You've been re-booked in the hotel back up the road!" This is when I go hysterical and start laughing. Of course, I have to explain my story. She's nice enough to have someone drive me back up the hill.
Finally checked in to the right place, I look at the clock. The total trip has taken me about 3.5 hr and I'm certain nearly 5 km of walking. All I want to do is go jump in the sea or the pool. So, I get into my room, drop trou right where I am, throw on the togs, grab my resort card to get a beach towel and head out the door. You can imagine my disappointment when it turns out that it was too late...the pool was closed and there would be no beach towels 'til morning. Ok, I could have still went and jumped in the sea, but the thought of what I felt like doing to myself sort of frightened me. I limped back to the room and went to bed.
Oh well...the conference turned out to be great. The Crete setting was awesome. And I finally had that swim I had coming.I've always said that the key to good travelling is coming out of it with a story. This trip was well worth it...I can't wait to come back.
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