GREECE DAY 8 – DESTINATION MYKONOS 

We have our last breakfast overlooking the caldera.  (sigh)  The hotel’s bellman throws our heavy bags on his shoulder and effortlessly jogs them up to the car while we hike those same f*&$% 88 steps one last time.  Mouthbreathing, we say heartfelt goodbyes to Sophia, the owner/manager of this little slice of heaven, and Penny who took care of us so well these past days. 

(click on the picture to view the full size image)

We’re off to our first experience on a Greek ferry.  There are several ferry lines that transect the Aegean Sea, providing an essential supply chain of goods and people among the Greek islands.  The ferries themselves differ in size from a few hundred people to almost 2000 people plus cars and cargo, and vary in speed from very fast to, well, slow boat.  No matter the line or the ship, they all have one thing in common… a reputation for complete chaos.  Mob scenes during boarding and disembarkation.  Free-for-all seating practices.  Infamously unreliable schedules.  So much so that there are multiple websites dedicated to the topic.  We watched the “what to expect when you’re expecting a Greek ferry” videos, and despite all warnings, this is still the best option for Greek island hopping.  We’re traveling from Santorini to Mykonos, THE party island of the Greek islands, world famous for the nightlife scene.  We picked Seajets’ WorldChampion Jet ferry for today’s trip for a few reasons.  1) With a cruising speed of over 40 knots (over 50mph), it gets us to Mykonos in 1 hour and 55 minutes.  Others can take as long as 5 hours;  2) It set a world record in 2000 for the fastest speed of any passenger vessel; and 3) Jos Verstappen’s (yes, Max’s dad) 2003-2004 F1 car is displayed onboard.  

We taxi to the ferry terminal and watch as a few vessels come and go.  A huge line 8 people wide is forming behind us, and by the time we think ask where to cue for our boat, we end up in the back of that line.  Hundreds more people fall in behind us.  

At one point, someone official sounding walks to the middle of the line and starts telling people to follow him and form a second line parallel to the first.  What actually happens is that if you reacted fast enough, you followed him and ended up in the front of the now 20-people-wide line.  The gates open and it’s The Running Of The Bulls as we are funneled through a door 3 people wide and down a long hallway.  We come out the other side, onto the same tarmac we started on, just a bit further down the terminal.  Any semblance of a line is abandoned, so now we’re just a gaggle of 1000 people milling around, no one providing direction of any kind.  

The 275’ WorldChampion Jet pulls into view, spins gracefully, drops it’s huge rear gate-ramp and 1000 people plus cars plus scooters all charge off at once.  Another official sounding guy says something and the new sailors all storm the gate.  Somehow we’re some of the first people on, stow our luggage and find our seats.  Shockingly, we’re underway 7 minutes later.  I guess chaos has its advantages. 

We’re at full speed almost instantly, buzzing past slower ships, the ride very smooth through the choppy water.  People continue to pour up the stairs from the loading/cargo deck for a full 20 minutes.  We grab a surprisingly good gyro from a stand at the terminal which eat at our seats.  The seats are nice enough, but the air conditioning in the 20-year-old craft is lacking, so we spend the last hour of the trip wandering around.  We arrive, nearly on time, and unloading is just the same planned mayhem but in reverse.  There are dozens and dozens of drivers waiting with handwritten name signs, and Armen, our Mykonos host, with our name in lights on his iPad just as he said he would.

About Armen.  Armen is the owner/operator of Melangel, a very well-reviewed B-N-B just outside the gates of Chora (also called Mykonos Town) and named after his daughters.  Armen is smooth talking guy of Armenian and Greek descent who has spent time in America and is excited to be our host and guide for the next 4 days, describing himself as our “Greek Armenian American cousin”.  He makes restaurant suggestions and is happy to make reservations for us, plus plan anything else we may want to do.  It’s a lot all at once, and as Americans, we’re skeptical.  He checks us into the room and it’s beautiful with very well thought out features and fine amenities.  So far so good.  

We get settled and walk 3 minutes into Mykonos Town, the original seaport on the island situated on a safe harbor.  We pass the curved sweeping promenade, it’s shops and restaurants facing the harbor.  Behind the promenade are the 500 little alleys that make up the village.  If the streets of Oia and Fira in Santorini are narrow, these are barely half as wide, in some places two people can’t walk abreast.  That doesn’t stop the commerce, though.  Virtually every doorway is a shop or a bar or a restaurant, brightly lit, their wares spilling out into the passageway.  Dinner isn’t until 8:30 (appropriate for Greece as per Armand), so we stop at Notorious for a snack of well crafted spritzes and watermelon salad, a triumph of simplicity with a big hunk of feta and finished with fresh cracked pepper. 

Room, chill, shower.  The room has a very nice view of the sunset, but different then before.  From this vantage point, the sun sinks behind an island mountain in the distance, so it’s a bit sooner, the early bird special of sunsets.  There’s a small cruise ship and some sailboats in the foreground for effect.  We sit in bathrobes and sunglasses and watch, very rockstar in rehab. 

Dinner is at Koursaros, an elegant outdoor space specializing in fresh local seafood.  House music, Mandy’s new favorite, sets the mood.  We start with the grilled mussels, served kabob style out of the shell, a delectable departure from typical preparations.  A whole grilled grouper, caught this morning and filleted tableside, was another good choice.  We close out the night getting lost in the little streets of town, trying to take in our new scene.

 

 

GREECE DAY 7 - LOTS MORE OF SANTORINI TO SEE

There’s a walkway that goes from Fira, in the central part of the island all the way to Oia on the northernmost tip.  The walkway bisects our hotel vertically through the center, half the rooms above and half below, with our pool deck looking down on it. Walkway may be a generous use of the term, as the path is part sidewalk, part uneven cobblestone, part dirt road and part steep hiking trail.  We’re out early to beat the heat and make it to the church about half an hour to our north. 

(click on the picture to view the full size image)

The churches here are everywhere. You can usually see at least three of the distinct blue domed roofs no matter where you are standing on the island. It took us a while to realize that most of these are shrines, not active churches, built in thanks for a significant event in the builders life. We saw one such shrine in a little cove from the boat a few days ago, built 100+ years ago as a father’s thanks for all of his five children surviving a shipwreck and being rescued from the cove three days later.  Hard to tell which type today’s destination is. It’s big, and sits atop one of the most visible hills on the island, so if it’s a shrine, our builder must be extra thankful.

We turn right and we’re off. Oh, this is easier then I thought, smooth and downhill.  Not for long. Even the downhill is tough once the pavement ends and we’re at the lowest point. Looking ahead, and by this point even looking back, it’s uphill both ways, just like my dad walking to school in the snow as a kid.  We pass the Nobu Hotel, one of the few recognizable marquees we have seen here, and it’s nothing but hiking trail to the church.   It’s not even 8am and the sun is already blazing, reminding us that we didn’t have coffee yet.   

Despite the conditions, we’re loving the walk. The landscape to our right, the sea to our left, Mandy’s hand in mine. It’s just 30 minutes till we reach the top, and we’re treated to stunning views of the caldera to the north and the Aegean to the south. We ohhhh and ahhhh and click pix and kiss.

 

The hike back is quieter, as they usually are. We arrive just in time for breakfast delivery, our bodies thankfully sucking up a big bottle of water and strong Greek coffee. We are really getting used to this.

The day is for exploring the beaches, and we head to Santorini’s famous Red Beach first.  It’s a fun drive, up and over the mountain, parking behind a rocky bluff at the end of a peninsula. We follow the narrow, improvised trail up and around the bluff, dropping down into Red Beach. It’s rustic, undeveloped, the “sand” red from the iron ore in the cliff beside the beach. People are strewn about, tour boats coming and going. Worth it if you’re out anyway, but probably not a special trip.

Perivolus Beach, our next stop, is most definitely worth a special trip. It’s a mile long stretch of beach bars, separated by a small road from their respective beach lounger areas. We like JoJo, a mellow spot with some thumpy house EDM, fresh seafood, and a happy vibe.  We pick a daybed by the water, the rhythmic bass lulling us into deep sleeps between swims. Hours pass in minutes as they tend to do on the beach.

 

A bit more exploring to do, so we drive to Emporio, one of the work-a-day villages where the average Santorinian raises their family.  It’s inland as much as a place can be on an island, the centuries old white stone structures place haphazardly as the land allows, and connected at strange angles and elevations. In the center is The Castle, and we know so because we see this sign. 

It’s the strangest castle you can imagine. Hundreds of small apartments joined by Dr. Suess stairs that randomly twist then end.  Clearly this place was the inspiration for building codes. And probably the Escher’s Relativity stairs. In the center is an active church with a high steeple and small front courtyard.  We run into other confound travelers, laughing in wonderment as much as us, like an adult size McDonalds Playland. 

 

We wander the alleys of the town, somehow passing our parked car three different times from three different directions. We follow hand painted signs to a small house with a shop in the compact courtyard. The woman is the resident and maker, showing her brightly colored wares, and speaking kindly to our sweaty selves, and giving each of us a handful of nuts rolled in honey snd sesame seeds. Mandy and I exchange nonverbal, knowing we’re going to buy something, anything to support this lovely person.  Once we really look at the merch, we’re excited we found her. Jars of Tomato jam and caper jam, each with hand crocheted toppers, a small ornament as a gift, and a bag of those yummy nuts later, and we’re on our way, hoping to find the car one last time.

If you ask enough people enough times, they’ll finally tell you the best local restaurant. The one they go to on some random Thursday.  In Santorini, the answer is Kali Kardia, which translates to Good Heart.  Set high on the side of a windy, dusty road high on a hill on the southern cleft of the island, It’s in the middle of nowhere, overlooking somewhere very special, with sweeping views of the entire curve of the island.  The entire dining room features huge windows opened to take advantage of natural air conditioning. 

 

We get seated, look at the menu and order, then I excuse myself to wash the top layer of dust off before we eat.  I wander downstairs in search of the water closet, past the immaculate kitchen, then get shooed away by a pair of YaYa’s, dutifully peeling a huge pile of potatoes and gossiping away.  It’s rare to see squash blossoms on a menu, and we always order them when we do.  Normal preparation is lightly flowered and pan fried, sometimes stuffed with soft cheese.  Our waiter drops off a huge plate, but a very different concept.  These are stuffed with rice and herbs, with plenty of olive oil and lemon in the mix.  “Send everything else back, and bring me these until I explode” I think but don’t say. 

Next is the falafel. Mandy, well versed in the falafelisht arts, takes one bite and looks at me with loving eyes. “Best fa-las-fulll eva!”, the food equivalent to “I love you man!” and high praise indeed.  The mussels and Santorini salad follow, and we dig into the dishes while we go to work on our liter of house white, poured from what can best be described as a mason jar with a handle and spout into 4 ounce juice glasses.  By the time the whole grilled sea bream arrives, we can barely move, much less eat more. But this is Greece, and Greek mythology tells us that heroes are made when mortals are faced with adversity, so we take up what weapons we can gather and attack the most succulent fish with everything we can muster. As with every good myth, our story ends with the heroes standing high atop some mountain, staring off into the distant sunset, hair blowing magesticly in the wind. Ok, ok, 88 steps down from high atop…