Escape to Rethymno

Hello everyone!

So ... I finally got my chance to escape the resort hotel and see a bit of Crete!

Unfortunately, I didn't have nearly as much time as I would've liked. I had great plans to hike through a wild gorge, visit a former leper colony on a remote, windswept piece of coastline, and take a boat tour through a sea cave. ("Mmmmmm, caves!!", you can almost hear me thinking.)  

None of those things happened. 

That's ok, though, because I'm leaving Greece with a very positive impression – I really like the 'vibe' of this country. And given that it's sort of on the way from quite a few places to quite a few others, I don't imagine this will be my last visit.

Shaded Alley with Motorcycle

Rethymno, Isle of Crete, 02.07.16

What I did manage to do was to explore the town of Rethymno, which is one of the few sizeable townships on Crete. 

Rethymno's extensive Old Town is one of those places where motor scooters predominate over cars, as narrow alleyways do over wide roads and boulevards. It's also a place where the locals have found ingenious strategies to shield themselves from the blistering heat ... so when you wander down these alleyways, you enter a cool, shaded world.  

It's also a place where, in labyrinth of the Old Town, you can find plenty of picturesque courtyards like this one, which could easily make it into the pages on an in-flight magazine:

Courtyard Inside the Labyrinth

Rethymno, Isle of Crete, 02.07.16

It's the kind of place where (as in much of 'Old Europe') straight lines and precise corners don't seem to have been the main priority of many builders, but simple, rustic elegance was always high on the list.

Crooked Alley

Rethymno, Isle of Crete, 02.07.16

And where you can almost forgive yourself for peering nosily into people's windows, just to see what daily life might be like for those living inside. 

Nosy Tourist Gets A Living Room View

Rethymno, Isle of Crete, 02.07.16

So yeah ... with just an afternoon to spare, that was how I spent most of my time: wandering about, detouring down the smallest alleys I could find and peering into windows. 

I particularly liked this one – the window of a bakery, where the baker had at some point decided to get creative and make loaves in the shape of a semi-nautical, wholly mythical creature with her hungry brood:

Bakery Monsters

Rethymno, Isle of Crete, 02.07.16

Then finally, I retreated back to the gate of the Old Town, near the bus stop where I could catch the bus back to Resortland. Stopped there for an hour or so to enjoy a cappuccino (which turned out to be from a Nescafe machine – yeuch!!) and to use the FREE WI-FI proudly advertised on the door.

You have to imagine the words "FREE WIFI" sparkling and dancing here, because this is something that the hotel where I'm staying pointedly refuses to offer. Or rather, they do offer it, but it doesn't work. When you talk to the manager about this, he shrugs his shoulders and says "We have 800 guests in our hotel. What can we do?" 

I have several answers to that question. All of them contain offensive language.

Heraklion Port and Mountains at Sunset

Heraklion, Isle of Crete, 03.07.16

But now, thankfully, my resort days are over. I'm on an overnight ferry across the Aegean, arriving in Athens tomorrow morning. 

Travelling by sea is something I've done a bit of in recent years, and I find it quite relaxing – especially when compared to flying! And the sunset over Heraklion port as we departed tonight was pretty stunning, I have to say. So that set the mood for a very pleasant voyage :-)

I'm also aware that this is an incredibly safe ferry, since we have The Lord on Board with us. How do I know that? Well, because of the rather frighteningly colourful Greek Orthodox chapel located just inside one of the doors leading to the outside deck. Provided enough of the passengers stop in to pay their respects, there's simply no way anything can go wrong ;-)

We Got The Lord On Board!

Crete-Athens ferry, 03.07.16

Now it's totally dark outside, in the way that only the sea can be dark. As I sit on the upper deck sipping my Ouzo and lemon (a highly delicious mix, which the barman at the hotel introduced me to), I can't wait for the next adventure. 

Tomorrow I'm flying to Copehagen to stay with friends ... but not until I've finished my breakfast at the Acropolis!

See you :-)

Anthony.

Volodya

Volodya stumbles out of the breakfast room, stuffed with sausage and bacon and bread rolls. His belly hangs in front like a huge vertical stingray with its tail missing, nestling its head on his rib cage.

Volodya’s sunburn evokes fiery dried chilis hanging on a porch in some country where people appreciate spices a lot more than they do where he himself comes from. And yet, before he reclines on the banana-shaped sun lounge, does he erect the flaccid umbrella handily positioned right next to it? No, he does not. 

He's on a mission, and umbrellas are definitely not part of it.

Volodya is from one of those parts of the world where people are SO conscious of the apparent lack of sunshine that they will drench themselves in it at the slightest opportunity. They will do this even if it ultimately ages them beyond their years, and even if it takes a sizeable portion of their annual salary to get them into position under the brutal UV rays. 

They will even pay by the hour for access to tiny, sterile beaches in soul-destroying non-places like Sharm el-Sheikh, where sun lounges are packed together like commuters on a London tube, or like male Emperor penguins circling the Pole while balancing eggs on their feet.

And in a way, this is exactly what Volodya is. He is one of an apparently growing number of people who disappear from their homes in Russia, Ukraine, Germany and other self-identified sunless countries each summer, to cram themselves with cold cuts and trudge around in small circles - sometimes on the periphery of the impeccably manicured sunbathing lawn, and sometimes in the centre. 

Personally, I have a few different reactions to this, and none of them are good.

First off, I find it possibly the single most depressing thing about Europe (other than the resurgence of the xenophobic Far Right), that when they find a stretch of coastline which might reasonably be called a ‘beach’, their standard reaction is to stack it with these sun lounges, then pile middle aged people on top of said lounges, so that they may spend roughly a sixth of their year desperately trying to become redder than a bleeding walrus. 

And secondly, I wonder: are these people really as sunshine-deprived as they think they are?

I mean, certainly the Russian and Ukrainian winters are long, and the body’s supplies of Vitamin E or D or whatever-that-sun-vitamin-is probably become a little depleted during this time. But actually, despite the low temperatures, there’s plenty of sunshine in those places. 

In fact, some of the most beautiful mornings I’ve ever woken up to (and this is coming from someone who’s avowedly not a morning person) are the crisp, cold and gloriously sunny mornings you get during a Russian or Ukrainian winter. Not only that, but when spring and summer roll around, there’s as much sunlight to go around as there is in most other places. 

And as for Germany: in their case, I just don't get it at all. They have relatively mild winters and long hot summers when the Sun hangs around until 10pm, even in August.     

So why this desperate flocking to the beach? Because “desperate” is exactly what it is, and that’s what makes it such a sad spectacle. There’s a sense that, if you find a square metre of sand adjoining a body of water that has any kind of tidal motion, you should immediately organise to put yourself on it and to stay for as long as possible, even if it’s actually pretty crap and you’re being charged extortionately for it by the locals.

I don’t know the answer to this. But I’d like to.

Meanwhile, I’m sharing one corner of the island of Crete with a few hundred Volodyas. My summer school had to downsize one of its camps in Finland, and reduce the number of teachers. So they asked me to come here and do this camp instead. 

The Gates of My Sun-lounge Prison

Skaleta, Isle of Crete, 22.06.16

The island itself is beautiful, in a harsh and red-hued way (though the weather is appalling - 35 degrees every day!). But rather than hire a school or college, the summer camp people chose to hold this camp in a resort hotel, where the Volodyas gather to do their sun-worshipping rituals.

My dislike of resort hotels (already quite considerable, as you’ve no doubt noticed) is growing almost by the hour ... but I'm only here for about 12 days, and there should be at least one or two opportunities to get out of this sun-lounge prison and explore the island properly.

In the meantime, at least it’s a resort hotel in a country that understands food. So the meals are good, if nothing else.

See you :-)