The Colors of the Sea

That-- the colors of the sea -- is what I told him when he said he wanted to make me a gift.  But you see the real story here is that the time I spent with Georgios Chalkoutsakis on that warm Cretan afternoon was the real gift.  'George' as we were to call him before the day was over ( we couldn't master the Greek pronunciation), is a glass bead artist. And lucky for me his home/studio was only two doors down from Poppy's,where we stayed in Kastri on Crete's southern coast.

My neighbor, a fellow tourist from Germany, had told me about George and apparently had told George about me because he was expecting me. He knew I was from America but had no idea where Seattle was located.  He spoke excellent English and told me it was self-taught by watching television - Extreme Makeover is his very favorite show and he only wishes he could tell its star, Ty, how much he likes him.

George would be described by some as 'handicapped', but I would call him gifted..  He is wheelchair bound as result of a premature birth.  His hand movement is also just a bit limited but that hasn't kept him from perfecting his art of glass bead making.

"If you have the time I will make a pearl for you," he said of the glass beads he creates. "What colors do you like?"  It was then we agreed on the colors of the sea.

After watching the bead being created and placed in the cooling sand, George and I settled in for a vist.  We talked about philosophies of life, politics, both Greek and American, the difficult and sad times he had growing up as a child who wasn't the same as normal boys, and about what my life is like.  Joel joined us sometime later and he also was treated to a pearl-making demonstration.

We returned much later - after dinner - for my gift and decided that other pearls should be added to it and a necklace made.  I became George's assistant:  I held the glue.

And it didn't take long until the artist had completed my necklace; I indeed had the colors of the sea.  The price of the finished piece a mere 20E, but ias far as I am concerned, it is priceless!

Poppy's Garden

Let me begin by saying this isn't a set up photo, this was a scene in Poppy's garden, the enchanting place we had seen last fall really was home to studio apartments for rent.  The place is owned by a woman in her 40's known appropriately it seems, as Poppy.  The gardens were a wonderland of lemon trees, jasmine covered fences, artichoke bushes, papaya trees, daisies, roses, geraniums that overflowed their pots, amaryllis plants and other edibles.

Our room was one of the nicest we have found along our travels, stocked with coffee pot, hot water pot, dishes, cookware, even flowered china tea cups and saucers.  The sheets so thick and white they could compete with any four star hotel.  Poppy also provided a basket of fresh picked peppers and tomatoes. Our cost per night: 25E just over $30!

Poppy doesn't have a website. The name of her apartments are Philoxenia, phone number 28950 51371.

On the Road to Eastern Crete

We still had much of Crete to explore so we caught a taxi - our driver is pictued above - talking on his cell phone as he takes us from Loutro to Sfakia.  It is interesting to see in these remote villages how little, if any, internet is available but cell phone are commonplace.

We followed the southern coast heading east to a beachfront spot we had driven through last fall and vowed we would return to if we got back to Crete.  While we couldn't quite remember the details, we recalled a garden, a beautiful garden that we hoped was in front of a tourist accommodation.

There is no direct route on the south coast, as the only National Road, follows the northern coast cities so to get anywhere on this side of the island we needed to head up into the hills and then back down.

It took nearly four hours to drive the 192 kilometers we traveled that day.  We wound up into canyon's as pictured above and then down onto coastal lands, eventually coming to the place we had remembered: Kastri, a strip of development on the Lybian Sea.

We were here in this small village the day our US stock market had its free fall - but the only television in the town's tavern was reporting non-stop of the riots and deaths in Athens. . .while it appeared all hell was breaking loose there our big entertainment was watching the knife-sharpener come to town and sharpen knives for the two tavernas that were open.

Aromatherapy and Athletes

"You know," I called out to Joel who was several meters above me, "travel really does make you stretch yourself, doesn't it?" Enveloped in a sun induced thyme aromatherapy, we had set out on a path leading us from Loutro Bay up among Venetian ruins.  

.  We'd taken a picnic lunch up to the stone table outside the village's church perched on a cliff. The day so clear that in the distanc we could see Gavdos Island (the history of this area goes back so far that St. Paul refers to the island as "Cauda" in Acts 27: 12-16). From the church, we followed a level footpath past the remains of a village centuries ago abandoned.

Paths are marked with blue, black and yellow paint which means something to those who hike regularly.  It was when we spotted a path marked with orange "A" that we decided to veer upwards, it appeared a gentle slope through the thyme. But the gentle path turned into a goat trail and at the point I called out to Joel I was seeking a foothold on a rock and grasp a thyme plant above me to haul/crawl in a rather unlady-like manner to the next level.

It took a bit of work, but we reached the top and had a fantastic view of Phoenix (Fenix) the next bay over.  We saluted our atheletic abilities and have decided the letter A must mean, "Athletes only."

Longing for Loutro

/We've spent long winter months thinking about Loutro, the small hamlet to the west of Hora Sfakia that is accessible only by boat or a steep switchback trail down a mountain side.  We opted to return by ferry this year. At 8.60E for the two of us, the price can't be beat as the 20 minute ride is over seas as smooth as glass.

Loutro is so small that it makes Hora Sfakia, at not quite 400 year round residents, the big city. It is often bypassed though by the folks who arrive on large passenger buses and board the ferry heading further west to Crete's famed Samaria Gorge.

We headed straight for Maria's gift shop as we stayed in her place last year (and yes, she also remembered us).  This year we lucked out and had one of the rooms with a larger balcony (our balcony is pictured above).  We greeted each morning here with dove songs and goat bells provided the background music for this perfect setting.  The price was 30E, or about $43 per night.

And for those wondering: yes, the water is really this blue.

A Taste of Honey - Sweetened with Thyme

Crete is known for its honey.  And we've joined its multitudes of devoted fans.  Cretan honey is the consistency of an icing . . .a thick, golden topping that you nearly need cut though to get to whatever you've put it on.  One of our favorite breakfasts is a simple serving of locally made yogurt with as much honey on top as we can reason would be 'healthful'.  What makes our Sfakian honey special is the slightly smokey flavor with such a strong hint of thyme that it assaults both your sense of smell and taste when opening a jar.

We felt lucky to find some of last year's honey still available; this year's won't appear on grocery shelves until July.  We felt even luckier to find the wild thyme plants in bloom, blanketing the hillsides and the bees so busy with them that they ignored us while we took our hikes through the countryside.  Thyme has covered the hillsides for centuries with some plant stalks looking more like small trunks.

A Wire-less wonderfland

Since leaving Hora Sfakia, we've arrived at our second wonderland along the Lybian Sea on the south coast of Crete and while both have been spectacularly beautiful, remote villages, they are true 'wire-less' wonderlands. . .they are so tucked away below towering peaks that there is no internet.  We have wound our way skywards up a hillside some 12 kilometers  to find a funny little internet cafe tucked away on the second floor, above one of the town's cafes. 

We are also far removed from the political turmoil of Athens. Yesterday's civiil servants strikes there shut down air traffic control and ferries; our neighbors returning to their home in Europe are hoping to leave today but we've all agreed that if you must be stranded somewhere, this is the place to be.  Life continues here with a slow rythmic pace that seems to mimic the slow rythmic waves that brush the shore only footsteps from our door.

Photos and longer descriptions will return to the blog after we become wired again. . . that is, if we can pry ourselves away from the villiage and head to a larger city. 

A Sfakian Sunday

Our Sunday in Sfakia began with deck dining and watching the boats go by. . .it is a laid back day by all standards and tourist season has yet to hit the area so it is as if we have the town almost to ourselves.

After strolling along the waterfront and watching the priest arrive by motorboat, we were reminded that we have always intended to climb the hill to visit the cross in the cave - we weren't aware that there is actually a small chapel built into the cave as well.

So we started up the trail from the road below.  Actually we started from our hotel down by the water's edge, then up to the road and then up the hillside.  Thank goodness for handrails.

                                                    The chapel.

During World War II Allied Troops hid here from the Nazis. A rather somber place.