Honeymoon Roundup - Santorini

Santorini

This was the part of the trip designed for our inevitable exhaustion. We had spent somewhere around 11 days flying, jumping on and off of buses and ferries, climbing mountains, eating too much, and trying to remember all of our various electrical cords and soggy clothing in overstuffed packs. After a 45 minute flight into the tiny airport, we took the transfer to our hotel in the middle of the caldera, and ordered a cheese and olive plate to watch our first Santorini sunset. If you are unfamiliar with Santorini, it's a fairly small island off of Greece, shaped like a crescent - remnants of the volcano it once was. The caldera side is the sheer cliff that looks into the sea, while the opposite side is an array of beaches. At the north tip is Oia, famed spot for sunset gazing and piled high with hotels and restaurants. To our south was Fira, or as I like to think of it, Spring Break City. It is packed with shops, buses navigating tight turns, and tourists on mopeds or singing in unison at bars. In the middle is where we stayed, peaceful Imerovigli.

All of the hotels are situated in tiered planes so as to have the best view from all places at all times. As such, many of the restaurants are on the highest point where the street is. From the street, you will see the hotel entrances, and from there take a number of stairways down to reception, bar and pool, and finally, individual rooms and patios.




When we woke on our first morning on Santorini, we opened up our room's door and window shutters to an utterly tranquil view of the caldera with just a few boats operating their morning service far below, and our shaded patio outfitted with the breakfast we had ordered the day before. The table probably strained under the weight of our American appetites. We had fresh orange juice, cappuccino, frozen cappuccino, Greek omelets, mini croissants, and yogurt with honey, fruit, and walnuts. Let me talk about the yogurt for a minute. Perhaps you are familiar with the Greek yogurt of our markets - thicker, tangier, and more protein than, say, Yoplait Whips! This yogurt was somehow a different animal. It was even thicker, almost ball-shaped, yet completely creamy with no tang - reminiscent of ice cream. Yes, I could do this for breakfast. That was a-ok.

We had talked about this part of the vacation - time to relax and literally do nothing. That lasted all of ten minutes after breakfast was finished when Alex set off to "take a 30 minute walk." I stayed behind to escape the sun, enjoy the room, and upload pictures. About an hour and a half later, Alex plodded back into the room, sweaty, and regaled me with tales of his exploration. Apparently, the plan had been to simply take a look around the town. However, that changed when he got close to a nearby rocky fortress that looked like its own small mountain. The name of this is technically Skaros Rock, and it apparently involved quite a bit of scrambling over old ruins and scalding rocks in the afternoon sun. In order to not drop into the sea, Alex had to cling to the jagged side of this thing, like playing Hot Potato for his life. Of course he did this when I was safely tucked away into our mountain cave, scrolling through Facebook. Keep in mind, this was after I had pleaded with him in Scotland to step away from another windy cliff side where he was testing his luck. This was after our ten-years-ago Oregon trip had nearly given me a heart attack when I saw him army crawling to the edge of the cliff at Wahkeena Falls. I asked him if he had finally gotten his fill of dangling at the edges of dangerous heights and he confirmed.

The rest of that day was spent poolside, drinking liters of bottled water, and enjoying the sun beds. That's the thing about Santorini - it is incredible luxury next to faulty plumbing. The water is not potable, so all water must be taken from bottled sources. Also, you cannot flush toilet paper. But then you step outside into the white-white of the patio with the dazzling water sparkling below, and find yourself on an outdoor bed with sheer curtains surrounding you, blowing in the breeze.






Being in Imerovigli, all of our temporary neighbors were considerate and quiet in this place of unspoken hush. Had we stayed in Fira or Oia, I can't imagine that our lounging time would have been half as peaceful. At some point we decided to venture a few feet away from our hotel to eat at Avocado Restaurant. True to the name, I had the avocado salad, and Alex had his much-anticipated octopus. Throughout the day we had been sampling the traditional Santorini white wine, so dinner was taken with simple sparkling water while the waiter ribbed us by bringing "shots" of iced tea. Heading back to our patio and ending the day with another sunset watching was like joining a daily event with the whole island - everyone could be found on their own perches, with their own drinks of choice, silently staring into the sun.

The next day was spent much like the first, but without the rock climbing and with more pool sunning. We ate at Anogi Restaurant where Alex got another grilled octopus ("The crispy suckers are the best part") and shared an appetizer of fried tomato balls. These are some kind of mash mixture with tomato in it and an herbed yogurt dip on the side. I had a Greek salad with an enormous slab of feta on top. 

 That night we decided to take the path that connects pretty much all of the caldera hotels into Fira. "It would be a nice 30 minute walk," our concierge told us. Well, between all of our picture taking and mistaking dead-end paths for the route, it took us closer to an hour one-way. This wasn't unpleasant, however. We had originally just intended to make an excursion for what was supposed to be the best gelato on Santorini. What we found along the way was the famous view of all the lit up buildings in a multitude of colors at night. You could tell all the angles were well thought out, the colors contrasting with each other. As Fira drew closer, we could hear what may have been "Sweet Caroline" from one of the bars, and passed by young people attempting selfies in the dark or with their faces stuck to each other. We were soon wading through crowds and passing girls tip toeing on the steep cobblestone alleys in heels. Couples zoomed past us on mopeds, stopping and starting with the ill-experience of tourists. We got our Fererro Rocher gelato and took it to a busy piazza to eat while we watched the debauchery around us. We soon started back, partially to avoid sucking in any more fumes, partially to avoid any negative turn the crowd might take, and partially because we still had an hour to walk home.

Our last day on the caldera side would involve a five-hour boat ride, and that simply deserves its own post. Until then...

Honeymoon Roundup - Athens Arrival, and a Home in the Mountains

Athens
This vacation would see us take 8 flights. Mind you, I'm not the most calm flier the world has seen. But we bebopped from Edinburgh to London, London to Athens, and practically fell into the open arms of Alex's cousin, Maria. She is the only one in her family that speaks English, and she and Alex had mostly gotten to know each other via Facebook. Her father, Chris (Alex's uncle) was there, too, and when he hugged Alex tightly to him, there wasn't a dry eye in sight. It still makes me tear up to remember.

Understand, this was not an ordinary meeting. The last time the two had seen each other, Alex was a baby. Moreover, Alex's late father was Chris' older brother, the first of the four siblings to leave Greece forever to live in America. Aristides had been only eleven years old when he was adopted by a relative to alleviate some of the family's crippling poverty that was a result of the 1940 war between Greece and Turkey. The soldiers had decimated the family's livestock and only livelihood, and they simply couldn't recover. The children were just getting by, so a decision was made. While his three other brothers stayed behind, Aristides grew up in America, living a life very different from what he knew in the secluded mountain village of central Greece. Two brothers would follow later, but Chris always stayed in Greece - the last of the line to care for his parents and raise his own children. So when Alex landed in Athens, there was part of Chris that was hugging his lost brothers and healing his fractured family.

One car ride later, and we arrived at the family's Athens apartment for a quick shower and an enormous dinner with the whole family. This was uncle, aunt, two cousins, husband, three small children, and us. The table was absolutely filled with whole fish, meat, a mound of rice, fish sticks, spanikopita, cheese pastry, chocolate pie, and the largest baklava I had ever seen. I had to ask Maria the right approach to take to the fish staring at me from the plate in order to best maneuver the bones. Alex just tore right in. There was a flurry of excitement - everyone speaking Greek over top of one another, firing questions at us that we answered with a look to Maria for translation, the kids crawling over their beloved grandparents, and some kind of Greek soap opera in the background. We became stereotypical foreigners - contributing to the conversation with "Thank you very much," "Ok!" and thumbs up. Around 11, everyone scattered to their sleep.

Lithohori
The next morning, we found ourselves hustling out the door to meet Maria and her husband, Costas, at 6am for the start of our road trip to Aristides' childhood home in the mountains. Over the four hour car ride north, I watched the landscape change from city buildings to dry desert to increasing amounts of green until we were driving along sheer cliff roads on the pine-covered mountains. We made a few stops along the way to break up the drive, including one at a bridge with the most brilliant turquoise water running below.

We took the opportunity to stretch our legs and scramble around the rocks to enjoy the unique view.


As we got into the mountains, our stops became more remote and less, well, English. A few dogs lazed around in the heat, skittish of people. As we got closer to the remote Lithohori (always just behind the next mountain), strangers passing in cars beside us stopped to inquire who we were, how we were, and where we were going. This was just how it was done when moving through the villages. Lithohori itself consisted of three different parts, and they all had Katsiki cousins of varying ages and relations.



Everywhere along the way were churches - either those that could house worshipers, or those that were essentially a small shrine on stilts. One such church was built by Alex's grandfather at a picturesque mountain summit in Lithohori, with a view as far as the eye could see. This location was chosen so that his family, scattered across the world, would always be looked after. Maria told us he would often sit here to pray for his three sons who had left Greece.

The family home sits perched on its own peaceful side of the mountain with just one neighbor close enough to visit. And visit we did. We had drinks and desserts and tried to talk on the patio overlooking the valley. Champagne grapes shaded the Katsiki family patio, and succulents grew in the concrete. The inside was covered in Greek Orthodox icons and family pictures, including those of Alex. This truly was his home, too.

           

Next was a trip to the dizzying heights of the cemetery to visit the graves of the grandparents. Oil was poured, incense was lit, and we took a moment to consider their lives, the family, and the unexpected beauty of the view from this place.

We walked around Lithohori a bit, visiting the school and a local cafe, but we needed to get back on the road to make the longer, winding 6 hour trip back to Athens. We passed by natural spring water drinking fountains with faces, a gloriously rusty abandoned truck, and what else, I'm not sure. I fell asleep in the heat of the afternoon sun, unaccustomed to it after so many days of Scottish mist.

Honeymoon Roundup - Nessie, and Our Last Day in Scotland

Leaving the Highlands

I hadn't wanted to go to Loch Ness at all. It was a tourist trap, not even one of the prettier lochs, and it was time we could be spending doing something more authentic. In fact, I was in a snit about leaving the highlands altogether. It was our last full day in Scotland, and I didn't want to say goodbye to the glorious mountains, the soft mists, the spectrum of greens. We were on a path back to Edinburgh, back to flatter lands and busier roads, leaving behind the one-lane mountain passes. The next day would see us on an early flight out.
And true, while there were speed boats that promised "Adventure!" and "Hunting the Monster!" on their sides in vinyl, Loch Ness itself was a perfectly charming place to grab lunch and enjoy eating it along the channel.

Before all of that, though, we left Plockton more beautiful that morning than we had seen it before, and made our way toward Eileen Donan Castle. The water in the harbor was still and glassy, reflecting the small town all around it.

I knew Eileen Donan mostly from Instagram, following the account prior to leaving. It is a lovely castle on the water, home to many weddings. It also has the traditional treacherous slippery stone steps, and a whole host of passageways to explore. We continued to be blessed with still reflective waters all that day, making Scotland just what I wanted - two of it.

We were able to spend some leisurely time exploring, moving through the tight enclosures and mossy exterior.

This was the last of the castles we would see, and it was interesting to note how different each of them was from the rest. Some were gilded, fit for princesses, and others were lost in rubble. Some were built with the idea of tours in mind while others were downright hazardous. A few had pristine gardens, and the rest grew wildflowers in stone notches.

We soon moved on, toward lunch and Nessie, but not without some tremendous views along the way. The highlands don't do anything by half measure.

Much as I had scorned it mentally, I still had to have my picture by Loch Ness. Lunch consisted of veggie burger and the ever present chips, while Alex had a curious neon green cup of pea mash. We had both expected it to be more like maybe mashed potatoes, but this was more like split pea soup, only...soupier? And bright. Abnormally bright. And it only had a tiny wooden implement with which to eat it. He stuck mostly to his protein bar and we both lounged by the welcoming sides of the canal. 

Before reaching Edinburgh, we made a stop by an old bridge with an impressive stone structure, as well as a lovely wooded path in the Cairngorms National Park. Here we walked on the spongey forest floor and gazed up at the native Caledonian Pines. This was another teaser - a place I could have stayed for hours, or perhaps even defected to and become a woodland creature myself.

Then we were off once more to Edinburgh, to race through the rain with our packs, and eat one more exhausted dinner at the hotel before our early departure.