Tuscany has held a special place in my heart ever since I visited for the first time with my family ten years ago. It is an almost mythical place; a countryside filled with endless sunflower fields, rolling hills, cypress trees in unimaginable straight lines, vineyards stretching as far as the eye can see, and countless other tastes, sounds, smells, and sights
Our villa was actually part of a small family-run wine and olive oil producing estate in the Chianti region between Firenze and Siena. Six of us stayed there, including Lizzie, Gloriana, Wes, Genevieve, Sy and I. Marisa was supposed to come with us but unfortunately she wasn’t able to – she was sorely missed, and I can’t even count the number of times she was referenced whenever something interesting happened. Thankfully, we were able to get some extra time with Genevieve who changed her plans around so that she could join us.
After picking up our boat/tank/van in Firenze also known as Mussolini (a huge silver Opel Vivaro), we waited for Lizzie’s flight from Paris which had been delayed almost two hours after hitting a bird. Once she was in the car, we proceeded to start out on the wrong highway for 20 minutes before I realized my mistake (even my superpower navigation skills are known to be wrong every now and then, though I must point out that the Italians are horrible with signs…as in, they don’t exist).
When we finally turned off the Monteriggioni exit, there was a collective gasp of appreciation from Moose (Mussolini’s nickname) as all of us looked up onto the summit of the ridge. Looking back at us was the stunning hilltop city of Monteriggioni, a tiny medieval town of just two streets, completely surrounded by an ancient city wall, an almost perfect circle interrupted every fifty feet or so by beautiful stone towers. It was amazing, and in the evening light it was lit like a shimmering beacon hinting at the beauty to come in the week ahead.
It was almost 10pm when we inched down the 2km long dirt road leading to the town (which is a title I would be
As for our villa itself, it was a three-bedroom stunner complete with a big sitting room and fireplace, a large antique kitchen with beautiful glass chandelier, and two bathrooms, one of which was larger than most studio apartments in NYC. The next morning we were shocked yet again when we were able to appreciate the place in the splendor of sunlight – it was like nothing I’ve ever seen before and I will never forget the goosebumps I got the first time I looked out the window onto the fields. Oh. My. Goodness.
There were four “villas” in total, including one which held an adorable Irish family we befriended with a young pre-teen girl and twin eight year old boys. We immediately bonded with them over Harry Potter and spent some time with them in the pool doing underwater flips and handstands. The name of the property is Fattoria de Lornano, and the family that owns the winery was adorable.
It is owned and run by a husband and wife and their 27 year old son, who helps with every aspect of running the winery. We befriended Sebastiano, the son, immediately and spent three nights hanging out with him and a variety of friends on the poolside patio by the pool drinking the Fattoria’s homemade Vinsanto (which is made from grapes but tastes like sweet Whisky), learning Italian drinking games and teaching them our American versions, and generally cracking up as we attempted to communicate with each other. One night may have culminated in Sy jumping into the pool in her vintage dress. I’ll leave that story there.
The first day we traveled back to Firenze, since we had made reservations to visit the famous Uffizi Gallery. There isn’t much to say about that amazing museum that hasn’t been said already, but just believe me, there is some art in there that takes your breath away. As much as we’ve seen endless reproductions of Boticelli’s work, nothing can prepare you for staring at it face to face. That night we ate at the one tiny restaurant in Lornano, which was delicious to say the least. Wes even had a 1.1kg Florentine steak which was absolutely succulent along with being enormously huge.
The next day we spent almost entirely on the property in Lornano, since we were all so eager to explore it. That was
Tuesday we decided to drive almost three hours to see Pisa, that infamous city of the leaning tower. It was blistering hot, and we arrived at the base of the tower covered in perspiration but excited nonetheless. We didn’t climb to the top because the waiting list was enormous, but we did check out the cathedral and baptistery which I personally think don’t get enough credit. They are beautiful. The baptistery, which is really just a circular two story building provides amazing acoustics, and a woman who worked there serenaded us all with a haunting melody which stuck in my head for the rest of the day even though it consisted of only three or four notes.
On Wednesday, it was market day in Siena so we decided to go and check it out. Wes decided to stay behind so we
On Thursday, we visited San Gimignano, famous for its many tall stone towers, which residents built both for protection and defense and also to show off. A few of us climbed to the top of the tallest tower, and the view over the Tuscan countryside was absolutely breathtaking. That night, our villa’s owners had a degustazione (wine tasting) for us, and Gloriana and I served as interpreters for Sebastiano as we attempted to explain to the Irish family and the rest of our group the finer points of making Chianti and other kinds of wine. Even though this is a small family-run place, we were all impressed by just how much is needed to produce good wine. Also, I really loved tasting the wine and watching Sy get tipsy from the small sips she was taking.
Friday was our last day so we spent it in and around the villa. Lizzie, Sy and I drove Genevieve into Siena so she could catch a train to meet up iwht her brother in Switzerland, and that afternoon, the four girls decided to head to an outlet mall to stock up on some Italian designer clothes. As it turns out, there were few designer stores within our budget, but we still did a bit of damage.
The next morning we departed for Siena and said goodbye to the villa, but I know I will go again – it was absolutely the best place we stayed on the entire trip.
I should probably begin this post by recounting a bit of the ferry ride between Split, Croatia and Ancona, Italy. First of all, Wes was insistent that we spend a bit of extra money so that we can sleep comfortably on the overnight trip. We ended up springing for the VIP Suite – yes, that’s right, I said VIP Suite – which was HUGE and really not that expensive considering this was a night of lodging for the two of us while also serving as international transportation.
Anyway, we arrived early in the morning in Ancona, and didn’t have to check into our hotel in Firenze (Florence) until later that afternoon. The four of us (Genevieve, Sy, Wes and I) decided it might be fun to stop in Bologna for the afternoon so that we could see that city as well given the fact that we’d have to pass through it on the train in order to get to Firenze.
Bologna is home to the oldest University in Europe, and maybe the entire western world (I’m not quite sure, I’ve heard conflicting things). You could almost tell right away that this was not your usual college town. For one thing, the city had a long history that I don’t usually connect with American college towns. Bologna is actually renowned for its miles and miles of arcades, which are archways in front of buildings that provide not only shaded sidewalks but beautiful paths under lights and arches as you walk down the street. The buildings were old, and full of character, and the energy was palpable. There were students everywhere, even though it’s summer.
When we arrived at the “campus” of the university, we ran into a group of students celebrating some kind of academic achievement (though it could have just as easily been hazing for a fraternity), with people wearing laurel wreaths on their heads and togas on their bodies. They were carrying around bottles of champagne and laughing in large groups…I still am not completely sure what they were celebrating but it looked like tons of fun. We had a quick bite in a student-run café/bar, and then walked around the center of the city until we had to run back to the station to catch our train.
We disembarked in Firenze and braved the insane heat to drop our stuff off at the hotel. Gloriana and Lizzie were
As it turns out, we were attempting to kill the several hours before the show and saw people congregating in the courtyard of a huge historic building and went in to investigate. Fortuitously, we had happened upon a free concert given by the city featuring a famous tenor, soprano and pianist who sang several songs for the crowd in the beautiful evening. We tried to get Sy up and out of bed in time to catch some of it, but by the time we returned with Sy in tow, we realized we had to head in to the theater because a huge line was forming and we needed three seats together.
Even though the real movie couldn’t hold a candle to the imaginary movie I had created in my mind for the book, viewing it was a fabulous experience. Accompanied by what seemed like the entire American study-abroad student contingent of Florence, we were able to watch it in a pristine old opera house which featured two floors of seating (we opted to sit on the ground level rather than the balcony for the sake of Wes’s legroom), and even provided a real-life intermission halfway through the movie!
The next morning we picked up Gloriana, the car, and Lizzie (in that order, of course), and headed for our villa in Tuscany! The next post will cover what we did during the week we were in paradise - I mean, Toscana.
Pictures below!
Wes and I flew into Croatia via an entire day of traveling from Venice. We had to fly through Rome and had a six hour layover which proved to be an ample opportunity to catch up on all our reading.
Anyway, when we finally arrived in Split the sun was setting over the stark grey mountains in the background, casting a bright orange and pink glow over the white buildings of the city as our plane landed. The city overlooks the Adriatic Sea, and the water was quite beautiful in the setting sun. It sparkled blue, silver and sapphire all the way through to the horizon.
Getting to the center of the city was a bit of a debacle, as we got stuck in traffic from the airport and arrived two hours later than we had originally planned. As we stepped off the airport bus and attempted to gather our thoughts and belongings, Wes felt a tugging on his bag and immediately whipped around.
What he saw was an older Croatian woman attempting to open one of the pockets of his backpack. He confronted her and I still can’t believe what happened. She literally walked around him, and took out a pair of keys. She then proceeded to completely ignore him and pretend nothing had ever happened as she opened the door to the little tobacco stand right behind us. Apparently, she WORKED at the tobacco stand in the main square, and was trying to rob Wes. Let’s just say he was a scary sight. I wouldn’t attempt to pickpocket him anytime soon just in case any of you were considering it. Thankfully, we met up with Sy and Genevieve shortly after and were able to vent our frustration quickly.
Split’s port area is quite pretty, and their main seaside promenade is brand new. Little cafes and benches line the
The next day we left for Hvar island, one of the many beautiful finger-shaped islands on the Dalmatian Coast of Croatia. Hvar town was absolutely gorgeous, a pile of sandy-colored houses with red terracotta roofs. Surrounding the town was a dark green blanket of pines and mountains on two sides, and sparkling clear water on the other two.
The four of us stayed at a small apartment in town, complete with its own little dog guarding the property. We were greeted by bougainvillea and lemon trees everywhere, and immediately set out to enjoy the day by spending some quality time at the beach. The water was clear and cool, and the sunlight was bountiful. We spent the night walking around the old town, visiting the citadel overlooking the city, and enjoying a wonderful dinner of freshly caught local fish.
The next day we left for an all day ferry to Dubrovnik, the beautiful walled city far south down the coast. It took us seven hours of chugging along before we finally arrived in the late afternoon.
We had apparently timed our trip perfectly to coincide with the start of the Libertas summer festival. The opening ceremonies were to be held that very night, and from what people were telling us, it was going to be a fabulous party. We checked into our rooms in the home of an adorable old woman who became like a little grandma to the four of us during our two nights there. Who cares if we can’t speak the same language? Some things transcend speech.
The city itself was extremely appealing; the old town was a sparkling white, light-filled place with a simultaneously beachy and medieval feel. There were tons of people around, but the town remained accessible through the chaos. The first day we walked around and explored a bit before positioning ourselves at the nearest beach and enjoying a fabulously refreshing swim in the Adriatic.
We knew we wanted to be in prime viewing position for the opening night fireworks in the old harbor that night, so we headed to the supermarket early to pick up some food, local wine, and peaches to cut up and put in our glasses. We found prime seats on the dock, and settled in for what ended up being a 20 minute long fireworks extravaganza, which ALMOST made up for missing July 4th back home.
The next day we were supposed to go on a kayak tour around the city, but the tour was canceled due to high winds and choppy conditions. Instead Wes and I walked the city walls and took in the views around the city. We later met up with Genevieve and Sy again for some late lunch and another round of explorations.
Before we arrived in Dubrovnik, Genevieve had gotten some recommendations for places to try while there, and several people mentioned a bar located on the rocks outside the city walls, with one person even calling it “the best bar in Europe.” Even though that claim may have been a little farfetched, we still were excited to find what promised to be a unique bar experience. Following the unhelpful signs simply pointing the way to “Cold Drinks,” we passed through several deserted streets before coming across a break in the city walls. Through a gate and down some steps and we found ourselves faced with something amazing – literally, a sky FULL of beautiful stars. I have rarely seen so many in my life. Living in or near big cities all your life does that to a girl.
Anyway, we found four chairs at the candle-lit bar facing the sea and stars and proceeded to have hilarious conversations about life, science, physics and even Oprah over questionable Croatian wine. It was a night I’ll never forget.
The next day we decided to rent a car and drive the beautiful coastal route all the way back up to Split in time to take the overnight ferry to Italy later that day. We rented a car from an “agency” which we’re convinced consisted of one dude and his extra vehicle. Regardless, we loaded up with snacks and headed up along the coast, hugging the mountains as we made our way North. The view was absolutely amazing, and the four hour drive went by really quickly what with the vistas, the cheesy music, and the good conversation.
We made such good time we were able to go an hour out of our way to a small medieval town called Trogir, another walled beauty on a small island just North of Split. After spending a few hours at the port admiring the most insane boat we’d ever seen up close, we finally ended our time in Croatia with a quick dinner in Split before hightailing it onto the ferry.
Goodbye, Croatia!
There is little that I could say about Venice that hasn’t already been said. Beautiful? Check. Unique? Yup. Jam-packed with tourists? Everywhere. And as much as I loved the city for what it is, I couldn’t help being a little disappointed. I know, I know, how could I be disappointed with Venice? Well, I am aware that I’m being a little ridiculous here but at the same time it’s hard to love a city that feels so…well…fake.
Let me explain. It was just SO tourist-focused that it was hard to sniff out any whiffs of authenticity anywhere. I’m not saying I want to plop myself down in a working class Italian city so I can feel better than the cliché tourist…no not at all. I just wish that the overall experience in Venice wasn’t quite so kitsch.
Anyway, let me start at the beginning. We arrived in Venice on a Friday night, when the city was ripe with people and ambience. The sun was lowering in the sky and we hopped on a vaporetto to find our way to the hotel. This was by far the nicest hotel we would be staying at, not counting Paris of course. There were few other options on a weekend in July for this popular city, but in the end I’m glad we chose it – it was amazing. Tucked away in a tiny piazza not even on the map, the hotel was an oasis in the maddening rush of tourists.
We decided to do the gondola thing right away, since we heard its best to do it about an hour before the sun sets. We negotiated with our gondoliere (thank goodness I can speak Italian) and got a somewhat less extortionary price for a wonderful and relaxing trip through the back canals. We passed Marco Polo’s house and Cassanova’s house while I attempted to converse with Silvio, our gondeliere, about his upbringing as a young Venetian. Apparently, gondolas are passed down through families, as they’re so expensive and hard to make. He started learning the family trade when he was just four. As is, he was able to maneuver us through tiny little corners without ever touching a thing. We even passed another boat whose gondeliere was singing O Sole Mio. What a cliché, but what a hilarious one. I loved it.
That night we searched high and low for a place to eat that wasn’t rife with tourist menus and pictures of the food outside. I mean come on, do you NEED to serve French fries with everything? Where’s all the good Italian food, people? We ended up finding a place that was perfectly suitable in a tiny piazza. The waiters asked me where I was
The next day we began in Piazza San Marco, bypassing the church to check out the Palazzo Ducale, where the Doges of Venice ruled during the city’s golden years. It was quite pretty, though my favorite room by far was the Map Room, which was adorned with laughably incorrect renderings of such places as Asia, the Americas, and the Middle East. We even passed over the Bridge of Sighs to see the prisons, followed by a stop in the largest ballroom in Europe, adorned with the largest oil painting in the world which was on one of the room’s walls.
Later we climbed the Bell Tower for a fabulous view of the city and its lagoon. We could see all the beautiful rooftops and the glittering canals from that vantage point. While up there, we met a family visiting from Massachussetts whom we chatted up while waiting in line to come back down to terra firma.
From there we stopped for lunch at a restaurant near our hotel, where Wes had a three course meal and I had a classic Venetian bellini to go with my homemade mushroom ravioli. At least we found one legitimate restaurant among
The afternoon we spent in Murano, taking in the classic island’s glassmaking past. We watched a demonstration at one of the glass factories, and watched one of the artisans blow a beautiful flower vase in just a few short minutes. We were impressed enough until he created a picture perfect horse in thirty seconds! Amazing. We had to resist the urge to buy the fruits of his labor only to have it all break in our bags.
That night we explored a few more parts of the city on foot as we searched for a place for dinner. We ended up in another beautiful piazza and enjoyed our last meal in the city. To cap it all off, we were making our way home and in a random darkened and relatively deserted side street we heard opera music coming from somewhere above us. We looked up and realized we were standing below the open windows of one of the city’s many famous opera houses! We must have stood there for half an hour enjoying the beautiful music before heading home. I will never forget it.
Until next time!
Italy at long last! This is the country I’ll be leaving from, in just three more weeks. I can’t believe I’m back in a place where I can speak the language – though the amount of English we heard in Cinque Terre was a bit of a downer. Regardless, it’s nice to be able to be polite again!
We arrived in Monterosso al Mare, the first of the five towns that make up the Cinque Terre (five lands). The gorgeous Cinque Terre National Park on the Ligurian Coast is a place I had been hearing about for years, and I was glad we traveled a bit out of our way to be able to see it firsthand. Monterosso was facing the sea; its train station was just meters from the beach. The main promenade on the water served as a perfect place to take in the sights – the scenery was unbelievable. After a short walk along the water to our hotel, Wes and I got ready to do some exploring.
We changed into our bathing suits and joined the hordes of tourists and backpackers at the beach. I have no idea why, but we saw more young English-speaking backpackers here than anywhere else on our tour. We wanted to jump in the water, but the sea was so rough, the ferries weren’t even operating. After a short fight with the water (the water won after providing me with a face full of salt), I admitted defeat and joined Wes back on our towel. We decided to get a drink on the beach before having some dinner in town. We ended up falling prey to the landscape, and instead of choosing a tasty genuine restaurant in town, we ate on a beautiful rocky promontory that provided beautiful views but mediocre cuisine. It was ok though, because we were in Italy!
The next day we planned to take a train to the other end of the Cinque Terre and hike the entire length of the park. We were going to trek through all five villages and put our endurance to the test in the hot Mediterranean sun…
While waiting for the train that morning, we noticed a large group of retired English ladies who reminded us a fair amount of twittering birds. They were so adorable we decided to try and sit near them on the train. We ended up speaking with two of them, who told us they were there with the Royal Music Academy, and they were there to sing in some of the piazzas that week. In fact, that night, we saw a performance in the square of some of the younger opera singers who were traveling along with The Birds. It was fabulous.
Anyway, we arrived at the start of our hike, which began in Riomaggiore. The first stretch, a leisurely 20 minute walk, featured the famed Via Dell’ Amore, an enclosed concrete tunnel liberally decorated with love-themed graffiti. When we arrived in the second town, we spent a fair amount of time admiring its beauty and watching sunbathers sunning themselves on the rocks in the port while kids jumped into the crashing waves. The sea still hadn’t settled down, so the waves were quite large. The spray reached us up on the trail as we watched everything going on below.
We continued on to Corniglia, a forty five minute walk away. We thought we had reached the town when we realized that the town was not on the sea as we had expected, but perched all the way on top of the cliffs – a steep climb straight up. We were determined to make good time, so we started walking while the sun beat down mercilessly on our necks. After we arrived at the top, it was time for lunch. We stopped at a small café in a piazza and enjoyed a quick bite.
The town itself was gorgeous; a jumble of bright houses arranged in a charmingly haphazard way. Vineyards surrounded the mountain, and there were plants growing from every free piece of dirt in the town. Flowers, fruits and wonderful smells guided us as we continued on the trail to our next stop.
Vernazza was quite far – an hour and a half long walk through the highest terrain we’d seen thus far. It felt like we were walking uphill for a lifetime. Step after endless rocky step led us higher and higher above the coast until we felt like we could see for miles – well, we could! We looked North to our final destination in Monterosso and south to see how far we had already come. Little did we know that the last two sections would be by far the longest. We had three and a half hours of hiking ahead of us.
As we walked along, we encountered many others doing the same thing. American backpackers, families with children, older couples with fancy walking sticks – it was a motley collection of travelers. We kept on plodding, and Wes and I couldn’t help but wonder just how sore we would be the next day (not too bad at all, for those who are curious). The view around every single corner was more beautiful than the last, and what with all the physical beauty, we couldn’t help but count our lucky stars to be doing what we were doing.
We arrived in Vernazza hot, sweaty, and happy. We only had one more section to go – the steepest and longest trek of all. We decided to stop for a pizza boost in Vernazza, which I think was my favorite of all five villages. The town was literally suspended above the sea on a rock outcropping that seemed to defy physics. Houses were piled on houses, and the bright facades seemed to magnify the sparkling crystal water and bright blue sky.
We took a deep breath and continued on for the last part of the hike – a two hour sojourn through brambles and bees filled with yapping American girls and enormous stone steps that were too high for someone my height. Olive groves surrounded us and the sea would emerge from time to time between the leaves to expose us to a splendor it’s hard to get used to. We walked forever uphill before finally reaching the top and making our way slowly down. Our walk ended with the steepest stairs I’d ever seen – twenty minutes downhill with no break. T
The hike took us about 5 hours and was absolutely awe inspiring. Every two seconds I felt like I was being reintroduced to the scenery – I kept falling in love with what I was seeing over and over again.
That night we ate at an amazing local place before listening to some opera in the square. We didn’t last long, and ended up passing out really early after all the exertion. All in all Cinque Terre was tremendous, hopefully the pictures will show at least some of its splendor!
Note: Sorry, but this is a very long entry. It’s mostly because I want to remember everything and wanted to get it all down before it gets lost forever. Also, I apologize but I don’t have time to write in photo titles. I’ll try and fill them in when I can.
This part of my four-month trip is by far the hardest to describe. How can I possibly put into words how it felt to sail between those mythical islands, the sapphire blue sea luminous and radiant in the Mediterranean sun? It’s like trying to describe with words the way it feels to be truly calm, content, and happy in a given point in time. The best I can do is to describe what we did, and hope that the words convey even a fraction of the feeling of being there.
Viv, her father, Sy, Wes and I began by visiting Sifnos for two nights before meeting the rest of the group in Milos where we’d begin our time on the boat. The five of us stayed in the very same hotel I stayed in last time I came to Greece with the girls a full five years ago (I can’t believe it’s been that long!). We spent both days at the beautiful Platys Gialos beach, a shining bay of blue and green lined with whitewashed restaurants and trendy bar/cafes. The arid mustard-colored land serves as a beautiful contrast to the stark white buildings and the mesmerizing bright color of the water and sky. I think Wes put it best when he asked me “Does this country have a single cloud?”…from my experience thus far, the answer would be no.
We spent our evenings in Sifnos eating Souvlaki (Wes having three times as much as everyone else) and relishing in the fabulous character and vibe of the main town, Apolonia, at night. One night we spent in Kastro, which (true to its name) was home to a tiny Cuban-themed bar serviced by a wonderful little Greek guy sporting a full grey moustache, bandana, and cut off shorts that were so small they literally provided us with a view of the bottom of his tucked-in Che Guevara shirt. We watched the light of the day fade as kittens played on the mountain below before walking down a gorgeous path to a tiny church on a rock outcrop overlooking the sea. We rang the bell in tribute to the beauty of the place, and made our way back up the path, panting as we climbed but loving every minute of it.
The next day was spent at the port, swimming and getting ready for our next ferry to Milos. Viv got on an earlier ferry so as to meet up with her boyfriend Will, her mom and Margot who were already on, having boarded in Athens. Wes, Sy and I bid farewell to Viv’s dad and got ready to board the slower ferry that would take us to Milos just a few minutes after everyone else. Things got a bit hairy for a while there, since the ferry was late, and the three of us got on the wrong ferry before thankfully being told just in time by a boat official and rushing back off before the ship left. We finally made it on the right one and arrived in time to meet up with the rest of the group.
It was at this point that we met our fabulous captain, Nikos, for the first time. Nikos is a native of Naxos, the largest island in the cyclades, but he has been living and working in Milos where he lives with his family for the last 15 years
Our home for the next week, the catamaran Chrisopalandou, was awesome. A double-hulled, gleaming white speedster, it was the perfect place for us to spend our next week as we mimicked Odysseus. Our group consisted of Nikos, the captain, Vicky, her friend Anna Maria (sweetest woman ever, runs a gourmet Italian food shop and is the official representative of all Italians living in Greece), Margot, Viv, Will, Sy, Wes and me. You couldn’t have chosen a better-suited group for this kind of adventure. It was perfect.
We spent the first night in Milos, enjoying a night in the Hora (the main town of an island) and eating and drinking way too much. The next morning, Nikos took us first around the outside of the island, where we dropped anchor for the first time and he told us to put on our flippers and masks and to follow him. We swam into a cave and emerged a short time later in what almost felt like a natural arena – there was a huge hole in the rocks above us through which sunlight was streaming through, illuminating the water and allowing us to take in the beauty of the sea life below.
We next stopped in a small bay, where the water was so clear it literally looked like a large swimming pool surrounded by towering rocks. We swam for a while around the boat, diving off the sides before coming back and enjoying freshly
I think it was the second day that the young people on the boat became addicted to Spades, the card game I used to play ceaselessly with my friends in high school. Bear in mind that from this point forward, every free moment was spent playing the game. It was hilarious, and there was a very detailed and confusing score sheet that was guarded jealously from the elements throughout the week. At one point, Nikos was making fun of us for being able to tune out the beauty around us for long enough to play such heated games, but in a way we probably needed to take our eyes away from the surroundings for a few minutes so our senses wouldn’t explode from the stimulation.
The second day we spent exploring Polyaigos before sailing to Folegandros in the evening. It was a calm trip, and it seemed like every direction we looked in featured shadowy outlines of the many islands that surrounded us. The cove where we spent our day featured a natural stone arch, the likes of which I have never seen in real life. The sea was a bright turquoise, and the water seemed to shine as if it was illuminated from below. We then went a little further
At that point, the air was so hot it literally felt like we were all being slowly baked by the atmosphere. Even the sea breeze didn’t help. We slowly traipsed around the main town on the island, careful not to move too quickly so as to prevent ruining yet another shirt with buckets full of sweat. There were stray cats everywhere (indeed, there were stray cats on every island – it’s apparently bad luck for people not to feed them), and Wes made friends with a particularly lethargic kitty who was passed out on a stone wall.
After a quick dip in the bay the next morning, the sails went up for the first time (however briefly), and we made our way to yet another beautiful cove where we spent the day pretending to be fish again. What with all the swimming, reading, eating and card playing going on, I was in heaven. There’s no better way to spend a day in my opinion, especially when you cap it all off with a classic Greek taverna serving mounds and mounds of glorious food, this time on the island of Sikinos, where we had dinner. Before eating, we climbed to the top of Sikinos where we saw a solitary white Monastery and watched the sunset from the cliffs.
As we were making our way down the steep path to the town, we saw a tiny kitten making its way awkwardly along a thorny field. It got to the end of the terrace, and there was a huge drop down to the path. The kitten fell, and landed miraculously on its feet, but something was wrong. We went to investigate and realized that his little eyes seemed to be glued shut – either because he was only a day or two old or because he was a sick. He was adorable, and none of us could bear to leave him. We searched for his mother but couldn’t find her anywhere. We called him Mishos, naturally, and carried him to the town, where it would be more likely that the people living there would see him and feed him. It was hard to leave him.
We didn’t stop for the night in Sikinos, instead we continued on to Ios. It was total culture shock for us, having spent the last three nights on tiny islands barely frequented by Greek tourists let alone foreign ones. In Ios, this was not the case, and we heard more English there than we had the entire trip. We enjoyed ourselves at a tiny outdoor bar where we people watched for hours before making our way back to our trusty floating home.
On Thursday, we left Ios for the tiny Irakleia, where we spent the day at a gorgeous beach, not that any of us actually spent any time on the rocky shore. Why hurt your feet when you have a boat like ours to station yourself on? Seriously though, we had a busy day which included a heated game of paddleball, where Wes and Will blew mine and Margot’s record of 63 consecutive hits to shreds. But it’s ok because we weren’t really trying. Also, they suck.
At this point, Nikos had already gone swimming at every single island and caught fish at each stop. Sometimes it was a wide-eyed mackerel, sometimes a slimy octopus, and sometimes a bag full of jet black sea urchins. We never knew what he’d find for us, but we always tried it. That day he was swimming around in a weighted wetsuit with a spear gun, and the excitement on all of our faces was probably the best ever when he emerged with a huge red starfish the size of my torso. Amazing. We spent the night at the harbor in Schoinoussa, another tiny island featuring more beautiful water and gorgeous scenery.
The next morning we set sail for the tiny island of Koufonisi, where we spent the day swimming, reading and exploring as usual. That night, however, we sailed to Naxos, the largest of all the Cyclades. We passed kite surfers on the way, flipping over the waves like dolphins. When we arrived at sunset, the harbor was hopping and filled with people of all shapes and colors. We spent a glorious evening inhaling souvlaki alongside sweets from Nikos’s brother’s pastry shop. We also visited the iconic square-shaped ruins of a monastery by the port. Seeing the sunset framed through its rocky edges was amazing.
The next day we sailed (with all the sails up for the first time!) from Naxos around Paros to Antiparos where we spent the night. The day was filled with more swimming and resting but the night was hilarious. We docked in a small harbor that featured just one tiny outdoor restaurant famous for its lamb chops. Little did we know, however, that though the restaurant was full, the other people there were guests at a particularly raucous wedding. We eavesdropped on the toasts and soon discovered that it was a happy marriage between a Greek girl and a Spanish guy, which proved an excellent combination in terms of music and merriment. We even joined in at one point, dancing to a few songs just outside the party under the full moon. We took a walk further up the island and let out the rest of our steam before returning to the boat, but I lost my temper with the party around 5 am when the music was STILL pounding as loud as ever and shaking me awake in my sleep.
Our last voyage was from Antiparos to Sifnos, where we would be meeting up with Viv’s dad again. The best part of this day was not the swimming, but the long ride across the sea to Sifnos. Nikos tried to warn us, but we were laughably unprepared for what lay ahead for us. The wind was the strongest we had seen it, and the waves were IMMENSE. Even my iPod went down in the salty struggle. It was insane! Literally, three straight hours of madness as our little boat traversed monstrous wave after monstrous wave.
The first few minutes of the crossing we spent sitting on the front of the boat, laughing and yelling as we careened u
Several hours of shrieking, laughing, and painful bellyflops later, Viv and I retired – shaking with the weakness of having clung to the net for so long – to the back of the boat. I still have bruises on my knees from pressing them into the rope with such fervor for such a long time. Wes was the last of our foursome to admit defeat, but not after getting pounded with freezing water as he yelled into the wind, inspiring fright from the rest of us on the boat. Of course, when we made it to the back of the boat, it was to find Nikos grinning like a six year old and sporting a completely dry physique as he laughed at us crazy kids. To top it all off, Sy, having found the ONE spot on the entire boat that wasn’t wet, slept through the majority of the onslaught having not felt a thing.
As our stomachs recovered from nature’s greatest rollercoaster ride, we finally arrived in Sifnos. We spent our last night in a small bay before going out that night in Apolonia, having come full circle in our week on the boat.
I can’t even pretend to have the verbal capacity to sum up a week like that one. Let’s just say it was probably the best week of my life, and leave it at that.
Pictures!
Wes and I arrived in Athens to sweltering, record-breaking heat. It honestly felt like being hit in the face with a hair dryer. Of course, that didn’t take away from how much fun we had there!
Upon meeting Viv and her mom Vicky, We promptly got Wes a haircut (thanks, Viv!) and stocked up for our voyage to the islands. That night, Viv and Vicky were hosting a party for all of the cousins, and we were lucky enough to be a part of the fiesta. We had an amazing time in Vicky’s BEAUTIFUL home, overlooking the Athens valley as the sun set to reveal a sparkling sky, eating scrumptious food and enjoying the lively conversation. In fact, there was one point in the proceedings where the wives of some of the cousins were trying to figure out how everyone was related, and it was revealed that the cousins themselves had no idea. It was classic. I love big families!
The next day, the city was experiencing a huge heat wave, and Wes and I decided to spend the bulk of the day in the (air conditioned) National Museum. We somehow found our way there before passing out from heatstroke, and were immediately stunned by the treasure trove of priceless Greek art on display. Nerds that we are, we spent half our time staring into the glass cases and drawing comparisons to the slides we were forced to memorize for one of our favorite classes in college – Images of Alexander the Great. You can imagine our geeky delight when the Mask of Agamemnon greeted us at the door, followed by statues that we were forced to write essays on at length over the semester.
At the same time, it was quite interesting to note the stark differences in the Greek museum and the London museum I visited just a few months ago, which is currently displaying the bulk of the treasures “rescued”/”stolen” from the Acropolis. The absence of the friezes was definitely noticeable, but I am no closer to deciding how I feel about the whole situation. Regardless, we had a great time at the musuem and I’m really glad we went.
After some Greek coffee and a few pit stops to pick up breezy linen shirts for Wes and a new pair of sunglasses on the street, we made our way to the Acropolis. We had to stop more than once just to catch our breath in the nearest air conditioned store or café, since the heat at that point was becoming insane. It was around 2pm but the sun was beating down on us mercilessly. We meandered around the neighborhoods below the Acropolis before making our way up the hill, but when we finally began our ascent we were both stunned and intimidated into silence. Even though I had visited before, I had forgotten how impressive the Acropolis really is,
Encircled by a picturesque forest of olive and cypress trees, the Acropolis remains as difficult to access today on foot as it was thousands of years ago. Making our way up to the top was a journey fraught with many obstacles – tour groups, dry dust, and breathtaking vistas that are liable to make you lose your concentration as you climb. It was marvelous. When we got to the top we made sure to take the necessary cheesy photos before visiting the museum. It is definitely an amazing work worthy of the worldwide fame it enjoys. We stayed a while, admiring the way the city of Athens extends in every direction, a sea of white that seems to go on forever. The sea sparkled in the distance, and we were sad to go.
Thankfully, we had much to look forward to, as our trip to Sifnos would begin the following morning on a 7am ferry!
Here are the photos:
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