After our first visit to Paris, Carolyn was a little bummed out that she didn’t get to see the Palace of Versailles.

The Palace was the principal royal residence of France from 1682 until the start of the French Revolution in 1789.

I hadn’t realized it was only about 12 miles (20 kilometers) from the center of Paris, otherwise we might’ve squeezed it in last time… but, here we are in Paris again! So off we go to Versailles!

Of course the palace has plenty of patience and was more than willing to stay just as gaudy as ever no matter when we decided to visit.

It is a sign of more gaudy things to come when you see a fence made out of gold.

As you first approach the palace, you can’t help but be impressed at the size and elaborateness of the grounds and construction.

Pictures don’t do it much justice, but let’s just say it’d be a great place to live out your golden years. Until you were assassinated by some revolting peasants, that is.

We were smart enough to buy tickets online the day before, which saved us probably about an hour of waiting in line.

As you can see, there is no shortage of visitors. This is in the famous Hall of Mirrors, so-named because of all the chandeliers. Oh wait, no, there are mirrors here somewhere.

I guess mirrors were a big thing for rich people back in the day, because poor people had to ask their family how they looked, and since they generally looked pretty bad and families can be brutally honest, the answers they received just kept them depressed and poor. So the rich invented mirrors and made sure they stayed expensive.

With all the mirrors in the room, this could just be a reflection of myself.

There are seventeen arches with mirrors that reflect the seventeen arcaded windows that overlook the gardens, which ask to be overlooked, but we looked over them anyway. Each arch contains twenty-one mirrors, which is why they originally decided to allow people to drink at that age, because after you drink enough, everyone, even me, looks good in a mirror.

During the 17th century, the Hall of Mirrors was used daily by Louis XIV when he walked from his private apartment to the chapel. He thought he looked awesome even when he wasn’t drunk.

As usual, no white space was allowed. Everything has to have a decoration, because otherwise someone might think you didn’t have enough money to decorate every square inch.

They missed a spot (zoom in to figure out where).

This one is spot-free. 100% coverage! Woo hoo! Actually the other one was spot-free too. If you zoomed in… gotcha! Ha ha! See, this isn’t just a travelogue, it’s an immersive interactive experience!

These are paintings.

These are more paintings, except with Carolyn in the shot.

This room was a bust as far as we were concerned.

Oh shoot, now I have to start a new column.

Proof that the iPhone is mightier than the sword. As evidence, I offer the fact that he’s dead, and I’m not. Yet.

This is the Hall of Really Big Paintings.

I can’t remember what the hall this is.

Excuse me, I guess they’re called salons. So this must be the Salon of Really Big Fireplaces.

If I was assigned to paint that ceiling, I would’ve tried it with massive squirt guns filled with paint, so I wouldn’t have had to lay on my back for years. It probably would’ve just been a big mess, but then I could’ve called it abstract art.

Rumor has it they played chess on that floor. Note the king standing by the wall as evidence. Okay, that’s why they call it a “rumor.” I don’t know who started it. Well, I do, actually, but I’ll pretend that’s a rumor too. Anyway, my queen is there as well.

I don’t know where the hall this goes, or why no one’s here. I think someone farted.

They put the “omigawd” in gaudy, that’s for sure!

Carolyn’s listening to the statue talk to her. At least she’s fully clothed. The statue, I mean.

Ah, now we’re back to the good stuff. After all, they didn’t have HBO back then.

They’re both trying to figure out what that picture means across the room. She gave up, but he’s still at it.

Which one of us do you think is the more statuesque? And for the record, I really wasn’t trying to flip anyone off. I was trying to hold my iPhone like a cane. Of course, it might be ironic if this guy tortured one of my ancestors, in which case my bird would be completely justified!

Okay, you can have another shot at the statuesque question with this one. Rats; I already know the answer. Men are never called statuesque. That’s only for women… and statues. Foiled again!

Speaking of women, I have to post this blurb from Wikipedia: During the reign of Louis XIV and most of the reign of Louis XV, there was no plumbing to speak of in the palace itself. Only the King, the Queen, and the Dauphin had anything approaching bathrooms. Some courtiers who lived at Versailles would often have their own collapsable “commode” which was a seat with a chamber pot underneath; it was brought when needed and then taken away when finished. It is estimated that there were only three hundred of these at any one time. Everyone else, if they couldn’t afford to bribe an owner’s servant, had to just go in a corner somewhere or go outside and urinate on a tree. The smell was horrific and became notorious throughout Europe.

Isn’t that awesome? You’d think the French would have subsequently learned a thing or two about bathrooms after all that, wouldn’t you? But no-o-o-o. While I didn’t take a picture of what I’m about to describe, I have to apologize to all women on behalf of all men for the fact that almost no architects seem to understand the differences in sexes when it comes to bodily plumbing. There is a distinct shortage of bathrooms in the palace even today, but, as usual, the number and size are equal between the sexes. So of course you end up with a line of women about a hundred meters long while men jauntily breeze by on their way to immediate relief in the plentiful urinals. I actually saw a couple of women give up and go into the men’s room, for which I cheered them on heartily. I would’ve done the same thing. Women really need to rebel over this. I would happily stand side by side with them, because it’s just silly and unfair. Give the women their peedom!

Okay, I’m climbing down off my soapbox and going back to the computer again.

In our visits to other palaces and such, we learned all about the origins of some of that stonework, but have since completely forgotten every detail except that it’s kinda purple. That’s why I don’t pay much attention to tour guides anymore… it’s interesting at the time, but five minutes later I’ll have forgotten it all while I hunt for a gelado.

A very suitable Door of the Day.

After walking through the salons and halls while being buffeted about by anxious Japanese tourists clicking their cameras at every square inch of gaudiness, we finally plunged outside, gasping for breath and wiping our sweaty brows. Even though the weather was a little gloomy, we were delighted to inhale fresh air.

We interrupt this blog for an important announcement!

Our road has been paved! Our road has been paved! About a year and a half ago, they began tearing up the road in front of our house in order to lay a sewer line. Finally, after breathing enough dust to make any Burning Man attendee nostalgic, they paved the road. Who would’ve thunk two people would get so excited to see a road paved?

And now back to our regularly scheduled blog:

Okay, so now we’re outside; the back of the place looks like Disneyland’s Haunted Castle, except ten times bigger and a hundred times more real. Maybe that’s why they call it “real estate.”

This is the sight that greets you once you step outside of that hellhole of a palace.

I think the gardener was stoned when he mowed the lawn. Oh wait! Carolyn tells me they did this on purpose. Aha! Art! I get it now!

Speaking of being stoned, I was trying to look high here for the joke, but ended up just looking kinda stupid. Well, maybe that’s the same thing.

Here’s a broader view of the gardens. I say that because Carolyn took the picture. And because, you know, she’s a broad. And we’re abroad. Now that I think about it, after living abroad for all this time, going back to the US is what will feel like going abroad.

So just imagine that this is your house, and you get all the way down to where Carolyn is and you realize you forgot your keys.

He’s naked and I’m not… and I know you’re glad for both of those things.

This is definitely a rip-off for the ladies. Hey-ho! The leaf must go! At least I think that’s what the protesters were saying.

To make up for it, I took this shot just for you ladies. My guess is most of you appreciate this more than the front view anyway. You can’t tell me I don’t listen to women… indeed: what you say never goes in one rear and out the other.

Will someone please give her a hand?

You have to admit that this picture of a statue is less interesting than when one of us is goofing around in front of it. If you disagree, well, go type in “statue” in Google and have a ball. But if you do that, come back to the blog! There might be more statues here too!

And fountains! We have plenty of fountains!

Despite their beauty, supplying water for the fountains of Versailles was a major problem; Versailles has never had sufficient water supply for its hundreds of fountains. True story: when the King sauntered about the gardens, they turned the fountains on when he was approaching, and then turned them off after he was out of view.

They also quickly erected some pillars and stuff to make the palace look more impressive. Just kiddin’. That thing in front is an elevator still under construction. Just kiddin’ again. It’s a fire escape, obviously. Or telescope. Or maybe a big blender. Obviously you’re getting what you pay for in a tour guide.

The gardens cover about 800 hectares of land, much of which is landscaped in the classic French formal garden style. Here Carolyn is landscaped in the Portuguese casual chic raincoat style.

A hectare is 100 meters by 100 meters, which is about the size of a professional rugby field, so figure the gardens are 800 of those all put together. 800 hectares also equals 8 square kilometers, or a little over 3 square miles. If you prefer acres, 800 hectares is 1,976.84 acres.

Another way to put it is that it would take the average lawnmower 44,302 litres of gasoline to mow it all. I just made that up, there’s no way I’m gonna try and figure that one out. Let’s just say it’s all pretty damn big.

And there are yet more fountains. Of course, this may have shut off once we turned our backs.

And this one probably turned on as soon as we had turned around from the last one to look at this one. Sneaky water-savers, those French.

So we tried to trick them by turning our backs, but the fountains can spot a selfie a hectare away.

Some of the hectares.

We’re not sure where the hectare we are.

Aha! Found it on the map. The big lawn thingee.

Just to give you an idea as to the scope of this thing. And to think it was just a King’s backyard! No wonder the peasants ended up revolting!

Dancing waters.

I took this picture because the worker was literally walking around this tree picking up leaves and twigs. I guess that’s job security for ya, because I think as soon as he was done on one side, there were plenty of new leaves and twigs on the other side.

Our artistic shot of the day.

The trees made it all cool and peaceful. Which meant I had to shout some taunts at passing English tourists: “Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries! Pffffft! Pffft! Prrrfft!” (Some will get it, some won’t.)

Versailles is the answer to the following Jeopardy question: What would a residence look like if you had unlimited funds and were especially interested in impressing your national neighbors?

And so we said goodbye to a truly magnificent palace and gardens. But I gotta tell ya, if I’d a been a peasant back then, I would have been revolting too!

As soon as Carolyn showed me a picture of this tiny French island with a monastery on top, I knew we’d have to visit it.

It’s one of the most striking constructions I think I’ve ever seen. It just sits out on an expanse of sand like a gigantic jagged molehill. When the tide comes in, the entire thing ends up surrounded by water. Fortunately, it’s a little sturdier than any sand castle I’ve ever built, so when the tide goes back out, there it stays, standing there as it has for nearly 1,000 years.

To get there, you first have to catch a bus from the parking lot, which we were grateful for because it was a bit of a rainy day.

But even through the mist and the rainy windows, you can’t help but be impressed as you approach.

Once you get off the bus, you still have a walk on the long walkway that connects the island to the mainland.

But we were smart enough to bring an umbrella, so the water didn’t dampen our spirits any.

As you approach, the abbey looms above you like a gigantic haunted house.

Which apparently didn’t scare the smiles off our faces.

Upon entry into the town, you’re greeted by a cute little avenue lined with merchants hawking all sorts of touristy goods. It almost looks like something you’d see in Disneyland.

Including doors that look like they were made for Mickey Mouse.

The island has supported strategic fortifications since ancient times.

Since the 8th century, it has been the seat of the monastery from which it draws its name.

Once you’re in, they really don’t want to let you back out, because the island only has about 30 permanent inhabitants. But since neither of us can make or bear any children, they eventually did let us go.

It actually was a prison for a time, sort of Alcatraz-like due to its location. I doubt the prisoners were this cheerful, generally.

The island’s location is so strategic and defensible that when the tide came in, any attackers were stranded, drowned, or driven off. Maybe they should have called it Mont-Saint-Moses.

These victories left the occupants, especially the king on his throne, feeling rather smug.

The island remained unconquered during the Hundred Years’ War; in fact only a small garrison was needed to fend off a full attack by the English in 1433.

During the Hundred Years’ War, England made numerous assaults on the island but were unable to seize it due to the abbey’s strong fortifications.

Mont-Saint-Michel is visited by more than 3 million people annually. Well, now 3 million and two. France protects over sixty of its buildings as historical monuments.

This is either a fireplace or where they roasted their enemies for lunch.

I think it might be the latter. Here, they would be preparing Asian cuisine.

The original site was founded by an Irish hermit, who amassed a bit of a following, one that began dublin’ every year or so, ire-ronically.

The salt marsh meadows surrounding the island were found to be ideally suited to grazing sheep. The meat that results from this diet makes agneau de pré-salé (salt meadow lamb), a local specialty. We didn’t know that then, which now makes us feel a little sheepish..

I think this might be a statue of St. Michael, but I’m just winging it. According to other people who were also winging it, the legend is that the archangel Michael appeared to the bishop of Avranches and instructed him to build a church on the rocky islet.

In 1067 the monastery of Mont Saint-Michel gave its support to William the Conqueror in his claim to the throne of England. He rewarded that with properties and grounds on the English side of the Channel, including a small island off the southwestern coast of Cornwall which was modeled after the Mount and became a Norman priory named St Michael’s Mount of Penzance.

It’s nice that they put a putting green in, but I couldn’t find any flags. Or putters. Or golf balls. Silly French peoples.

This room is called, “Crypte des gros piliers,” although the pillars didn’t seem very gross to me.

Except they are kinda gross as hiding places.

Carolyn was excited to learn that Mont Saint-Michel was the inspiration for the design of Minas Tirith in the film The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.

It also served as the artistic inspiration for the Disney movie Tangled.

This device is cleverly called “The Wheel.” They used it to haul up supplies and VCRs so they could watch The Lord of the Rings and Tangled.

The door of the day.

There are about fifty shops for the three million annual tourists.

And one organ.

Before the construction of the first monastic establishment in the 8th century, the island was called Mont Tombe. The construction of the Romanesque church of the abbey was begun in the 11th century,

The church is at the very top of the island, signifying God being above.

Which offers some spectacular views of any invading troops.

This seagull is inspecting their firing range, because of course they have to practice in order to hit their targets efficiently.

Here you can see what the island looked like during various stages of development. They kind of look like unbaked chocolate chip cookies on a baking sheet, eh?

Many underground crypts and chapels had to be built to compensate for all the weight of that construction.

There’s a lot of uphill climbing to get to the top. Fortunately, this results in a lot of downhill climbing when you’re ready to leave.

And so, we knocked another Unesco Heritage Site off our bucket list. There are 1,092 of those all together. We’ve seen a relative handful so far. I wonder how many years it would take to see them all? Too much for one lifetime I’m afraid, so we’ll have to make do with what we see while we’re traveling Europe!

On June 6, 1944, the allies used the largest armada ever assembled to invade Nazi-occupied France.

75 years and three days later, Kevin & Carolyn ventured to the beaches of Normandy to see how well it was going.

As you can see below, apparently some of the troops didn’t get the memo that we won the war. They’re still out there bringing their vehicles to the fight.

One of these days they’ll pick up a newspaper and figure it out.

We ended up in Paris because of a delayed flight from Crete, as detailed in the previous entry. This was our second visit to the City of Light, so we decided to stay in the outskirts and rent a car. We looked over what we considered the “Tier Two” attractions in Paris, since we’d already been to the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, and the Monument to Rude Parisians.

One of the places I’ve always wanted to see was the beaches of Normandy.The beach views are so iconic that when I sent a picture of one to my son Josh, who is well-versed in World War II lore, asking if he could guess where we were, he got it on the first try. I was hoping he’d still think we were in Greece, but he’s too smart for that.

I gotta tell ya, the thing I didn’t expect was the emotional feeling of standing on the beach and looking over the water, picturing the mass of ships greeting the Germans who woke up that morning. You just can’t mentally picture that the same way on any other beach.

It was and still is the largest seaborne invasion humanity has ever known.

There’s an interesting monument on the beach: the Les Braves Omaha Beach Memorial.

It consists of three elements:
The wings of Hope
So that the spirit which carried these men on June 6th, 1944 continues to inspire us, reminding us that together it is always possible to changing the future.
Rise, Freedom!
So that the example of those who rose against barbarity, helps us remain standing strong against all forms of inhumanity.
The Wings of Fraternity
So that this surge of brotherhood always reminds us of our responsibility towards others as well as ourselves.
On June 6th, 1944 these man were more than soldiers, they were our brothers.

The sculptor said:
“I created this sculpture to honour the courage of these men.
Sons, husbands and fathers, who endangered and often sacrificed their lives in the hope of freeing the French people.”

This is the 1st Infantry Division monument. It stands in the middle of the area of Wiederstandsnest (WN62), which was one of the strongest defended positions in that area. It says, “In honor of the valiant Americans of the 5th Engineer Special Brigade who gave their lives in the assault on this beach on 6 June 1944.”

Flags of the allies stand guard over the Les Braves Omaha Beach Memorial.

And yet another memorial, this one is called the Omaha Monument to the Allies. It says:

THE ALLIED FORCES LANDING ON THIS SHORE, WHICH THEY CALL
OMAHA BEACH, LIBERATE EUROPE – JUNE 6th 1944

I presumed these soldiers weren’t a part of some sort of time-traveling expedition.

Having not been there before, I don’t know if they were there for the 75th anniversary or if it’s a usual touristy thing.

Other than this sign, and whatever leftovers we saw from the 75th anniversary celebration, it wasn’t particularly touristy otherwise. A few restaurants, but mostly the focus is on the monuments and the beach, which it should be.

You can even eat at the L’Omaha. We checked the menu and it was overpriced, which was no surprise. What was surprising is that they didn’t offer Omaha Steaks.

Lots of signs around the area give you an idea as to what transpired.

Including detailed maps of the invasion force.

Or just a sign telling you you’ve found the right beach.

There’s a bunker/pillbox beneath yet another memorial. It was sobering to stand in a place where men died violent deaths.

Otherwise, we just spent a fair amount of time gazing over the water, being damned glad we were born after the disaster that was World War II. And all it took was one knuckle-headed demagogue and about 40% of a country that thought he was great… until they finally realized he wasn’t.

At least 70 to 85 million died in WWII, which was about 3% of the world population in 1940.

There’s a Normandy American Cemetery Visitor Center nearby with a water feature commemorating the beach.

There’s also an Overlord Museum. I assumed it was put there to commemorate me.

We didn’t go inside because we got there a little late in the day, but they have lots of vehicles outside you can take a gander at.

Carolyn’s tanked.

Which means I had to get tanked too.

I’m pretty sure our car couldn’t roll over these.

Putting the “art” in “artillery.”

It’s all Greek –er French, to me.

And then there’s the cemetery.  It covers 172.5 acres and contains 9,388 burials.

Pictures don’t do it justice especially in terms of how the monuments cover the ground almost as far as the eye can see. It’s a somber place.

And not one where we felt it very appropriate to take a big smiling selfie.

Once we left there we stopped at a -–gasp– McDonalds, just because we were in a slight rush and besides, we wanted to commemorate what the victory eventually brought the Europeans: McDonalds! Burger King! Disneyland! Heart attacks! The reason I took this picture is because the place was so busy, they were stacking food on the countertops. But it wasn’t just busy, it was haphazard. Probably these least organized McDonalds I’ve ever been to.

We don’t want another war just to straighten out how they do McDonalds in France…

Actually, it should be: Phaistos then the City of Light.

We originally scheduled our trip for only Athens and Crete. Plenty to see in one journey, right? But somehow we ended up in Paris on the same trip.

(Only in Europe can you take a trip to Greece and end up in Paris… of course that may be because those two places are only in Europe, duh!)

Anyway, to make a long story shorter than it would be if I made it longer, after enjoying a great visit in Athens and Crete, we missed our flight to Lisbon from Athens because our flight from Crete to Athens experienced a significant delay. Since I had booked them on separate itineraries, the missed flight was our problem… so we were stuck in Athens with no ticket to anywhere.

I found a travel agency inside the airport while Carolyn went off looking for a dark corner with a cushiony carpet to lay on (as if), and asked the man to find us a way back to Lisbon. The next direct flight there was 24 hours later… and God-awful expensive. So I figured maybe we’d just stay in Athens for a bit longer; we certainly didn’t see everything there anyway. Whaddya gonna do, right?

The only problem was that it was a Saturday night and the middle of busy season and some sort of convention was in town besides, so the travel agent simply could not find anyplace for us to stay in Athens. He even looked well outside of Athens, and then he got down to one-star hotels, and then to cardboard boxes on sidewalks, all with no luck. Well, to be fair, the cardboard box people never answered the phone.

After about an hour of fruitless searching, we knew we were in for a night at the airport.

So I asked him what was the next available flight anywhere west that didn’t cost an arm and a leg. He came up with a 6:00 AM flight to Paris for a couple hundred euros each. I thought it might be a lot easier to get to Lisbon from Paris than from Athens, and that ended up being true. That flight turned out to be reasonable as well.

Ultimately, I shrugged and just booked the flight to Paris, and then walked back to Carolyn, who was crouching fearfully in a dark corner (not really). “Hey honey, guess what? We’re going to Paris!”

She didn’t believe me until I showed her the tickets.

After that, we discussed the idea that as long as we’re going to Paris, why don’t we stay there another five days or so? We thought that was a great idea, so I booked us a hotel and the additional flight to Lisbon while sitting in the Athens airport, and off we were to another adventure! Oh, the joys of retirement! Of course, that still meant we had to spend the night in the airport, which is why you see me in the picture above with a sleeping mask on. We actually got kicked out of a Burger King where we had hunkered down, because you can’t have indigents sleeping in your restaurant, I guess, even in an airport.

But before we get to Paris, there’s one last place in Crete I want to share, a place called Phaistos, or faistos, according to that sign.

There are several major Minoan archaeological sites in Crete, the best known being Knossos, which is the site of the famous Minotaur maze. It’s also the largest Bronze Age archaeological site on Crete, and has been called Europe’s oldest city.

While we were interested to see it, Knossos was way on the other side of the island from where we were, plus the reviews were a little mixed. They have rebuilt some of it instead of leaving it as discovered, and I guess it’s a bit touristy and crowded.

So we settled for Phaistos, which was much closer. We found it to be well worth visiting.

Phaistos is the place where they found the famous Phaistos disc, which may be where they got the name for it I’m thinking. Anyway, without the Phaistos disc, you may not have been able to read this blog, because they’re the ones who invented typography! Of course, I’m sure some of you may wish they hadn’t after reading some of my dumb jokes. Since the Phaistos disc has never been translated, I’m rooting for it to be a dumb dad joke.

We hired a tour guide to show us all the particulars… oh, wait, that’s Carolyn. No wonder the tour was so cheap!

Here’s a question for you: How many jars do you see here?

Two you say? Nope! The answer is three. There are the two big jars on the right, and then Carolyn’s mouth is ajar too! I know, I know, you’re wishing they’d never invented that Phaistos disc.

Here’s a closer look at some of the jars, sans Carolyn’s ajar one. Judging by the size of them, it looks like the Minoans invented Costco as well!

And I thought stairs weren’t invented until the escalator.

Here’s a view of some of the city from above. As you can see, the Minoans invented a lot of things we take for granted today, like fast food. It’s what ultimately led to their doom.

Phaistos was the home of Radamanthis, the brother of the king of Minos. In Greek mythology, Minos was the first King of Crete, and the son of Zeus and Europa. Every nine years, he made King Aegeus pick seven young boys and seven young girls to be sent to the labyrinth to be eaten by the Minotaur. Sounds like a lot of bull to me.

Phaistos is the second largest palace of Crete after Knossos.

The site was inhabited since the late neolithic era, which started around 10,000 B.C. To put that in perspective, it is about as long ago as the year 12,019 is ahead of us now.

Just like the other palaces of Minoan Crete, the palace was destroyed three times. This was rebuilt on the ruins of the old buildings in 1700 BC.

Despite its age, we were impressed at the sophistication of the layout, as well as the spectacular views afforded from its hilltop location.

The palace continued to be used even after its destruction in 1400 BC. It gradually lost its power until nearby Gortyn finally destroyed it in 200 BC. And no, Gortyn wasn’t the name of one of the minotaurs, it was another city/state on Crete.

Phaistos was inhabited from about 4000 BC; the first palace was built around 2000 BC.

This room rocks.

Pink Floyd would be proud.

Well: that’s a deep subject.

Why is it every hole is used as a garbage can, even in such an historical area?

In addition to the palace, they had a theater with a great view of both the palace and the panorama. There are no records as to which movies played in the theater.

Carolyn does her best Rocky impression.

This are the queen’s quarters. The fact that archeologists can figure stuff like that out will always impress me. I woulda thought it was the TV room.

… A few days later, we were sleeping in an airport waiting for an early morning flight to Paris. I was embarrassed to be seen with a sleeping mask on, so I wore the sunglasses to disguise myself.

 

Greece is a country of many islands, so we knew we wanted to visit at least one of them. We settled on the largest one, Crete, figuring if some of it was disappointing, it’d be large enough to find something interesting.

Of course, I was originally going to make a joke with the word “cretin,” but thought I’d look it up first. It comes from the French crétin, originally meaning “Christian.” and was used to mean “human being,” apparently as a reminder that, though deformed, cretins were human and not beasts. I thought that was more interesting than a joke.

Of course, being a Cretan simply means you’re a resident of Crete. So being a cretinous Cretan means you’re a bit of a Greek asshole. We didn’t encounter any of those, I don’t think.

Anyway, Crete is the largest and most populous of the Greek islands, the 88th largest island in the world and the fifth largest island in the Mediter-ranean Sea, after Sicily, Sardinia, Cyprus, and Corsica.

It’s an ancient part of the world: excavations have revealed stone tools that are at least 130,000 years old.

Driving in Crete was a minor challenge since we couldn’t make heads nor tails out of the signs.

Especially the ones that were all shot up. We learned there was at least one village that became uninhabited after an all-out war between another village due to some sort of revenge feud. I’m not sure Cretans should own very many guns.

Some of the signs direct you to crappy places.

While others direct you… everywhere.

The many canyons and ridges make for some interesting roads.

We occasionally ended up on dirt roads with no guardrails, often with drops up to, I don’t know, I’m estimating here, about a million meters straight down? One dirt road the GPS took us down was so narrow and dangerous we carefully backed up and went back the way we came.

I’m not sure if this sign means be cautious about the cliff or the guy with the gun.

Many of the towns have two-way roads that aren’t any bigger than a one-lane. You just have to wait your turn (or sometimes back up… or maybe sacrifice your side mirrors) if you spot a car down the road.

Even on the highways, they are a bit creative. This two-lane highway essentially functions as a three or four lane highway because everyone who isn’t passing rides the shoulder.

I’d hate to be the guy who dented that guardrail: on the other side is a drop straight down to death. Many of the roads would have done the Road Runner cartoon proud. I could imagine something plunging off the side… and then I’d hear a long, fading whistle… and then a distant poof! as Wile E. Coyote meets his temporary doom.

This bridge would have been perfect for that cartoon. We approached it with a bit of trepidation since any fall would have made a pancake out of the car. As we rolled across it anyway, it sounded creaky and groan-y like some of the boards were going to give out at any moment. The thing that gave us confidence was the crowd of people on the other side, sitting around a small roadside refreshment stand. Of course, they could have been gathered just to watch hapless travelers plunge through the bridge, but we took our chances and made it to the other side, to a bunch of hollerin’ and applause. Not really. But it sure seemed scary.

Sometimes it was better to just sit by the side of the road. But the many sightseeing areas also have huge drop offs, sometimes with no barriers. If she would’ve fallen over this one, she just would have just rolled downhill like a snowball in an avalanche instead of a straight plunge to instant death. So it’s possible she could’ve survived. I’m happy to report she didn’t test the situation.

Meantime, there are goats everywhere. They love to watch how ba-a-a-a-d the drivers drive. Especially since they can climb pretty much wherever they want and we’re stuck with only where four wheels can take us.

There are interesting churches galore, as well as a bunch of small memorial churches, including a number of small church-like memorial structures by the side of the road, often with just enough room for one candle.

The island also has a castle, and you know we love castles! This one is called Frangokastello. It was built by the Venetians in 1374. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as so many castles we’ve seen in Europe. I guess we’re getting kinda castle-jaded!

Even in ancient Crete, hobbits obviously built their own castles.

There are two interesting beaches we wanted to see: Balos Lagoon and Elefonsi Beach. They are both quite out of the way, with lots of tiny towns and narrow roads, including this one-way tunnel.

When you get behind a truck like that, you ain’t gonna pass him anytime soon.

The road to Balos Lagoon is one of the most treacherous roads we’ve ever been on… on an island with a lot of treacherous roads.

There are no guardrails next to a cliff called, “And we’ll never hear from you again.”

I think that’s a meteor streaking over the road into the water below. Oh, actually it’s just the dust from the windshield wiper. It was mighty hot and dusty on that day.

A few natural barriers might help if you find yourself wrestling control of your vehicle with a madman. Carolyn rarely has to do that.

Here it looks like a two-lane road, but there were long stretches were two cars couldn’t pass without one of them having its wheels halfway over the cliff.

The goats keep a lookout to make sure everyone drives safely.

They even man (goat?) the roadside stands selling the ubiquitous Cretan honey.

We just had to pay the occasional goat toll to be granted passage.

There’s one lane, and then a goat lane. I guess it helps to be a little sheepish when navigating that road.

It went on for a good number of miles. I’d guess it took us about a half an hour to get all the way there.

This gives you some idea why.

This looks like a traffic jam, but is actually just cars parked ahead of the actual parking lot. It was our first clue that the place was gonna be packed.

Note that for the most part, only one line of cars could move, so there could be a bit of a wait as you watch the cars going the opposite way roll by. I really didn’t want to have to back up on that road.

One foot from Pancakeville.

Upon our arrival at Balos, we were of course greeted by the Welcoming Goat.

Now he’s off to greet the other new arrivals.

Time for a cigarette break.

Once in the parking lot, we discovered it was going to be a long walk just to get to the beach. So, while we didn’t have a lot of time owing to our impending flight that afternoon, these intrepid explorers made the trek.

The path was marked for us by the considerate goats.

Once we crested the final hill, we were greeted with a sight that elicited oohs and ahs.

I think we’re mostly happy here that we actually made it, risking life and limb as well as a long, hot walk.

Of course, the other thing we discovered was that the already-long walk was just to a vista of the lagoon. You have to walk all the way down there if you want to get to the beach.

We encountered a few people returning, all of whom were desperately out of breath after making the long, arduous climb.

So we settled for the gorgeous views of one of the most beautiful lagoons we’ve ever seen.

The smart people take a boat to the beach instead.

Everyone else just admires the views and laments the fact that they’re not twenty-years-old anymore. This twenty-something is simply a wimp.

The other beach we wanted to see is called Elefonsi Beach. Not long ago, Elafonisi Beach was a secret known only to some locals on Crete. Then, in 2014, TripAdvisor named it one of the world’s top 25 beaches, and all tourist hell broke loose.

It’s known for having pink sand beaches… and we wanted to see the pink sand!

We thought we were going to see something like this beach in the Philippines.

Instead, all we got was this.

It’s really just a little tinge of red on the edge of the water. I think we were sold a bill of goods!

I mean, it is a nice beach and all…

Appropriate for a selfie or two…

And other touristy shots…

And they have some nice flags.

And truthfully, it is a pretty beach, and well worth spending a day there. We were only there to take a quick look because we didn’t want to miss our flight.

And then the busses started arriving. Thanks TripAdvisor! I’m sure the locals love that site now. Not.

Otherwise, we’ll finish up this lengthy entry and just let you take a gander at the beautiful scenery of Crete before we head off to other parts unknown:

 

After all that sightseeing, lunch is a welcome respite! Like the Portuguese, the Greeks are warm and gracious restaurant hosts. We had several lively conversations with our waiters.

We gotta finish up with a kiss… because you gotta kiss-a-mo’ if they tell you to!

…and then we drove off into the sunset.

Phtew! Phtew! We were hocking loogies all over the place in Crete.

Well, at least in Chania anyway. Chania is the second largest city in Crete, and is where our flight from Athens landed. Shortly after arriving, we endeavored to find out how to pronounce it by asking a local.

The best way I can describe it is: “Hock-a-loogie + ehnia.”

Khkhkhehnia.

To say it properly, just pretend there’s a hair stuck in the back of your throat and that you desperately need to bring it forward. After accomplishing that, just add a sweet li’l “ehnia” to it, and you’re pretty much a Greek. Or Cretan. Or cretin.

(I’m thinking maybe “ania” means “Thank God that hair is gone from my throat!”)

We make fun only because there are no words in English that require you to use so much of your throat, except for when you’re barfing while simultaneously telling your spouse that you’re gonna need a bigger bucket.

I’d be willing to bet my Viking heritage that most of our loyal readers have also never heard of Chania. But it is a significant tourist town of Crete, originally brought to our attention for the sole reason that our flight from Athens landed there.

To our surprise and delight, we found it absolutely charming.

It’s a seaside town with a ring of stores and restaurants fronting the harbor. The artifacts in this picture (not the old guy) provide evidence of the town’s seafaring ways, and are one of the first sights you see when you first walk into Chania Old Town.

A whole slew of restaurants await for prompt seating and a great view of the harbor. Almost every one of them is fronted by a pitchman encouraging you to come sample their offerings… other than a few that feature signs saying, “We won’t bother you!” Except I noticed they sort of bothered you anyway, as if the sign gave them some sort of reverse psychology permission.

A few musicians and other street entertainers provided for a jovial entrance into old town. This guy was playing some AC/DC if I recall.

It took a bit of work, but I finally got this light pole all straightened out properly.

So here’s Chania from the ocean view. As you can see, despite it being June, there’s snow on them thar mountains. We didn’t expect that in the middle of a Mediterranean summer.

They really do a nice job of making things cute and clean. It was this way all around Chania Old Town. The rest of Chania was just like any other town, but they really know how to cater to tourists in the tourist area.

If you see many pictures of Chania, one of them is bound to be one with this lighthouse prominently featured. It’s an iconic part of Chania. It was originally a Venetian lighthouse built around the late 16th century, although it’s sometimes referred to as “Egyptian” because it was built during a time where Crete was occupied by Egyptian troops.

Here’s a close-up, taken after a very hot fifteen minute walk around the harbor (the lighthouse is located at the end of a long protective breakwater that protects the harbor from the sea). During the Turkish occupation the lighthouse fell into disrepair. It was eventually rebuilt between 1824 and 1832, although they kept the original Venetian base. It was leaning badly due to bombings during World War II, but it was extensively renovated in 2005.

For some reason, taking one shot of something iconic is never enough. I’ve got dozens more if you want to see em! No? Okay, we’ll mush on then.

A tourist submarine is is on her way out of the harbor. We didn’t do many of the touristy things there, however; the town was charming enough all on its own…

…with sights aplenty and photo opportunities galore, including the Aegean Sea in 3D!

The Nazis bombed the hell out of Chania in 1941, especially Old Town. I think before that the town name was simply pronounced “Shania,” but the bombings rattled the residents’ fillings so much they couldn’t say the “sh” without sounding like they were hocking a loogie. I wonder if any of our Portuguese friends have ever heard the term “hocking a loogie?”

Apparently the Chanians pointed their cannons straight up to try and hit the German planes, but once they put them in cement this way, they couldn’t figure out how to put in the gunpowder and cannonball. No wonder Crete kept losing wars.

They do much better in peacetime, as evidenced by these clean and friendly promenades leading from the harbor.

Here’s a panoramic view of Chania from the seawall.

Here’s a view of the seawall.

You gotta admit it’s a pretty little town.

Here’s our view from the top of the hotel (really more of an Airbnb).

And here’s what we did up there. As far as you know.

As with so many places in Europe, old meets new everywhere you go.

And the sea meets land.

And the man meets woman. So if you don’t think we’re happy as hell being able to do all this traveling and stuff? Of course we are! These are our expressions before we put on our happy faces for the camera!

Horse carriages await tours around the town. We almost did that, but for no good reason we kinda missed it. Oh, well, maybe we only missed out on some horse farts.

I thought this salad bar was a little odd, and was glad we didn’t eat at whatever restaurant it was a part of.

Purple is one of my favorite colors. This tree (and my wife) is magnificent. I think she’d look good in purple hair, but I haven’t been able to convince her of that yet.

I thought of my son and his wife when we saw this store offering nothing but honey and honey products, because they raise bees in the state of Washington.

Honey is a big thing in Crete (so I’m not sure why this mannequin looks like the bees got put inside his hat). There are a ton of small shops and roadside stands around the island offering either honey, raki, or ouzo, the last two effectively being the national drinks of Crete.

The history of Crete goes back to the 7th millennium BC, preceding the ancient Minoan civilization by more than four millennia. The Minoan civilization was the first civilization in Europe and the first, in Europe, to build a palace.

After the Minoan civilization was devastated by the Thera eruption, Crete developed an Ancient Greece-influenced organization of city states, then successively became part of the Roman Empire, the Byzantine Empire, the Venetian Republic, the Ottoman Empire, autonomous state, and the modern state of Greece. (Per Wikipedia.)

A good view of the charming seafront.

A panoramic view of the charming seafront.

A great view of a car in a gas station.

Actually, this is the little Fiat we rented to get around Crete. I’m posting it only to tell the tragic story of our car rental return. We rented from a small company called Autocandia (I fully expected them to have a small bowl of candy in the car, but came away very disappointed). Anyway, everything went fine until our return, when our tragic saga begins.

When we rented it, I was told that upon returning the car, I should drop Carolyn and the luggage off at the airport and return the car alone. I wasn’t sure why, thinking maybe they wanted to rape me without listening to a bunch of caterwauling from my wife? Well hey, the term “greekstyle” had to originate for some reason!

Despite my aversion to being, ah, greeked, I followed the instructions, and found myself in a line with no employee behind the desk in front of it. Apparently, their only other employee had called in sick so the remaining employee had to both man the counter and pick up people at the airport. Why they couldn’t use the same van that was to shortly later take us to the airport so she could be behind the counter, I have no idea, although the full story may provide an answer to that.

Anyway, finally after about a half an hour, a harried employee hustles into the small office and starts processing people. One rude man butted in line ahead of the rest of us, a circumstance much more common in Europe than in the US. I complained, but the employee just shrugged.

But the real tragedy of this sad story had nothing further to do with me. It is all about the two couples who were made to walk all the way to the airport with their luggage, simply because they didn’t follow the instructions. The walk is a good 20-30 minutes, and it was very hot. So there they were trudging to the airport, and the van taking us only had one other passenger in it besides myself. Once I figured out what was going on with these people who had shared my pain in the Line Without an Employee, I pleaded with the driver to let them in… it was certainly no skin off my back to let someone else ride, and there was of course plenty of room. He steadfastly refused, saying they were only contracted for one person per rental, and no luggage.

Crazy stupid. Just bad humanity. I felt very sorry for them, but that’s the lesson of the day: When a small car rental company tells you to jump, you ask how high!

But in between that and our initial visit to Chania, we explored Crete and had a great time. More of that to follow!

 

Many world travelers surely list the Vermont State House in Montpelier, Vermont as first or second on their sightseeing bucket list. Okay, maybe not in the top two, or ten, or hundred, but the Vermont State House in Montpelier, Vermont is definitely something you’d want to look at if you were standing right in front of it.

While I have been to Vermont, I’ve never been to Montpelier, so for the time being I had to settle for the ancient Greek building that inspired the Vermont State House in Montpelier, Vermont: The Temple of Hephaestus.

The temple resides in an area called the Ancient Agora of Athens. The Agora’s original purpose was as a gathering place or for commercial endeavors, as well as of course housing a reasonably cool temple.

(This is the Vermont State House in Montpelier, Vermont, just in case you were wondering.)

The Agora (which is the Portuguese word for “now,” so we felt right at home) was just a block or two from our hotel. Actually, in Greek, the word “agora” means “gathering place” or “assembly.” So we gathered and assembled there just like two ancient Grecians.

The Temple of Hephaestus has largely been preserved in its original state despite the fact that Hephaestus was the patron god of metal working, craftsmanship, and fire. Which means I would’ve thought he would have burnt the place to the ground after he was notified that he was about to lose his god status.

Fortunately, he disappeared without much of a whimper, as most gods do, leaving this impressive building in his ashes, –er wake.

As you can see, this is a container for offerings to the dead. As you can also see, the dead already scooped everything up. Greedy bastards, those dead people.

This building known as the Stoa of Attalos (we’re still in the Agora, or as I like to say, “O Aqui e Agora,” which means “The here and now” in Portuguese, which has absolutely nothing to do with anything except the word “agora” and my desire to show off my still-very-limited Portuguese skills). “Stoa” means portico or covered walkway. “Portico” is where you have to go after you’ve drunk too much port. “Walkway” is a word that turns into “runway” just by adding some planes. Accordingly, “Covered Runway” is just not a term you hear anymore, not after that one disaster anyway.

This photo provides some perspective. Ha! Anyway, it was built by King Attalos II of Pergamon, who ruled between 159 BC and 138 BC. The building as it stands today looks a helluva lot newer than that, mostly because it was reconstructed in the 1950’s by American and Greek architects.

The Stoa of Attalos has a museum inside it and a second floor (or first floor in European). This photo gives you an idea as to the sleek beauty of those gams– I mean columns.

Everyone knows our species has gotten a little larger over the millennia, but few people know just how big a difference there is. And they say JRR Tolkien just made up the hobbits. This ancient life-sized sculpture begs to differ. This statue does explain a lot of the doors we’ve encountered.

Carolyn’s got this guy’s gnome-ber.

A lot of the statues on display lost their heads. We couldn’t make heads nor tails out of the reason. I guess they all simply had it up to here. It was neck and neck to pick the two most beautiful, but one was shoulders above the rest.

If I only had a brain…

We thought it appropriate to deface the photos out of respect for the defaced.

One example of the wares displayed in the museum. This vase demonstrates the mad jigsaw puzzle skills many archeologists find beneficial to their work. They have a hard time without the box top, however.

Some more museum pieces.

This is what the whole Agora area would’ve looked like back then. At least if you were either color blind or the whole thing froze over in a freak world-ending ice storm.

Moving on from the Agora, this is the neighboring Library of Hadrian, who was the Roman emperor from 117 to 138, and is now the patron saint of overdue book fines. His own fines were not forgiven by his successor Antoninus, so it’s now up to $82,423,122 with interest. I mean, there ain’t no Italian named Tony who’s gonna forget about yer debts, y’know?

All that made me ponder… do you realize there is a whole generation of people growing up who have no idea what an overdue book fine is?

Hadrian is known for being both personally generous as well as extremely cruel. He must’ve been generous to the right historian’s forebears because he made it onto the “Top Five Good Emperors List” (if he wouldn’t have been so cruel, he might’ve made the “Top Five Very Good Emperors List”… but alas). He also traveled a great deal outside of Italy, unlike most of his predecessors. When he passed by, the people would shout, “Yo Hadrian!”

Another set of ruins in Athens is the Dipylon Ruins. So of course I had to act like a dip. Actually, the entire area is known as Kerameikos, or Ceramicus in the Latinized version.

It’s a large area that resides both within and outside the ancient city walls. Since it was the potter’s part of the city, Ceramicus is what led to the world “ceramic.” True story.

I look kind of potted here myself.

I always look closely at walls in ruins, being continually amazed at the preciseness of their construction and alignment and the fact that they’re still that way even after thousands of years.

The Dipylon (The Thrasian Gates) was the most important gateway in the Athenian city walls. It was the main entrance to the city, and was at the time the largest gateway in the world.

Since then, that honor has been taken over by the Buland Darwaza in India. We’ve never been to India.Yet.

Ceramicus was also the site of an important cemetery. There are still numerous funerary sculptures along the ancient road that led in and out of the city. They called it the “street of tombs,” reminding everyone that they, too, will one day be worm food. Today, America has replaced that with the “Street of Dreams,” reminding everyone that they, too, will never live in a house with eight big screen TVs, a five-car garage, and an underwater bar in the pool.

 

We simply stumbled across Ceramicus while taking a walk outside our hotel to places unknown. You never know what you’re going to find when you explore an ancient city!

Like almost every place in Athens, feral cats were plentiful. Some were even friendly. This one decided to share some of its fleas with Carolyn.

Overgrown
Pristine thorns
Sheep shorn
Tinkling below
Roofless walls
Rooks overlook
I told you so
Babbles the brook

“Ruins” by Samuel Menashe

And that ain’t no bull.

Well, it is, actually, but that line sounded better that way.

While in Athens, we learned that “Acropolis” is actually a Greek word meaning the highest point in a city. In other words, there were acropolises all over the place in Greece… it’s just that this particular one became famous and known as THE one.

The same thing happened with D-Day. It was the term used for the launch of any important military operation… but the D-Day on the 6th of June, 1944 became known as THE D-Day because it was so big and important.

Trivia alert: the “D” in D-Day actually means… wait for it… “day.”

So “D-Day” means “Day Day.” There’s some military genius for you.

And that’s not a random segue: D-Day became a part of this trip, even though our itinerary was only in Greece. Oooh! There’s a big cliffhanger! Stay tuned!

As you walk around Athens, the Acropolis is viewable almost anytime there aren’t buildings in the way. Most of the restaurants have a flat rooftop so they can tout their view of the Acropolis. This is the view from a nearby restaurant where we had dinner, the view having been sufficiently touted.

And this was our view from the rooftop breakfast buffet at our hotel. The netting was smartly placed there to keep the birds out of the buffet, except of course the ones we were eating.

And here she is, the mother of all acropolises.

Speaking of mothers, here’s Carolyn in front of the Erechtheion, which is a temple dedicated to both Athena and Poseidon. It was built between 421 and 406 BC.

These are the stairs leading up to the complex. It’s hard to keep the names of all the buildings straight, but I’ll do my best as we wander around the place.

I think this is the Erechtheion again. If not, it’s some old Greek building.

The Parthenon, the most famous of the Acropolis buildings, was dedicated to the goddess Athena, the patron of Athens and the goddess of war.

The Greek flag flies proudly over the area.

So of course we had to selfie-ize it.

This is the back side of the ruins. Which is kind of cool… like seeing the backside of a waterfall.

A view from atop. The theatre-looking-thingy to the right is the Theatre of Dionysus, which we’ll cover more of below.

There are plenty of hills and stairs you have to climb to get up there; if you walk from the base of the whole hill it’s a fair trudge. They didn’t have wheelchairs back then so you’re a bit SOL if you’re confined to one.

I’m pretty sure that’s the Erechtheion again on the left. That’s the world’s worst tour guide on the right.

But then they throw me an easy pitch to hit. The Parthenon! The Parthenon! Boy, it’s awesome being an expert.

Those who know me best are the least surprised to know there’s a sign there telling us not to touch anything.

The construction of the Parthenon began in 447 BC when the Athenian Empire was at the peak of its power. It is considered one of the world’s greatest cultural monuments… just behind Trump Tower.

I have no idea what the one on the left was used for since it appears to be all of one piece with no lid. Come to think of it, I have no idea about any of them… why are there rocks laid out that way? This is surely one of the eternal mysteries of the Acropolis.

They obviously had to have ladders built into it so they could wash the windows.

The origin of the Parthenon’s name refers to “unmarried women’s apartments.” In other words, this was where all the single chicks hung out.

And this may have been the wall they threw themselves off of when their love went unrequited.

We ended up with about 78 pictures of the Acropolis from afar. We’ll only show you a few more before you start thinking of it as the Acrapolis.

No, the man in the red shorts is not taking a dump. That’s not a toilet, sheesh! Get your mind out of the gutter. As for me, I’m urinating on the stairs. But in the gutter!

The Theatre of Dionysus is thought to be the world’s first theatre. Dionysus was the god of grape harvesting, wine, fertility, ritual madness (whatever that is), religious ecstasy, and theatre. Whatever else he was, Dionysus was certainly a party animal.

The theatre could seat as many as 17,000 people, and with its great acoustics, everyone could hear everything, including that one time Heinieornerus let out a big fat fart during the middle of delivering a line. He’ll never live that one down.

I think this is where Samson first tried pulling the pillars down, except that it was right after his first haircut, which left him with a mullet, and so of course even God said, “Oh hell no.”

I’m really hoping this is the result of wind erosion. I’d hate to think their sculptors were that bad.

Today’s Greeks are such wimps. Your forebears erected that whole thing before they even invented pencil and paper! Today you wienies need an entire frickin’ crane just to fix it up a little! Oh how far have you backslid? No wonder you needed to be bailed out by the EU!

Yeah, we have hundreds of photos of the Parthenon, but this is one of the gooder ones.

They say if you kiss your mate in front of the Parthenon, you will end up in a blog. OMG, they were right! Of course, whenever I see pictures like this of me I always wonder why I still put shampoo on my head every morning in the shower.

The one thing Athens has going for it is an interesting view from the Acropolis. It’s just a vast sea of houses, with very few buildings poking above the rest. It sprawls just about as far as the eye can see.

In Rome we learned that the thinking towards restoration work has changed over the last century. Instead of replacing things to make it look new, they do everything they can to protect what’s there. It looked to us that they were working very hard to do just that, although many of the stones were obviously newer.

The Romans, contrary to what some believe, did not invent arches. Ray Kroc did. Ha! Actually, arches have been used since prehistoric times, but the Romans perfected their use and put them into larger structures. Prior to that they were mainly used in smaller doorways. So no McDonalds for the Greeks just yet!

I mean, how the heck did they get those blocks on top of the columns? What you don’t ever hear about is how many times someone knocked over one of them, sending them all tumbling like dominoes and forcing the construction to start over all over again. Probably because they were executed.

In addition to the Parthenon, the other various monuments which make up the Acropolis include the Temples of Athena and Nike, the Erechtheion and the Propylaea. This is one of those four.

In the distance is Lykavittos Hill, the highest hill in Athens. You can get to the top via Funicular. That word alone makes it sound like it would be a blast, but we didn’t get over there.

The crowds were pervasive, but it wasn’t too bad. We’re glad we didn’t come in the dead of summer… not only due to the larger crowds but there ain’t no shade and it can be hot  up there! In fact, Athens holds the record for the highest temperature ever recorded in Europe, at a blistering 48°C (118.4°F).

The world’s first spreadsheet.

I don’t believe I will ever cease to be amazed as to how they got those stones up there, perfectly straight and aligned, without the aid of any machinery.

And then they were able to put even larger stones on top… and here they are still standing almost 2,500 years later. Mind blown.

Just follow the sea of tourists to the Parthenon. I only follow the one in front.

This sign is in both Greek and English (one of the things that makes me grateful for having been born into an empire… with apologies to the Indians, Africans, Puerto Ricans, Hawaiians, Eskimos, Mexicans, and everyone else the US conquered or enslaved). It describes the restoration work, some of which is noted as being that of a “rescue nature,” which is why some of the columns have white areas. When it’s either that or to have the whole thing tumbling down, I’ll take the mismatched colors any day.

Carolyn’s obviously fearful that the columns may come tumbling down anyway.

So we had to get another selfie in before it all collapsed.

I think this is the Old Temple of Athena. It’s surprisingly hard to figure out what’s what even with the internet. They didn’t have a whole lot of signs about, or if they did, we neglected to take pictures of them. Oh, well, a Greek ruin by any other name…

The guy in red was the first one to see the aliens landing.

Until you get up there, you don’t realize how massive the stone is leading up to the Acropolis, and how they built so expertly atop it.

Here you can see better how it was just one big hunk-a hunk-a… um rock. Not burnin’ love. Thangyouberrymuch.

I had forgotten that we’re already famous, so I quickly donned sunglasses to fool the paparazzi.

A last photo… but wait! Is this why everyone is calling me a dickhead?

After moving to Portugal, we realized that our bucket list had grown to the point where it is now better described as a bathtub list. There are just too many different places to visit in Europe! In Portuguese, we’ve learned to describe it thusly: “É um lugar muito diversificado.” Which means “It is a very diversified place.”

With all these choices and diversity, we decided to just start with the “A’s,” and just knock them off one by one in alphabetical order. We’d already been to Amsterdam, and so lo and behold, Athens was up next!

We were as excited as kids visiting Disneyland when we saw our first view of Greece from the plane (little did we know that would become more than a metaphor despite the fact that it was supposed to be solely a Grecian vacation). Greece! Athens! The Acropolis! Our bathtub list was about to get one more rubber ducky taken from the tub.

After landing in Greece, we found out that Greeks have a very hard time with spelling in the English language.

In fact, they think the 1978 film Grease was all about their country. Even after over 40 years, they still have Olivia Newton John Travolta (yeah, they’re sort of like conjoined twins) greeting tourists. Although they sure looked like the real thing. They even posed for us just like the movie poster. Awesome.

And if you don’t believe the Greeks have a hard time with English, just check out these signs:

If you ever want to move to Greece and need a job, just apply as a translator. Just remember to not parking where you’re not supposed to.

Speaking of translating, after seeing their alphabet there’s no wonder why the phrase, “It’s all Greek to me” was popularized. We’re just glad not to have to learn a new alphabet in Portugal. Although, I do have to say it’s pretty easy to see why this Greek word here is “men:” the second-to-the-last-letter is a pair of boobs. So I think the word translates literally to: “likes boobs.” I guess Greek is easier to learn than I thought!

In any case, we were excited to visit Athens and the Acropolis, although we were told that Athens itself isn’t that much to see. Our cab ride from the airport confirmed that. It’s a rather dreary city, with really only the Acropolis looming above giving it any semblance of interest or beauty.

Our initial impressions were undoubtedly affected by our cab ride. Our driver wasn’t of Greek descent, which is neither here nor there except for three things: he didn’t speak English (and probably not Greek either), he didn’t know where our hotel was, and he had no idea how to get there even after being provided with an address and a map via my phone. He also had no other electronics in his car (which was held together with duct tape) other than the taxi meter.

So the entire way I held my iPhone out so he could see the GPS guiding him to our destination. Despite that, more than once we had to shout out to him to make a turn (repeating what Siri had just said, only louder), just before he barreled down the wrong exit. We were relieved that we actually made it to the hotel. To add insult to injury, he wanted more than the stated maximum for cab fare we saw posted on big signs at the airport, claiming that it was due to the road tolls, which he went through and had paid like a regular driver. I was dubious of this, but gave him the money anyway figuring I just paid for a source of material for my blog. Plus I kind of like avoiding getting stabbed.

Our taxi adventures continued on the way back to the airport. Our flight was early in the morning, and this other driver actually had some electronics in his car, including a GPS. But that was a waste anyway because he totally ignored it. Instead, he raced down side streets like a bat out of hell, with the GPS frantically rerouting itself, looking a lot like the electronic snake in that electronic maze game. The scariest part of the drive, however, was when he hit the freeway. Not only was he driving like a madman, he could barely keep his eyes open! I spent the entire freeway part of the journey with my own eyes focused solely onto the rearview mirror, ready to bop him on the head if his actually closed. As it was, I would occasionally make a loud noise just to make sure he stayed awake; coughs, burps, farts, whatever it took. Carolyn thought I must’ve eaten something onerous, but I didn’t want to tell her why I was doing what I was doing so she wouldn’t freak out. Once in a while I wondered if he steered the cab so close to other cars’ bumpers while going over 140 km an hour just to keep himself awake, which freaked us both out plenty as it was.

When we got to Crete, we rented a car.

Our hotel, called the Jason Inn, is actually a lot nicer than the name implies. Not that there’s anything wrong with the name Jason Inn, but it does sort of sound like a two star flea bagger on the outside of Las Vegas.

But in fact it was pleasant, clean, quiet, and had a nice breakfast buffet on the roof with a view of the Acropolis. Of course, just about everyone in Athens puts chairs and tables on the roof for a view of the Acropolis, but hey.

Despite our pleasure with the Jason Inn, we did get a kick out of some of the construction issues, namely this light and power cord almost within touching distance of our small balcony, and the shower head which was mounted right over the bar holding up the glass partition. We clearly were not in Japan (because everything is made just about perfect there).

Anyway, for this first part, we’ll just show you some of the sights we saw while walking around Athens, and then the next entry we’ll get to the place that keeps Athens from being another Baku, Azerbaijan (you’ll understand that reference if you keep reading).

First we’ll check out this cool street art which was right around the corner from our hotel. When you first see it, it looks like a complete picture of a vampire-toothed purple-haired woman. But as you approach, you see the art was created on different walls. Pretty cool. It reminded me of the movie Labyrinth, which had non-CGI optical effects just like that.

A typical restaurant scene with lots of outdoor tables. The area around the Acropolis had no shortage of places to eat, most of them fronted by a charmer encouraging anyone and everyone to come eat the best food in the city.

We chose this one because Carolyn loves twinkle lights. That, and the waiter who encouraged us to come in was very chatty and the restaurant was not too busy, so we had a nice discussion with him about Greece and even politics. He doesn’t like the Germans.

Near our hotel the local Walmart displays its wares. Actually, it was a street filled with second-hand items. You name it, you surely could find it. Even a second hand, I’m sure.

After lunch, it was time for us to get back in the saddle.

Speaking of saddles, my horse-loving sister had this store named after her. I’ll give you three guesses as to what her name is.

This is a government building protected by two Buckingham-Palace-esque guards. They have a rather funny routine with the changing of the guard, complete with synchronized leg kicks that wouldn’t serve them well at all in any kind of real battle, unless the enemy were turned around with their backs to them, bent over.

We took a Hop On-Hop Off bus just to see more of Athens than we would have on foot. It was a good way to go, except that Athens really doesn’t have that much interesting to see aside from the Acropolis and grey-haired men wearing blue shirts.

Of course there are some ruins here and there. This is Hadrian’s Arch. Built in about 131 AD, it is one of many Roman ruins scattered throughout the city.

Speaking of ruins… don’t think for a minute Europeans aren’t very well versed on American politics. Someone captured one of the prevailing sentiments pretty well.

This may be a response to the above, I dunno. Like most European cities, graffiti is prevalent, and sometimes, like the above, even in English. We were so grateful for this one in particular being in English because otherwise we would have never understood it and wouldn’t have known what we were supposed to be doing.

Unfortunately, along with the graffiti there were other unsightly areas. Athens wasn’t a pigsty, but it surely doesn’t rank high on any “cleanest cities in the world” list. Which made me wonder… and yes, thanks to the internet, there is actually a cleanest cities in the world list. The top five: #1 Calgary, Canada (Woo hoo! You go Canucks!). #2: Zurich, Switzerland. #3: Luxembourg. #4 Adelaide, Australia. #5: Singapore. There is also, of course, a dirtiest cities list, led by Baku, Azerbaijan, mostly because it sits on some very rich oil fields. I guess that’s where the term “filthy rich” came from. 

 

After a long day of sightseeing, there’s nothing like a cold beer to cool you down. Mythos beer was the most common we saw, and it was good! Also, the gyros in Greece are pretty much the same as the gyros you get from the fast food restaurants in the mall, so yeah, you’re eating authentic ethnic when you pass up that Taco Bell for the gyros.

We came away from Athens thinking about two kinds of animals: cats and turtles. Wild cats were everywhere, and once in a while, usually near some ruins, you’d come across a turtle. This guy was crossing the road where he might have had to put the strength of his shell to a mighty test under the wheel of a car, so we put him back in the grass. Like most turtles, he didn’t even thank us.

This is the Panathenaic Stadium, completed in 144 AD. It is the only stadium in the world built entirely of marble. Back then it could hold up to 50,000 spectators: a lot less if the home team had a losing season, but a lot more during the first Olympics because the athletes were all naked. Two thousand years later, all we have close to that is beach volleyball and Speedos.

The world’s first running statue. We caught this freeze frame as he was bursting through the park on his way across the street.

Fresh fruit and produce are often artfully displayed, although I’d hate to be the one picking a cherry from the bottom, sending them tumbling in a veritable cherries jubilee.

This Aphrodite is artfully displayed as well. Plus she’s 50% off. What a bargain!

And so Aphrodite made it to the street next to the second hand stores, where she found a row of third and fourth hand stores. By the time it gets to fifth hand, we think it gets put into the small stairwells.

I have no idea what this sign says, but since they have a picture of Bogie and Bacall, it must be a classy joint.

I think the middle store is selling vitamins based on the sign, but with all the ladders it could also be a hardware store. Either way, it’s probably a good place to get some iron supplements.

Next up: the Acropolis.

For our Portland friends, no, not that one.

 

One of the great things about living abroad is the opportunity it gives one to meet and make friends with people all over the world.

Most Europeans we’ve met seem to innately understand and appreciate that there are different cultures, languages, religions, and points of view, and that they should all be respected. They also have an intimate relationship with the destructiveness of war and bigotry (there’s nothing like devastating an entire continent to change one’s perspective for a good long time).

Of course, I think anyone who has spent time traveling outside their home town can tell you that for the most part, people everywhere are generally caring and nice when experienced one on one.

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We recently joined a group called the “Sesimbra International Community,” which is simply a collection of people living in our area who are originally from outside Portugal. The only other commonality is that everyone speaks English (and most of them Portuguese, along with at least one, two, or three or more other languages). Recently, we got together for a potluck. To represent typical American fare, Carolyn made a casserole, and I made a cherry pie. Yes, we could have been as American as apple pie, but cherries are in season, Besides, I like cherry pie better, and aside from the pitting, it’s easier to make. And neither George Washington or I had to chop down a cherry tree to do it.

We were delighted to find the following nationalities represented (and I hope I didn’t miss anyone): Italian, Mexican, French, Portuguese, British, Australian, and Slovenian.

Chatting with someone from Slovenia for the first time allowed me to ask whether Melania Trump, who is of course Slovenian, is well regarded there. I was told that she is (while allowing for the distorted worldview she surely has when one gets so rich and famous). Slovenia only has two million people, so the Kevin Bacon six degrees of separation thing is probably only about three there.

Everyone enjoyed the lunch and all the conversation. We were the only two Americans there, which made it that much more delightful for us, even if I sometimes have to strain through the accents. I’ve never been very good at understanding accents, but I think it’s improving, if for no other reason that almost everyone we speak to has one sort or another.

While many Americans visit Lisbon and the rest of the country on holiday, not that many, percentage-wise, settle in Portugal, and in fact very few Americans live in Sesimbra. As a result, sometimes we feel like we are scrutinized a bit as everyone tries to figure out what these crazy Americans are all about.

Like in so many social interactions in the U.S. today, politics tends to come up in most conversations. What I almost always hear is that everyone is pretty puzzled by what’s going on there today, especially because America has long been a country well regarded by most Europeans.

The Portuguese in particular see America through the lens of movies (almost all the movies shown are American with Portuguese subtitles) and other pop culture, as well as of course through the world news, which is often dominated by the U.S. They generally seem to look up to America as rich, successful, and powerful. But now they are a little baffled as to how this very powerful and rich country elected someone like Donald Trump. I still have yet to find one European who even remotely likes or respects him. When the topic first comes up, I notice most Europeans are initially cautious about it. They don’t want to offend me, if I happened to be a Trump supporter. When I’m able to confirm that I see the same things they see, I usually perceive a palpable sense of relief, and the conversation opens right up.

My analogy about it all is that it’s a lot like finding out your parish priest is a pedophile. Suddenly everything you liked about that priest and church is called into question.

Speaking of pedophilia (something so heinous that even among the worst of the worst in prison, pedophiles are considered scum), in America you can even be a pedophile and still be given a pass simply because you’re rich, famous, or talented (and not in prison). As a comedian we recently watched pointed out, Charlie Chaplin (he married both a 16 and 17-year old) and Elvis Presley (he first met Priscilla when she was 14) were both technically pedophiles. There is also Woody Allen and Michael Jackson as well. Closer to home, my late wife Dolly was abused by her father throughout her childhood years, and that awfulness still reverberates around that family.

And yet Elvis and Charlie Chaplain still command some degree of respect from most Americans. Which begs the question, just how talented, rich, and famous do you have to be to get away with raping a minor? I guess Elvis and Charlie have answered that question.

While Trump isn’t apparently a pedophile (although his very creepy comments about his daughter, including: “…If I weren’t happily married and, ya know, her father….” and “Is it wrong to be more sexually attracted to your own daughter than your wife?” are comments that make you wonder once you’re done being totally creeped out), his other sins are many. But because he’s rich, famous, and promoting a conservative agenda, it’s apparently all okay.

It’s hard to explain to anyone who isn’t American that the American culture has lurched headlong into one that worships two things above all else: money and fame. If you have both, you can pretty much do whatever you want, and many of the rest of people will even clamor for you, even if you’re a known liar like Trump (with a documented 10,000 lies and counting). But he’s also a known cheat (any serious golfer knows if you’re a golf cheat, you’re pretty much a low-life), philanderer (anyone doubt that?), self-professed pussy-grabber, bigot (obviously), and name-calling narcissist (double obviously). Everyone in the world sees this, and can’t imagine what’s going on with America. I mean, come on!

Seriously, if you need a guy like that to champion your agenda, shouldn’t you think just a little teensy bit about whether your agenda needs a little re-thinking?

Most Europeans express those sentiments in a variety of ways, and remain perplexed, because they love America, and don’t understand how it has gotten so far off track.

In the end, the world is a lot nicer place when people from all over the world come together and recognized that we’re all just human beings. Experiencing it in our little town of Sesimbra was a welcome reminder of all that.