Much To My Delight

Much To My Delight


Good Morning Greece!

 

This morning I woke up in a pension off the main road in Fira, on the island of Santorini in Greece. I didn’t realize I’d booked a hostel until after we’d arrived, and aside from paper-thin towels and a parade of tiny bugs that march up the shower wall, it is actually not a bad place to lay for the night. The bed is firm but forgiving, and there’s a rooftop patio with umbrellas that provide adequate shade from the blazing June sun. In the mornings, between the hours of 08:00 and 10:00, they lay out a meager breakfast spread of weak tea and strong coffee, sliced bread and a buffet of bland, disc-shaped cereals. Greeks are not very big on breakfast–they go heavy for lunch and dinner- but they try to accommodate the people from places where they are. We are from New York City, where Sundays are built around where you go for brunch, so we do that down the street, in an outdoor garden cafe surrounded by huge terracotta planters filled with mint, basil and fragrant thyme.

I’m traveling back home today after our 11-day vacation in Greece, and this was the third place we stayed in, which has made it feel like three separate vacations in one. We spent our first three and a half days in Athens, in a rented flat in the center of hectic, touristy Plaka, where we took selfies in the shadow of the Parthenon and ate baklava in the pouring rain while crouched on flat green cushions on the famous Plaka steps, where locals drink Nescafe in tall, skinny glasses and smoke cigarettes one after another. We walked around and sat for hours in tiny cafes, eating grilled meats and pita and feta until our stomachs bulged, then walked around a few hours more. A seven-hour time difference resulted in restless, fitful sleep so we watched the Before Sunrise series, part one two and three, because they’re my very favorite, but also because there’s no better time or place to watch them than when traveling through Europe with the person you love walking around with.

Parthenon

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Athens cafe

Up next was a quick flight to the dreamy Santorini, where’d we’d booked our first three nights in Oia with its famous blue-domed churches and labrynth of winding cave dwellings built into a steep hill, the village they smartly photograph for all their postcards. On my 40th birthday, I woke up in a cave with cool gray walls, then stepped onto our bone-white patio to face the Aegean Sea. I shared the footpath with donkeys carrying crates of onions and bright red tomatoes on their backs, and drank icy frappes (medium sweet) on balconies that peeked over the spectacular caldera. I crawled down a narrow set of stairs into a little pipsqueak of a bookstore so magical I felt like a child discovering books for the very first time. For dinner, we hiked down 300 wide stone steps to the edge of the sea, where we watched tiny fishing boats and large charters pull up front to catch the famous Oia sunset while we ate a kilo of flounder pulled straight out of the water, flecked with salt before laid to rest on an outdoor grill. As the waiter cleared our plates, a colorful burst of fireworks arm-wrestled the stars and just as a plate of freshly fried loukamades dripping with honey and cream was placed before us, a group of handsome waiters from Athens walked through the winding decks singing Happy Birthday, until they finally reached our table and magically walked right past it, gathering around the girl sitting just behind me. I turned around and wished her a happy day too.

Oia Village Santorini

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Ammoudi Bay Santorini

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And now we’re here in bustling but beautiful Fira, where there are more scooters than cars and tourists than locals. It’s so hot I ran out of clothes, so a few days ago I pretended I was a local girl and washed a few dresses and underthings in my bathroom sink with a bar of soap and hung them to dry. Yesterday we ate gyros for $2.50 and swam in our strangely-shaped pool, which was mostly occupied by 23-year-olds staying from Ohio and Canada, who sleep here in a shared dorm with rickety bunk beds, just the way I did when I first traveled to New York. They are too young to care about sun hats and I don’t even envy their undimpled thighs and unlined foreheads, because I know our food budget for this trip has been much higher than theirs, and at this point in my life, that’s what really matters.

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We went on a few really nice vacations when I was a kid– never internationally– but nice, usually skiing in Colorado or New Mexico. I remember my father made us get up super early so we could make it to the mountain at the exact time the lifts started running, and he’d make us stay all day, until they stopped. Lunch was short, and we were allowed only one quick rest for hot chocolates. As a kid, I never appreciated how hard Dad worked to make those trips happen, that the tedious grind of work makes your time off precious, so he never wanted to waste it. I sure get it now.

Traveling feels like an enormous privilege to me, and when I’m somewhere so far and so different from home, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with humility and gratitude. Whenever I travel, I think of a few 8-year-old kids I taught briefly in the South Bronx, who’d never taken the subway into Manhattan. Manhattan was so far from their reality, they actually thought it was New Jersey. The people who have served us on our trip seem far more deserving of a vacation than I do. When we stayed in Oia, a man carried our bags by throwing one over his shoulder and tucking the other under his arm, then hiked up steep narrow stairwells made of rock and stone with sweat pouring from his forehead. I’ve been in a state of constant awe on this trip, not just with the scenery, but with the people too.

I haven’t been blogging much, but this trip has been filled with delightful little stories which I’ll start sharing more of when I get home. I think I’ll also put together a little tourists’s guide, since there were things that would have been super helpful for me to know before coming that I’d never read online before.

 

Anyway… Kalimera from Greece and wish me luck in my 13-hour travels today! I have loved this trip so much, but I am also ready to be home!

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Jenn P.

30-something psychotherapist. Loves cooking, hosting parties, exploring new places. Texan by birth. New Yorker by choice. Likes to tell little stories. Pull up a chair; I'll tell you one.

  • Steph Gregerson
    I love the way that you tell stories and I feel like I was there. That said, welcome home to the concrete jungle.
    • http://muchtomydelight.com/ Jenn from much to my delight
      Thank you so much for your comment Steph. Greece is hard to describe, so I hope I captured a little bit of it. I’m happy to be back on the concrete, but definitely missing that sea!