Lessons Learned From a Greek Ferry

I am not travel stupid.  Experience has taught me that a little planning ahead can make the difference between an enjoyable trip and a travel nightmare.  But you can't control every outcome, especially if you are going off season.
We had decided to drive to a Greek island and all I was able to do in preparation was to book a hotel, have Google-maps suggest a route and make sure I had some euros cash.  We set off without being sure of the availability of car ferries, of the weather or if the Greek truck drivers would cooperate in keeping the borders open.  None of that information was available to me.  I had tried online  research and 'tripadvisor'.  One post stated sarcastically,

"Why are you asking? You have been to Greece before, you obviously know how it works!"  I had been to Greece by car many times before, and I did know how unpredictable the service was there.  Why was I asking? I was hoping that this time I would be able to control each detail to conjure up the perfect holiday free from travel hassles and weather worries.  Good luck!
This is what I learned from the Greek island ferries:
1. The weather can turn from pouring rain that floods the streets and darkens the skies to brilliant warm sunshine in a matter of minutes.  Just take a seat out of the rain and wait it out.

2. The ferry men take their job very seriously.  Don't try to fight them for they are in control.  They somehow pack an endless number of cars, trucks and motorcycles into a limited space by expertly directing each driver to park the car in the smallest parking space available.  There are no accidental dings or scrapes on their watch.
3. And finally, the ferries are magic. This is how I know. We arrived at the port and bought our tickets with plenty of time to spare.  We joined what looked like some other passengers waiting on the dock.  When the boarding began an employee began directing traffic.  We were told to wait while he beckoned other vehicles into the belly of the ship.  We watched what must have been at least a hundred cars drive on in front of us.  Buses unloaded passengers and bikes slipped on board.  The car in front of us decided he had waited long enough.  As he inched forward trying to cut in, the ferry worker told him in no uncertain terms to wait.  A shouting match developed but it got us no further to boarding the ship.  They began letting trucks on next.  At this point I realized that we might not make it. The next ferry was in 3 hours. I felt panic rising and was ready to get out and yell at the ferry man, "It's our turn, we have been waiting! Let us on while there is still room." But he was in no mood to be nice and things did not look good for us.
Finally, when no other cars could be found waiting to board, we were waved on.  As a passenger I left the car and entered the hold of the ship.  By some miracle the whole inside was empty of cars.  I could see the trucks parked to one side but the large cavernous space the size of a gymnasium was virtually empty.  Where had they put the cars that boarded before us? I felt so foolish for worrying that there wouldn't be room for our one car. Obviously this is some magic ferry that can hold any number of vehicles and people.

There was so much I couldn't control, from the wind direction to the hotel WiFi.  I had to accept this and believe in the magic.
Although the weather was overcast and cool, the sun came out at just the right moments to make our pictures look beautiful.  The "not so good" hotel we reserved online never received our booking.  The winding track of a road that made us feel hopelessly lost brought us out exactly where we wanted to be, even if we weren't sure where on a map.  The Greek truckers never got around to closing the border and this trip turned out to be memorable for the lessons well learned.

Beneath the Earth and Around the Corner

I have a walk I do almost everyday.  It is my way to work, to shop and to the nearest metro.  I'm fortunate as it takes me down my favorite street lined with coffee shops and stately embassies, and through my favorite park where I am currently waiting for the roses and lavender to bloom.
However, a new grocery store just opened in my neighborhood.  It has wide aisles, all the products I need and the crowds haven't found it yet.  So I've been taking a different route round the back of the park and down a side street.  This takes me by the sidewalk display of the corner flower shop.  They sell lemon and kumquat trees among their other blooms.

Now that I am taking notice of my somewhat new surroundings I look back at the park.  Viewing it from this angle I see that the back side is really a display of roman ruins dug up in 2002 when the Sofia subway was being built.  These pieces of history date back to the 2nd century AD and to the Roman city of Serdica on top of which Sofia lies today.  I normally don't notice these ancient monuments to days gone by because they are so much a part of the park.  Children play on them, draw on them, and they are used by picnickers as tables and benches.

But today the park is empty because of the rain and these relics silently remind me that they have always been there.

Security experts advise us to vary our routes so as to thwart terrorists.  Apparently we are less of a target if we are unpredictable.  But varying my walking path is less about my personal security and more about my mental health.  And it is about taking the time to look at things from different angles.

When visiting a beautiful building or grounds we need to wander around and look: down at what we are stepping on; up to what towers above; back at where we have just come from; and from the other side of the wall.
When visiting the breath taking monasteries in northern Greece recently, my favorite view was from inside the sturdy dark walls looking out... at the natural beauty just waiting for me to notice that it has always been there.

The UFO, the Underworld and the Unexpected

Soon after moving to Bulgaria we set out to explore the country and our first stop was Plovdiv Old Town.  We were lucky enough to stay at a great hostel with creaky floorboards and Roman ruins in the dining room.  And we met other travelers who were happy to share their recent experiences and show their photos.  The hotel owner had suggested some tombs and museums for us to visit, but these travelers had something far more interesting. They had stumbled upon an old abandoned relic from early communism that resembled a UFO both inside and out.

We just had to see it for ourselves, even though the directions were a little sketchy.  It had recently snowed and the road up the mountain was covered in drifts. We put the car into 4 wheel drive and continued up.  The place was closed up, locked and definitely not open to visitors. We walked all around looking for a way in and enjoying the view.  Finally finding a broken window that was low enough, we scrambled through.  The missing roof tiles and the snow combined to make the place look other-worldly.  What a find... even if we did have to break in.

On our recent visit to Corfu we were driving around the north end of the island when we saw a sign to "Old  Peritheia" and decided on a whim to check it out. It turned out to be an excellent choice and we thoroughly enjoyed the drive up the mountain side and stopped to sample the local wine in the old village.  Another traveler asked us if we had visited the cave yet.  "Oh, you must go! It's like entering the underworld," was the way he described it.  How could we pass this up?
Again the directions were sketchy and we were surprised to find a path at the end of the track that said NO BIKES. We headed down through the trees into a hidden ravine.

The cave opened up at the bottom like a large mouth ready to swallow us.  The birds were nesting in the rock walls, and the whole place was lush with trees, creepers and flowers.  It wasn't the biggest cave and not very deep, but we felt like we had found something unexpected! By following the overgrown path at the end of the road, we had entered another world far from the Greek island of Corfu.
So when another traveler excitedly tells you of that unexpected place he just found, get directions and follow them.

Corfu in April

Everyone likes to give travel advice.  As experts we share our experiences as to when it the best time to go where. I discovered this when researching a trip to Rome at Easter time.  The "trip advisers" were quite eloquent... and most of them were quite wrong. What someone should have shared was that the Vatican and the Pope make their own schedules and change venues and events regularly.  So trying to plan a trip to Rome over Easter is unpredictable. You can be certain about the crowds, but the opening times and ticket lines will vary from anything posted online.

So I didn't put much stock in any posted advice on visiting the Greek island of Corfu in April.  There was little that would have dissuaded me from going anyway.  An island visit depends greatly on the weather, and the weather on Corfu in April is unpredictable.
If you are going for sun, sea and beaches, then don't go to Corfu in April. The island is the wettest place in all of Greece and the sea breezes can be quite chilly even on a sunny day.  Many of the hotels and restaurants are still preparing to open so there won't be much choice.
But if you are going to enjoy the quiet natural beauty of the island, then April is the time. The place is just teeming with life, probably because of the rain.  Wildflowers blanket the hills and road banks. The olive trees sparkle silver and green.  The heavily laden lemon and kumquat trees drop their fruit. And the blue of the ocean contrasts with the snow tipped peaks of the Albanian coast.

The secluded coves and empty beaches look so inviting in the photographs, but you won't be tempted into the chilly water.  I did see some visitors venturing out on the choppy water, but I stayed on shore drinking coffee at a waterfront cafe.
Although nature has woken up, the rest of the island hasn't.  A sleepy atmosphere hangs over the towns and countryside. Go to Corfu in April, but don't stay long in one place.  You will have no trouble getting a ferry or last minute hotel room.  Beware of booking online as what looks open on a website is often not. Make sure you have a car so you can go exploring or find a place out of the wind. Corfu is a magical place and it is easier to see its charm without the competition from the thousands of sun worshipers that will arrive later in the season.

Where is Gerald Durrell's Corfu?

If you haven't read Gerald Durrell's book My Family and Other Animals, then put it on your summer reading list. It is lighthearted, very funny and will make you wish you had a childhood like his on the Greek island of Corfu. I had to read the book for school when I was turning 16, and have wanted to visit Corfu ever since. This quote alone was enough:
“Each day had a tranquility a timelessness about it so that you wished it would never end. But then the dark skin of the night would peel off and there would be a fresh day waiting for us glossy and colorful as a child's transfer and with the same tinge of unreality.”

So this spring break I went in search of Durrell's Corfu. I researched where to find the villas where the family had stayed and came up with some conflicting answers. It is doubtful whether much of the original homes still stand and they are definitely not on the tour guide. There is information about The White House, and so we headed to Kalami Bay. This is the house where Gerald's older brother Larry lived with his wife. It is now a restaurant with rooms to rent. As excited as I was to find the house, I was enthralled at the approach. There was no sign and we had to wind down a one lane track to the waters edge.

While I took in the olive groves behind crumbling stone walls and the banks of wild flowers, Jon did the driving and hoped we wouldn't meet another car. No tour buses would be coming this way. The place looked exactly like a scene from the book and I could just imagine Gerry taking his dogs out in a boat or walking up through the olives to visit a shepherd friend.
But this wasn't where he had lived. I did a bit more research and found that Gerald Durrell had regretted what his book had done to the island, and never got over the tragedy of the developing tourist trade during the 70's and 80's.

The memory of the island of his childhood is there, if you are willing to go looking for it. Much of the island has changed, but Durrell changed it even in his book. He used artistic license to add family members and under emphasized the size of the island. From his account the reader gets the impression that the off shore islands, checker board fields, and goat herders are all part of his back garden. I had to drive for the best part of a day to visit parts of the island that resembled the stories from the book.
In his book, Gerald Durrell did what many of us do, he created an idyllic childhood the way he would always want to remember it. Reality is never the same, and that is in part due to the passage of time, growing older and the world changing. But the main reason that Corfu is not the same is because as adults we cannot look at a place with the same eyes of a child.

"You should be paying me!"

We climbed the rocky stairway up to our fifth monastery that day.  After paying 3 euros we explored the grounds and gazed out at the spectacular view.  Money well spent.  We saw the carefully stored bones of dead monks, their gory deaths depicted on the chapel's painted ceiling, and we felt like we were on top of the world.
An elderly gentleman had just completed his climb up the rock and was balking at the admission price.  "You should be paying me!" was his reaction.  And, no doubt, he was thinking he should have stayed down at the 'taverna' with the rest of his party.  Or he should have taken the package holiday to the luxury resort.

Exploring the monasteries was turning out to be more work that he had expected.  There are different things each of us is looking for when we travel.  I like the sense of adventure, the thought of discovering something new and different.  That means I will go off the beaten path and let curiosity lead me.  Each of the six monasteries just had to be explored and every view point visited.  Rain or shine, summer or winter, the views can continually make me look for that fresh sight, wild flower or color of leaf.  I tend to stay in budget hotels that can be cancelled or booked at the last minute, and I would rather drive myself around.  I feel like I am charting my own path.
I am aware that many travelers, like our gentleman at the monastery, are paying for the experience and therefore expect to be entertained and catered to. They give themselves a break, letting others guide them around and show them the sights.

Both my teenage sons would agree with this view.  Sam, who is 18, would rather not leave our house if the alternative is anything less than a 5 star hotel with an entertaining group from his social circle.
One solution is to leave Sam at home and get a dog to travel with us instead. So we kept our eye out for a suitable Sam dog.
We met several sheep dogs on the road across northern Greece.  Most are working closely with the shepherd and never far from their sheep.  But we spotted a young pup who seemed more interested in sitting in the shade by the side of the road or nosing through the trash.  We knew we had found our Sam dog, but we left the shepherd to deal with him.

Sights that Satisfy

Most sights are not designed to satisfy.  We are constantly shown that perfect house, car or person, and made to feel dissatisfied enough to go out and spend money.  Of course, those visions of beauty are all lies.  They are unobtainable despite the price tag.
But now we look at nature, here today and gone tomorrow, and we are satisfied.  We take a picture to remind us of that perfect moment.  We know the colors will fade and change. We feel lucky to have the fleeting experience with a part of our changing world. We appreciate the ripeness of the time.
Sofia is at its best.  The flowers beds are in bloom, the green looks fresh and the snow

capped mountain is visible high above against the clear blue sky of spring. The lilac bushes hide the litter in the canal.  The wisteria vines climb up the crumbling brick walls.  And the tourists are out taking pictures on their walking tour of the city before heading into the hills.
The sight of bright yellow tulips and the clean spouting fountain are uplifting and satisfying.  They satisfy because we are aware that we have encountered the city at its best.  We are grateful to be here at this time.
That is what makes traveling so satisfying for me. I view beauty that doesn't make me feel like my life is lacking, or that I am missing out by not being what money can buy.

We are on our way to northern Greece and I know I will appreciate its rugged beauty and be refreshed. It won't be the best weather, and the hotel is 'budget', I will feel thankful that I don't live in this remote isolation, and I will be glad to come home again.  We can only enjoy what is fleeting by accepting that it is only perfect in that moment.