There's much to tell and little time, but we're coming home soon (Saturday!), and I'm sure many a story will be exchanged upon return. In the meantime, since I last wrote...
Mom and I split up our last full day in Vienna, as she wanted to see boring musuems and I wanted to see interesting ones. No reason to torture one another, we figured. I hit the 'Haus der Musik' - Vienna's Experience Music Project, if you will. Much, much better though. Everything was ultra-interactive, demonstrating the way sound operates as an experience within our body. Though it was just a teeny section, I found the room the simulates the sensations experienced by a fetus in the womb fascinating. (Shon, I think you would have thought in interesting too.) The whole place was just very unconventional, and managed to tear apart music and sound - in the midst of a city that puts an absolutely enormous emphasis on music (which, in many ways, is probably what incites a certain respect for the unconvention) - with a great respect paid to the ability of the body to turn purely fluid sound into music. It was really interesting. (And I ended up modeling in a couple of the exhibits for a Vienna musuem guide, so if you're in Vienna and you pick up a brochure with my picture in it, don't be too surprised.)
That morning, I also enjoyed my first (and actually only, oddly enough) romp in a classic Vienna coffeehouse. I had an incredibly delicious apricot cake with my coffee, which I'd like my favorite Portland coffeeshops to start making... The coffeehouses are a real experience - people sit and linger, like we do at home, but as the norm. Taking a coffee to go isn't just unheard of; it's an impossibility. The waiter is dressed in a formal tuxedo, and he comes and takes your order, as a waiter at a restaurant would do. It was lovely - again, I felt like I was entertaining myself in the most sophisticated of fashion. That was, of course, until we got to...
The Operahouse. Now, I'd repeat the Vienna Operahouse over and over, if I thought that might mean anything to anyone I know. Alas, I know Portland doesn't have much of a thriving opera scene (or anywhere in the States, as far as I know, for my favorite out-of-towners), so allow me to explain... evidently, the Vienna Operahouse is the epitome of operahouses (I'm convinced that's because there are very few places specifically devoted to opera, so the competition is minimal - though it is truly spectacular). It's one of those see-and-be-seen places - one of those places classical music conisseurs must step foot in to reflect on life with a smile. Our tickets were for a Sunday evening opera - Don Carlo. It was five hours.(!) We had box seats, with limited viewing, which turned out to be very limited, but at the price we paid, we didn't care. We could lean forward in our seats, or stand up in the box and catch a decent view. Even so, the music was entirely enjoyable all along. When I get home, be sure to ask me about the king of Spain making an appearance...
Early the next morning, we picked up our cute little Euro-car (after getting absolutely LOST on foot, luggage in tow) and hit the road to Hallstatt. En route, we stopped in Melk (where many of you will be receiving postcards from, as it was the only bag of postcards we could find for a few days), which had a splendid abbey Mom was excited to see. It was a delightful little town, very quaint. It seemed almost Oregon-beach-town-like to me, in a totally non-beachy, but tolerable-and-even-lovable kitcshy kind of way. The abbey was really interested. It'd been restored just ten years ago (ish), so all the paint was bright, the wood finely polished and the marble unchipped. It was fascinating to see a cathedral (calling these places 'churches' seems to fail to convey their enormity) in tip-top shape, the way it would have looked when first created. The Melk abbey had been restored in its original baroque style, so what we saw was near exactly what its inhabitants saw hundreds of years ago. It made for an interesting contrast to what we've seen at every other large, dusty, faded, chipped and antiqued European cathedral. And the library was fabulous... ask Trippe to see the postcard I sent him - it's really cool.
We drove to Hallstatt via backroads, along the Danube River, through the Wachau Valley (unthriving Austrian winecountry, thanks to a nasty scandal in the '90s about Austrians sweetening their wine with antifreeze - apparently true, though they claim they were framed as scapegoats and the practice was actually widespread - an uproar from which the industry has yet to really recover) and in the southern lake districts of Austria. It was an absolutely beautiful drive, save for the torrential downpours and seemingly unending tunnels (we don't have tunnels like these in the States - they're really weird). Despite the rain that evening, Hallstatt was an absolutely lovely quiet oasis. We ate dinner inside for the second night on our entire trip, watched a man lead a swan couple and their swan ducklings off the road and contemplated the bizarrely lighted sky at 9:30pm (it usually gets dark here about 8:45). The next day, we sipped coffee, took a boat ride and jumped on a hanging bridge, beat the rain at every turn and toured the salt mines (they let you - make you! - slide down wooden banisters! It's so great!). We drove into Salzburg late, where we quickly fell asleep in preperation for our last day with the luxary of our little car...
(I think I'm ending every paragraph with an ellipses transition. Sorry - the travel is evidently wearing on my compositional creativity.) The next day (Wednesday, by this point), we drove south-ish out of Salzburg, back through some of the senic roads we'd driven the day prior. We stopped for two hikes - one through a beautiful Ramona-Falls-esque waterfall (or Vasserfall, in German) and one on this fancy little pedestrian bridge over more waterfalls - similar to the Tremmelbach Falls hike we took in Switzerland. Both hikes were fabulous - particularly the first one, because it wasn't overrun as an obvious tourist destination. The other falls, however, were wonderful, because the bridge was built out of the rock, so we really were over the falls for the better part of the hike. It was an absolutely wonderful day - probably my second favorite of the trip (only behind the Samaria Gorge hike).
We're finally to today! Today we were the most sterotypical tourists we've ever been... we took the Sound of Music tour. And it was wonderful. We really enjoyed it. I realized just how much I'm missing all of you, because once it was over, I realized my favorite part had just been talking with a group of people for more than five minutes. Nevertheless, the tour was great. We saw all the classic spots - the front and back of the VonTrapp mansion, the gazebo, the abbey, the wedding church, as well as various asundry gardens, gates, lakes and meadows. We had all our precious Sound of Music myths debunked, but no one on our tour cried, which was good. Our guide was great, giving us lots of Austrian info, in addition to the Sound of Music bits. We drove through another part of the lake district, via delightful crater, which provided an enormity of incredible views.
And before I wrap this up, with the ten minutes I have left, let me enlight you into the new world to which I've been exposed... Canyoning. Anyone heard of it? Because I'm going to be searching for some companions... Evidently, people put on wetsuits and follow the water in a canyon as close as possible, using whatever means necessary, to avoid getting wet - hiking, climbing, spelunking, etc.
Okay, I have much to think on regarding Austrian culture, especially with regard their musical appreciations, but all that will have to wait for a cup of Stumptown... I miss and love you all so much, and truly can't wait to bring you all into my world of the last three weeks. See you in two days!
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Saturday, June 2, 2007
things of royalty
I think I forgot to mention that we're staying in an apartment in Vienna (with free internet - thus, more frequent blogging/significantly more communication). I like being able to travel this way - being able to stay somewhere locals live is a great way to get a stronger sense of the city (not to mention that tiptoeing around as an imposing tourist wears on one's soul after a couple weeks). Our apartment is a delightful little unit, with wonderfully comfortable beds, in comparison to the reminiscent-of-floor beds in Greece. And CNN/BBC! How strange it feels to be touring the world, yet feel disconnected from the happenings of the world. But, I've now learned that a video of Alan Johnston was released, the guy who exposed two international flights full of people to TB didn't realize he was contagious, that Saudi Arabia is planning a new city called King Abdula City - to be 3x the size of Manhattan, and that the first sex therapist in Egypt is experiencing raging success all throughout the Arab world. The thing we were missing out on...
In travel news, today was the day we finally hit the wall. I've done really well this trip, energy wise (which I think has to do with the lack of museums) but today we both crashed. Walking around felt like dragging lead posts behind us and we got lost - without being able to recover our location with the aid of a map - approximately 120 times. Our feet hurt, and our packing efficiency hasn't led to enough alternative footwear options. Anyways, I think it was a one day we've-been-on-the-road-for-a-while-now realization, and I think we'll snap back tomorrow. Despite the zapped energy, our zeal for travel and experience remained in tact and we did see some very cool things. Namely...
The Schonbrunn (sp?) Palace. This is the summer place of the Hapsburgs - the Viennese royal family, which dissolved its royal reign around WWI (I believe). Vienna boasts two palaces - the other, the Hofsburg, is in the center of the city. Schonbrunn is just a quick 15-minute, 4-mile trip, via the underground. Now, I realize summer places now and then, and royal vs. non-royal, are a bit different, but who summers four miles from their permanant residence?! Anyways.
The palace is huge. And ornate. It feels like one of those places that should just strike me with awe, being so lucky as to enter, but being so far from my reality, in some ways it just feels like going through a museum. It's near impossible to imagine people actually living there, or even a country that would operate under a government of a royal emporer. Nevertheless, the place is quite fascinating, albeit a never-ending source of total mystification (not spiritual mystification - a place that mystifies, rather).
The gardens are also quite lovely. We went in the Palm House, which Mom described to me as being similar to an Orangary, an establishment she later admitted she'd never entered. There was an enormous assortment of beautiful tropical flowers I'd never seen. Easily our favorite part of the gardens, however, were the Roman ruins. Now, after being IN Rome, we've seen our fair share of Roman ruins. However, what made these Roman ruins so fabulous was that they were created in the late 1800s. You know, as opposed to the Roman ruins in Rome, which were established well before the days of Christ... they were ruined quite artistically - just the right heads missing and chunks of columns placed just perfectly precariously so.
Dinner was Weiner Schnitzel - a German/Austrian/Swiss favorite of mine. Last night, I had a similar dish, stuffed with cheese and ham (it was breaded turkey cutlet last night, pork tonight). Delicious food, that schnitzel is. We killed a little time over dessert at a local pastery joint. I finally sipped a cup of Viennese coffee - no Stumptown, but thankfully no NesCafe.
After dessert we hit an organ concert at St. Michaels' - a big traditional (and ancient) cathedral just outside the Hofsburg Palace. It was also lovely. Just thirty minutes of organ, filling this otherwise hollow church. After the concert, the organist invited the audience up to see the organ, which was certainly a treat. He told us about the music and the manufacturing of an organ. We were surprised to find out that organs differ culturally, just like wine, music and language. Organs in Austria and Southern Germany are divided in the center. In this cathedral, the division allows the sunlight to stream in and shine on the alter.
The organ concert reaffirmed suspicions that Austrians do love their classical music. It's strange, being from a family who's instilled in me an appreciation for fine classical music, in a place where such is not the norm, being displaced into a culture where it IS the norm. It seemed bizarre that a couple my age was sitting next to us in the concert, apparently there on their own accord. Again, reiterating the Austrian appreciation for the finer cultural constructions of our world.
That's what I've got for tonight... as mentioned, exhaustion has set in. Time to put our tired bodies to sleep in our lovely beds (complete with especially soft duvets and pillows). So long, friends. Check back in tomorrow night for last words on Vienna (including the opera!).
In travel news, today was the day we finally hit the wall. I've done really well this trip, energy wise (which I think has to do with the lack of museums) but today we both crashed. Walking around felt like dragging lead posts behind us and we got lost - without being able to recover our location with the aid of a map - approximately 120 times. Our feet hurt, and our packing efficiency hasn't led to enough alternative footwear options. Anyways, I think it was a one day we've-been-on-the-road-for-a-while-now realization, and I think we'll snap back tomorrow. Despite the zapped energy, our zeal for travel and experience remained in tact and we did see some very cool things. Namely...
The Schonbrunn (sp?) Palace. This is the summer place of the Hapsburgs - the Viennese royal family, which dissolved its royal reign around WWI (I believe). Vienna boasts two palaces - the other, the Hofsburg, is in the center of the city. Schonbrunn is just a quick 15-minute, 4-mile trip, via the underground. Now, I realize summer places now and then, and royal vs. non-royal, are a bit different, but who summers four miles from their permanant residence?! Anyways.
The palace is huge. And ornate. It feels like one of those places that should just strike me with awe, being so lucky as to enter, but being so far from my reality, in some ways it just feels like going through a museum. It's near impossible to imagine people actually living there, or even a country that would operate under a government of a royal emporer. Nevertheless, the place is quite fascinating, albeit a never-ending source of total mystification (not spiritual mystification - a place that mystifies, rather).
The gardens are also quite lovely. We went in the Palm House, which Mom described to me as being similar to an Orangary, an establishment she later admitted she'd never entered. There was an enormous assortment of beautiful tropical flowers I'd never seen. Easily our favorite part of the gardens, however, were the Roman ruins. Now, after being IN Rome, we've seen our fair share of Roman ruins. However, what made these Roman ruins so fabulous was that they were created in the late 1800s. You know, as opposed to the Roman ruins in Rome, which were established well before the days of Christ... they were ruined quite artistically - just the right heads missing and chunks of columns placed just perfectly precariously so.
Dinner was Weiner Schnitzel - a German/Austrian/Swiss favorite of mine. Last night, I had a similar dish, stuffed with cheese and ham (it was breaded turkey cutlet last night, pork tonight). Delicious food, that schnitzel is. We killed a little time over dessert at a local pastery joint. I finally sipped a cup of Viennese coffee - no Stumptown, but thankfully no NesCafe.
After dessert we hit an organ concert at St. Michaels' - a big traditional (and ancient) cathedral just outside the Hofsburg Palace. It was also lovely. Just thirty minutes of organ, filling this otherwise hollow church. After the concert, the organist invited the audience up to see the organ, which was certainly a treat. He told us about the music and the manufacturing of an organ. We were surprised to find out that organs differ culturally, just like wine, music and language. Organs in Austria and Southern Germany are divided in the center. In this cathedral, the division allows the sunlight to stream in and shine on the alter.
The organ concert reaffirmed suspicions that Austrians do love their classical music. It's strange, being from a family who's instilled in me an appreciation for fine classical music, in a place where such is not the norm, being displaced into a culture where it IS the norm. It seemed bizarre that a couple my age was sitting next to us in the concert, apparently there on their own accord. Again, reiterating the Austrian appreciation for the finer cultural constructions of our world.
That's what I've got for tonight... as mentioned, exhaustion has set in. Time to put our tired bodies to sleep in our lovely beds (complete with especially soft duvets and pillows). So long, friends. Check back in tomorrow night for last words on Vienna (including the opera!).
Friday, June 1, 2007
culture shock.
We just stepped into Vienna today, which deserves much - MUCH - description, but before I go there, I owe Greece a big wrap-up...
Yesterday we did the Athens tourist thing - ie, the Acropolis and all the various inclusions of the combo ticket. The ruins are really quite remarkable. It's hard - near impossible - to really fathom just how long these structures have survived, and by virture of their ancient age, how much history they've seen. To use an old cliche very appropriately - if these walls could talk. We stood atop Mars Hill, which I suppose is the typical Christian-tourist thing to do, but again, incredible to realize I was stepping in paths Paul once walked, articulating what later became one of the most profound ways I understand my faith.
We had a lovely last Greek dinner, complete w/a greek salad and (my dish) a rooster something-or-other. Yes, rooster. It tastes remarkably similar to chicken, but was served in gigantic porportion. While I'm on the topic of greek dinners, let me sidetrack just a smidge to explain what seemed a bizarre cultural practice, to my ignorant United States mind... Greek people skip breakfast, eat lunch around three and dinner around ten. TEN. We showed up to dinner at 7:45 in Santorini one night, and were told that it might be a bit early for something as heavy as Mouskassas. Of course, we were skeptical that we'd even find somewhere willing to serve us dinner so late, on such a small island! It's next to impossible to find dinner prior to seven, and we certainly received bizarre looks anytime prior to 8:30.
I know this next paragraph is horribly ethnocentric (not egocentric...), but I also know recognizing the problem is half the battle... Anyway, here goes. I've noticed that, in many ways, it seems like Greek people do little to take the simple and easy basic steps to care for their health - for example, smoking (these people truly smoke an absolutely obscene amount), eating late (important to let your food digest a couple hours before you sleep) and wearing seatbelts. Now, don't get me wrong - I'm sure there's a multitude of things Americans do that pose easily-avoidable health risks (and I know that the fact that no examples are coming to mind just perpetuates my own ethnocentricity - maybe not eating fast food...), and so perhaps my commentary is just that of an arrogant American, but I do find it interesting.
Last bit of stand-alone Greek commentary - the coffee is awful. Absolutely, completely terrible. I miss Stumptown so so much.
This morning we stepped out of Mediterrean Athens and into classy Vienna... a total culture shock. Both are so beautiful, in their own way - but those ways are very different. Vienna really is a bit of a fairy tale (Julia, I'm anxious to hear your thoughts on Vienna vs. Prague, in the fairy tale category...). Beyond the buildings being old and beautiful, and so palace/high-society looking, it's just so classy.
People here love music and art. And coffee and strudel. And horses and extravagance. For whatever reason, these things seem sophisticated to me. But not in the way that New York seems a bit sophisticated on parts of 5th Avenue, or the way Paris seems sophisticated in my mind, but like a sophisticated treasure people who've never been here don't know about. They go out to the Opera, they ride bikes (I'll write more on this fabulous element of the city momentarily), and I imagine they carry opera glasses (perhaps I'll find out on Sunday evening, when we go to the Opera!). There are beautiful stores, like Tiffany's and Cartier, and while, to some extent, it feels like such luxaries are paraded around, it doesn't seem like it's done at the expense of social equality. And maybe that's just due to my currently awe-struck vision of the city, or perhaps it's the manifestation of the real-life fairy tale in my mind. (And even so, I've seen more people on the street just today than I did in our whole two-week Greece adventure.)
Take, for example, this fun experience today... We used the public WCs (technically water closet - or, better know to us as a restroom) our guidebook recommended, primarily b/c we were curious what could possibly be so great about a bathroom that a guidebook would go to the effort of recommending such facilities (and b/c we'd drank a lot of water). I wish I'd taken pictures though... it was incredible. Each stall had its own toliet and sink - all w/in the stall. The door, walls and toilet seat were made of fine mahogany. I felt so dignified using the bathroom, of all things. And then to have the sink right there next to me! And the attendant, whom you pay 50 cents, closes the door for you... bizarre. Just downright bizarre.
The bikes - if Portlanders only knew... the sidewalks here are very wide (again, major contrast to Greece, where, if sidewalks actually existed, it was only for the duration of 20 short feet or so) - probably the width of two and half lanes of traffic. About a third of the width is designated a bike lane, and people USE it! There are tons of bikers. Every bike rack is packed, and all the bike lanes are full of girls in flowy dresses and boys in smart suits. It's lovely; very environmentally-sound, a little bit old-fashioned, and an excellent perpetuater of the Sound-of-Music stereotype.
This feels like the city where my 813-page etiquette book might come in handy. But this elegant ambiance isn't oppressive, it's just a little bit magical. I can't explain it, but I'm quickly falling in love with the city. And to think, all from a place that speaks German! A language I typically frown at the sound of... (strange how I keep falling for the german-speaking places, isn't it?)
And to compare this with Greece... night and day. In every sense of the analogy. Both night and day are good, and they need each other. Without both in moderation, our lives feel out of sync, exhausting. The night is usually a relief from the day, and vice-versa. On the one hand, it seems strange to combine these two places in one trip. On the other hand, it seems a little bit perfect.
Yesterday we did the Athens tourist thing - ie, the Acropolis and all the various inclusions of the combo ticket. The ruins are really quite remarkable. It's hard - near impossible - to really fathom just how long these structures have survived, and by virture of their ancient age, how much history they've seen. To use an old cliche very appropriately - if these walls could talk. We stood atop Mars Hill, which I suppose is the typical Christian-tourist thing to do, but again, incredible to realize I was stepping in paths Paul once walked, articulating what later became one of the most profound ways I understand my faith.
We had a lovely last Greek dinner, complete w/a greek salad and (my dish) a rooster something-or-other. Yes, rooster. It tastes remarkably similar to chicken, but was served in gigantic porportion. While I'm on the topic of greek dinners, let me sidetrack just a smidge to explain what seemed a bizarre cultural practice, to my ignorant United States mind... Greek people skip breakfast, eat lunch around three and dinner around ten. TEN. We showed up to dinner at 7:45 in Santorini one night, and were told that it might be a bit early for something as heavy as Mouskassas. Of course, we were skeptical that we'd even find somewhere willing to serve us dinner so late, on such a small island! It's next to impossible to find dinner prior to seven, and we certainly received bizarre looks anytime prior to 8:30.
I know this next paragraph is horribly ethnocentric (not egocentric...), but I also know recognizing the problem is half the battle... Anyway, here goes. I've noticed that, in many ways, it seems like Greek people do little to take the simple and easy basic steps to care for their health - for example, smoking (these people truly smoke an absolutely obscene amount), eating late (important to let your food digest a couple hours before you sleep) and wearing seatbelts. Now, don't get me wrong - I'm sure there's a multitude of things Americans do that pose easily-avoidable health risks (and I know that the fact that no examples are coming to mind just perpetuates my own ethnocentricity - maybe not eating fast food...), and so perhaps my commentary is just that of an arrogant American, but I do find it interesting.
Last bit of stand-alone Greek commentary - the coffee is awful. Absolutely, completely terrible. I miss Stumptown so so much.
This morning we stepped out of Mediterrean Athens and into classy Vienna... a total culture shock. Both are so beautiful, in their own way - but those ways are very different. Vienna really is a bit of a fairy tale (Julia, I'm anxious to hear your thoughts on Vienna vs. Prague, in the fairy tale category...). Beyond the buildings being old and beautiful, and so palace/high-society looking, it's just so classy.
People here love music and art. And coffee and strudel. And horses and extravagance. For whatever reason, these things seem sophisticated to me. But not in the way that New York seems a bit sophisticated on parts of 5th Avenue, or the way Paris seems sophisticated in my mind, but like a sophisticated treasure people who've never been here don't know about. They go out to the Opera, they ride bikes (I'll write more on this fabulous element of the city momentarily), and I imagine they carry opera glasses (perhaps I'll find out on Sunday evening, when we go to the Opera!). There are beautiful stores, like Tiffany's and Cartier, and while, to some extent, it feels like such luxaries are paraded around, it doesn't seem like it's done at the expense of social equality. And maybe that's just due to my currently awe-struck vision of the city, or perhaps it's the manifestation of the real-life fairy tale in my mind. (And even so, I've seen more people on the street just today than I did in our whole two-week Greece adventure.)
Take, for example, this fun experience today... We used the public WCs (technically water closet - or, better know to us as a restroom) our guidebook recommended, primarily b/c we were curious what could possibly be so great about a bathroom that a guidebook would go to the effort of recommending such facilities (and b/c we'd drank a lot of water). I wish I'd taken pictures though... it was incredible. Each stall had its own toliet and sink - all w/in the stall. The door, walls and toilet seat were made of fine mahogany. I felt so dignified using the bathroom, of all things. And then to have the sink right there next to me! And the attendant, whom you pay 50 cents, closes the door for you... bizarre. Just downright bizarre.
The bikes - if Portlanders only knew... the sidewalks here are very wide (again, major contrast to Greece, where, if sidewalks actually existed, it was only for the duration of 20 short feet or so) - probably the width of two and half lanes of traffic. About a third of the width is designated a bike lane, and people USE it! There are tons of bikers. Every bike rack is packed, and all the bike lanes are full of girls in flowy dresses and boys in smart suits. It's lovely; very environmentally-sound, a little bit old-fashioned, and an excellent perpetuater of the Sound-of-Music stereotype.
This feels like the city where my 813-page etiquette book might come in handy. But this elegant ambiance isn't oppressive, it's just a little bit magical. I can't explain it, but I'm quickly falling in love with the city. And to think, all from a place that speaks German! A language I typically frown at the sound of... (strange how I keep falling for the german-speaking places, isn't it?)
And to compare this with Greece... night and day. In every sense of the analogy. Both night and day are good, and they need each other. Without both in moderation, our lives feel out of sync, exhausting. The night is usually a relief from the day, and vice-versa. On the one hand, it seems strange to combine these two places in one trip. On the other hand, it seems a little bit perfect.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
notes on obsecurity
We've been in Athens approximately 32 hours by now, though it feels much longer... such a stark change of pace makes for minor adjustment issues. I have mixed feelings on the city. I certainly don't hate it, but I'm not sure if I love it. I feel remarkably safe here, as far as big cities go. For whatever reason, greek people strike me as relatively harmless - probably a deceptive personal fable, but makes for a less-edgy perspective. All our guidebooks talk about the city being typical city - big, dirty, noisy. And while it certainly holds such qualities, it doesn't seem so in proportion to its size. I suspect this has been a change since the Athens Olympics (in '04). The Metro (subway) system is the slickest I've seen (event-planner envy) and the roads are in good condition (as far as European roads are concerned). [Side note: There are six SERIOUS gamers in this internet cafe and they're shouting about their computer games in greek... brings a new understanding to 'computer nerd.']
Greece has a seemingly inordinate number of stray animals (cats and dogs) - harping back to my Mexico theory. It's strange, coming from Portland, where we just don't have strays at all. I just can't explain how bizarre it is to see dogs running around, with no home.
I know you've been wondering about the toilets, so let me share... again, with the Mexico comparison, there's some debate as to whether or not toilet paper is flushable. Some bathrooms have signs, some don't. Mom seems to think that it's fine to flush in new plumbing, but not in old. Many of the toilets have two flush buttons, like a big flush and a little flush (Sunday family - like in the bathroom in Googleville).
Most hotel rooms come with two sets of two towels - a normal sized bath towel and a HUGE (as in, size of a small bath towel) hand towel. We've had incredible luck getting seperate beds in our hotels (something we didn't have the pleasure of in Italy, w/the exception of the convent in Siena). And every hotel has had a bathtub shower... a true source of joy, after my experiences flooding nearly every bathroom we had in Italy.
Mom's turn on the computer. So long for now! Love to all.
P.S. Danny, Ryan - how was your last show?! Sorry I missed it!
Thus far, in Athens, we've done a lot of walking and hit a few museums. We ate dinner atop some huge hill (starts with an 'L') , with absolutely sweeping views of all Athens, last night. Athens is a BIG city! It just sprawls and sprawls... We watched the sun go down over the city; it was all very picturesque. I went to the matriarchy museum I was all excited about; I was disappointed. But I did meet a really interesting guy, Miguel, from Spain, who was particularly interested in talking religion. It was a good challenge for me to discuss my ideas on faith, church and God in simple english (his english was good, but not technical, and he really knew little to nothing about Christianity).
We ate very greek today - yougurt and honey for breakfast (their yougurt is different than ours' [first of all, it's spelled 'yougurt']; it's much creamier and thicker [and probably more fattening]), for lunch - souvalaki (which is essentially skewers) on fried pita, and for dinner a greek salad [a new favorite] and some sort of spicy-ish pork stew dish.
Greece has a seemingly inordinate number of stray animals (cats and dogs) - harping back to my Mexico theory. It's strange, coming from Portland, where we just don't have strays at all. I just can't explain how bizarre it is to see dogs running around, with no home.
I know you've been wondering about the toilets, so let me share... again, with the Mexico comparison, there's some debate as to whether or not toilet paper is flushable. Some bathrooms have signs, some don't. Mom seems to think that it's fine to flush in new plumbing, but not in old. Many of the toilets have two flush buttons, like a big flush and a little flush (Sunday family - like in the bathroom in Googleville).
Most hotel rooms come with two sets of two towels - a normal sized bath towel and a HUGE (as in, size of a small bath towel) hand towel. We've had incredible luck getting seperate beds in our hotels (something we didn't have the pleasure of in Italy, w/the exception of the convent in Siena). And every hotel has had a bathtub shower... a true source of joy, after my experiences flooding nearly every bathroom we had in Italy.
Mom's turn on the computer. So long for now! Love to all.
P.S. Danny, Ryan - how was your last show?! Sorry I missed it!
Monday, May 28, 2007
samaria gorge - not as in biblical samaritans.
First - an update on internet cafe music... right now, Natalie Imbruglia. When we walked in, Shakira.
We did it. 11 miles, 17 kilometers, and eight hours later, we can say we hiked the Samaria Gorge. It was absolutely, completely, in every way worth it. I wish I could figure out how to upload pictures, so you could grab the tinest glimpse of the beauty we were immersed in yesterday, but you'll just have to take my word for it.
I think, in some ways, the length and physical challenge made it even more spectacular. On the one hand, I wish everyone could easily access the park, on the other hand, I like that I had to invest something to receive the magnificent outcome. It seems very economical - but in a fair and just way.
The gorge begins as a vast exapanse, defined by slabs of rock that make any biblical reference (or contemporary Christian worship song, as the case may be) to God being higher than the mountains understandable. These walls are absolutely dwarfing - not only putting humanity into perspective, but testifying to the grandness of creation. As we hiked through the gorge, we stumbled into empty riverbeds, which were near frightening to imagine in the midst of a winter storm (or flash flood...?). Seemingly out of nowhere, the dry riverbeds would wet, with slate-blue, almost icy looking, water. At times, it imposed that slightly terrifying awe that creation often elicits in me, but upon second (or fifth glance), it often mellowed into peaceful serenity. Further on through, the walls narrow (at one point to just three meters - nine feet - wide). I expected to feel claustrophobic, but I felt almost comforted in its power.
I can't wait to show y'all pictures of yesterday - please do google in the meantime. Beyond the above description, I must just reiterate the sense of awe at such remarkable beauty. In some ways, it felt familiar - almost fake because of the ways humanity has replicated nature. But that was exactly it - humanity has imitated nature, nature hasn't imitated humanity. And nature has a way of proclaiming its stake boldly - every familiarity I detected was juxtaposed with the obvious inception of beginning at divine creation.
In other godly-esque observations, I've been realizing more and more about my relationship with the greek language, and the strange ways it manifests in modern greek culture. This was actually glaringly obvious to me in Santorini, where I was determined to read something - anything - in greek (unsuccessfully determined, I might note. Other than that sign pointing to the holy temple, of course.). To me, because my education in greek has been for the sole purpose of reading scripture, I think I've learned to associate these distinct characters with some sort of divine implication. The language seems almost holy to me (in a way I certainly hadn't realized until now). Seeing these brush strokes I've learned to associate with scripture splashed across buildings to declare everything from cars to bars is strange... It almost strikes me as being unholy and a defilement to the language I've poured over. At first it was sad, almost tragic. I think it always is, when we realize that the things we associate with divinity are not, in fact, divine. And yet, it still reigns true - it still proclaims that God is wholly divine and we are not. I can pour over greek, studying every nuance of the language, but ultimately, my purpose in studying is to pour over scripture, and know every nuance of God. These manmade tools can be only that - tools propelling us to closeness with God, yet never things to replace closeness.
Okay, off my speculation on man's failings in seeking divinity and onto one last Samaria Gorge story... there were numerous signs posted to caution of falling rock. One such sign read (the english translation), "Great danger! Walk quickly." This struck me as particularly odd - "walk quickly" didn't seem like the best piece of advice one could offer. I think of similar signs at Multnomah Falls, and I believe they read something along the lines of "Great danger! Don't linger." Or "Great danger! Watch above." Or something that wouldn't imply danger as inevidable, suggesting that one take the pain as, well, painlessly as possible, but rather that danger can be avoided, with careful precaution. In fact, couldn't walking quickly actually increase your chances of danger? If you walk quickly (particuarly if you fail to follow the national park's "no high heels" rule) couldn't you more easily slip and fall, potentially then being pinned to the ground by said dangerous mammoth boulders in your effort to rise? I just don't think "walk quickly" is the best piece of advice...
One last note - if you'd like a postcard, you'll need to e-mail me your address (beythhogue@gmail.com). Otherwise, there'll just be a large stack of postcards at my house, addressed to: "You, c/o Beyth" and that's just not as much fun... In particular, I need addresses for Anna, Rachael, Laura (both), Trippe/Davis(/Krispin?), Danny/Ryan/Adam, Jesse/Cait/Hannah, Cil/Kam, the 16 at large (JB - I sent your's to your mum's house...) and anyone else who thinks I should be sending them a postcard... Upon reciept of an address, I will gladly compose a very nice postcard.
That's it for now! A few personal notes below... My love to all, as always! - b.
Danny - I just want to confirm your theory on greek drivers. Whatever number of degrees all that adds up to is probably too small... But, ya know, we get anywhere we want to go VERY quickly in a taxi.
Laura and Trippe - how was Georgia?
Laura (the other one) - best of luck w/classes starting this week...
We did it. 11 miles, 17 kilometers, and eight hours later, we can say we hiked the Samaria Gorge. It was absolutely, completely, in every way worth it. I wish I could figure out how to upload pictures, so you could grab the tinest glimpse of the beauty we were immersed in yesterday, but you'll just have to take my word for it.
I think, in some ways, the length and physical challenge made it even more spectacular. On the one hand, I wish everyone could easily access the park, on the other hand, I like that I had to invest something to receive the magnificent outcome. It seems very economical - but in a fair and just way.
The gorge begins as a vast exapanse, defined by slabs of rock that make any biblical reference (or contemporary Christian worship song, as the case may be) to God being higher than the mountains understandable. These walls are absolutely dwarfing - not only putting humanity into perspective, but testifying to the grandness of creation. As we hiked through the gorge, we stumbled into empty riverbeds, which were near frightening to imagine in the midst of a winter storm (or flash flood...?). Seemingly out of nowhere, the dry riverbeds would wet, with slate-blue, almost icy looking, water. At times, it imposed that slightly terrifying awe that creation often elicits in me, but upon second (or fifth glance), it often mellowed into peaceful serenity. Further on through, the walls narrow (at one point to just three meters - nine feet - wide). I expected to feel claustrophobic, but I felt almost comforted in its power.
I can't wait to show y'all pictures of yesterday - please do google in the meantime. Beyond the above description, I must just reiterate the sense of awe at such remarkable beauty. In some ways, it felt familiar - almost fake because of the ways humanity has replicated nature. But that was exactly it - humanity has imitated nature, nature hasn't imitated humanity. And nature has a way of proclaiming its stake boldly - every familiarity I detected was juxtaposed with the obvious inception of beginning at divine creation.
In other godly-esque observations, I've been realizing more and more about my relationship with the greek language, and the strange ways it manifests in modern greek culture. This was actually glaringly obvious to me in Santorini, where I was determined to read something - anything - in greek (unsuccessfully determined, I might note. Other than that sign pointing to the holy temple, of course.). To me, because my education in greek has been for the sole purpose of reading scripture, I think I've learned to associate these distinct characters with some sort of divine implication. The language seems almost holy to me (in a way I certainly hadn't realized until now). Seeing these brush strokes I've learned to associate with scripture splashed across buildings to declare everything from cars to bars is strange... It almost strikes me as being unholy and a defilement to the language I've poured over. At first it was sad, almost tragic. I think it always is, when we realize that the things we associate with divinity are not, in fact, divine. And yet, it still reigns true - it still proclaims that God is wholly divine and we are not. I can pour over greek, studying every nuance of the language, but ultimately, my purpose in studying is to pour over scripture, and know every nuance of God. These manmade tools can be only that - tools propelling us to closeness with God, yet never things to replace closeness.
Okay, off my speculation on man's failings in seeking divinity and onto one last Samaria Gorge story... there were numerous signs posted to caution of falling rock. One such sign read (the english translation), "Great danger! Walk quickly." This struck me as particularly odd - "walk quickly" didn't seem like the best piece of advice one could offer. I think of similar signs at Multnomah Falls, and I believe they read something along the lines of "Great danger! Don't linger." Or "Great danger! Watch above." Or something that wouldn't imply danger as inevidable, suggesting that one take the pain as, well, painlessly as possible, but rather that danger can be avoided, with careful precaution. In fact, couldn't walking quickly actually increase your chances of danger? If you walk quickly (particuarly if you fail to follow the national park's "no high heels" rule) couldn't you more easily slip and fall, potentially then being pinned to the ground by said dangerous mammoth boulders in your effort to rise? I just don't think "walk quickly" is the best piece of advice...
Crete is raining today. So, alas, it's not the perfect greek oasis I'd thought... ah well, just makes me think of home. We go to Athens tomorrow (this trip seems to be sliding away quickly). I'm looking forward to two museums in particular (looking forward to museums is a rarity for me). One is at the base of the Acropolis, in the Agora - the ancient marketplace/gathering place of intellects (read: where Socrates, Plato and Aristotle spoke and where Paul preached). The museum is evidently filled with artifacts of democratic significance, tracing the development of greek democracy. Interesting! The other museum I'm particularly interested in follows the ancient matriarchal cultures in the Cyclades islands... also should be fascinating!
One last note - if you'd like a postcard, you'll need to e-mail me your address (beythhogue@gmail.com). Otherwise, there'll just be a large stack of postcards at my house, addressed to: "You, c/o Beyth" and that's just not as much fun... In particular, I need addresses for Anna, Rachael, Laura (both), Trippe/Davis(/Krispin?), Danny/Ryan/Adam, Jesse/Cait/Hannah, Cil/Kam, the 16 at large (JB - I sent your's to your mum's house...) and anyone else who thinks I should be sending them a postcard... Upon reciept of an address, I will gladly compose a very nice postcard.
That's it for now! A few personal notes below... My love to all, as always! - b.
Danny - I just want to confirm your theory on greek drivers. Whatever number of degrees all that adds up to is probably too small... But, ya know, we get anywhere we want to go VERY quickly in a taxi.
Laura and Trippe - how was Georgia?
Laura (the other one) - best of luck w/classes starting this week...
Saturday, May 26, 2007
i'm a believer.
Yesterday said goodbye to Santorini and hello to Crete. I know you've been dying to hear juicy travel mishaps, and one finally manifested for your vicarious enjoyment...
We were on the ferry to Crete, which left Santorini an hour late (typical, we were informed). Mom was talking to an Australian man named David and I was pouring over Crete guidebooks. As I was reading about a possible drive, comparing the milage on the drive to the map - 77 miles, 5-6 hours, it occured to me that the town we were staying in was twice the distance of the drive. I looked at the map, and flipped back to the information on the drive, trying to come to some realization that would mean we were not in fact going to be stranded upon the arrival of our ferry. But I flipped to no avail...
In the course of 20 minutes (which felt both mind-bendingly long and short), we contemplated our absolute every option. We considered just how outrageously expensive it would be to take a taxi that distance. We contemplated just how severe our manual-driving ineptitude was. We wondered loudly, hoping our new Australian friend might have a magical solution. We didn't even pause to wonder how we made such a vast oversight (which, mind you, would not have been such an urgent problem had our ferry been landing in the light of day. Alas, we were docking at 8:30p - or 20:30 Greek time [which sounded dauntingly late to us].). Luckily, our passive-aggressive technique worked the magic those techniques never do. As luck would have it (or divine provision, which I think was far more likely the case), David and his friends were also staying in Chania (our way-too-far-away, but supposedly-very-quaint town). We attached ourselves to their group upon depature from the ferry, and, while their vehicles were packed, their friend informed us that the bus station was just a quick walk away.
Talk about divine provision - we huffed and puffed into the bus station, narrowly avoiding several vehicular encounters, TEN minutes before the LAST bus to Chania left. And we paid 10,50 euro! (MUCH cheaper than the anticipated break-the-bank taxi ride.) The bus left at nine, with us contentedly seated. It arrived in Chania at midnight (just, one more time, imagine the 3 hour taxi ride...). We arrived at our hotel moments later, via a very nice - and very quick! - taxi. WHEW!
We woke up this morning to the cloudless skies of which so many people have spoken... and now, NOW, it feels like Greece. Crete (at least, the small portion which we've seen) is devoid of the classic white-washed Greek architecture, but the ocean is absolutely breath-taking. This is the Greece I've dreamt of, seen in movies and have been counting the days 'til my toes would tickle the sea. We walked on soft sand, splashed in warm water and gawked at the plethora of ocean-side dining establishments today. We explored a market in Old Town Chania; it blew any other farmers'-esque market I've ever encountered out of the water. Fresh fruit spilling over everywhere, cheeses more impressive than we saw in Switzerland, and fish fresher than I imagine they'd be if they were still swimming.
I have a journal-full of other stories I can't wait to share, particularly detailing a bit more about Santorini. And I have plenty of thoughts to muse your way as well. Alas, it's about time we wrap it up for today. The Samaria Gorge awaits our enthusiastic arrival tomorrow and we must nourish and sleep in preperation. That's a blog I'm excited to write... (google pictures of "Samaria Gorge" if you get a chance.)
Love to all, - b.
P.S. My apologies, again, for the lack of editing.
We were on the ferry to Crete, which left Santorini an hour late (typical, we were informed). Mom was talking to an Australian man named David and I was pouring over Crete guidebooks. As I was reading about a possible drive, comparing the milage on the drive to the map - 77 miles, 5-6 hours, it occured to me that the town we were staying in was twice the distance of the drive. I looked at the map, and flipped back to the information on the drive, trying to come to some realization that would mean we were not in fact going to be stranded upon the arrival of our ferry. But I flipped to no avail...
In the course of 20 minutes (which felt both mind-bendingly long and short), we contemplated our absolute every option. We considered just how outrageously expensive it would be to take a taxi that distance. We contemplated just how severe our manual-driving ineptitude was. We wondered loudly, hoping our new Australian friend might have a magical solution. We didn't even pause to wonder how we made such a vast oversight (which, mind you, would not have been such an urgent problem had our ferry been landing in the light of day. Alas, we were docking at 8:30p - or 20:30 Greek time [which sounded dauntingly late to us].). Luckily, our passive-aggressive technique worked the magic those techniques never do. As luck would have it (or divine provision, which I think was far more likely the case), David and his friends were also staying in Chania (our way-too-far-away, but supposedly-very-quaint town). We attached ourselves to their group upon depature from the ferry, and, while their vehicles were packed, their friend informed us that the bus station was just a quick walk away.
Talk about divine provision - we huffed and puffed into the bus station, narrowly avoiding several vehicular encounters, TEN minutes before the LAST bus to Chania left. And we paid 10,50 euro! (MUCH cheaper than the anticipated break-the-bank taxi ride.) The bus left at nine, with us contentedly seated. It arrived in Chania at midnight (just, one more time, imagine the 3 hour taxi ride...). We arrived at our hotel moments later, via a very nice - and very quick! - taxi. WHEW!
We woke up this morning to the cloudless skies of which so many people have spoken... and now, NOW, it feels like Greece. Crete (at least, the small portion which we've seen) is devoid of the classic white-washed Greek architecture, but the ocean is absolutely breath-taking. This is the Greece I've dreamt of, seen in movies and have been counting the days 'til my toes would tickle the sea. We walked on soft sand, splashed in warm water and gawked at the plethora of ocean-side dining establishments today. We explored a market in Old Town Chania; it blew any other farmers'-esque market I've ever encountered out of the water. Fresh fruit spilling over everywhere, cheeses more impressive than we saw in Switzerland, and fish fresher than I imagine they'd be if they were still swimming.
I have a journal-full of other stories I can't wait to share, particularly detailing a bit more about Santorini. And I have plenty of thoughts to muse your way as well. Alas, it's about time we wrap it up for today. The Samaria Gorge awaits our enthusiastic arrival tomorrow and we must nourish and sleep in preperation. That's a blog I'm excited to write... (google pictures of "Samaria Gorge" if you get a chance.)
Love to all, - b.
P.S. My apologies, again, for the lack of editing.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
greece or mexico?
Today was lovely... Mom woke me up to watch the sunrise - one of my favorite things to do, ever. Our hotel room faces the east side of the island, so we could stand at our window to watch the epic phenomenon. We walked a few towns over, via back streets. We wound through resorts and homes, never really knowing if we were on public or private property.
The more of the island we walk - which, by this point, is nearly the whole thing - the more striking the resemblences to Mexico I notice. It's bizarre... I question our understanding of civilization. We consider Greece civilized, but in so many ways it looks like what we think of as poverty - unimproved roads, old junky cars, mangy animals. A lot like my experiences in Tijuana (lame Mexico example, I know). And, I remember this striking me as odd in Italy - but in the midst of seemingly ancient buildings, technology and American normality exists. (And then, of course, there's this bizarre internet cafe we're at right now, in which people are smoking. Not only inside, but in the midst of quite literally a hundred computers. Would never fly in the states.)
We poked our heads inside a couple churches today, and, as I contemplated yesterday, they are relatively simplistic, decorated in little more than icons. I have a few questions for ye Orthodox friends, which I won't bother you with now...
Santorini has been a perfect place to recover from jet-lag (and end-of-school-lag). It's been slow-paced, we've walked a lot, and I've had plenty of time to ponder issues of culture. Travelling is good for me - as much as I like to think I have broad perspectives and an open mind to culture, exposure seems to challenge me to realize things I'm unaware I nearly demand are not, in fact, necessities. Being forced to confront things done differently places theory into practice (something always easier considered conceptually). Even being thrown into a place we, as Americans, consider advanced and such, as far as worldly cultures go, is a challenge to realize that advancement can exist in vastly different environments. I'll flesh out this theorizing upon our return.
In the meantime, we're headed to Crete tomorrow. Not only have I become incredibly excited for the Samaria Gorge hike, but I've even managed to talk Mom into joining me on all eleven miles.
Hope all is well at home. Miss y'all like crazy. It's funny how we constantly see people or things that remind us of people and things halfway across the world. Jakie, I miss you too, buddy. ;)
The more of the island we walk - which, by this point, is nearly the whole thing - the more striking the resemblences to Mexico I notice. It's bizarre... I question our understanding of civilization. We consider Greece civilized, but in so many ways it looks like what we think of as poverty - unimproved roads, old junky cars, mangy animals. A lot like my experiences in Tijuana (lame Mexico example, I know). And, I remember this striking me as odd in Italy - but in the midst of seemingly ancient buildings, technology and American normality exists. (And then, of course, there's this bizarre internet cafe we're at right now, in which people are smoking. Not only inside, but in the midst of quite literally a hundred computers. Would never fly in the states.)
We poked our heads inside a couple churches today, and, as I contemplated yesterday, they are relatively simplistic, decorated in little more than icons. I have a few questions for ye Orthodox friends, which I won't bother you with now...
Santorini has been a perfect place to recover from jet-lag (and end-of-school-lag). It's been slow-paced, we've walked a lot, and I've had plenty of time to ponder issues of culture. Travelling is good for me - as much as I like to think I have broad perspectives and an open mind to culture, exposure seems to challenge me to realize things I'm unaware I nearly demand are not, in fact, necessities. Being forced to confront things done differently places theory into practice (something always easier considered conceptually). Even being thrown into a place we, as Americans, consider advanced and such, as far as worldly cultures go, is a challenge to realize that advancement can exist in vastly different environments. I'll flesh out this theorizing upon our return.
In the meantime, we're headed to Crete tomorrow. Not only have I become incredibly excited for the Samaria Gorge hike, but I've even managed to talk Mom into joining me on all eleven miles.
Hope all is well at home. Miss y'all like crazy. It's funny how we constantly see people or things that remind us of people and things halfway across the world. Jakie, I miss you too, buddy. ;)
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
the toast club
(In the interest of saving a euro or two, I'm going to forego the editing process. My apologies in advance.)
After travelling for way too long, in front of tall people disabling the reclining function on our seats, we made our arrival in Athens. Dull commentary on the nature of non-pretentious hotels (sigh) aside, [side note: there's American music playing - Justin Timberlake, to be specific - in the internet/geek station right now] we made it to Santorini splendidly.
I was a bit disappointed that the lines everyone had fed us about cloudless skies were lies, but it's been absolutely beautiful nonetheless. The afternoons have cleared off to comfortable temperatures and - low and behold - enough sun for me to burn! We've mostly enjoyed walking around, discovering beaches, shops and endless restaurants. Both last night and tonight we dined at the cliff's edge, overlooking absolutely breathtaking views of the sun setting into the ocean.
Yesterday we walked approximately 8,371 stairs (well, it felt like it. In reality, I think it was closer to 600 - they're numbered, but we didn't check the last stair. Seemed more discouraging than it was worth.) down to the ferry port. There were an inordinate number of donkeys crowding our path, often forcing us to lean flat against the wall, praying we wouldn't get pinned. Mom didn't seem to think riding the donkeys would be enjoyable, but we certainly questioned this decision at every switchback as we played the mad-donkey-dash, running from side to side to avoid being trampled. It was a beautiful walk though. (Really, it was.)
In the midst of our walking, we've happened upon an absolute multitude of churches. They're very curious. Small. I don't think more than 5 - 8 people could fit in most of them, which certainly lends the question, "What are they for?" There are a couple large churches on the island, which I imagine host larger gatherings. Beyond size, the churches are interesting, purely in light of our other European experiences. They're simply decorated - white washed greek buildings, with blue domes and white crosses. We haven't seen the inside of any of them, but based on the icons prominately displayed just about everywhere else in the island, I would presume the interior is an elaborate collection of such decor. The simplicity, in contrast to the Italian basilicas we've become accustomed to, is thought-provoking. I'm sure I'll discuss this more upon my return...
My greek has proven relatively useless, with the execption of one obscure sign I read today, pointing to the holy temple. Neverthless, it's been a thrilling novelty to be able to pronounce the signage and such. So, though useless, there's an element of familiarity in the language that I didn't have in Italy. Again, in contrast to Italy, the lingusitic culture is fascinating. Anything and everything we could possibly need to know is in english. It seems safe to presume that anything in greek only is irrelevant to us. This both makes us feel comfortable and instills a bit of english-speaker guilt in us. It's funny to hear a greek server converse with a swedish speaking couple in english - a language foreign to both parties.
By and large it seems that the greek culture is welcoming to our presence. At times when I want to tiptoe around my nationality and language, it seems embraced. When Italians would have given us a cold stare we're received with open arms. It's a strange challenge to the travel mentality we've been taught - that is, of course, to travel under the guise of Candians. It'll be interesting to see how this changes in both Crete and Athens, as Santorini is certainly a place that survives on tourism.
Enough for now. Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers. Drop us a little comment of American relevance and we'll be glad for a piece of home. We truly wish you were here to experience all this with us!
After travelling for way too long, in front of tall people disabling the reclining function on our seats, we made our arrival in Athens. Dull commentary on the nature of non-pretentious hotels (sigh) aside, [side note: there's American music playing - Justin Timberlake, to be specific - in the internet/geek station right now] we made it to Santorini splendidly.
I was a bit disappointed that the lines everyone had fed us about cloudless skies were lies, but it's been absolutely beautiful nonetheless. The afternoons have cleared off to comfortable temperatures and - low and behold - enough sun for me to burn! We've mostly enjoyed walking around, discovering beaches, shops and endless restaurants. Both last night and tonight we dined at the cliff's edge, overlooking absolutely breathtaking views of the sun setting into the ocean.
Yesterday we walked approximately 8,371 stairs (well, it felt like it. In reality, I think it was closer to 600 - they're numbered, but we didn't check the last stair. Seemed more discouraging than it was worth.) down to the ferry port. There were an inordinate number of donkeys crowding our path, often forcing us to lean flat against the wall, praying we wouldn't get pinned. Mom didn't seem to think riding the donkeys would be enjoyable, but we certainly questioned this decision at every switchback as we played the mad-donkey-dash, running from side to side to avoid being trampled. It was a beautiful walk though. (Really, it was.)
In the midst of our walking, we've happened upon an absolute multitude of churches. They're very curious. Small. I don't think more than 5 - 8 people could fit in most of them, which certainly lends the question, "What are they for?" There are a couple large churches on the island, which I imagine host larger gatherings. Beyond size, the churches are interesting, purely in light of our other European experiences. They're simply decorated - white washed greek buildings, with blue domes and white crosses. We haven't seen the inside of any of them, but based on the icons prominately displayed just about everywhere else in the island, I would presume the interior is an elaborate collection of such decor. The simplicity, in contrast to the Italian basilicas we've become accustomed to, is thought-provoking. I'm sure I'll discuss this more upon my return...
My greek has proven relatively useless, with the execption of one obscure sign I read today, pointing to the holy temple. Neverthless, it's been a thrilling novelty to be able to pronounce the signage and such. So, though useless, there's an element of familiarity in the language that I didn't have in Italy. Again, in contrast to Italy, the lingusitic culture is fascinating. Anything and everything we could possibly need to know is in english. It seems safe to presume that anything in greek only is irrelevant to us. This both makes us feel comfortable and instills a bit of english-speaker guilt in us. It's funny to hear a greek server converse with a swedish speaking couple in english - a language foreign to both parties.
By and large it seems that the greek culture is welcoming to our presence. At times when I want to tiptoe around my nationality and language, it seems embraced. When Italians would have given us a cold stare we're received with open arms. It's a strange challenge to the travel mentality we've been taught - that is, of course, to travel under the guise of Candians. It'll be interesting to see how this changes in both Crete and Athens, as Santorini is certainly a place that survives on tourism.
Enough for now. Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers. Drop us a little comment of American relevance and we'll be glad for a piece of home. We truly wish you were here to experience all this with us!
Saturday, May 19, 2007
off to adventure!
Mom and I are off on our latest European adventure tomorrow! Keep up with our travels via this blog. We welcome your comments, thoughts and prayers. Love to all!
Janice and Beyth See-the-World, part II
Sunday, 20 May
13:20 – depart PDX. Lufthansa flight #469W
Monday, 21 May
8:35 – arrive FRK
13:30 – depart FRK. Lufthansa flight #3382W
17:10 – arrive ATH
Athens – Holiday Inn (http://www.ichotelsgroup.com/)
Tuesday, 22 May
11:15 – depart ATH. Aegean Air flight #A3-354
12:00 – arrive JTR
Santorini – Costa Marina Villas (http://www.pelican.gr/)
Wednesday, 23 May
Santorini
Thursday, 24 May
Santorini
Friday, 25 May
17:45 – depart Thira. Hellenic SeaWays
19:25 – arrive Heraklio
Crete – Halepa Hotel (http://www.halepa.com/)
Saturday, 26 May
Crete
Sunday, 27 May
Crete
Monday, 28 May
Crete
Tuesday, 29 May
10:50 – depart CHQ. Aegan Air flight #A3-333
11:40 – arrive ATH
Athens – Adrian Hotel (http://www.douros-hotels.com/)
Wednesday, 30 May
Athens
Thursday, 31 May
Athens
Friday, 1 June
10:00 – depart ATH. Olympic Airlines flight #OA159
11:20 – arrive VIE
Vienna – Apartment #13 (http://www.central-apartments-vienna.com/)
Saturday, 2 June
Vienna
Sunday, 3 June
Vienna
Monday, 4 June
Hallstatt – Apartment (www.hallstatt.net/kerschbaumer)
Tuesday, 5 June
Salzburg – Hotel Goldene Krone (http://www.hotel-goldenekrone.com/)
Wednesday, 6 June
Salzburg
Thursday, 7 June
Salzburg
Friday, 8 June
Vienna – Ibis Hotel (http://www.ibishotel.com/)
Saturday, 9 June
7:00 – depart VIE. Lufthansa flight #6331W
8:35 – arrive FRK
9:55 – depart FRK. Lufthansa flight #468W
11:25 – arrive PDX
Sunday, 20 May
13:20 – depart PDX. Lufthansa flight #469W
Monday, 21 May
8:35 – arrive FRK
13:30 – depart FRK. Lufthansa flight #3382W
17:10 – arrive ATH
Athens – Holiday Inn (http://www.ichotelsgroup.com/)
Tuesday, 22 May
11:15 – depart ATH. Aegean Air flight #A3-354
12:00 – arrive JTR
Santorini – Costa Marina Villas (http://www.pelican.gr/)
Wednesday, 23 May
Santorini
Thursday, 24 May
Santorini
Friday, 25 May
17:45 – depart Thira. Hellenic SeaWays
19:25 – arrive Heraklio
Crete – Halepa Hotel (http://www.halepa.com/)
Saturday, 26 May
Crete
Sunday, 27 May
Crete
Monday, 28 May
Crete
Tuesday, 29 May
10:50 – depart CHQ. Aegan Air flight #A3-333
11:40 – arrive ATH
Athens – Adrian Hotel (http://www.douros-hotels.com/)
Wednesday, 30 May
Athens
Thursday, 31 May
Athens
Friday, 1 June
10:00 – depart ATH. Olympic Airlines flight #OA159
11:20 – arrive VIE
Vienna – Apartment #13 (http://www.central-apartments-vienna.com/)
Saturday, 2 June
Vienna
Sunday, 3 June
Vienna
Monday, 4 June
Hallstatt – Apartment (www.hallstatt.net/kerschbaumer)
Tuesday, 5 June
Salzburg – Hotel Goldene Krone (http://www.hotel-goldenekrone.com/)
Wednesday, 6 June
Salzburg
Thursday, 7 June
Salzburg
Friday, 8 June
Vienna – Ibis Hotel (http://www.ibishotel.com/)
Saturday, 9 June
7:00 – depart VIE. Lufthansa flight #6331W
8:35 – arrive FRK
9:55 – depart FRK. Lufthansa flight #468W
11:25 – arrive PDX
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