After a friendly greeting, he told me that he was disappointed in me because a small amount of rust was on the gun when he got it back. On the surface, it is a simple situation. Any mature, responsible person would have responded with a sincere apology and asked what could be done to make it right.

Part of my problem was that I admired Bishop Coulter. He had been my neighbor for years, my Bishop, and had hired me on many occasions to work in his yard or in his business. One of my greatest fears as a teenager was disappointing the adults in my life who were important to me; teachers, parents, and clergy. His words that day sent my mind spinning and my heart racing. It was so upsetting, I even remember fighting back tears as I stood there mumbling who-knows-what back to him. It was like all of the sudden I was only five years old. Yeah, I had issues. I truly was unable to respond and therefore, irresponsible. For years afterwards, every time I saw him I remembered the rusty gun, K-Mart, and how I had let him down. I also figured every time he saw me he was remembering the same thing.

What he must have expected was an expression of remorse and an offer to make it right. I am quite certain the level of remorse I experienced far exceeded what he expected or wanted. The irony is that he saw none of it. In my panic and discomfort I probably avoided eye contact, swallowed several times, and offered what appeared to be a hollow apology before I bolted for the cash register.

The interesting thing to me, as I have looked back, is that I lacked an understanding of my feelings and the courage to face up to a difficult confrontation. It wasn’t that I lacked a desire to be responsible; I lacked the skills to respond. In addition, my unrealistic fears and ridiculous goals of perfection blocked a healthy reaction. I was like a deer in the headlights and ran for the trees.

I made similar blunders with girls I dated in high school and early college. I said things that were not congruent what I wanted. I lacked an understanding of myself and the social skills to communicate. Looking back, I don’t feel stress and anxiety at those situations. I forgive myself, but it took a few years. I was a teenager. Isn’t that what being a teenager is all about? Making mistakes and then spending the rest of our lives learning from them?

I’ve tried to address this concept with my kids. I always hoped they could build stronger emotional skills at earlier ages…and I believe they have. But growth is a personal thing. They are going to struggle and make mistakes during their lives. At least my kids seem more balanced than I was as a dazed and confused teenager. They face up to difficult situations, speak their minds, and make amends when required, for the most part. I’ve had difficult talks with each of them. Discussions I would have rather avoided and that forced me to drum up my own courage as I bought up topics and expressed feelings. I usually feel like bumbling fool, but I push through, they push through, and the end result is generally good. The failure isn’t in the attempt (although sometimes it feels like it). The real failure is in the lack of honest expression.

The correct thing to do in K-Mart would have been to look Bishop Coulter in the eyes and apologize. No beating myself up. No feelings of shame. Just a sincere expression of sorrow backed by the knowledge that everyone is entitled to mistakes. Then an attempt and a willingness to make the sacrifices required of me to make it right. It is so simple, yet was so beyond my capabilities at the time. No tricks or gimmicks, just something I’d call respondability. A combination of responsibility, honesty, and courage.

I may have failed in that moment, years ago, but the experience has helped me time and time again…which I suppose that makes the experience a success. When I encounter times in my life now where I feel like I want to run for the cash register, I try and tap into those core attributes. Am I being responsible, honest, and courageous? Although…sometimes I still feel a bit dazed and confused, it usually helps me navigate through even the toughest situations.

Our hotel has been noisy, every single night. People talking, running up and down the stairs, doors opening and closing…all night long. But when somebody started banging on our door in the middle of the night last night, it was too much. The first time it happened I was groggy and by the time I woke up, they had stopped. I was miffed because it had taken me at least one frustrating hour to fall asleep. I figured some drunk fool had forgotten a room number. I was almost asleep when it happened again. BANG BANG BANG! This pissed me off and I yelled out, “WHAT?!?!” in a very unfriendly tone. It stopped and I heard them knock on a few other doors. I’m not sure what it was about but I wasn’t about to open the door in the middle of the night for anyone, especially after our walk through druggieville the day before. That’s not a picture of our hotel, by the way. But if it was quieter I might have stayed there even if it did look like a haunted house.

We slept in as long we could and still get breakfast and then caught the metro to Syntagma Square. The 10am Sunday changing of the guard is a big deal with a marching band and a full platoon of Evzones dressed in their traditional kilts, tights, and pom-pommed shoes. These are the elite guards and world famous for not only their attire but for their unique march which involves many slow, high-sweeping choreographed kicks.

The experience clashed a bit with my own schema about what makes an elite presidential guard. I drum up visions of soldiers in fatigues with M16s resting across their chests or a mysterious looking man in a black suit with a curly cord hanging from his ear. My imagination is even wide enough to consider a hooded ninja or pierced and painted tribal warrior. But tights and pom-poms stretched my mind and I had to remind myself of the respect and reverence these men have and deserve here in Greece. I can, however, understand Mikayla’s difficulty at suppressing a giggle or two. Tights and pompoms are not what either of us has been raised to see as fierce. But this is one reason I love to travel: different cultures, ideas, and perspectives.

Despite the unusual appearance of their uniforms, I did recognize the stern, stoic, and hardened gaze they each possessed. It was the look of a somber warrior. Their expressions conveyed a fierce attitude filled with pride, determination, and competence. They stood at full attention without so much as a second thought to the gawking foreigners. I’m sure more than a few observers have found the scene unusual but I get the impression that these soldiers have a level of internal dignity and responsibility that, along with respect for their country and its history, easily supersede concerns of what foreigners may or may not think.

After the changing of the guards and the parade marched off, we hopped on the metro to the Acropolis. North of the Acropolis is the Plaka. Walking these narrow streets is like exploring a labyrinth made of shops, restaurants, and galleries. We’ve spent hours (and many Euros) each day here meandering for miles (I mean kilometers) through what feels like hundreds of different shops selling just about anything you would want to bring home from Greece; jewelry, sculptures, paintings, leather products, knick knacks, paddy whacks, and dog bones…it’s all there.

Normally, the only places where I actually enjoy shopping are Costco, Bestbuy, and Fry’s. And since most of the things I usually want are too expensive to just go out and buy on a whim, I usually don’t even like those places. I just get reminded of all the things I don’t have that I wish I did. But I loved the Plaka. The narrow roads were clean, friendly, and just plain fun to walk around. The food was good. The people were friendly. And the shops had a variety of inexpensive/expensive items to cater to the masses. It was fun and interesting and even though we saw some of the same places every day, it never got boring.

On the north end of the Plaka is where most of the restaurants and the flea market are located. The flea market is where you’ll find the “non-touristy” type things. Take an outlet mall in one hand, a swap meet in the other, and smash them together and you have the Athens Flea Market. Plenty of shoes and clothing stores to appeal to all but the extreme posh who only buy Armani and real Gucci bags (those places are a few blocks away). Although most of the Flea Market does resemble the Outswap Mall you created moments ago, if you walk far enough you will find more typical flea market items, such as old War helmets, records, used furniture, and the like.

We grabbed some lunch, followed a lot of noise and music to the park where a breast cancer run was in progress—and a bird dropped a messy greeting onto my leg (I’m pretty sure it was on purpose). Then, knowing it was our last time at the Plaka, we said goodbye to our favorite area and journeyed north to the Archeology Museum.

One of the metro lines was down and we ended up spending too much time trying to get to the museum by shuttling around on underground trains. We should have just walked the entire route instead of just half of it (we gave up on the metro at Omonoia square). But, sweaty and a little tired, we finally arrived.

The National Archaeological Museum in Athens is considered to be one of the greatest museums in the world. At least that is what the Wikipedia article says (and I have to agree). The place is full of artwork and pieces of history that have been pivotal in defining many aspects of western culture. My favorite piece was the Artemision Bronze, full figured statue of Poseidon, brother of Zeus. But it depends on who you talk to. Some historians say this was Zeus and rather than a trident in his upraised hands, he originally held a thunderbolt. Most, however, concur that it was meant to be Poseidon. I’ve mentioned in earlier blogs how fascinating it is to be surrounded by so much history so I won’t go into it again here. My one regret is (and it is typical for me in a large museum like this) that I ran out of steam before I get to the end. We took a break in the cafeteria for a snack that helped, but even with that, I couldn’t keep up my enthusiasm. We moved pretty fast through the last exhibits so we could get our tired legs back to the hotel.

We hoofed it back to the hotel and, even though we were tired from walking decided to extend the journey a few extra blocks to hit the Spar (a grocery store). Well, that didn’t turn out so well. We got there and it was closed (Sunday). We had to settle for an overpriced ice cream bar from a street vendor.

I collapsed on my bed and relaxed for a few minutes with my ice cream, then packed up my stuff to prepare for our 3am departure. Before dusk we went up to the roof and watched the sunset to the sounds of cars accelerating, horns wailing, and the swoosh of the busses braking. As the sky became dark, the lights lit the Parthenon. I wonder if they lit it with fires and candles 2,500 years ago.

I’m packed, ready to go home. All that planning. All that saving. All that stressing….it’s all over now. All of it, done. All my trips with the kids, done.

I have gained a deep respect for the Ancient Greeks. I like how they lived and the value they placed on physical, mental, and spiritual growth. They introduced democracy to the world and changed the course of mankind in many ways. I wouldn’t have picked Greece but am thankful Mikayla did. So much of the culture and history here blends with how I think and who I am. It has been a wonderful experience, a fun trip, and I hope I make it back someday with Sandi.

If you didn’t start reading on Day 1, you might want to start from the beginning.

For the first time on our trip, Greece welcomed us to a new day with cloudy skies. We walked to the corner in a light drizzle and dropped below street level to catch the metro. The red-line carried us to the Acropolis stop and as we climbed up the stairway to the surface, it was apparent to me that Poseidon had released a can of whoop ass on the city. I knew instantly it was my fault. This was his revenge.

The rain pounded the city in a constant chaotic roar. Water trickled down the stairs that climbed up to the street level like it was a small riverbed. Thunder rolled through the sky like Zeus and Poseidon were racing in massive chariots laughing heartily at my plans to explore the Acropolis.

The good thing is that it wasn’t cold, but we were getting soaked fast. We ran for the protection of an awning and I looked for an umbrella at the magazine stand. I heard a lady a couple stores down yell, “these are the best deal,” and looked to see her holding up two umbrellas to show a man standing close to me. He put the umbrella he was holding back on the magazine stand and ran through the downpour to her. I did the same. Why reinvent the wheel?

We huddled together under our new, flimsy, pricy piece of refuge from the angry Gods and walked up the street. I was feeling a little discouraged, touring the Acropolis in this would be miserable. But I was determined not to let Poseidon get the best of me.

“Lets do the Acropolis Museum first, maybe the rain will calm down,” I said, and pointed. We walked into the museum and up to the cashier. My plan was to buy the Acropolis ticket, which got you into everything for a good deal. But they didn’t sell it here, only the Acropolis sold it. I gave Mikayla 5 Euros and told her to get a coffee at the Museum Café, and I ran up the road to get the tickets.

The rain made my quick trip up the road seem lot further than it really was. Then I couldn’t find where to buy tickets. I made the mistake of asking a tour Guide, who proceeded to tell me I really should have a personal Guide for the Acropolis. Here is a shortened version of our conversation.

Me (yelling above the rain): “I’m not going through it right now, maybe the rain will calm down this afternoon or tomorrow.”

Her (yelling back): “Oh no, it won’t. Once it starts like this, it rains for days. You might as well do it now…this is great weather for the Acropolis.” (Said through her drenched hair and drops of water streaking down her face.)

Me: “Well, I’m doing the museum first anyways, my daughter is waiting down there for me.”

Her: “Oh perfect, I do the Museum tour too, how old is your daughter?”

Me (realizing this is going nowhere yet digging myself in deeper): “14.”

Her: “Oh, that is the perfect age for a guided tour, she will learn so much.”

Me (As I walk away like somebody who feels like 60 Euros is a bit overpriced for a short tour): “No Thanks.”

I finally found out why I couldn’t find a place to buy a ticket. It just so happened that this weekend, the Acropolis was free. They weren’t selling tickets and, therefore, I couldn’t buy the pass I wanted to. I trudged back to the Museum and saw that I wasn’t the only one with the “see the museum/avoid the rain” idea. A massive line now extended out the front doors, past the awning, and out into the  rain. You win, Poseidon, I surrender!

After another thirty minutes, I had our tickets and had tracked down Mikayla who had actually enjoyed the extended time sitting in the café with her coffee. We checked our bags and toured the Museum.

First we watched a movie that showed the slow destruction of the Parthenon (also known as the Temple of Athena) over the past millennia. It was heart breaking to see the looters over the years. In 1687 the Turks stored their gunpowder in it and it was hit by a “stray” Venetian cannonball that obliterated it . Nearly 2,500 years old and it was just a mere 300 years ago that it encountered the majority of its destruction.

According to what I heard, many of the ancient Acropolis items were “stolen” years ago and are currently on display in England museums. Greece has asked for them back but was told they didn’t have a museum worthy of them. This new gorgeous museum (opened in 2009) was built in part to provide such a place, but now Greece has been told no because then Egypt and Iran would want their stuff back too and England doesn’t want to set a precedence. I tend to side with the Greeks but then wonder if Greece has offered to return the Egyptian items they have in their own archeological museum.

Some of the items in the Acropolis are imitations and the originals are in the Acropolis Museum. It is filled with sculptures and treasures that once filled the sacred site above Athens (although can’t show you because photography is not allowed). The top floor is really cool because the glass windows offer a full view of the Acropolis. The top floor also recreates the top of the Parthenon and you can walk around it and get a close up view of the statues and carvings that decorated the top of the temple. Many of the pieces are missing, I’m assuming because most of the relics were destroyed or lost forever. It appears that generic looking placeholders are used for items that have been found but currently reside in other museums (like the ones in England).

Poseidon must have accepted my surrender because by the time we left the museum the rain had stopped. Outside, Mikayla had to take off her flip flops cause the marble was so slick. We hiked up and around the hill and climbed the steps that passed through the pillars marking the entrance to the limestone plateau otherwise known as the Acropolis. This refers to the entire area on and around the plateau. Within the Acropolis are many temples, the most famous of which is the Parthenon (or Temple of Athena, the goddess of wisdom).

  We hiked all around the jagged rocks (carefully avoiding the puddles) up on the top of the plateau. It was awesome to stand in the shadow of the Parthenon. In addition to a close up view of the temples, the Acropolis offers a panoramic view of the city. Below the cliffs are views of two ancient theatres, the Plaka, Syntagma Square, National Gardens, Ancient Agora, and various temples and churches. I tried to imagine what it would have been like 2,500 years ago and the mythology, spirituality, philosophy, controversy, and destruction over the years. I regretted how little I really knew. My lack of education limits my ability to understand the significance of Ancient Athena on not only western civilization, but on my own life. My fascination really just comes from my ignorance rather than a deep understanding of history. I’m like a child dazzled by the flashing lights and entertained by glitzy tourist attractions. That isn’t a bad thing, the process itself is an education and fuels my desire to learn more. But I definitely have a lot to learn.

We descended the hill and stopped for a snack on a park bench. We devoured the fruit I had snagged from the breakfast table along with some bread and jerky. Afterwards, we explored yet another set of ruins, Ancient Agora. This is where Greeks and later, Romans, bartered, preached, and worshipped. Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato taught philosophies that helped change the course of history. Here, the apostle Paul preached early Christianity. We walked through the reconstructed forum, old churches, and well preserved temple.

We took another stroll through the Plaka and Flea Market (places I will explain in detail on Day 14) and had a super yummy gyro for lunch. Grabbing a gyro on the run is the way to go if you only want to spend a few bucks for a tasty lunch. Look for a rotating meat column close to a cash register. Find the guy with the big knife and place your order. He’ll shave off several strips of meat and stuff them into a pita along with tomatoes, onion, and tzatziki sauce (made with yogurt, cucumbers, and garlic). I should have eaten more of these while I was there, stuffed my face with them until I was sick and never wanted them again in my life. Maybe if I had done that, I wouldn’t be craving one so bad right now.

  We walked through the park and stopped at the Temple of Olympian Zeus. Only a few pillars remain and Rick Steve’s description of the fallen temple as a bunch of bottle caps is very accurate. We sat on a bench for at least an hour and I grilled Mikayla on Greek history and mythology. Who is the God of War and what is his Roman name, which God was born out of Zeus’ head, what ancient Greek peaceful nation of merchant traders vanished without a trace, what Greek Isle may hide the lost city of Atlantis, where did that turtle come from? Huh? Turtle? I never would have expected to see a turtle crawling around in the middle of Athens, but one zipped on past us (as fast as a turtle can zip) while we sat there.

It was late in the afternoon and we decided to spend our time walking back to the hotel instead of riding the metro. We passed through the market where meat is hacked up and cut on demand. Mikayla didn’t enjoy those smells and visuals so much. At Omonoia square we made a left down Konstantinou. In the future, I think it would be best to avoid this road. The streets were lined with people doing business in a field that does not interest me. We saw drugs being purchased. We saw a guy sitting against the building nonchalantly stick a needle into his arm and shoot up like it was as normal as eating an apple at a park. We just kept walking and tried appear as if we knew what we were doing. I really have no idea if it was dangerous, but I was certainly uncomfortable and glad when we finally made it safely to our hotel.

We turned in earlier than normal and spent some time on the roof admiring the view as the sun set. We chatted about what we had learned from the trip…about history, each other, and life. It was really nice. We found it hard to believe that our trip was almost over. One more day in Athens and it was time to head home.

Continue to Day 14…

We said goodbye to our cute little room in Nafplio and departed for Athens. It isn’t a long drive, only a couple of hours if you drive straight through. We, of course, did not drive straight through. When I first told Mikayla we were stopping at the ruins of another ancient city, Mycanae, she was far from enthralled.

“Haven’t we seen enough ruins?”

“But those were Byzantine, Venetian, and Ancient Athenian ruins. Today we get to see Mycenaean ruins!”

That didn’t seem to help.

“The castle we hiked up to yesterday? That was 300 years old. These ruins today are over 3,500 years old! These are the people ancient Athenians called giants because they figured humans could not build the massive structures found in their abandoned cities. These are the people that, according to legend, built the Trojan horse and defeated the city of Troy. A fierce warrior-like people that vanished without a trace over 3,000 years ago. These are the people that Homer tells about in the Iliad and Odyssey, where Greek Mythology comes from…”

“Okay dad! I get it!”

I don’t know whether my words or passion did the trick, but something sparked at least a mild interest and she found a way to enjoy yet another hilltop covered in rubble.

We walked through the remains of castle of this ancient powerful civilization. Like many of the other places, there isn’t a whole lot left and without the history most of it would be quite boring. But using Rick Steve’s Guidebook it came alive through fascinating facts and historical anecdotes:

• The massive rock across the Lion Gate (the lintel) weighs 18 tons (picture).
• The Grave circle was full of golden treasures (giving credibility to Homer’s tale of Mycenae being rich in gold).
• Up to 60,000 people lived in this city.
• Underground clay pipes carried water from the springs in the hills to the cistern in the fortress.
• Only a mere 10% of the site has been excavated.

Before we left on our trip, I had read that the cistern here is sometimes open and those up for an adventure can descend into the darkness if they have a flashlight. I packed a flashlight just for this purpose and halfway through our tour realized I had left it back in the car (D’oh! /forehead_slap). At the back of the fortress we found the little archway and stairs that vanished into darkness. It looked open to visitors and I decided to try using the LCD and focus assist light on our cameras for light before running all the way back to the car.

I use my cell phone as a flashlight all the time and figured a camera would also do the trick. We hit the first bend in the stairs and it got really dark; the cameras weren’t doing jack for us. We started taking pictures, using the flash to get a split second view of the stairs and then looking at the picture to see what was ahead. The walls were narrow; the rock steps small, steep, and slippery. It was pitch black and dead quiet and it seemed to twist and turn forever deeper into the ground. In other words, it was totally awesome.

It took us a while to get to the bottom because we moved really slow knowing a tumble into the darkness would have really sucked. As we neared the bottom I realized I could see the ground ahead of me now with just the camera menu. My eyes had adjusted from the bright sunshine and probably looked like huge black holes like a vampire or something.

We stayed for a while at the very bottom and turned off our cameras to enjoy the complete dark, quiet solitude. Our voices echo off briefly before being quickly sucked away by the earth. It seemed as if the stone walls around us snuffed out any form of light or noise. I’m not sure how long we stayed down there and we might have stayed even longer had we not heard a group working down the passageway. We climbed back out, moving at light speed compared to our earlier descent. The camera LCD now offered plenty of light.

We squeezed passed quite a number of people and different groups coming down and I felt quite lucky that we had enjoyed the place to ourselves for so long. As we neared the top, there was a couple stumbling forward in the dark, using their camera to take pictures just as we had. Faint daylight behind them made it easy for us to see them and I wasn’t really thinking about how they were totally blind to us. He held up his hand, took a picture, and they gasped. Afterwards it made me laugh to think about how startled I would have been on our descent, moving quietly, thinking we were alone, and suddenly somebody appeared in the flash of light directly ahead of us.

We hurried through the museum, the ancient BBQ was one of my favorite exhibits. It was filled with items excavated from the site and was interesting, but we were tired, short on time, and most of the golden treasures from the dig are located in the Athens Archaeological Museum. We stopped on the drive out to see the Tomb of Agamemnon (a quarter mile down the road).

The Tomb of Agamemnon (also known as the Treasury of Atreus) was the largest dome in the world for over a thousand years. The massive lintel weighs 120 tons! For comparison, the largest Stonehenge rocks are only 50 tons and the space shuttle weights 85 tons. Keep this in mind as you walk inside: that ancient giant rock 20 feet above your head has been sitting there over 3,000 years, has a visible crack, and could even turn Hercules into a pancake. No wonder the ancient Athenians figured the Mycenaean’s were giant Cyclops’s.

I was nervous to drive in Athens. Everything I read said it was a nightmare. I had even thought of taking the car to the airport to check it in early and then riding the metro back into Athens. I had a route planned directly to our Hotel and as we drove into the city, my apprehension mounted. It was a thrill to see the Acropolis in the distance as we approached but driving kept me from really basking in the moment. In the end, the drive to the hotel wasn’t a complete nightmare. I mean, yes, it was tight and parking impossible, but we made it. I dropped Mikayla off at the Hotel to ask where to park while I circled the block. They moved some planters and had us pull up next to the building and that is where our car sat for three days. We never planned on driving once we got there, it’s too easy to use the Metro instead.

We checked in and took the metro to the Acropolis stop. We spent the afternoon and evening walking for miles through the Athens tourist areas: the shops in the Plaka, the food in Monastiraki, the flea market, and Syntagma Square. We walked, shopped, walked, dined, walked, shopped, and walked some more. It was awesome, and in fact, Mikayla has said if she could pick one day to go back and do again, it would be this one (especially with her favorite Greek dish, a salad. That actually looks really good right now, I’m glad it’s on the menu for dinner tonight. We spent the final two days exploring these same areas and I will cover them in detail in the next two blogs.

From my Journal:

I’m sitting right now on the roof of our hotel in Athens. It’s dark, the moon is out, nearly full. About a kilometer away hovering above the city on the Acropolis on a throne of limestone is the Parthenon, the Temple of Athena. It’s all lit up, giant pillars standing tall as they have for over two thousand years. It’s temple that has been a shrine to honor the Greek god Athena, a Christian temple, a Muslim mosque, and now one of the world’s greatest monuments. Tomorrow we will visit it.

Continue to Day 13…

In the early 1800’s, the port town of Nafplio was chosen to be the first capital of modern Greece. A major reason was the Palamidi, a baroque fortress (said to be the most well preserved in all Europe) that sits 1,000 steps above town atop the cliffs. The first thing on our agenda today was to climb to the top of the castle before the afternoon sun arrived.

But as it turns out, the fortress ended up being the second item our our agenda after “letting Mikayla’s hair dry.” So instead of waiting on the deck with Mikayla for the sunshine to do its job, I took the opportunity to walk through the quiet streets of Nafplio. Several shopkeepers were just opening, most were still closed tight, and most of the traffic I ran into had four legs, a tail, and no more than 9 lives. A coordinated journey crisscrossing through the streets and alleys quickly shrunk the town down to a manageable size. Last night our aimless meandering was fun but had not let me build an internal map.

I found a bank and withdrew some cash, frustrating people behind me in the process as I tried to figure out what was an acceptable amount to request. Even several of the presented options generated an error telling me to select a different amount. One lady finally said, “Do you know how to use that?” I started to explain but then projected into the future and heard the words coming out of my mouth. They really didn’t accomplish anything so I stopped mid sentence and turned back to the machine. I did finally manage to pull out some Euros.

I tried to find Mikayla her favorite breakfast, a spinach pie, but it was too early. So with her now straightened and dry hair, we walked towards the base of the massive stairway and grabbed a couple of chocolate filled croissants on the way.

The stairs weren’t so brutal and it felt good to get some exercise. They zig zagged up the cliff, through a few archways, and finally leveled out way above town at the castle. The view was as breathtaking as the hike up. We looked down on the town, out to the ocean where a giant cruise ship was docked, and at the beach where swimmers floated like tiny buoys.

We spent a couple hours climbing the castle walls, admiring the scenery, and hiking around the plateau. We saw the dungeon where the famous Greek general Theodoros Kolokotronis was held. The sun was bright and the air hot enough to streak my face with sweat but not hot enough to keel me over. It felt really good. It is a sizable fortress with plenty of areas to explore. The battlements at the top of the stairway were fairly crowded, but once we followed the less worn trails to the north eastern part we found ourselves alone on the edge of the cliff. The ruins around the old cistern were ours alone to explore and photograph.

I hadn’t told Mikayla it was possible to drive up the back side and bypass the 1K stairway. I was worried she might not want to do the stairs if she knew. Even though Even though I figured she’d probably be on board with the climb, I didn’t take a chance. When she saw the parking lot and busses she didn’t say anything about having to climb the stairs. I think she enjoyed the climb as much as I did.

We went back to town and took a quick break before heading out for our afternoon adventures to the theatre of Epidaurus, a massive and the best preserved ancient theatre in Greece. During summer months they hold performances here. It was a quick drive out and we stopped at a grocery store on the way for some fruit and snacks.

I followed the signs and my GPS and we ended up in a dusty parking lot at a tiny little theatre. The sign had pointed us right to this spot but I looked at Mikayla confused and said, “This can’t be it, thousands of people come here.” There was one other car in the lot but we couldn’t see a single soul. We got out and walked around. The theater was fenced in, rather than open and seemed way smaller than the pictures. A couple walked down the dirt road, got in their car, and drove off. I got in the car and pulled out the Rick Steve’s book and read more about the theatre. I came across a passage that said if you drive all the way to the town of Epidaurus or you have gone too far. As luck would have it, they also have an ancient theatre and plenty of road signs pointing to it.

We backtracked about twenty minutes worth of road until a huge parking lot affirmed that we had found the right place. The theatre was built nearly 2500 years ago in a spiritual sanctuary for healing. People would come from all over the world to spend a night where the god Asclepius (Apollo’s son) would visit them in a dream with instructions for their healing.

Even today the theatre is world renowned for its incredible acoustics. It is said the limestone absorbs low frequency sounds and magnifies high ones. So crowd murmur is muted while song and voice are projected across as many as 15,000 spectators. Mikayla took off up the steps and I walked to center stage. I was amazed at how tiny the people sitting at the top appeared. The place was huge. I climbed up to the very back row and sat in the shade and let my imagination run thousands of years in reverse.

I watched the tiny little spot otherwise known as Mikayla move through the bleachers on the far left and then up to join me. Far below us, we watched a lady take center stage and proceed to do several readings and acoustical tests. We heard every word as she talked with her friends sitting in the first row. She took out a pin and told them to listen while she dropped it. The whole place became dead quiet as tourists, scattered throughout the bleachers, gave their attention to the lady. She raised her hand, and then…TING. Everyone applauded as if Pavarotti himself had just performed. I found myself a bit verklempt. Freaking amazing.

I went down and stood in the center so Mikayla could take a picture of me and was tempted to sing something. In the end though, I couldn’t think of anything worthy enough. I should have just done it. We toured the small museum and the nearby ruins where we followed a young family around for a bit because Mikayla enjoyed their “Jude Law” accent.

On our drive back to Nafplio, we stopped at a beach and relaxed for a couple hours. I listened to music and took a nap in the sun while she read her book. It was nice. It gave me time to think about my kids and the trips. Our final destination, Athens, was one day away. All the saving, planning, and anticipation over the years for these trips with the kids and the final one was almost over. This final trip coincided with Aubree going off to college and Curtis and Mikayla becoming fiercely independent. The end of this trip marks the end of an era for me. Life is very different now. I miss those little kids but at the same time, love these young adults that took their place. It blows my mind how different my life has become in just the past year.

We had a yummy dinner in the town square and watched people saunter. We then tried our own amateurish version of a saunter and took a stroll through the shops and I forced Mikayla to have some ice cream. I actually had to put my foot down and tell her she had no choice.

Continue to Day 12…

I didn’t expect we would spend so much time driving in a country smaller than the state of Utah. Today we drove from Kardamyli, to Monemvassia, to Nafplio. I tried to remember our route and plug it in to Google which claimed it takes roughly six hours. I think we were slightly over that and I’m guessing my GPS had something to do with that.

If you zoom in on Google maps you can see how many of the roads that look straight are actually quite hairy (like this one). The formula from point A to point B must be multiplied by π (yes, that is the Greek symbol for pie) to account for all the switchbacks (and the funky TOMTOM GPS routing).

It may sound like I’m complaining, but I’m not. Most of our journey was through the mountains with gorgeous views where towns, people, and other motorists were few and far between. We saw a lot of beautiful country, stopped at little stores to grab snacks (like a yummy spinach pie), and were slowed by multiple encounters with sheep, goats, and cows. I wouldn’t change a thing.

Monemvassia is a small village on the back side of a giant rock of a peninsula that is linked to the mainland by a narrow causeway. The mountain sits close enough to the mainland an Olympian could peg it with a javelin. For the defenders on the 100 meter high plateau of Monemvassia, an Olympian hucking javelins would be of little threat and an easy target. The safety of the medieval fortress high above made Monemvassia an excellent refuge from attackers.

1500 years ago Monemvassia was established by people wanting to escape their invaders. As an ideal location for a fortified fortress, it passed through several different ruling powers over the past thousand years. On the far end is a tiny hillside town set at the base of a stairway that climbs up the cliff to the ancient ruins on the top. The town and ruins are well worth the extra out-of-the-way driving required for a visit.

We drove across the causeway, wound around the giant rock, and parked outside of town. The Greek words Mone (single) and emvasio (entrance) help explain the single castle-like door that blocked the entrance to town. Even if your car could make it through the front door, it never would fit on the path that climbs and weaves through the little shops, taverns, and restaurants. Narrow, steep stairs shoot up to the left and drop down to the right on the the alleys that veer from the main path. It felt like I had jumped back in time and was walking through an old medieval village where at any moment a wizard might appear in a flash and puff of smoke.

We perused through a few shops, walked to the edge of the baluster to look out into the ocean, and then climbed the steps up to the ruins. We curled up the mountain, passed through several tunnels, and then found ourselves on top of the plateau. The remains of a powerful medieval city covered the top of the mountain. We walked along the stone paths, through various stone arches, up and down the stone stairs, and poked our head in the stone houses. Yes, everything was made of stone. The only intact building was the church but I don’t know if it was rebuilt or restored. We enjoyed the view of ocean from multiple angles and then descended back down into town.

On our way out of town we stopped at a cozy looking tavern so Mikayla could get a coffee. I convinced her to try some Greek coffee (I won’t touch anything that has the word coffee in it, bleauch!). Coffee powder is boiled in water and the beverage is served with the grounds that settle in the bottom of the cup as a brownish mud. Not knowing any better, Mikayla tried some of the mud. Suffice it to say that she is not a fan and didn’t even finish her $4 drink!

We stopped on the causeway and I walked out on the Pier to get a close up of the waves crashing in. It was a little scary, some of the waves crashed up and over the barrier which, at the very least, would have soaked me. There was also the potential of being swept off into the water (although I believed the chances of that to be slim). I walked out nervously to the very end with my camera and camcorder. When nothing happened my arrogance took hold and I yelled out to Poseidon, daring him to give me his best. He didn’t and I called him a wimp, a has been, a washed up God. Finally, disgusted I walked back to the car. He did, however, get his revenge in Athens. But that is still a few days away.

On the drive to Nafplio Tom Tom took us up over a mountain on a road that slowly  deteriorated. Once the tar vanished and we hit dirt, I got nervous. My logic is that a road that is slowly getting worse will eventually die out completely at an old barn or something. At least, that’s how it seems to work in Utah. But if I turned around it was a loooong way around…so we kept going. We hit a point where the road was covered, literally 100% covered, in sheep droppings. Moments later we encountered thousands of sheep coming the other direction (not the picture). It took about 20 minutes to get through them and when the last lone sheep ran past us I rolled down the window and said “Do you know you are last, very very last out of thousands? You better pick it up buddy.” I think he flipped me off (as best a sheep can) as he went past.

The road panned out, more beautiful scenery, and eventually we arrived in Nafplio. Up until now I have mentioned a few of TOMTOM’s shortcomings. In Nafplio, old Tom totally blew it. One simple tip would have really helped…I give it to you now free of charge. “Nafplio is a pedestrian town.” I tried to drive to our hotel, which turned into a frustrating nightmare. The streets are not made for cars. We circled, I tried to squeeze down narrow roads where people sat at tables dining, I backed up, and performed a 20 point U turn. Once TOM TOM even tried to get me to drive up some stairs.

We finally parked and walked through town with our luggage clicketyclacking along the cobblestone. The sound totally reminded me of my trip with Aubree last year as we dragged our luggage around Italy, France, and Spain. We were looking for a certain listing that Rick Steve’s suggested and inquired at different place while we hunted for it. It was a dungy looking place with no internet and we decided to keep looking. It looked old, and not in the rustic, cool old-looking way.

We found the place we were looking for, the Pension Rigas, which was the same price as the dungy place…but that is all they had in common. We had internet and the new place was so charming I wanted to spend three nights instead of just two. It was clean, spacious, and had a really good feeling about it. Nicholas, the owner, was incredibly helpful and friendly. He told us about the town, suggested places to visit, and gave us a map.

We enjoyed a traditional Greek dinner and spent the evening exploring the crowded pedestrian streets, rummaging through little shops, and avoiding one particular restaurant on the waterfront because the owner called me a liar the second time we walked past. His argument was that I did not return for dinner as promised. In my defense, I said I’d think about it rather than I’ll be back later. I think he was just mad because, based on his prices, he could have retired after I had purchased our meals. Can you spot what caught my attention as I walked past this shop (click the picture for a larger view)?

Continue to day 11…

Today was devoted to exploring the Mani Peninsula. It’s rugged landscape and brutal mountain ranges kept it inaccessible for thousands of years. It was these very traits that brought refugees, desperate to escape the invading Ottomans, to settle in the difficult terrain. The narrow and winding road down the coast connects coastal towns that for hundreds of years had only been reachable by ship. The area is remote and has a slower pace. In addition to a break from the heavy tourism of other areas, it offers Frankish castles, spectacular beaches, and majestic mountains.

The fast winding roads had me wishing for my motorcycle. Occasionally bikers would fly around the corner tucked forward and leaning so low their knees almost touched the ground like they were on a racing circuit. Someday it would be fun to come to Greece with my motorcycle pals and cover the country on two wheels.

We stopped for breakfast at the devil’s bakery. Only Hades could come up with so many tempting, delicious treats that could seduce a person and trap them forever, similar to those who fell prey to the sirens in Homer’s tales. We were very lucky to escape, especially considering we stopped to sample several of the seductive pastries.

Our first adventure was at the Diros Caves, a massive limestone cave that is believed to extend all the way north to Sparta. I’ve been in limestone caves before, dripping with giant colorful stalactites from the ceiling and stalagmites poking up through the floor, but this one sounded unique in two aspects. First, I read claims that it was the most impressive cave in all Europe. And second, it is set in a giant lake and the tour through the caverns is on small boats.

Mikayla scored, because the tour guide placed her in the very front of the boat. I wasn’t so lucky, he put me in the very back. The frustration of my obstructed view was eased by the experience I imagined Mikayla must be having; floating silently across the glass-like water through magical caverns that seemed to come right from a fantasy book (like this one ). The tour lasted about 45 minutes and I found myself wide eyed and fascinated throughout.

Our next stop was Vathia, most of which is a ghost town of a castle-like fortresses leftover from the 1500’s. To escape the Ottoman empire, establishments like this were formed in the rugged terrain of the Mani peninsula. Neighborhoods worked together to build a garrison for protection against invaders (which most of the time, was other similar establishments). The most important part of the defense was a tower from which they could hurl rocks at their enemies. The larger the tower, the greater the power (some things never change).

Vathia is unique because, as I understand, a quibble erupted within the group and two groups formed. Another tower was built as the disagreements often turned violent. Talk about bad neighbors! They hurled rocks at each other and fought until almost no one was left. Today most of the structures are either empty, or full of smelly rotting garbage. Mikayla and I walked through the dead quiet ruins and she said “Dad, I really think this place is haunted.”

We were unsure when we first arrived if it was safe. Although very few people still live in Vathia, we didn’t want to intrude because anyone living in this forlorn, desolate place must certainly value solitude. Some of the structures looked like they could collapse at any given moment. But we didn’t let our concerns hinder our curiosity and we hiked through the overgrown paths, climbed over the piles of rubble, and toured several of the empty buildings.

We continued our drive south, to the most southern tip of Western Europe and what Greek Mythology considered the end of the world and the entrance to Hades lair, the Underworld. The landscape was vastly different than the trees of other mountains we had seen. It was hot, dry, and felt like the deserts of Southern Utah (minus the dark blue ocean far below us). The scenery was gorgeous but we drove for many hours and by the time we got back to our room, I was exhausted.

We took a break and then decided to take a walk before dinner. We ended up at the Kardamyli Citadel (their own tower, church, and fortress from hundreds of years ago). It has been partially restored and turned into a museum assessable for a couple Euros. We explored the buildings and looked at the various displays that had great information on the history of the town and the by-gone era.

We followed the nearby wash to the ocean and enjoyed an hour or so sitting, tossing rocks into the water, and watching the sun rays shine through the clouds. Just before dusk, we walked back to town. Mikayla didn’t want to go eat, so she sat on the balcony with the laptop and I went back to the tavern for that follow-up sandwich from yesterday. We’d made a friend the day before (he says hi and waves to us on the street like we are old friends) and I chatted some more with him and the owner of the tavern. She grew up in a very rural town in the mountains herding goats and living a rustic lifestyle. It would have been cool had we been able to meet her family and spend several days with them.

The sandwich, again, was excellent, and after an hour or so I took the short walk back and turned in for the night.

Continue to Day 10…

Patience Warren. I believe that is what Zeus tried to teach me as we visited what his followers considered his most sacred sanctuary. This hill was the birthplace of Zeus and where is father, Kronos tried to eat him and prevent him from taking over the family God business. By visiting, I unwittingly subjected myself three trials that he administered by using my willing teenage daughter, as you shall soon see.

I always understood the high priority the ancient Greeks placed on spiritual and mental development (hence the temples, shrines, and Greek schools of philosophy). What I never realized is that the Olympic games weren’t anything like sporting events we have today. It was the Romans who changed and commercialized the Olympics. To the Greeks, the games were a deeply ritualistic, highly spiritual event held to honor the Father of the Olympian Gods, Zeus. Ancient Olympia is where the games were held and one of the most sacred, spiritual locations in Greek Mythology.

Knowing this (and that we had a long drive ahead of us after we explored the ruins), I was quite anxious to get started. Zeus saw this as a perfect opportunity and teamed up with Mikayla to try my patience a bit. In Mikayla’s defense (and as anyone who knows me well can verify), I can be quite stubborn and bullheaded (yes, I’m sure you are shocked). Especially when I have a plan. And today I had a very detailed plan and the timeline to support it.

The first trial of Zeus involved me (with my luggage packed) tapping my foot and looking anxiously at my watch while Mikayla straightened her hair in the bathroom (we were already an hour behind my scheshdual – notice the European pronunciation). In the second trial of Zeus, I ended up leaning against our parked car looking helplessly at the hill leading to the ancient site while MIkayla sat in the car finishing a chapter in her book, “Wicked.” The third trial was when she had her nose in her book walking aimlessly around the Sanctuary, her mind far away in the land of Oz rather than in Ancient Greece where I thought it should be. I don’t think I completely failed the tests, but I fell far from acing them. I had to remind myself several times that this is Mikayla’s vacation, “Relax Warren!” I mean, after all. She willingly went every day to every historical location on my agenda without ever complaining.

Eventually, she put her book away and the extra time didn’t make us miss anything or ruin my objectives for the day. We explored the ancient training grounds where athletes would assemble a month before the games to prepare and compete in the ancient Olympic Games. A few interesting notes about the games:

• Only males were allowed to compete in or watch the games.
• Athletes would compete naked, body coated in olive oil and dust.
• Athletes took an oath before Zeus to compete honestly.
• Cheaters names were engraved on plaques and they lived the rest of their lives in shame.

The ancient site had training areas, a 400 room five star hotel (for dignitaries, not athletes), bathhouses, temples, a stadium, and more. When the Romans came in they added their own ideas and a few more buildings. Today it is in ruins. The Greeks built some amazing buildings and obviously took a great deal of pride in their structures but it was the Romans that invented concrete. Marble was expensive and difficult to transport so many of the Greek marble structures were whatever stone was handy and then coated in marble (look close and you can sometimes see seashells in the building blocks). Earthquakes and wars were just too much for the buildings and today most of the locations look a lot like my old Lego houses did once my little sister crawled through them.

One reconstructed column stands to give visitors an idea of the what the Temple of Zeus must have looked like. It housed the statue of Zeus (one of the 7 wonders of the ancient world). The 43 foot tall statue of Zeus adorned in gold and ivory vanished over 1500 years ago. As of today (and most likely the day you are reading this), it is still missing.

Every ten or so minutes at the stadium (where events were held) some idiot would line up at the starting line and bolt across the dusty ground for the finish line. I imagine they must have got a kick out of pretending they were leading the pack of naked olive oil covered bodies (I don’t suggest you actually imagine this, sprinting naked has it’s complications) while the crowd roared in approval. Lame. It sounded corny when Rick Steve’s suggested it in his video as I prepared for the trip, it sounded corny when I read it in his guidebook, and it looked corny when other people did it…but it felt great when I did it.  

I think Mikayla got tired of the various factoids I kept spitting out as we walked around and I had my nose in the Rick Steve’s book (don’t you dare call me a hypocrite!). But she’d humor me by raising her eyebrows, nodding her head, and frowning slightly. I couldn’t help it. It just amazed me to try and wrap my head around the fact that I was walking through an area that full of mythology, history, and the building blocks of western civilization. I tried really hard not to come across as giddy but I couldn’t help it. It was too exciting to imagine, feel, and ponder the magnitude of events that transpired here 2,500 years ago.

After we explored the archeological site, we went back into town to do some shopping until the museum opened. Last night we found some really cute shops and tons of cool things to buy for ourselves, friends, and family. I had been telling Mikayla all along to wait until we got to Athens because prices were a lot better, but she had fallen in love with one shop in particular. Over the two days we spent at least an hour, maybe two, looking at the cool stuff they were selling. At one point the owner told Mikayla she should come and work there next summer because they could use her English. I’m not sure how serious she actually was, but that would sure be a cool experience. I know Mikayla would love working in such a cute artsy shop and town. We wished we had thousands of dollars to spend because their stuff was so cool. I almost spent way more money than I had budgeted for there, instead, I just spent a little more.

TRAVEL TIP: If you are about to go over budget and are feeling guilty, almost buy a few things that will take you WAY over budget. Then when you put the big things back, going over budget in a smaller amount actually feels like a success.

The museum contained many of the statues that had once embellished the temples and Olympic grounds. They generally honor the Gods and tell various stories that came from their religious beliefs (like this picture that depicts the Centaurs War with the Lapiths).

We finished exploring, had lunch, and hit the road for another long drive through the mountains. As usual, this involved many windy roads, scenic views, charming towns, and a few scratches of the head while I compared my map to what the GPS was telling me to do. At one point I got very frustrated with myself for, once again, taking the scenic route and adding hours upon hours to the drive. I wanted to see the gorge but hadn’t realized it would add so much driving. I was actively cursing myself in silent dialogue when we came across a small team of dogs ushering a herd of goats across the road.

We turned off the car and watched for 20 minutes or more. Several hundred goats passed from right to left, climbing up the mountain trail that curved up through the jutting rocks. The only sounds came from the random, gentle ring, ding, clang, and tink of the various bells around the necks of some of the goats. Adventurous ones (as I imagine I would have been, had I been a goat) veered off the path for some sport climbing and ascended the face of the cliff. The dogs were quiet, watching intently, sometimes walking back and forth across the road to check the progress of the slower goats and once one came up to my window, looked me in the eye for a few seconds, and then went quietly back to the herd. I guess I checked out okay.

I’m guessing that the idea of this simple life in the quiet mountains coupled with the idea that I was watching a process that also dated back thousands of years hit a spot inside me and nearly brought me to tears. It slowed down the gears in my head that work and churn to push my agenda and I told Mikayla that seeing these goats made the hours of extra driving completely worth it. She seemed to enjoy it just as much as I did.

We eventually made it over the mountains and, just before dusk, wound down the roads to the small coastal town of Kardamyli. The room we found was inexpensive, had a fridge and kitchen area, a balcony, and was decent sized. We both instantly loved the town and our room and decided to change our plans and stay two nights instead of one. We walked down by the rocky beach and watched the waves crash and splash, strolled through the narrow road that cut through town, and had dinner in a nice little pub. The sandwich I ordered was as good as any I’ve ever had and I vowed to return for another tomorrow. Like Olympia, the shops were open late and people were outside enjoying the evening until past 10:00. Like most nights, I turned in earlier than Mikayla and she stayed up late chatting with her friends on the Internet.

Continue to day 9…

Today was a long, exhausting day of travel. It started with a sad goodbye to the bay that had been home for four days. Of course, we couldn’t go anywhere until after Mikayla had her morning coffee. Rather than rush us by trying to convince her to skip her morning ritual, I finally just accepted the fact that she doesn’t fully wake up until she gets her dose of caffeine. Once that happens, her eyes light up and she is non-stop chatter (which is fun). If Jack Bauer ever needed to interrogate her, all he’d need to do is give her coffee.

Getting on the ferry was much easier now that we knew how it worked. Our boat launched and as the old city rolled past, it had a different feel than several says ago when we sailed in. Rather than a mysterious collection of buildings packed together like sardines, I remembered the quiet alleys, laundry strung across the windows, and the scooters that putt through the narrow roads. I wished we had gone back for another day of walking through the quaint little city.

I spent the majority of the journey sitting topside next to the rail where the sunshine and gentle breeze provided the perfect climate to enjoy the slow moving mountains on the mainland.

As we neared Igoumenitsa, a man sitting near us overheard us talking and asked if we were American. Steffanos, it turns out, lives up the road from us in Vancouver, Canada. He is a retired engineer who currently sails the world in a ship he built himself and takes doctors all over the world as part of the Doctors Without Borders program. Mikayla and I  enjoyed chatting and hearing about his tales from around the world. Traveling the world would be insanely amazing; writing, taking pictures, meeting people, experiencing new cultures. Maybe someday I can find a way to do it more than just a couple weeks every year.

After our ship docked we had lunch with Steffanos in a little cafe, and then exchanged contact information and parted ways. I realized that traveling through Italy last year with Aubree on the trains had been a better opportunity to meet and visit with people, which I really like. The rental car approach let us do a lot more exploring but the drawback was that little four door economy car kept us a bit secluded from the rest of the world.

I had pegged out a few spots to visit on our drive to Olympia. The first was a castle near the town of Aghia. It took a lot longer than I expected to find and I made one last attempt before giving up. In movies, the massive castles appear to have corridors and dungeons that go on forever. The majority of castles I have visited are quite small. Tiny rooms, dungeons that are little more than a deep hole meant for one unlucky person at a time, and internal courtyards that are barely large enough for a tree and a few bushes. Perhaps when Sandi and I go to Germany I’ll see some of the big ones. I’m not disappointed by the small castles, it’s just that Hollywood has tainted me and I needed to adjust my imagery a bit.

  This castle was fairly well preserved (3 levels, walls 80% or so intact) and excellent fuel for my imagination. I tried to picture who lived in the small rooms and what personal possessions I would have seen there 500 years ago. What did the kids do for fun, was there time for fun? We walked through the big archway into the largest room that was dark and dusty. Irish castles used wooden floors which opened up the lower rooms; this one was completely made of stone which required giant rock columns to support the heavy upper levels. The design cuts out a decent chunk of real estate making it feel even smaller. We finished off the tour by heading up the stairs and through the dark hallways on the middle level, then to the upper level/roof where the canons and other defensive measures were located.

Finding and exploring the castle took a lot longer than I expected. According to our GPS we were looking at a 9pm arrival in Olympia. We didn’t have a room booked and the thought of shopping around late in a foreign country for a place to sleep didn’t appeal to me. I don’t worry so much about finding a place to sleep as I do finding an affordable place to sleep. We decided to skip the other sites and drive straight through.

The bridge connecting the Peloponnese is huge…and expensive. The toll was over $15. We stopped and asked for directions because I knew the tendency of my GPS to send us on the scenic route. We were directed to a new highway. It was a nice break from the slower winding roads, but ended too soon and sent us back to twisting.

We arrived in Olympia late and, using Rick Steve’s Guidebook, drove right to a decent hotel that had reasonable rates and wireless Internet. That was a relief. It was also right in the little town of Olympia and to our surprise, the main street was filled with open shops and meandering tourists.

We settled in and were tired, it was nearly 10pm. But before hitting the sack we decided to walk through Olympia which really paid off. The night air was warm, the artsy stores and gallery’s were chock-full of interesting items, and the people nice and friendly. We were too tired to do any shopping but knew there was several shops we wanted to revisit in the morning.

Continue to Day 8…

My original agenda for today had us taking a drive up the northern part of the island, up the mountain, and to the eastern coast and the “Mini-Riveria.” The thought of more driving, however, seemed to turn Mikayla’s face green. Her preference was to go back to Myrtiotissa beach and have an easy relaxing day. So that’s what we did.

We took our time in the morning, had an extended chat at breakfast, and then left late in the morning for the beach. I wondered all night if I’d drive down the steep hill again. The angel on the right shoulder said, of course, “Don’t do it.” The little devil on the left didn’t say a thing, just smiled a wicked grin. I’m sure you know by now who won.

My mistake yesterday was stopping halfway up, but even then, I still made it. I don’t have a good shot of the road but you can see the cars at the top of the cliff in the picture. I told myself we’d get a good run and make it out safe. Most people stay at the top. The few cars that drove down, I also saw drive back out. I told myself it would be fine. But I was more than a little nervous as we dropped down to the beach and the angel on my shoulder was so upset, he got out of the car and missed out on swimming because he sat in a huff at the top of the hill the whole time.

We spent more time here today, starting on the sandy beach. Mikayla read her book, “Wicked” for a while on the rocks while I listened to my iPod and soaked up some sunshine. We did some swimming, played in the sand, and lingered for several hours. The waves weren’t the cute puppy waves we had the day before. They were more like German Shepherd waves that constantly jump up to lick your face. Mikayla preferred these big brother waves and dove into them, rolled around in them, and let her free spirit play and frolic unrestrained. I enjoyed them too but preferred the smooth glassy water from yesterday. Actually, I would have loved if the Great Danes had come to play, the ones big enough to carry you around.

I tried to ignore the cliff behind us, but it taunted me. We drove back to the rocky beach and I was tempted to drive up the hill just to get it over with, but instead parked in its shadow and did some snorkeling. When it came time to leave (only because it was getting close to my scuba appointment) I gunned it from the bottom and we zipped up the hill no problem. The grumpy little angel up top almost got left behind and had to run and jump in as we zoomed past.

My second dive was a much different experience. I was grouped with another couple and Angeliki took us out to the reef. I was much more relaxed, enjoyed looking around, and didn’t at all feel the same apprehension from the day before. We swam through a little cave, saw tons of colorful fish, and even explored a sunken ship. (Okay, it was a tiny rowboat and everyone swam right past it without a second glance, but it still makes for a good story.)

Rather than feeling like it went on forever, the dive seemed to be over before it started. I could have gone right back in for another one. I was really glad I followed through because it completely changed my opinion of scuba diving.

I went back up to the room and tried to talk Mikayla into driving to an old castle with me for an evening excursion but she just wanted to take it easy. I thought of going by myself but decided to hang around with her. She’s been a great sport, following my aggressive schedule, hiking, driving for hours on end to see the historical sights…so I didn’t push it. I had just settled in when she said, “I guess I’ll go on the hike.”

We took the road up the mountain, through Krini, and then back down towards the water. The fort is built up on a ridge overlooking the ocean and I was excited to see it. We parked and had started up the trail when a guy coming down the trail shook his head and said, “closed!” I asked him if we could just hike up to it, to the gate at least and he said “it’s closed!” There was an obvious language barrier. I said, “Does that mean we can’t go in the fort or does it mean we can’t even hike up to it?” He got frustrated and threw out his arms, I suppose it was the Greek version of “Whatever.”

We debated hiking up and decided to go for it. We weren’t crossing any closed gates, nothing said “stop,” so what is the worst that could happen? It was a neat hike up but in the end, we found a giant iron gate securely locked. It would have been easy to climb up and over it, which I made the mistake of pointing out to Mikayla. She climbed up and I said, “I don’t want any part of this.” She didn’t go inside, but I think she enjoyed teasing me knowing she was doing something I didn’t approve of. Pick your battles, right?

We then went to the edge of the ridge, watched the sunset, and ate dinner; trailmix, bread, and honey. Then while the sky was a fiery red, we hiked back to the car and returned to the hotel and called it a day. It was sad to think our time on Corfu had already past. Each day seemed filled with so many activities it seemed to last forever in a sense. But now, looking back, the three days had come and gone like a breeze across the water: gone before we even had a chance to fully enjoy the cool air on our faces.

Continue to for Day 7…