Crete Part 1: The Hot Slow Days

Sunset over the town of Rethymno on the island of Crete

 Last I left you I was steaming south toward the island of Crete and that was almost two months ago, which is hard to believe. Many adventures and 600 pictures later I am in a whole different climate, a different season and completely different culture. Here I am in Limerick, Ireland watching the wind whip through the trees and the sun lighting up the far hills all kinds of colors of green. In fact, I know I’m in Ireland because spell check is telling me that I spelled colors wrong…well maybe on this side of the pond you need a “u” in there somewhere but not where I’m from. So, here I am reunited at long last with Jo, staying in the dorm that will be her home for the next year as she pursues a Masters Degree in Irish Traditional Music Performance. I’m catching up on all the things that my brief stays at internet cafes couldn’t fit in, including this blog, so bare with me as I step way back in time to the scorching heat of July and that ship embarking into the Mediterranean night.

After the chaos of Athens it was nice to be sleeping underneath the stars again with the sounds of the waves and the wind. I can’t say it was the most comfortable sleep on the hard metal of the boat deck, but waking up at dawn in a new unknown port was a magical experience. After a couple more hours on the bus I found myself in Rethymno, a medium size city on the central north coast of Crete. I wandered through old winding streets with a mix of Venetian and Ottoman architecture hinting at the complicated history of this island. At the crossroads of Europe, Africa, and Asia, Crete has been subjected to periodic invasions and occupations for time immemorial. But with a dramatic landscape of gnarled mountains and lush deep valleys, the natives are famous for their gritty resilience. Nowadays they aren’t in danger of invasion but ironically, the fighter jets burning across the sky are a stark reminder that Crete is one of the main refuelling points for coalition forces in the war that rages not much further south in Libya.

Crazy critters around every corner

The entrance to the park, my home for two weeks

From left to right: Mihalis holding Lambi, Liga (Latvia), Me,
Corinna (Germany), Grant (Scotland and all over), Susanne

My destination was Calcetto, a nature park/summer camp/café where I would spend the next two weeks volunteering. I didn’t have too much idea what to expect when Mihalis picked me up but what I found was delightful. It was a welcome change to have a bit of a home and to feel like after so much seeing and visiting that I was giving something back on my journey. Susanne and Michalis, my hosts, were so open and welcoming during my stay. I enjoyed delicious Greek cuisine and an unparalleled view from the door of my tent. In addition to my daily chores around the nature park, I also had the chance to work with the local kids that visited the park each day for camp. The language barrier was significant but when you are teaching knot tying and rock climbing, non-verbal communication will go quite a long way. Other experiments during my stay included battling brambles with a scythe, replacing the lining on the swimming pool, attempting to make Moussaka (medium success) and playing soccer under the lights with some locals (less success but “A” for effort).

Trying to look worthy of my weeding weapon

Camp Calcetto

These chameleons could snatch cicadas from about
a foot away with their ridiculously long tongues

During the hottest days I would escape to the cool of a nearby gorge. One day with my friend Grant, a fellow volunteer, we walked the length of the creek until we found a swimming hole where we spent the afternoon napping beneath lemon trees and exploring the small Greek Orthodox churches that were tucked away in the gorge. It was one of those afternoons that feels like it will never end: the essence of summer and those lazy hours of joy.

A piece of the Columbia River Gorge in Crete

This water was a cold relief from the scorching July heat

I had this quiet sanctuary all to myself

A Greek Orthodox church hidden in the bottom of the gorge

This is a good angle on my worst haircut ever (sorry Liga)

Grant and the Giant Lemon

Here is an excerpt from my journal near the end of my stay that does a bit to capture the scene:

8/3/11

The whole pace of things has slowed considerably here and there is a beauty in routine and familiarity with one place. At 7 the light is filling the sky and by 7:45 the sun is on my tent. It’s hot by 8:00 and unbearable by 8:30. But this is the time of day when the pool is coldest and a morning dip is always a welcome thing. The rabbits are curious enough to press their noses right up to my hand but they scurry as soon as I reach to pet them. The rooster flaps his wings hard and has a devilish look in his eye. The chameleons do their stilted dance of a walk to escape the spray of water from the hose and the chinchilla stands on his back feet, chin up, with a mischievous countenance. There’s only a small square of shade on the north side of the office where I can eat my cereal in the last bit of cool as the heat claims the day. But by 11 the shade spreads in an angled line along the bench where I will nap later. The new moon has given way to a harvest crescent that traverses the skyline at sunset. The sound of the cicadas rises and falls with an irregular pattern. The shouts of soccer players and the soft buzz of the fluorescent lights crowd the early evening, and the barking of dogs is rarely far off.

In this slow pattern I can feel the changes working away: the heat of summer nearing and the idea of fall being planted for the first time, July turning to August, the solo time in my trip dwindling to a number of weeks rather than months. Everything seems possible right now. Somehow I’m drifting in this way where I keep scanning back across my childhood through the memories and up to the present and then on into the future. Being young, it feels at once infinite and instantaneous.

I never got over those sunsets

Lookin' out my front door

The entrance to the park with my lovely hosts Susanne and Mihalis along with
some of the Greek boys who hopefully still remember their climbing knots

After a couple weeks at Calcetto it was time to set off on my own to explore the rest of Crete and eventually to make my way by boat to Turkey. I said my goodbyes to Susanne and Michalis who had been such gracious hosts and I set my course for the native Cretan palm forest at Preveli Beach on the South coast. It was nice to have my rucksack on my back again and to have no particular plans except to follow my nose wherever it might lead.