As we close on another American Independence day, I’ve been thinking about the nature of patriotism. It seems to me we Americans have lost the concept of the word. People talk about “love of country” and “American exceptionalism” leading to arguments that miss the point. Patriotism is not uncritical support; it is also not unsupported criticism. It is not the extremism of the fan who thinks only his team should ever win, and every referee’s decision or sport ruling to the contrary is unfair and biased. Yet it is also not detached neutrality, a keeping-your-distance and not-being-emotionally-committed attitude common in academia.
When I worked for the government, I used to remind my employees they were not neutral observers of American foreign policy: they wanted that policy to succeed, whether they personally supported it or not. (Note: we weren’t talking about policies they morally opposed; of course one is required to quit if asked to support a policy you could not in good conscience support). You didn’t need to chant “U…S…A, U…S…A!” all the time, but neither should you act like it made no difference to you.
Enough about what patriotism isn’t; what is it? Try this concept on for size: patriotism is an appreciation for the unique advantages your nationality bestows on you, unmerited on your part. Thus it does not mean your country is better than any other, nor does it mean everything your country does it right or best. This appreciative version of patriotism requires an objective view of your nation’s history, other nation’s histories, and the state of the world today. But it avoids silly chest-thumping on one hand, or ridiculous a-historical criticism on the other.
There is nothing particularly patriotic about believing your country is the greatest ever, nor in thinking solely about its many shortcomings. Both approaches lead to dead ends. There can be little doubt nations and nationalities demonstrate differing areas of excellence, and acknowledging this fact is not unpatriotic, just realistic. Brazil plays beautiful football. Nobody does cheese like France. Taiwan and computer chips. Sometimes patriotic fervor isn’t about absolute excellence, but simply relative excellence or good fit. I wouldn’t prefer the United Kingdom’s National Health Service, but the British cherish it as a national accomplishment nonetheless. It just works for them.
I didn’t storm the beaches at Normandy, but I benefited from the those who put an end to the Nazis. I never enslaved anyone, nor did my Irish forebears, but I was born into a society that had far more opportunity in South Bend than Sligo, just as an African American descended from slaves but born beside me in South Bend had so much more opportunity than a distant cousin still in Soweto. That we both had different (and unequal) opportunities is both a global statement of fact and a call for continued hard work. It is simply amazing to me that some people today think it is a remarkably American failing that inequality exists; if this surprises you, you either haven’t traveled much or weren’t paying attention when you did.
All nations have strengths and weaknesses. As do all forms of government, all ethnic groups, and all individuals. Being honest about these strengths and weaknesses is not disloyal, while only considering one or the other might be. I have little patience for those who say “America: love it or leave it.” I have no patience whatsoever for those who claim unrelenting criticism is some higher form of patriotic fervor.
America is, was, and ever will be far short of perfect. Yet it remains a blessing to be born an American, regardless of race, creed, or color. In praise or criticism, this remains true, and only an ingrate would challenge it.
When we first mentioned our intention to retire to Mexico some nine years ago, we faced a variety of reactions. Family thought we were joking, or crazy, or both. Friends were astounded, and couldn’t understand. A few of my work associates (who were familiar with Mexico–so to speak) congratulated us on an excellent choice, but most told me I was too young to retire. Some told me to hedge my bets, since I would undoubtedly be back soon, having “missed the game.”
Despite the concern and astonishment, we bought the house in Mexico, and (literally) counted down the days during those last five work years, waiting to retire early. We sold nearly everything, loaded up the FJ with the family dog, and set out for the retired expat life. Four years later, we have no regrets. Expat retirement has been a wonderful experience, and even the pandemic has only reinforced our belief we made the right choice.
But change happens, as they say. You get older if not wiser. Things once new become commonplace. So we decided to put the house up for sale and move again. Now don’t panic: no, we’re not returning to the States. We just finally decided to get another place here in Ajijic, but this time a house with a view. And what a view!
The home selling and buying process in expat land is quite familiar. First, there are numerous real estate agencies here that specialize in expats, often staffed with former NOB real estate agents. Many homes are priced in dollars, although the final sale must be made in Mexican Pesos, so there is the possibility of an exchange rate issue, but that is understood going in. One complication is that Mexico has a capital gains tax on properties, which could result in a large tax bill if your house really appreciated or if these is a major change in the dollar-peso exchange rate. However, Mexico also has an exemption for primary residences (you can claim it once every three years).
You select an agency, sign a listing contract, have showings and put up a “For Sale” sign. Many people don’t stage their properties, but some do. You make an offer, there is some negotiation and counters, and you go “under contract.” You agree on a settlement date, the lawyers (abogados) do their thing and make sure the property is free of liens, not in ejido land (indigenous lands can’t be transferred), nor is it in the federally-protected coastal lands (a legal hangover from way-back-when the government thought the US might invade again, now resolved through a long-duration fideicomiso or bank trust), and –presto–you sell/buy a house.
What’s different? Many expats move down here for life, furnishing their homes after arriving, so it is not uncommon to find properties for sale fully furnished (and by that I mean fully, like silverware and linens and tchotchkes!) You’ll find people buying homes sight unseen, from far away NOB, based on a local friend or agent. Some people put homes up for sale, over-priced, then leave them on the market forever. The cost of maintaining a property here is minimal, so there is little incentive (if you don’t need the cash to buy another property) to do a fire-sale price reduction. Mexico doesn’t have a mortgage system, so you bring cash to the table. Our agent told us on more than one occasion he had faced someone walking in to the settlement office with a suitcase full of pesos. It’s possible to arrange private (i.e., personal) financing but the interest rate runs north of ten percent with a guaranteed year’s interest.
We just started thinking seriously about a new place, mountainside with a lake view, a few weeks back. Then we stumbled on just the right place, which greatly accelerated our efforts. We are midway through the process, having put our home on the market and having recorded a contract to buy the new house. Now we are “on the clock” to sell or arrange financing to complete the purchase. Somewhere in there we need to arrange the settlements, schedule some movers, and do the local move. Oh, and we’re visiting the family & friends in the States twice in the next few months!
If all goes to plan, what changes? We’re going from a small gated community (seventy homes) to an even smaller gated community (thirty homes). We’re moving from the west end of Ajijic and practically on the lake to the centro, but right up against the mountains. Losing a walk to the lakeshore, gaining a million-dollar view and las brisas (breezes). Trading the sounds of the countryside (cohetes and roosters) for those of the village (cohetes and gas trucks), although an out-of-the-way part of the village. We’ll be part way up the mountain and just steps away from the Tepalo trailhead.
Friends always characterize our current, single-storey, two-thousand square foot home as “cozy” and that it is: from the central courtyard you can reach any room in under ten steps. The new place is, well, a little different. It’s six-thousand square feet on three levels (with an elevator), each level the same size as our current home. Judy and I joke that we’re buying the new house just for the main level, and the guest level and garage level are bonus spaces.
Here’s the sales video for our current home:
I’ll update the blog on the move, the closing(s), and especially the new house as things progress!
It’s not every day one sees Catholic doctrine debated on the front pages of the New York Times and in the chyrons of the so-called news channels. Given the quality of the debate we’ve witnessed recently, that’s a good thing. Watching professed-atheist journalists wrestle with concepts like transubstantiation is like watching monkeys with the proverbial football. Better still is “former” Catholics proclaiming their own gospel, Bishops suddenly attempting to regain the standing to make moral judgments, and poorly-catechized Catholics offering their take on right-and-wrong. Phew; what’s a poor sinner to do?
You may have heard that the US Conference of Catholic Bishops recently decided to issue a document attacking President Biden for receiving Holy Communion when he attends Mass. You might have heard that Pope Francis warned the American Bishops not to do this, but they did so anyway. You may have heard the Bishops are in the tank for former-President Trump and are attacking the current occupant of the White House for political reasons. You might even believe the Bishops have no moral standing to tell anybody anything, what with several decades of child sexual abuses allegations on their hands. All these things have an element of truth to them; none is actually correct. Like the blind men and the elephant, people are grasping for a partial truth, and oftentimes seeing what they want to see. Let’s stop looking through a glass darkly and see things as they are, shall we?
I know you were told there would be no math, but no one said we wouldn’t discuss Catholic doctrine, which is where we have to start. First off, Catholics believe in the Real Presence, namely, that the bread and wine on the altar are trans-substantiated into the real body and blood of Jesus Christ. This is a non-negotiable, eternal element of Catholicism. It means that the Eucharist is the “source and summit of the Christian life.” It is nourishment for the journey that is life, and a source of strength for life’s battle between good and evil. It made me laugh when some claimed the Bishops were “weaponizing the Eucharist.” Why of course they were; that is its purpose.
Because of this teaching, Catholics must be worthy to receive the Eucharist. This is a nuanced subject, as no one is truly worthy to receive the Savior’s body and blood. What worthiness involves is being in communion with the Church (believing what the Church teaches), not being in a state of serious (i.e., mortal) sin, and having completed the prescribed fast and penitence. So all Catholics are sinners, but repentant and in accord with the Church, so we go to Mass and line up for Holy Communion, or if we know we don’t qualify right now, we stay in the pews until we are. It does not matter whether you failed to keep a one-hour fast before communion, or you are remarried but not annulled in the eyes of the Church, or you are an abortion-performing doctor: all require the believing Catholic to repent and do penance before returning to the Eucharistic line. A long time ago, the faithful only took Holy Communion once a year, or tried to win a Divine Trifecta by being baptized, confessing, and receiving their first communion on their death bed (talk about just-in-time delivery!). Eventually the Church taught we all need the sustenance of the Divine Presence, seeking to avoid such heavenly gamesmanship.
The Church in America today is in crisis. Actually, the entire Roman Catholic Church is always in crisis. It began with leaders who were doubters, deniers, braggarts, vengeance seekers, fools and knaves, and never got better. There is a wonderful story about Napoleon occupying Rome, and learning that the Pope had forbid it, whereupon he threatened a Cardinal thusly, “Your Eminence, are you not aware that I have the power to destroy the Catholic Church?” To which the Cardinal replied: “Your Majesty, we Catholic clergy have done our best to destroy the Church for the last eighteen hundred years. We have not succeeded, and neither will you.”
Somewhere between one-half and two-thirds of American Catholics do not believe in the Real Presence, despite it being consistent, unchanging Church teaching. Now there is nothing wrong with believing communion (note the small “c”) is only a symbol of Christ’s presence; this is a common holding of many Protestant sects. But is it most certainly not Roman Catholic teaching. So there is little doubt that Catholic catechesis is lacking, and whose job is that? The Bishops. Despite whatever other failings they have, the job is theirs.
On top of this, about half of Catholics don’t think abortion is a serious (as before, mortal) sin, reinforcing the lack of Catholic education. Again, there has been no change in Church teaching, as abortion has been around as long as the Church. And to remind, mortal sin is a dis-qualifier for receiving Holy Communion. Many of these Catholics don’t go to Mass, so the issue is somewhat academic. But some do. Now if you secretly support abortion, and go to Mass, and receive Holy Communion, your sin is very serious, but a private one: no one but you and God will know. You may be damned (it’s up to Christ), but your twitter standing is secure.
But what if you publicly proclaim your support for abortion rights, support funding for it, defend it as a morally-acceptable choice, and campaign for officials who do likewise, and then go receive Holy Communion? Why, you’re President Biden! Or Speaker Pelosi. Or any of a number of Catholic politicians who do so. And here’s the rub: by being public in their position, and continuing to receive Holy Communion, they commit an additional sin the Catholic Church calls scandalizing the faithful. This means other Catholics will look at them, see they say and do as they please with no sanction, so they must not be wrong, right?
This is the dilemma the Bishops face. Failing to act, and to teach what the Church believes, they ended up with faithful who don’t believe. Take a position, and you enter into politics, since the overwhelming majority of Catholics who support abortion rights are Democrats. What about the Bishop’s support of then-President Trump? Isn’t it hypocritical to call out President Biden? President Trump wasn’t Catholic (Gracias a Dios) so supporting him was a prudential issue, where one had to measure various political, moral, and ethical positions and decide. Faithful Catholics could come down for or against, and they did. President Biden is Catholic, so his behavior becomes an issue of Catholic teaching and who gets to decide what Catholics believe. Which are the Bishops.
Or should I say, the Bishop. One aspect of Catholic doctrine only covered in passing is the role of the national conferences. They are advisory bodies, a relatively recent phenomenon, meant to give the Church a means to speak in unity on national issues. Their writ extends to consensus documents and to such things as which extra holy days of obligation (Church feasts) to require for the faithful in their country. This is why Pope Francis admonished the Bishops to ensure whatever they taught about receiving Holy Communion, it was not divisive. He did not, and could not, say it was ok to receive Holy Communion in a state of serious sin, nor did he suggest support for workers’ rights, immigration, or child care were issues as serious as abortion. In fact, then Cardinal Bergoglio was the principle author of the Aparecida document which stated the prohibition forcefully: “We must adhere to ‘eucharistic coherence,’ that is, be conscious that they (editor’s note: politicians) cannot receive Holy Communion and at the same time act with deeds or words against the commandments, particularly when abortion, euthanasia, and other grave crimes against life and family are encouraged. This responsibility weighs particularly over legislators, heads of governments, and health professionals.”
In the end, whether President Biden receives Holy Communion in the District of Columbia every Sunday is up to Cardinal (Archbishop) Wilton Gregory, who has said “yes, he may.” And if the President travels outside of Archdiocese of Washington, it is up to the Bishop in whatever diocese he visits. Normally, these issues are dealt with privately in a parish setting. The would-be communicant visits the parish pastor, finds out what is needed to be “in communion” and not in a state of serious sin, then accommodates the priest’s directions. Sometime a priest recognizes someone in line for Holy Communion and is forced to make a snap-judgment: the priest may know the communicant was (at some time) not eligible, but what if they went to some other priest and are now “worthy” in Church eyes? The problem with public figures is they provide a public example, which reinforces the lack of understanding by the faithful, requiring a very public response which can be characterized as political. And remember, the priest is responsible for helping even a wayward Catholic, for in knowingly receiving Holy Communion in an unworthy state, the sinner merits even greater punishment.
Are some Catholic American Bishops engaging in politics? Maybe. Is there a deficiency in Catholic Americans’ understanding of the Real Presence? Yup. Will the Bishops author a document attacking President Biden? Nope. In the end, they will reiterate Church teaching on worthiness, specify that it is incumbent on the faithful to comply, and that Bishop’s only–not the believer–make the determination. I would bet they will have a sentence or two reminding public officials that, despite the claims of President Kennedy and Governor Mario Cuomo, there is no exception for elected officials who are Catholic. That will be all. The Bishops will approve the document, as will the Vatican. There is nothing new here.
Not all sins are equal, and I understand that non-Catholics may find it hard to believe that failing to support programs for real live children is not as morally suspect as abortion. However, for Catholics, there are differences, and if you want to say you’re Catholic, you don’t get the option of personally challenging how the Church categorizes sin. Sin, by itself, does not disqualify a Catholic from receiving Holy Communion. Serious sin, and disregarding Church teaching to reform and refrain from it, does. Even for Presidents.
Greek is not a spoken language. It is a shouted language. Time and again, we would walk down the streets and locals would start shouting at one another. They weren’t angry, or even excited. They were just Greek. Do not take offense at it; it is part of the culture. To avoid being shocked, Judy and I took to making up instantaneous (mis-) translations of the encounters, such as: (Man on street) “DID YOU SEE HOW GREAT THE WEATHER IS TODAY?” (Woman on street) “YES, AND IT WAS LOVELY YESTERDAY, TOO!” (Man) “WHY YES, YOU ARE CORRECT!” At times, a shouting Greek (redundant) would turn to us and say–in subdued, polite, perfect English–“may I help you?”
I found little rhyme nor reason to pricing. A gyro (grilled meat and vegetables stuffed in a pita wrap) would be two or three Euros, but a mixed grill dinner (the same thing, unwrapped) would be ten. Taxis were expensive on Santorini & Rhodes, but cheap on Crete. Buses were cheap everywhere. There were usually “cash discounts” from businesses (big or small) who wanted to avoid paying VAT to the government. Tax avoidance is the Greek national pastime.
Damn near everybody speaks English, and if they don’t they will find someone who does for you. Greeks assume their language is just too hard for everyone else, but they are thrilled if you try. Try these simple rules: thank you is EF-ka-ris-TOE (which reminded me of the word eucharist), hello is Ya-SUE, good morning is Ca-lee-MER-a (think calamari) and good afternoon is ca-lee-SPER-a. Thank you and please is pa-ra-ka-LOW. Cheers is YA-Mas.
You already know Greek cuisine is amazing. But you may not know just what Greek cuisine is. That is, back in the States, a number of things that are actually Lebanese or Turkish cuisine get lumped in under the title “Greek cuisine.” Add to that confusion the fact that sometimes these foods make a transition. Take moussaka, which I liken to a Greek version of Irish shepherds pie. It is Lebanese/Turkish in origin, but when the Greeks achieved independence from the Ottoman empire in the early twentieth century, they cleansed Turkish influences from everything. For moussaka, that meant adding béchamel sauce (from France), which somehow made it “Greek.” You’ll see far more pork than lamb in your souvlaki and gyros: no pork for Muslims in the region, but it’s cheaper and tastier for everybody else. You may not find hummus, although if you ask for it the kitchen will probably make it for you. Normally, Greek pita is dipped in olive tapenade or tzaziki.
Cappuccinos are for breakfast. During the warmer part of the day, Greeks drink frappe, which is an odd mixture, served cold, made from instant coffee whipped to a thick foam, with or without milk. It comes with a glass of water to “cut it.” You MUST stir it before drinking, or it’s like mainlining coffee-laced coke. Trust me, that’s from experience. Drinking it properly is a refreshing experience.
There are many ways to get around the Greek isles. There are hydrofoils (very fast and direct), ferries (usually much slower, sometimes overnight), and hop flights of about an hour. Many times you must connect through Athens, but it is not a hassle; Athens International airport is about the size and complexity of a mid-size American airport, so it is a good option for connections.
That said, timetables and schedules are understood to be aspirational goals. We had a hydrofoil from Santorini to Heraklion, and I double-checked the schedule to find it left ninety minutes later than originally posted. No message, no warning. But I had a scheduled pick-up from the port in Heraklion, so when I became aware (the morning of departure), I called them. The taxi service told me “yes, yes, we know, we track these things. The ferries are always changing. It’s ok.” I hadn’t even told them what island I was on or what line I was coming in on! During the rare bad weather in the Aegean, ferries and planes cancel frequently. It all works out.
When your culture is thousands of years old, you have to work your way around some things. Like ancient ruins. But you don’t let that stop you.
When your culture is thousands of years old, you have old pipes. Hence this image everywhere:
Like most European countries, there is good health care available all over. Judy took her now customary fall while we were walking in Santorini, and the next morning we were easily able to find a pharmacy where she could get an ankle brace and a sample pack of topical anesthetic.
You’ll need to adjust your eating habits. There is no way to eat three meals a day without being in serious danger of exploding. We had a breakfast buffet available at our hotels, then we looked for one full other meal, either in the afternoon or early evening, and that was almost too much. Remember, Greek food is very flavorful and rich. Two appetizers probably equal a meal for one person, and you’ll probably receive either a free dessert or digestif, like ouzo or raki, afterward. True story: after two free dessert plates and a small pitcher of raki on Sunday afternoon, we decided to go visit one more museum. Due to the raki, we accidentally went to the natural history museum instead of the history museum, but hey, why not? Except we were warmly welcomed into a special event: an earthquake simulator, where we learned all about how it would feel to be in real earthquakes like those recently in Japan or Taiwan. Mostly we learned that we don’t want to be practically inebriated for the next earthquake. Lesson learned!
Amphora and Stelae are to Greece what castles and cathedrals are to the rest of Europe. After a while, they all start to look alike. However, if you pay attention, sometimes you see one that calls something else to mind:
Greeks have a word for “no” but they don’t have a concept for it when it comes to food. At one hotel, breakfast included Greek yogurt & honey, fresh bread & butter, coffee & fresh orange juice, eggs your way, olives with tomatoes and feta cheese, ham & cheese toast, cheese pie, and assorted fresh fruit. The second day, we told the staff “no” to cheese pie, so they brought apple pie. That day, we asked the hotel owner where to buy baklava, and he said he would bring it to us the next morning. Our last morning, he called us while we were at breakfast to see if he could bring some more. We told him, “no, thanks,” so he brought two other large desserts instead. Just say “yes.” It doesn’t matter what you eat. Our taxi driver told us this: it does not matter what is on your plate, as long as the table is full.
We transited Athens three times on this trip, never getting outside the airport on purpose. We had done a day excursion from a cruise trip in 2011, seeing the Parthenon & Acropolis, some museums and a good restaurant. We also saw a poorly-run city, full of graffiti and men standing around. We were unimpressed.
That was a decade ago, and things may be much better. They may be worse. Here is something else to consider. Athens is not Greece. Okay, it’s the capital of Greece, it is “in” Greece, but it is not Greece. When I talk to Greeks, they always lament if visitors don’t get out to the countryside where the real Greece is. They are right.
The important sites in Athens are bucket-list items, and you owe it to yourself to get to them. But that’s a day (or two) visit at most. Western visitors tend to romanticize Athens as the be-all of all things Greek, but while it is the political and financial center of Greece, it was not always so. Athens has had mega-boom and bust cycles, and as recently as the mid-nineteenth century it was small village with a big set of ruins. Only after Greek independence did the new Greek King Othon choose to build a capital city around the legendary remains that were Athens. The sprawling result is a metropolitan area or over two million. In my humble opinion, it’s Washington DC with older monuments but less charm.
As if to verify our suspicions, Greek government employee unions went on strike on our last day there, when we were transiting Athens. You might think after eighteen months of lock downs and faltering business, Greek workers would be excited to be at the forefront of Europe’s re-opening. You would be wrong.
So, yes, visit Athens on the way in or out of Greece. There is even a regular metro train that can take you downtown in under an hour. But spend the bulk of your time elsewhere on the mainland or in the Greek isles. Greek hospitality will not disappoint you!
As Crete fashions itself the home of the first great European culture (the Minoans), Rhodes argues it is the oldest, continuously inhabited medieval European city. That’s a lot to unpack, but it is (1) ancient, (2) continuous for twenty-four centuries, and (3) medieval in charm. Rhodes was of course famous in antiquity for the Colossus, a Statue of Liberty-sized personification of the Sun God Helios which was either (1) astride the harbor, (2) next to the harbor, or (3) nowhere near the harbor. The statue had a reflective bronze shell, but no one knows exactly what it looked like. It was so tremendous that it was named one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, even though it only stood for fifty-four years!
Yes, it collapsed in an earthquake not long after completion, and the locals consulted an oracle who told them not to rebuild it. The ruin itself became an ancient tourist attraction for eight hundred years, until an Arab Muslim army took the island in 653 AD and–not liking graven images–carved it up for coins and bullets.
Rhodes’ second shot at fame was during the Crusader era, when it became an important island fortress/rest-stop on the pilgrim path to the Holy Land. The Knights Hospitaller fortified the city, managed it, and held it for over two hundred years, until they were ejected by Suleiman the Great and landed back in Malta. During this formative period the knights built castles and redoubts around the island and greatly fortified the main city and port. These structures largely remain to the present day, giving the old town of Rhodes its distinctly medieval charm.
However, the most striking single complex, the Palace of the Grand Master (of the Order of the Hospitallers) is a reconstruction, but a strikingly well-done one at that. Under Ottoman rule, the palace was used as a prison and storehouse, and gradually collapsed due to neglect. When the Italian government of Benito Mussolini was given administrative control of the island in the 1930s, they carefully restored the palace to its original state, and even imported a series of masterful floor mosaics from the nearby island of Kos to adorn it. While the movement of antiquities is generally frowned upon, this move saved the mosaics and gave future generations the ability to see two amazing attractions at the same time.
Grand exterior
grand entrance
saving the mosaics
The Master’s chambers
Interior courtyard panorama (360)
The old city does have a few too many touristy shops, but even those cannot diminish the charm of the winding stone streets, the complex mesh of styles, the breastworks and cannons and enormous walls. Turning a corner, you’ll spot an intact Basilica from the Byzantine era, or the Mosque of Suleiman the Great, the original Knight’s Order Hospital (now the Archaeological museum), or the quintessential Knight’s street, where the different nationalities of the Hospitallers kept separate national “inns” where they soldiers could stay and gather together with countrymen.
The original “hospital”
The mosque
England’s albergue
just our hotel entrance
Way back when, why such reverence for the Sun God in Rhodes? Over three hundred days of complete sunshine a year, usually only interrupted by a few, brief rain showers at any time! Regardless of when you visit, you’ll enjoy great weather without the crowds normally associated with a tourist hot-spot, as Rhodes is still a small town that doesn’t attract (as many) of the jet-setters (Santorini), beach lovers (Mykonos), or those interested in antiquities (Knossos). The island of Rhodes has much more to offer, but with only three days, we limited ourselves to the old city this visit.
Rhodes was probably our favorite stop, and clearly merits more time!
After a brief hydrofoil ride, we arrived in the ancient port city of Heraklion, Crete. Back in 2000 BC, it was called Poros and it was the port for the great Minoan palace complex at Knossos. The Romans called it Heracleium when they had it, the Arabs Chandax, and the Byzantines leveled it then rebuilt it. The Venetians bought it and named it Candia, the Ottomans beseiged it for twenty-one years, then named it Kandiye and left it abandoned, before the British administered it as Heraklion until it joined the independent Greek state as Iraklion in 1913. It’s currently the fourth largest city in Greece.
Rooftop panorama of port & half the city
The most important part of the history was the first, where for several thousand years Heraklion was at the heart of Minoan culture, which was the most advanced in Europe at the time and the equal of Egypt. Much of the glory of this culture laid buried until well into the twentieth century, when archaeologists started unearthing and cataloging it.
Stoneware
Elaborate game board
Wine pour
Gold jewelry
The Minoans remain a mystery. We don’t know their language, we don’t know what they called themselves, we don’t know why their highly-developed culture–which merited mention in Egypt at the time–disappeared. We do know it preceded ancient Greece, it was culturally and politically advanced, and it suffered a series of earthquakes, tsunamis, and changing climate.
Phaistos disc: unlike the Rosetta Stone, it provides no clear translation
The apex of Minoan culture was the Palace at Knossos, totally excavated (from whence all these artifacts come), partially restored, but only minimally understood.
The throne room
a restored portico
More stunning frescoes
We also know the Minoans yielded to the Greeks and eventually to Rome.
Roman era floor mosaic &
Child’s funerary sculpture
Most groups left their traces:
Venetian port fortress
up close
The food continues to be tremendous, if a little bit much. Every restaurant where we’ve eaten has had some amazing views, either over the sea or fortress walls. Our last seafront stop had added entertainment. The tables overlooked the sea along a seawall, but the kitchen was across a busy street. It was hard not to watch the waiters and bussers and root for them to survive the crossing , loaded with full meals or stacks of empty plates.
The Cretans have replaced bull-jumping with car jumping
In three days, we barely scratched the surface of Heraklion’s history, let alone the rest of Crete. We didn’t make it to a vineyard or olive grove, only saw Minoan and Venetian locations, didn’t hit a beach or small towns. Suffice it to say, Crete has something for everyone, with great weather, at reasonable prices.
You know Santorini. Everybody knows Santorini. The ubiquitous image of the island is one with the whitewashed buildings, blue-domed roofs, clinging to the cliff-side overlooking the azure Agean Sea. You’ve seen it in a million travel brochures or websites. It crossed the line to iconic long ago.
Maybe you remember the sunset version?
But what is Santorini famous for? It is just one of many thousand Greek isles, closer to the smallest than the largest, with no large city or attraction. Santorini is famous for what it lost. Some four thousand years ago, Santorini was a mid-sized volcanic island. Then the volcano decided to literally blow off its top, leaving an archipelago of small islands with steep cliffs (the sides of the erstwhile volcano) surrounding a small remnant of the apex which sits tranquilly amidst the sea. It is stunning.
The island
That beauty has transformed Santorini into a requirement for the “happenin’ set,” which in turn means the island can be overrun with tourists. Not just any old tourists, but people who are most interested in being there and being seen there. Think Instagram heroes. Selfie Kings-n-Queens. So what are Judy and I doing here? We hate crowds, we are as unhip as can be, and we (generally) don’t do sunny beaches trips. What gives?
Nope. Don’t do it. Don’t go there!
You already know we love to travel, which was out of the question for the past year. We visited Athens (briefly, a cruise day excursion) once before and we really like Greek food, but neither of us had a return to Greece high on our list. Then the Greek government decided to go big and break with EU policy and admit vaccinated tourists before the whole bloc agreed: that was a move I wanted to reward! I started researching self-guided tours of the islands (I’ll cover why not Athens in a future post) using the website TripMasters, which specializes in self-developed tours from a range of options, with deep discounts for trips planned at least a month out (due to airline costs). Unfortunately, we couldn’t know when Greece would officially open a full month out, so I decided to do all the scheduling myself.
Normally I would have left Santorini off the itinerary, but I guessed that there would be no crowds as it was still too early for the masses: no cruise ships, difficult airline schedules, vaccination hassles and the like. So I decided to make Santorini the first stop.
Santorini in the Summer, with the crowds, is to be avoided. However, there is much to like about the island: many activities (beaches, sailing trips, hot springs, wineries, hikes and so many stunning vistas), great food, and very welcoming locals. Nearly everybody speaks English, and the Greeks seem unnaturally inclined to be helpful, especially to tourists. Yes, there are too many tourist (crap) shops, rushed tours, and hawkers of souvenirs,too.
Scale model of excavation
Restoration of buildings
A small town square
Besides souvenir shops, what did we find? Santorini holds the archaeological site of an ancient city called Akrotiri, which was buried by lava during the aforementioned volcanic eruption. In the 17th Century. BC. As in almost two thousand years before that other famous lava-preserved town, Pompeii. The dig site, which was only begun in earnest in the 1960s, is fantastic. The government built an enclosure over an entire section of the old town site, protecting the finds, the diggers, and the tourists who visit from the elements. Akrotiri was part of the ancient Minoan culture, which flourished in the Agean islands (including Crete) hundreds of years before the Greek city-states of Athens, Sparta, et cetera.
To see well preserved foundations of three-storey buildings, with piped-in water and piped out sewage, decorative wall art, and window spaces looking out on seascapes, in a town four-thousand years old? Amazing.
Fine art
Fine crafts
While only a tiny part of the ancient town has been excavated, it is clear this was an advanced culture with significant acquired wealth. The town was mostly destroyed by an earthquake, then rebuilt within a generation before being buried by the volcano. The lack of human remains (of the type found at Pompeii) and the small number of valuable items recovered have led archaeologists to imagine that the townspeople evacuated with their prized possessions, demonstrating an awareness unusual at any time.
Another Santorini surprise is the cuisine. The rich volcanic soil supports local delicacies like fava beans (made into a hummus-like dip with olive oil, and topped with onions, and capers), tomatoes (which have the coveted Denominazione di Origine Controllata or DOC protection from counterfeiting) served a fried fitters, white wines, and of course fresh seafood. A great souvlaki is always just around the corner (and a bargain at several Euros) while fine dining restaurants are legion and run you tourist prices (think a good dinner for two with appetizers and wine = one hundred dollars). Greek cooking in general means simple food made of high quality ingredients, always olive oil and tzatziki, and ouzo (or a local liqueur) as a chaser.
Here’s one story that says it all. Our first night in Santorini, we went out to a nice restaurant, intent on finishing a long, time-changing travel day with a memorable meal. We got a table with a great view of the caldera and had the restaurant all to ourselves. The fava and tomato appetizers were fantastic, the local wines sublime. As the sun set before us, I thought this was just about perfect.
Then I heard a loud, American voice. Out in the narrow cobblestone path in front of the restaurant. Getting louder. It was a young man from Miami, accompanying a young lady he was evidently trying to impress. They sat directly above us (on a tier) in the restaurant, and he continued speaking as if no one else was there. They were in town for a family wedding: her family was Greek (-American) and he was along as her “friend.” They discussed the peculiarities of various family members and the relationships. He enthused about seeing “all the places you talk about (sic).” He tended to drop vulgarity into his phrases randomly, as the young and uneducated sometimes do. He spoke nearly constantly, a veritable stream-of-consciousness monologue that made up in volume what it lacked in thought. They were both impressed at the man they just met, whom they knew had it “goin’ on,” because his watch was “real.” They discussed why you don’t need to go to college to succeed, and why she was “all over it” with her unspecified work. He confessed to “keepin’ it real” too, and making “a bunch” that way.
Oh, they did notice the sunset, which merited a brief comment. They finished their cappuccinos (in the afternoon?) and told the waiter they’d be back later that night–with their friends–for some “serious drinkin’.” And they were gone. For us, they were just twenty minutes of evening entertainment, and a reminder of why you don’t go to Santorini when the crowds do. Nothing could ruin the view, the food, the experience, except maybe a crowd like that!
There must be some kind of way outta here, Said the joker to the thief, There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief . . .
Picture this: you’ve made it via connecting flight thru the busy skies of “The City” (you know, the one so nice they named it twice) and you’re about ninety minutes away from take off, when the gate agent announces everybody needs to line up to review all the necessary paperwork. An impromptu line forms and quickly degenerates into a scrum. Everyone has a passport and a boarding pass, but not everybody has a vaccine card or negative Covid test. Some have all these, but not the online form from the Greek government. Chaos ensues, as passengers scramble to download the app, or find their documentation. The documentation check becomes a hasty boarding line, as those who pass the muster go directly aboard. Harrowing even for those of us with everything in order!
This was the scene for us at Kennedy airport in New York yesterday, or the day before, depending on what time zone you’re in. It was the third day since Greece reopened to US tourists, and the third straight day of full planes heading non-stop to Athens. So some confusion was anticipated, and it didn’t disappoint.
The good news is the line eventually resolved, even those who needed a test could get one, and those needing the Greek government permission form could quickly submit and get conditional approval. In the end, no one was turned away.
Greece would normally be neck deep in American tourists in June, but we were among the first thousand or so. The Greek government’s app worked as promised, and I received final approval via e-mail as were flying in. They had more than adequate staff on hand to quickly pass the visitors through a cursory check of your Covid vaccination status, then immigration.
The airports (Atlanta and JFK) were very crowded, partially because it was a holiday weekend, partially because restrictions are lifting. Athens airport was still a skeleton operation, but it was clear they focused their limited resources on these new arrivals.
Room with a view, E65. Dinner for two with wine, E70. That smile? Priceless
All’s well that ends well, and we made four flights, two international connections, and two border crossings over the course of two days. Not exactly carefree travel, but given where the world was not so long ago, well worth it!
My dear wife and I have traveled several times back-n-forth to the States during the pandemic, and we try to keep our friends updated on what airline travel is like. Not much changed once the pandemic was in full swing, but now things are loosening up, and we’re looking forward to some honest-to-God overseas travel. So we’ll bring our friends and readers along!
The most important aspect of travel right now is how fragmented it remains. We all got spoiled having simple, consistent rules for international travel, and that is still not the case. Remember making an international connection? Generally just having your bags checked through and pretending you weren’t even in the intermediate airport (never an option when connecting in the US)? How about travelling within the Schengen zone in Europe and only going through customs & immigration once? Making a series of tight connecting flights and ending up on the other side of the globe in under twenty-four hours? Maybe someday, but not yet.
Various European nations have different access rules, and if you don’t fly non-stop direct to the country you intend to visit, you probably have to meet the Covid rules (tests? vaccinations? paperwork? quarantines?) of the country through which you do an international connection! So you have to choose your routes not just based on flight times and costs, but also whether you can even qualify to connect! And this is constantly changing, generally for the better, but if a given nation has increased infection rates, they all reserve the right to tighten the restrictions.
Because international travel was practically non-existent over the past year, airlines and airports and governments are just starting to lay on the planes, crews, inspectors, and staff to make things work smoothly. We flew through Delta’s home base of Atlanta during the pandemic, and they had closed the international terminal for aircraft, so we landed at another terminal and walked (using the secret passageways usually reserved for airport staff) all the way back to the international terminal where the customs and immigration stations were! Few restaurants were open, TSA had minimal staffing so no Pre-Check in some cases, and so forth. Just finding connecting flights that didn’t require an overnight layover is a big deal. We’re starting and ending this trip with an overnight in Atlanta, just because it was faster and less hectic than the alternatives!
Another example of supply and demand. We just arrived in Atlanta, and they no longer service the international terminal with hotel shuttles. So you leave the terminal, stand in line for a shuttle bus back to the domestic terminal, then wait in an outdoor seating area (under the metro train overpass, believe it or not) for the hotel shuttles to arrive. We cleared customs and immigration (Global Entry) in five minutes, then waited ninety minutes in lines and buses to get to the hotel, which was about two-tenths of a mile from the airport (and no, you could not walk there). I have seen better connections to ground transportation in the Third World, and this was Hartsfield-Jackson, the world’s busiest airport. Things just aren’t there yet.
When flying to the States from Mexico (or anywhere else), you need a negative Covid test within seventy-two hours prior to take-off (regardless of vaccination status), and an attestation form which simply says “yes, I took the tests and the results were negative” before boarding the aircraft. Our test results were always checked during the check-in process at the Guadalajara airport, but never after that. No one has ever asked for the “attestation form.” We also had to access the Mexican government’s website for travel authorization, which was checked by the security person before we went through to the gates.
In case you had not heard, perhaps the most difficult part of travel may be the rental car. The three big rental car companies (Enterprise, Hertz, and Avis-Budget) liquidated their fleets when the pandemic hit, as they usually buy all new cars each year. Now they can’t buy enough cars (the automakers can’t make them fast enough due to supply shortages of things like computer chips), so they don’t have inventory to rent, and their prices have gone through the roof. Reserving early is not only cheaper, it’s essential now.
Tomorrow we start anew, via JFK/NY, to the land of pita, sunshine, tzatziki, and moussaka. God willing, our next post will include a sunset photo to remember!