Greece with my girl - getting there

SEPTEMBER 13

Hurricane Florence at our heels, we cancelled our flight out of Charlotte and for a scary 20 hours had no idea how we’d get to Athens in time to catch the boat and take our (no refund!) cruise (“It’s not cruising, it’s yachting.”) across three seas to Dubrovnik.

Laina, our committed travel agent and Gretchen’s dear friend, was 15 frantic hours trying to find alternate flights. Thursday, after her full day of teaching, Gretchen and I met in the Blacksburg Middle School parking lot and headed toward the interstate prepared to drive to Roanoke, NYC, DC, or even Toronto. We drove ‘pedal to the metal,’ knowing only to head North, while Laina clicked around and managed to book us Roanoke to DC (for an overnight), DC to Philly to Athens. Four extra hours in Reagan Airport and five extra in Philly, but we landed in Athens at the same time we would have landed without the 12 extra hours in transit. Scary Steve and his yellow car were waiting for us.

Greece with my girl - Athens

SEPTEMBER 15

An Australian, with Greek citizenship, there was no language barrier, a perk we came to regret. Our driver, STEVE, bragged about beating up ‘blokes,’ earnestly testified to the criminality of immigrants, and referred to his mom and mother-in-law as “whores.” Steve cheerfully drove us around Athens, dropped us off to wander the Acropolis, picked us up afterwards and forced us to have lunch at a (actually charming) waterside restaurant. Gretchen and I saw neighborhoods of Athens we would have missed and held hands tightly, cowering in the backseat, as Scary Steve turned corners on two wheels, talking about when he threatened to punch in his mother-in-law’s face, and earnestly promising that he’d be at the airport to meet our returning plane. My daughter and I each imagined the disguises we’d wear to sneak through Athens a week hence. All that said--Scary Steve got us to the boat on time.

We climbed the gangplank of Sea Dream (“It’s not cruising, it’s yachting”), refreshed by the offered scented towels, took chilled glasses of champagne in hand and entered the phantasmagoric world of the idle (idyll) rich. For seven days our every whim would be granted. We would cross three seas, read novels, swim, hike, see ancient sites, both wade and race in the fabled River Styx. We would sample fabulous foods, and indulge in an array of cocktails. Friendly and gracious staff members would pause by our lounging places to clean our reading glasses or offer dainty finger foods. And Gretchen would make fifty new friends.

Gretchen was a social creature from the time she could pull her wee self up on two dimpled feet and toddle across the sand making friends all along the unfriendly Jersey shore. She consistently chose the company of friends over family—until she started her own family—semi-disappearing as a teen, and then she was swallowed into wifehood, motherhood and her consuming profession. Other than the months I nursed her as a babe, Gretchen and I probably had never spent more than four one-on-one hours together. The greatest treat, for me, of this voyage would be my daughter’s good company.

Greece with my girl - Hydra

SEPTEMBER 16

Gretchen, for the first time in her memory, slept 12 hours. Thanks to our ‘early-to-bed’ ethos, she still rose in time to partake—shipboard--of local fruits, fresh–baked bread, cheeses and coffee before our Hydra hike. Located in the Aegean Sea, Hydra is a Greek derivative word for water; in reference to the natural springs of this island, where no wheeled vehicles are allowed. Donkeys and boats provision the island. We saw one (forbidden) bicycle as we (a group of maybe 12) hiked along the gorgeous coastline following our “Iron Man” guide with his buff body and deep love for his pristine island. We walked to a pebbly beach where I swam in the clear water and Gretchen lay in a lounge chair, stunned by the glory of Greece.

In the afternoon we dove off the back of the boat into the Aegean waters. I had not ever been swimming in open waters with my adult daughter. It was great. And post swim cocktails were great and our dinner for two was great, as was our nightcap of Cointreau (in memory of Conrad). 110 couples on the boat, plus Gretchen and me. Half of the women on-board older than my daughter, but we two were the only ones with gray hair. We were often complimented on our courage of coiffure.

Greece with my girl - Corinth canal

SEPTEMBER 17

Gretchen was up early and eager for the adventure of squeezing Sea Dream through the Corinth Canal, which is 4 miles long and 70 feet wide and connects the Gulf of Corinth with the Sarconic Gulf. The canal was initially proposed in classical times and there was a failed effort to build it in the 1st century AD. It was eventually completed in 1893. A tugboat guided us, the water was powdery blue, trees grew from the steep stone walls of the canal.

Greece with my girl - Galaxidhi (Delphi)

SEPTEMBER 17

According to mythology, Zeus released two eagles at opposite ends of the world and they met at Delphi, making it the ‘center of the world.’ Because I already had been to ‘the center of the world,’ I stayed aboard reading When We Were Yours and writing a long letter to Rick. Gretchen, the sponge of travel headed off for Delphi.

Gretchen’s notes: “Beautiful little town. The drive up to Delphi took us through 4.4 million olive trees (Greeks consume about 6 gallons of olive oil per person, per year). We also drove by ancient aqua ducts, used to this day.

Delphi was a huge economic and political center for almost 1,000 years. The major city-states had their “banks’ there. Athletes trained there, and Apollo’s main temple was at Delphi. Delphi was active 9 months of the year and closed down for the 3 winter months. With the coming of Christianity, the “Ancients” were removed.”

Though a great fan of Oedipus Rex, I never quite gleaned who/what the “Oracle At Delphi” was or meant. Here is Google’s take:

Dating back to 1400 BC, the Oracle of Delphi was the most important shrine in all Greece, and in theory all Greeks respected its independence. Built around a sacred spring, Delphi was considered to be the omphalos - the center (literally navel) of the world.

People came from all over Greece and beyond to have their questions about the future answered by the Pythia, the priestess of Apollo. And her answers, usually cryptic, could determine the course of everything from when a farmer planted his seedlings, to when an empire declared war.

No table for two! Command dinner with the ship’s doctor and 2 couples, both connected to medicine. Actually good conversations, we got to hear about some challenging surgeries, and health care in the Philippines. Gretchen, of course, bonded with the couples. We had a surprisingly nice time. Afterwards, Cointreau over chipped ice, and then early to bed again.

Greece with my girl - Zakynthos

SEPTEMBER 18

Homer mentions Zakynthos in both the Iliad and the Odyssey. The island’s nickname (given to it by the conquering Venetians) is “The Flower of the Levant.” It is said that 7,000 species of flowers grow there, but Zakynthos was all about the water for us. The boat that took us around the island and past some of the legendary blues caves, took us, first to search for the Caretta Caretta loggerhead sea turtle. It was past migration time and we found only one. I couldn’t help but think of Lonesome George, abandoned in Galapagos.

Gretchen’s notes: “This was the most beautiful place! We got on a small boat, with a section that had a glass bottom, to search for turtles. There were a number of large tourist boats also searching for turtles. We saw one (1) sea turtle and all the boats circled around the poor fella. After the turtle gawking we went to the caves and swam in a small cove encircled by steep cliffs. AMAZING! After our isolated swim, our boat took us on to a tacky public, overcrowded, beach: many people, many boats, and even floating concession boats. Finally, our little tour boat let us off in the town, which has a section for “young” tourists, with a McDonalds, a Subway and lots of litter. (sad)”

Side note: During the Nazi occupation of Greece, the mayor and bishop refused to turn in a list of the members of the town’s Jewish community. They hid all (or most) of them is isolated rural communities. It is said that all 275 Jews of Zakynthos survived WWII.

Gretchen and I veered from our ‘early to bed,’ to hang at the piano bar for our nightcap. A British woman joined the sing-along and had a magnificent voice. The tipsy chorus yielded the mic to her. Gretchen and I stayed on, enjoying. The next day we would compliment the singer and learn she was classically trained and sings now in some famous choir.

Greece with my girl - Parga

SEPTEMBER 19

When Rick and I took almost this same Sea Dream (“It’s not cruising, it’s yachting”) trip, this day was our favorite. And it was my favorite again. Though Parga is known for its 11th century castle and for spectacular beaches along its Ionian coast, it is the river at its heart that holds mine. The spring fed Archeron River is thought to be the archetype for The River Styx. We saw no three-headed dog, but many small waterfalls lacing the mother-of-pearl canyon sides and gorgeous rocks smoothed by the currents of the clear, clear water. We waded in the icy river and where there were pools, I swam. The water was so very cold that the bottoms of my feet turned purple. Our group sat on flat riverside rocks in the hot sun and waited for river guides to organize a fleet of rafts. The sun never felt so good. Twenty of us, piled five-to-a-raft, each raft with a strapling lad guide. We raced one another over the river rapids that widened out from the canyon into a broad rush of water spilling through flower-filled meadows. Everyone intent, paddling, hard, shouting, trying to take the lead, bonding Sea Dreamers screaming for victory! Amidst all the ruckus was the heart-stopping splendor of the blue green swell of mountains, colored grasses, and glassy rushing water. The guides pulled our rafts ashore (our team came in almost 1st) and we followed a path through the woods to a long table set under the trees beside the river. Sea Dream has a legendary chef and enthralling menus, but this simple repast may have been Gretchen’s favorite meal: Greek (of course) salad, rich with fresh tomatoes and studded with salty olives; warm slabs of country bread, feta pie, and thimbles of wine.

Charming Pargo was Gretchen’s favorite town. We combed the winding cobblestone streets looking for a shirt for Rick that featured the River Acheron (Styx). One shopkeeper said he’d never thought of that and would have shirts made. Alas, not in time to gift Rick. When we took the tender back to Sea Dream, I complained to a beautiful young couple from St. Thomas: “Who would come all the way to northwestern Greece to buy a t-shirt that says, ‘Jim Beam?’” On the last day of the trip (“Not cruising, it’s yachting”) the couple presented me with an amazingly colorful and tasteless t-shirt featuring Popeye having an infusion from a huge bottle of Jim Beam. The best tacky t-shirt I’ve ever seen!

Back on board in time for splendid cocktails, a swim and another superb dinner on the deck. Thanks to Gretchen, we had become so popular that we needed to dodge invitations to join tables for dinner. The next day was to be a ‘day at sea,’ and I began to lay plans for an insurrection. After dinner the open area around the pool featured a splendiferousness array of desserts and a live band. I happily danced with whatever partner I could lure out, and Gretchen chatted away. A late night for the silver duo.

Greece with my girl - crossing from the Ionian to the Adriatic

SEPTEMBER 20

I spent much of the day writing to and waiting to hear from Rick. Otherwise, I was making trouble. The groundwork laid for a mutiny: I spoke earlier to ship personnel and lobbied the guests who were at the Captain’s dinner table on Wednesday. ‘Why? Why can’t we stop, mid-sea, and lower the swimming deck?’ The only reason I could see was that ‘it wasn’t done, wasn’t protocol.’ I wandered the ship urging folks to grumble. Midafternoon, on Thursday, Sea Dream paused, dropped anchor, and announced over the loudspeakers that there would be swimming. Scattered pockets of the most devoted swimmers, literally, cheered and flashed Victory signs. Within 10 minutes, passengers were dropping into the amazing Adriatic like the early pattering of summer’s first hailstorm. Soon the ink blue, calm surface of the water was patterned with confetti of multi-colored pool noodles. There were maybe 60 people (more than half the guests) splashing and high-fiving Gretchen and me. Wild rebels at sea!

From above, the almost wave-less Adriatic looked dark blue, but the water, itself, was clearer than air—our swimming bodies seemed suspended in ether. A joyful late afternoon spilled into a celebratory evening.

Greece with my girl - Kotor, Montenegro

SEPTEMBER 21

Last day. Last Day. Gretchen—to mix metaphors—spent it as the sponge of tourism squeezing the blood from the turnip of the last full Sea Dream day, trying to pack it all in, see it all and not let last-day-sadness set in. In the early morning the two of us walked through the ancient walled city, which was already beginning to fill with tourists. Then Gretchen left for a full day that included a special tour and history of the walled City. They also went far into the hills, toured an olive press, learned that Montenegro has the oldest (2,400 years) olive tree in the world. Gretchen now knows that olives must be pressed within 24 hours of being picked, in order to have acidity below 0.9 and qualify as “virgin.” The group had a delicious meal at the family compound of an olive farm.

While Gretchen and her gang toured Kotor and the surrounds, I sat in my favorite corner on deck and wrote and read Tayari Jones’ An American Marriage and mostly stared out at the incredibly beautiful bay. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one more lovely. I sighted a beach an easy walk away, but decided I wanted my last swim to be the Thursday Swim of Insurrection in the glassy dark blue sea. My diary says that Gretchen and I had an especially lovely and private last dinner.

Greece with my girl - Dubrovnik/Athens

SEPTEMBER 22

Easy exit off Sea Dream, where we weren’t cruising, we were…. Gretchen’s new friends pressed their email and Facebook information upon her. Lots of ‘good-byes.’ Our taxi to the airport stopped on a very high cliff and we gazed down at Dubrovnik and the sea. The best way to see that city in these days of mega tourism.

The year Gretchen was 14 she lived in in Italy with her Aunt Gretchen’s family. They vacationed in the former Yugoslavia and wandered the, then, empty streets of Dubrovnik. There was no need for her to ever see it again; Rick and I had a dinner there three years ago. What Gretchen remembers most about her time in Yugoslavia was swimming at a beach that didn’t allow bathing suits. She has been firmly and empathically modest since that day.

Too long in the Dubrovnik airport, but Laina had arranged a lovely drive into Athens in a nice black car with a courteous, non-English speaking, driver. Gretchen and I kept our heads low in the Athens airport, fearing a Scary Steve Sighting. We arrived too late to make it to the truly wonderful Museum of The Acropolis, which was three blocks away. But we LOVED the small hotel where Laina booked us. Two blocks from the ancient Gate of Athens (behind there the crumbling Temple of Dionysius); we were across the street from the entrance to old town where we wandered happily after our magical dinner. Laina had reserved a table on the terrace of our hotel, the table rimmed by flower boxes. We had an uncluttered view overlooking the Acropolis. We watched the sun set there and then the Parthenon, and other hilltop temples, light up. A full moon was rising in the east and the meal was fantastic. O Blessed Last Night in Greece.