Burros...

I feel that I should pause for a moment and mention how wonderful the Cambridge weather has been since we got back from our travels. Today is a balmy 75F, and the sun is shining in all its glory. I hung soaking wet laundry outside on the line, and it was dry within hours. Hallelujah! When it's rainy, it takes days to wash and dry multiple loads. The sun isn't the only thing that has busted out of hiding; people are coming out of the woodwork from all directions. It's like the population of Cambridge has tripled. The streets are much more active and full. Spring has finally sprung - just in time for summer. It's fun to see so many punters on the river and sun-bathers on the greens. I'm not particularly fond of the resurgence of the booty shorts phenomenon that I witnessed last October, but I'll deal with some unflattering garments if it means an improvement in climatic conditions. In a somewhat related note, there are progressively more hours of sunlight these days. The sun pops up over the horizon at quarter til 5:00am and dips down below the horizon again a little over 16 hours later around 9:15pm. Compare that to a sunset around 4:00pm during winter! Crazy.

Anyway, back to Santorini! We scheduled an excursion to the volcano and hot springs for our second full day. It only cost 20 euros per person to book the boat transportation from the port to the volcano, from the volcano to the hot springs, and back to the port. (As we would find out in Switzerland, tourism in Greece is mere pocket change compared to the outrageously skewed expenses in the chocolate and cheese capital.)

After parking and walking to the edge of Fira, it was time to walk down a few hundred steps to the port. This was a view down the cliff. That tiny boat down there is similar to what we rode on.

Once we finally reached the bottom, we tried to find our ship. We should have known that we had planned too far ahead by Greek standards and had arrived too early. But, it gave us time to lather on some sunscreen and take a motion sickness preventative pill. After being undressed by the eyes of the boat captains (they were not shy about staring), I was ready to board our vessel and high-tail it to the volcano.

All aboard! The Trifecta were probably among the youngest passengers. We were joined by an entertaining group of elderly French folk and a few fellow Americans.

The views grew more spectacular as we shoved off.

They were excited to visit a volcano. Brynne missed the yellow memo though. Since this was such a lovely picture, I asked Jordan if she would take one of Matt and me.

Then Miss Oblivious stepped right in front of the camera. Yeah... Never mind about getting that picture I wanted.

Pulling into the harbor at the foot of the volcano, I thought we'd been transported back in time. I kept waiting for a hokey fake pirate ambush. No such luck.

As we dropped anchor, our lovely tour guide let us know that it actually cost a couple more euros to step foot on the volcano. Something about it being a protected national park. Nothing like a last minute announcement. But as I said before, Greeks seem to like last minute.

Whatever, onward and upward. I'm not 100% convinced that this was an active volcano. The "craters" appeared to be ditches that could easily have been dug by a backhoe. Nevertheless, it was neat to see the cities atop the cliffs from a different perspective.

We hiked to pretty much every corner of the volcano, which felt arduous at the time due to the heat, the incline, and our sandals. But, compared to the 5.5 hour Swiss mountain climb from Hades a week later, this gravel path looks like child's play. Stay tuned for that story. It's a doozie.

My long-legged hubby had no problem scaling this trail. That's him all the way up there in the blue shirt and orange swim trunks.

Meanwhile, the ladies were down here. Clearly enjoying ourselves.

When we finally did make it to the top, it was entertaining to see that Miss Oblivious brought Wishbone with her. She even hoisted him to the perfect spot for his own little photo shoot. I wasn't feeling vindictive (or energized) enough to step in front of her camera for some payback. Plus, the doggie did look pretty cute up there. I didn't want to ruin his moment or steal his thunder.

On the far side of the volcano, we caught a glimpse of the next stop on our boat tour - the "hot" springs. More on that in a second.

I mean, come on now. A sailboat? Too perfect.

All too soon (but not really too soon because we were ready to go) we were again on the boat. Destination: hot springs. We rode the ginormous waves Titanic style on the bow of our indomitable schooner, and the elderly French folk got a kick out of the way we were subsequently soaked by the frigid spray.

As we were slowing into the cove, our tour guide had another lovely last minute declaration for us. "Oh by the way, you have to swim like 50 meters in 30 foot waters to the spring because we can't park the boat that close. And one more thing, the hot spring is only a few degrees warmer than the water you will swim through to get there. So if you have asthma or suck at swimming, don't do it."

At this point, I was seriously debating whether it was worth it.

For one older gentleman, it wasn't a question. He came to swim. He unabashedly began disrobing in front of Brynne. Keep in mind, this man was at least 65 years old. I almost keeled over laughing when he stripped down to a speedo and practically sat on Brynne's lap as the rocking motion of the boat caused him to lose his balance. But by golly, I'll be darned if that very old man wasn't the first one to dive in while the rest of us stood on deck like a bunch of wussies. As we all watched in amazement at his aquatic agility, the guy from Baltimore standing next to us proclaimed, "If that old guy's doing it, you have to!" Truer words were never spoken. And off the side we jumped. Kinzie did a nice cannonball. The water in the spring was indeed slightly warmer than its surroundings. It had a bunch of red dirt floating in it, which Baltimore guy's wife informed us would be good for our skin. Sadly, we weren't confident enough in our swimming abilities to keep the camera above our heads as we made our way to the springs. So we don't have pictorial proof that we did it. But, we did take a picture upon returning.

That's the stuff memories are made of.

And that concluded our volcanic adventure. It was time to head back to shore for some lunch. We ate at the base of the cliff in the port area and planned our ascent back to civilization. We sure as heck weren't about to climb back up the hundreds of stairs we had descended that morning. Which left us with two options: cable car or donkey. Given that both choices were practically the same price, donkeys won. Naturally.

Kinzie wasn't all too keen on this particular mode of transportation. She was insistent on riding a donkey that was her size. She didn't want one of the massive horse-donkey creatures to buck her off the cliff. We were all cracking up as she made it clear to man in charge that she needed a tiny, sweet one. "Look me in the eyes," she told him, "I need a baby donkey. BABY!" This translated to her being tethered to the herder's donkey and riding at the back of the pack.

She was a champ. Smooth ride all the way up.

Brynne, on the other hand, probably had the biggest horse-donkey cross breed. And it had a full bladder.

Jordan's donkey was the only one that took off on a gallop up the slippery stairs. It wanted to nudge Brynne out of the way and take the lead. Jordan definitely squealed/screamed.

Matthew had more fun than he'll admit. He nicknamed his equine friend White Lightning.

I had no complaints about my burro. We bonded when I so gracefully mounted him and almost kicked his owner in the face.

And just in case you were wondering what the first person perspective looks like when riding a donkey up a cliff in Greece, here you go. They have very soft ears.

Although we felt slightly guilty that perhaps we had contributed to some version of animal cruelty, it was quite fun. As soon as we reached the top and said goodbye to our furry companions, the whole lot of them turned right back around. Up and down. All day long. What a life. Poor donkeys. I think they seek revenge in their downward stampedes.

You better watch out if you are in their path. They ain't stoppin' for nobody.

In a few minutes we were saying goodbye to Fira, and loading into our incredibly small car. We wanted to show the girls the red rocks and windy cliffs of Akrotiri.

I can never think of clever enough captions for pics like these. So pretty I lose my wit.

Red beach, round two. It was more burnt sienna than red, I must say.

That's right, we did a Theta kite pic. We're "Greek." I guess we looked ridiculous because another tourist came up behind Matt and took our picture while we posed. Fella probably thought this was some sort of ancient symbolism. Either that, or sororities are totally an American thing that foreigners don't understand. The Trifecta said that they saw other Thetas in practically every city they visited. We met some from Virginia while in Interlaken, Switzerland, as well.

The last pit stop before sunset was a nearby light house. We hit a bit of unexpected traffic on the way.

I know this is horrible quality, but it was spur of the moment. Ready for my corny joke of the day? Why did the chicken cross the road?

Answer: To get to the other side and use its ninja beak as climbing equipment. Seriously, the chicken pecked its way up that steep edifice. I don't know where it was going, but it sure seemed desperate to get there.

To be honest, the lighthouse itself wasn't all that special. But its setting was fairly spectacular.

As always, Matthew had a good time walking as close as he could to the edge while I watched in horror.

The Trifecta weren't too concerned. Or impressed, apparently. I think they were plum tuckered out. I was surprised they even made it back to the car before lapsing into a narcoleptic state.

Jordan just barely opened her eyes as she heard the click of my shutter. 

All this talk of sleep is making me, well, sleepy. <Yawn.> Guess I'll have to save the sunset in Oia pictures for the next post. And after that, Mykonos! Ta ta for now.

Saint Irene's Island...

Where, oh where, to begin? After two sun-kissed islands, one of my favorite cities with one of my favorite people, and a death-defying hike through the Alps, I'm home! (And by home, I mean Cambridge. I don't exactly know where home is at the moment. Childhood community in Oklahoma? New house in Texas? Temporary dwelling in England? Whatever.)

When I last left you faithful readers, I was a disheveled mess who had just collapsed into bed for a short night's nap. As anticipated, the alarms began sounding almost as soon as they had been set, and our cab arrived at 4:00am on the dot. My disoriented hubby and I made it safely to the airport, thanks to our slightly drowsy driver. And then, we were off to Greece!!!

Of course, I slept through the entire flight. Matthew even managed a few minutes of snoozing, which is unusual for his hyper-sensitive-while-on-a-plane self. Sadly, that nap felt like the same duration as our previous night's sleep. But once we landed in bright and breezy Santorini, our tiredness vanished as our bodies became fueled by Greek salad, feta cheese, and Vitamin D.

Upon collecting our sweet (hunk o' crap) rental car, hubs and I drove in circles around the island center until we stumbled clumsily onto Villa Manos. Poppy, the hotel manager/most hospitable Mediterranean woman ever with no inhibition about showing off her armpit hair, greeted us warmly with a hot lunch and wine. On the house. I was immediately smitten with this lady's kindness and knew that I was going to enjoy her homeland.

This map should help you get your bearings when I reference the different places we visited. I think we literally covered the island from top to bottom. In driving time, it was about 45 minutes from Akrotiri to Oia. Our hotel was located in Karterado. Fira is the major city with the cruise ship ports and donkey rides. And the tiny island in between Fira and Thirasia is actually an active volcano, known as the caldera.

Poppy showed us to our room on the third floor of the villa. She said that it had the best views in the place, and I believed her once I stepped out onto our balcony.

How could this place only cost $30 a night???

We didn't have a chance to try out the pool because there were beaches to visit! Poppy loaned us some towels (like our meal, these were also free), and we set off for Kamari beach. My sister, my cousin, and our friend Kinzie weren't scheduled to arrive until the following afternoon. They were busy exploring Athens and the mainland for their study abroad trip. So Matthew and I bestowed upon ourselves the duty of scoping out the beaches ahead of time. You know, just so we could be sure and take them to the best ones. Such sacrificial love.

Kamari was nestled in a secluded cove, so the waters were calm (albeit freezing) and crystal blue. The sand was more like black and white pebbles than sand, but since Santorini was created by volcanoes, lava rocks are to be expected. Please look past these toweled young men in the foreground to the psycho jumping off the cliff in the background. He had to get a running start from above the cave to launch himself that far out.

So much about Greece reminded me of Spain, including the topless sun-bathers. Sights you wish you hadn't seen are inevitable, but it's a cultural thing, and I attempted to be mature about it. <Insert my smothered giggles here.>

Scared that our ghastly white epidermises couldn't handle much more UV exposure, Matthew and I hopped back in the car to check out Oia. This quaint little town on the tip of the island is world renowned for its sunsets, blue domes, and white washed facades featured on The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants movie. It was the area of Santorini that I had pictured in my mind and built my expectations around.

First things first, you have to scarf down some ice cream before fighting the cruise ship crowds for the best views. And yes, I too was struck by how pale my skin had become. Guess the coldest English May on record really took its toll on my complexion. I felt like a vampy Kristen Stewart in Twilight, except that I'm fairly confident she only scowls and never smiles.

And these are the views I came for.

Yup. I lost count of how many random doorways and windows I snapped.

The vivid colors against white backgrounds were fantastic.

Uh huh. Just what I was dreaming of.

Oia (which I still cannot pronounce properly, by the way) was filled with quintessential Greek isle scenery. It had the narrow, winding walkways. It had tropical flowers resting in shuttered windows. It was perched on the side of a cliff overlooking a volcano, for goodness sake.

The surprising thing about Santorini is that the entire island did not look like Oia. I guess I assumed that the entire landscape would be lush and vegetated and charming. I suppose I incorrectly expected it all to be glamorous and sparkling. However, I'd say that it was a lot more Mexican desert meets abandoned ghost town in some parts. I wouldn't go so far as to say that it was disappointing, but I wondered if the shambly(?) state of those areas was due to the current economic crisis or if they were always like that.

Case and point. Wish I could've read the graffiti, but it was all Greek to me. (Wow. I astound myself with my own cheesiness sometimes.)

Lounging in the sun and exploring a picturesque village zapped the energy right out of us, so we decided it was time to eat.

Captain ?'s restaurant in Monolithos was the dinner spot Poppy recommended to Matthew and me. (I didn't write down the name, sorry.) As you can see by the number of vacant tables, we seemed to have arrived ahead of many summer vacationers, so the island felt pretty empty. That night, we dined on tomatoes and cucumbers with olive oil, fried feta with honey glaze, fish, and white wine. All this while caged birds sung/squawked above our heads and the waves crashed on the shore across the street. Marvelous.

After turning in at some obscenely early hour (we were asleep by 10:00pm) and taking full advantage of the hotel's air conditioning (don't have that in Cambridge), we got up for more beach time before the girls arrived. That morning, we aimed for Perissa beach, located on the opposite side of the cliff from Kamari. It was definitely more windy on that side, and the waves were crashing pretty hard. Due to the overwhelming presence of seaweed, we didn't actually venture into the Mediterranean this time. But, it was still a relaxing setting for breakfast.

If you were to swim around the cliff to the right in a counterclockwise fashion, you would end up on Kamari beach. Despite their close proximity, the roads between the two take you all the way around in a big loop that is about a 30 minute drive.

Feeling that our SPF 50 had been put to good use, we still had time to kill before Jordan, Brynne, and Kinzie landed. So, we took a little detour to Akrotiri and its red rock cliffs.

I really liked the simplicity of the Greek flag. Blue and white seemed fitting representatives of the surrounding water and buildings. I'll show you more pictures of the lava cliffs later because we revisited them with Jordan, Brynne, and Kinzie. (Henceforth, I shall refer to those three as "the Trifecta." That was the nickname they were given by their classmates in Athens.)

From red rock back to the runway, it was time to pick up the girls at the airport. Long and boring story short, they settled into the hotel after receiving their complementary meal. They put on their swimsuits, and we went straight to Kamari. Kinzie and Brynne passed out and drooled on their beach towels while Jordan caught us up on their Greek adventures thus far. It was wonderful and surreal to spend time with friends and family in such an unfamiliar locale. In astonishment, we kept saying, "We are sitting on a beach in Greece. Is this real life?"

Our initial plan for the evening was to clean up and watch the sunset at a winery that overlooks the volcano. Well, the winery didn't have food, and girls gotta eat. So, we went next door to a restaurant with equally beautiful vistas and plenty of food to go around. The final bill ended up being more than we bargained for due to our appetizers. (We mistakenly thought that the price was 11€ total for the sampler plate, but apparently it was 11€ per person.) Oh well, the memories were well worth it. We sat next to a high-maintenance French couple who kept trying to steal our heat lamp. And, we saw a wedding reception that we decided looked reminiscent of high school prom because of the slinky yellow bridesmaids dresses.

Fried tomatoes, roasted veggies, tzatziki, grape leaf wraps, and fava beans. Yum. Mediterranean = best diet ever.

Our outfits were coordinated! Not on purpose. And look how much color had already come to our faces! Thank you, giant glowing orb in the sky. It's miraculous what a difference you make in temperature and outlook.

Meet the Trifecta! Brynne, Jordan, and Kinzie. Such special girls in my life.

Thoroughly stuffed (and over budget for the day), we said goodnight to Santorini as the sun went down.

And with that, I'll resume typing tomorrow. It's time for some chorizo pasta and Mad Men catch up with the hubs. Next post, you can look forward to hot springs and donkeys, among other things. To be continued...

Opa!

My alarm is set for 3.5 hours from now. Our cab will be at our door to whisk us away to Gatwick in 4.5 hours. I wish I had time to tell you of all the glorious itinerary details. But my hair is still wet. My camera isn't charged. My fingernails are all jagged. I didn't get around to about 20 things that I was supposed to have finished before we left.

Whatever. I will be on a Greek island tomorrow.

So, I hope you'll look forward to the upcoming bazillions of photos. Whitewashed, blue-domed, cliff side villages, etc. After Greece, it's a short stop in London to meet up with my friend Meghan. Once she's on her merry way to Africa, we will head to Switzerland. Bottom line, no blogging til like June. But, my return shall be a triumphant one!

Happy Mother's Day to the ladies I adore who are back home and rooting me on in this next adventure! I truly would not be here without you. Love you all!

I've got to sleep fast! Nighty night!

The Real Disney Castle...

I would first like to pause and say thank you to everyone who offered their prayers and support to my family after the passing of my great grandmother. Your encouragement and love means the world to me. So, THANK YOU! And in the spirit of youth and vitality that Granny Mac portrayed throughout her 96 years, I'd like to enthusiastically wrap up the pictures and stories from our adventures in Austria and Germany.

If you'll remember, Reuben, Matt, and I spent a day in Munich sight-seeing around town. The weather wasn't ideal, but we still had a great time. Fortunately, the next day we awoke to bright sunshine. Perfect! This was the last day of our trip, and we had planned to take a two hour train ride out to Füssen, a small village near the Austrian border. After ditching our bags in the train station lockers, we caught a bus out to Schwangau, our ultimate destination and the location of the Neuschwanstein castle. I'm unashamedly fond of all things Disney, so I was ecstatic to visit the castle that supposedly served as the inspiration for Sleeping Beauty's residence.

When we disembarked from the bus, we passed this sign. I don't know the actual translation, but to me it said, "To see the Alps, head thataway!" Don't have to tell me twice.

In the distance on top of a hill, we caught our first glimpse of Neuschwanstein! Slightly disappointed that it was half covered in scaffolding, but can't really complain. Whether in prime condition or not, I can say that I saw it! And to be honest, the construction shouldn't have surprised me. Seemed like everything was partially obstructed by restoration work in Munich as well.

We could have taken a fairy-tale worthy, horse-drawn carriage up the hill to the castle. But we didn't.

We chose the peasant method - walking (and dodging horse droppings.)

Approximately 30 (sweaty and breathless) minutes later, we arrived! Cue the choir music!

Yay! Princess Kelsey's calves were a tad tight, but it was worth the hike. Let's head inside to the courtyard...

...where people are waiting in line for the main attraction. Are you getting the Disney vibe yet?  Hard to believe that someone actually lived here. Well, I guess technically it was never inhabited because the commissioning king died before construction was completed, and it was immediately opened to the public. Reuben advised us against buying tickets for the interior tour based on his past (somewhat disappointing) experience. That was fine with us, because tragically, I think we have become disillusioned by castles and fortresses. We have seen so many. Wow, that sounded snooty. But, it's true.

Plus, once I saw this man's beard-stache, I doubt that anything on the tour would have been worth the price of admission. I got to take a picture of his gravity-defying facial hair for free! (Thanks to Reuben for kindly asking this man for photographing permission.) I think he secretly enjoyed fascinating the foreigners.

Glancing over the castle's outer wall, we spotted our next goal: the footbridge suspended over the waterfall with the snow-capped mountain in the background. Wait a second! Places like this really exist??? Indeed.

Time to hike back down and then back up again, towards the bridge. There were plenty of awe-inspiring lookout points that motivated us to keep going.

Like this one. The palace in the bottom right corner is the one that King Ludwig lived in while Neuschwanstein was being built. Rough life. I can see why you would get sick of the original palace. It's only on a tiny hill by a glacially-fed lake surrounded by the Alps. Lame.

Even the trail signs possessed a distinctly magical, storybook appearance.

We made it to the bridge! And thankfully, it was much wider and more sturdy than it looked from afar.

Talk about a view! I mean, really? Scaffolding and all, it was impressive. I expected Tinker Bell to come flying out of the highest turret at any second, followed by fireworks and When You Wish Upon A Star!

Crossing the bridge toward more hiking trails, we encountered this blockade. And I quote, "Foot path is closed. Danger for your life!" So, what is Matthew's natural response? "It can't be that bad!" as he ducks under the planks and continues on his way.

Reuben and I reluctantly followed. (Peer pressure at its finest.) I was on guard for falling rocks or washed out pathways, but turns out that my stress was for nothing. We didn't go far before we turned downhill and aimed for the river. We saw other explorers down there, and we assumed if they survived, we would too. Solid logic, right? Moral of the story, I was the only one who fell. I slipped on some mud, but luckily my booty cushioned my graceful (ah-hem) descent. What greeted us at the bottom left me inclined to ignore road signs more often.

I instinctively felt the urge to switch Disney characters and embody Pocahontas. "I look once more, just around the river bend, beyond the shore!

The water was freezing and crystal clear! I wanted to drink it, but was discouraged by my suddenly cautious husband. I see. We can break the rules about boundaries, but drinking sparkling mountain elixir is unwise.

Eventually we looped back around toward the bridge. This was as close as we could get to the mouth of the waterfall without proper hiking gear.

Then, it was one more hike back up and down again, this time away from the castle and towards the lake. (We sure did a lot of up and down that day. I must say, I think up is easier than down. At least, easier on the knees. We're so old.) 

Matthew took the opportunity for some "Draping" at the lake. For those of you unfamiliar with "Draping," think of "Tebowing," but you're impersonating Mad Men's Don Draper instead of Tim Tebow. For those of you unfamiliar with "Tebowing," where have you been? Just kidding. Google it. And I love Timmy by the way.

The water in this lake was incredible. Can you see the gradient lines from blue to green on the opposite shore? Stunning.

Behind the benches near the lake was a fence. An awesomely rugged, picturesque fence.

And behind that fence was a nice little incline, perfect for napping. I'm told this was not as good as the Hellbrunn gardens nap, but still good.

Sadly, it was time to catch the bus that led to the train that led to the airport train that led to the airplane that led back to London that led to the fastest passage through customs ever that led to our taxi that led back to our flat in Cambridge. Yeah, it was a lot of transfers. But, I'd probably agree to more transfers than that if it meant more scenes like this:

Austria and Germany treated us well. I might go as far as to declare their mountains the most beautiful I've ever seen. Our trek through Switzerland is peeking over the horizon, and I'm ecstatic for more Alpine gorgeousness! But first, we will jet off to Greece. My sister should be landing there in a few hours to begin her short term study abroad trip. What a life we've been given. Cherishing every second of it!