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The last sunny day for a while.

#4  Greek Islands:  March 2003

3/15/03 Island Hopping

   Sadly, much of our long-john inventory is still carried on our bodies instead of sinking into the dark recesses of our panniers. And Bill enviously eyes the fuzzy-lined earflaps on my Gore-Tex cap each day that I drop them into position. Snow is expected today in Athens but fortunately not on our new island of Naxos. We envisioned slathering on the sun screen and enjoying carefree riding in warm breezes by now but we only have savored 1 brief ride on Mykonos on the one relatively calm day we had there. It was a 12-miler with several 10%-grade hills that we slipped in after our boat trip to Delos, which also required calm winds. We had hoped that Naxos would be less turbulent but instead the winds are now occasionally laced with rain. The Macadam streets have turned slick with the light showers and we have settled for another mostly indoor day.

  We are raring to be riding again but are resisting inaugurating our 3rd touring season with riding in strong winds and light rain. So instead, we are grateful for just-enough heat in our room and watch the hours slip by as Bill installs a few more cables and brake pads that we brought from home; we lighten our load a little by finishing another book left-over from last season; we scan through the fuzzy channels on our shortwave radio for the latest on the war talk in English; and hope for more inviting riding conditions tomorrow.

  Island hopping in Greece hasn’t amused us as it does some. Taking the ferries from one island to the next becomes the consuming focus of the day. Making sure that the ferry is running, finding a place out of the wind to wait, scampering on aboard and then sitting for several hours for the trip to the next island doesn’t feel glamorous. To us, it is a lot of ‘hurry up and wait.’ I am sure the warmth of the summer sun and one-too-many alcoholic drinks would take some of the edge off of the waiting.

   We’ve also been disappointed that we are definitely still in the low part of low season, which meant that on Mykonos only 1 of the 4 little museums was open. Two more will open in April and the 4th will keep its doors shut until June. Especially given the less-than-beckoning weather, it’s a shame to be locked out of the museums and we assumed more things would be waking up from their winter slumber than have.

The most engaging part of the island hopping process is watching the Greek ferries, which appear to represent a rare reservoir of efficiency and customer service in Greece. All of the ferries we have boarded in Greece this year are shiny-new and welcoming. Our bikes are graciously accepted at no additional charge and we effortlessly roll them into the garage areas. These sometimes huge ships with as many as 6 stories of garage space swiftly and precisely maneuver their way into the little ports without the aid of tugboats. They usually arrive and depart within a minute of the scheduled times. The captains give up little speed until they are almost docked and the pedestrian gangplanks and vehicle ramps are already partially lowered and poised as the ferry presses closer to the quay.  The loading and unloading is briskly paced and precisely choreographed and you best not be caught dallying. Watching the convoys of semi-trucks rolling off and on the ramps underscores what a life-line these ships are for Greece. They may carry a chunk of marble, building materials, food or a new door for a church and the trucks sport license plates from across Europe.

  Greece has 1400 islands, of which about 170 are inhabited. Our guide book commented that most of the islanders lived in abject poverty until the tourism boom of the 1970’s and that tourism is now Greece’s largest industry. We certainly sensed the importance of tourism on Mykonos as the town lacked much energy of its own and it only seemed to be biding time until the tourist’s returned. Paint fumes and other remodeling smells and sounds came from the few open doors as some of the merchants began sprucing up for the summer season. In contrast, the main town on Naxos our second island, seems to have a life of its own. Only 3 times the population of Mykonos, it feels like more than 10 times larger. There is a lively bustle in the streets and a mix of shops to support a wide range of interests and needs that Mykonos lacked. When walking the winding passageways on Naxos, we were greeted with savory cooking aromas that tempted me to invite myself in for a meal instead of paint vapors as when we wandered through maze on Mykonos.

 Naxos has a little more of a fuzzy green look to its hillsides than Mykonos and doesn’t look quite as barren. I assumed that Greece suffered deforestation for the same reasons as most of ancient Europe: clearing the lands for agriculture and the over harvesting of trees for ship building and fueling the fires needed in obtaining and processing ores and salt. But Greece has a unique additional twist to its deforestation. Olive oil was so prized for food, lamp fuel and lubricants that native forests were cleared on a massive scale for the planting of olive trees. And in the 6th century bce all other agricultural products were banded for export to further tip the balance towards the olive tree’s domination. Trees with hillside-stabilizing surface roots were systematically replaced with the more profitable olive trees with deep tap roots. That shift in the predominant root structure led to a rapid and irreversible washing away of hillside top soils leaving today’s rocky slopes that still haven’t recovered.


Since we are room-bound and not riding you are left with our more-evening-time musings rather than reports about our usual daytime exploits:


Closing the Loop

One of our delights in our extended travels is the critical mass of sightseeing that we are accumulating. I am tickled each time I see history book photos of objects that we have seen first hand and marvel that Bill is increasingly including these less famous but still notable finds in our routes. Like at the end of last season, I patiently pedaled over the hills in the rain to Paestum and Palestrina--places in southern Italy I’d never heard of--so we could take in their ancient monuments. They were both places I was glad to have seen but savored in a new way when discovering that our history books (and exhibits at other museums) weave them into the bigger tapestry of the times. Learning is so much easier when you are adding to previously anchored chunks of information rather than starting with a blank page.

  And this year, the critical mass effect is working the other direction too as we are seeking out sites which we have read in places other than the guide books. The first on the list is already behind us: the almost 8000 year old finds from the bottom of a lake near Rome. We read about the ancient waterlogged 30’ boat and village in a recent issue of Discovery magazine in a Portland waiting room last month. We were like excited little kids with a new toy when we realized that we would be back in Rome in weeks and we could actually go see the remnants of this culture. The La Marmotta village peoples are postulated to have brought the skills of agriculture and domestication to Europe from the Near East by boat. The lack of English text for this particular display made having read the story of the archeological site in Discovery all the more important.

  One of our other sought-out sites will be a Gaudi-looking resort designed by the modern Austrian architect Hundertwasser.  His architecture without square lines or corners and a strong influence from the colors and shapes of lollipops is fanciful and outrageous and sometimes pleasing. We unknowingly first saw his work on a renovated utility plant in Vienna and then later at a bizarre looking church in an Austrian village, both in our first touring season.  Last season, Bill worked into our route a museum dedicated to his projects. And this year the resort complex that we learned of last year at the museum will dictate a route detour. Not that Hundertwasser’s work is a must-see but it does add a pleasing bit of continuity to our riding seasons when we link current sightseeing with the past discoveries.

  Ravenna, one of the capital cities late in the Roman Empire, is another destination for this year that was inspired by reading history books.



 Vocabulary has become an interesting element to watch in our new lifestyle. I was concerned that our English vocabularies would shrink from limited use as we traveled and they have. In speaking with non-native English speakers we usually have to simplify our vocabulary so our list of frequently used words is getting shorter. And our vocabulary is shifting. Back in Portland, we struggled to find some of the computer-related words that were second-hand in the past--instead, words like “sarcophagus” and the word for “bicycle” in 5 languages are on our tongue tips.

 A secondary benefit of writing these journals is that it keeps me grasping for those words that are slipping away and I appreciate its part in slowing the rate of decline of my vocabulary. Another strategy was the installation of an electronic dictionary on my wallet-sized PDA (handheld computer) the first year. I loved having it and found it especially useful in museums and when reading guide books, both of which are often written by non-Americans. English-as-a-second-language translators often left us stumped with their use of obscure words in descriptive pieces. And then there are all the unfamiliar architectural words that are casually tossed about that leave us guessing where to be looking. The electronic dictionary that Bill installed for me saved the day more than once when doing sightseeing-related reading.

 Last year Bill kindly installed a big dictionary into our new laptop computer which has helped too. I still rely on the handheld for in-the-field deciphering but turn to the laptop version in the evening to find omitted words or more complete definitions. The audio option for pronouncing many words is a wonderful feature on our laptop dictionary that I never want to be without it again. We’ve embarrassed ourselves too many times by discovering that we have been mispronouncing a word all of our lives. And for new, totally unfamiliar words, it is great to get off to a good pronunciation start, especially since we rarely have any other English speaker with whom to confer. And we find that the audio pronunciation keeps us from missing the mistakes we have been making as it is easy to ‘see what you believe’ when reading the phonetic spelling of a word. Our only reservation about it the dictionary is that our pronunciation of our native state of Oregon shows up as #3 in the 3 acceptable pronunciations given, presumably reflecting the usual east coast bias in dictionaries. 

 Now I fantasize about having a British dictionary on our laptop as we encounter more British than American text. Most of the in-English history books that we can buy overseas are from British authors. In the last historical novel I read I quickly gave up conferring with my handy little dictionary because too few of the author’s unfamiliar words were included. And even when I had a chance to check the laptop dictionary, I wasn’t always assured of a match.

 And sometimes knowing the British definition of a word matters a lot as we discovered this week. One of the tidbits that has puzzled us in museums and some books is the reference to ‘corn,’ like “the monthly allotment of corn in the Roman Empire”. To us, ‘corn’ is corn and that’s that. But these references to corn in ancient Europe were troubling as corn comes from the Americas and wasn’t introduced to Europe until Columbus’ time. Our laptop dictionary fortunately was able to clarify this contradiction for us by noting the broader British definition in which “corn” can be any cereal or grain. Of course, we think that a preposterous misuse of a nicely specific word but at least the mystery is solved and we will no longer envision corn on the cob when reading “corn” when abroad.



 We thought our bikes were only going to function as luggage carts for our visit to Naxos as it was just too, too windy for enjoyable riding. The winds gained instead of lost force with each successive day and then were accompanied by heavy downpours of rain. One outing I was walking straight into the wind: it was all I could do to lift up a leg and set it down and make any forward progress at all. The power was out a couple of times that day and 2 days prior the pay phones in town didn’t work.

 (3/19) We are itching to ride but the winds are still too daunting. At least today the skies are almost clear and we can actually walk around with our heads up enough to see something besides the next 6’ of cobblestones. We realized we had walked some routes several times and had been oblivious to the sights and views ‘cause we couldn’t look up long enough to notice them. Instead our chins were tucked in as we threw ourselves into the wind just to get around town. We could have left the island today had we known in time but the ticket agent had wrongly told us “Tomorrow.”  We had heard “tomorrow” enough days that it was easy to believe. But after such a slow pace for almost a week we doubted that we could rush back and pack up our scattered gear in the 40 minutes we had to catch the ferry. “Manana” (Spanish for ‘tomorrow’) it will be for us again.

 More like residents than tourists, we watched the to-us-phantom 1 o’clock ferry arrive and all the cars and pedestrians stream off. We should have been among those other captives rushing on board but we had already made peace with being left behind like locals. For amusement, we watched for the awaited refrigerated truck carrying the perishables that our supermarket needed to restock their coolers. “Two o’clock” I had been told when I inquired about chicken early in the day as we had decided to inject this week’s vegetarian diet with some concentrated protein. But “manana” had gotten to us: we watched the truck roll off but won’t be bothering with a second trip to the market today.

 We’ve made good use of the tiny kitchenette in our cramped room and added some variety to our diet as a pre-emptive strike against the inevitable cuisine fatigue. Instead of our standard cold cereal breakfast we cooked up bulgur for a hot breakfast one morning, we made a yummy batch of lentil soup, and several nights cooked our favorite fresh tomato and garlic pasta topping that we can’t make with our immersion heater.

 But despite the comforts of a kitchenette, I feel like we have just spent the better part of a week at sea. Our cramped, too-small-for-a-chair room gave us that ‘close’ feeling of a ship’s cabin; there was the short list of indoor-only activities to entertain ourselves with as when captive on a boat; the fierce winds created a round-the-clock pounding sound like waves crashing ashore in a storm; and our daily ‘fresh-air’ walks in the winds and rain mimicked the challenging walking sensations on the deck of an ocean liner. There was even enough salt water carried by the winds that our glasses would get that salt-air haze with as little as 20 minutes outside. 

 The forced time spent sitting has allowed us to do the things that wouldn’t have gotten done, like finalizing those 2 long Nerd News editions that had been gathering dust. I am starting on books 4 & 5 for this biking season that is only into its third week. (That’s more books that I read most years.) And Bill felt enough of the luxury of time to buy a comic-book formatted kid’s book on Greek mythology written in German to spice-up his language studies. Bill hasn’t gotten as much done on the bikes as he had hoped because we have yet to have a good place out of the wind to work on them—though he has spent much more time out in it than I would have endured.

 Our main regrets of being winded-in (after not being able to ride) have been the lack of English news with which to follow the war talk and not having a telephone in our room for sending and receiving emails. Once again we have a bunch of email correspondence trapped on our laptop that has no way to get out. We haven’t had a suitable hotel room phone or internet shop for connecting our laptop to the internet since arriving in Greece. (Actually, we haven’t even had a working room phone at all.)

It feels like we traveled way too far to stay indoors to cook in a tiny kitchen space and read but that’s how we have spent most of our time this last week. Since in Greece, we could be seen: reading on the ferries, reading in our room, reading while waiting to use a computer at the internet shop, and reading while we listen to our riding muscles atrophying. So, after a deep exhale to let go of the visions of the delightful riding days on Naxos that Map Man had planned for us, we will instead do the “hurry-up-and-wait/read” routine and board another ferry to Santorini tomorrow.  But wait--like waking from a dream:


Day 1 (3/20)

Yeee-haaa! We finally rode our bikes on Naxos! Our 6th day on the island we finally awoke to patchy blue skies and little wind. We seized the opportunity and headed out—in so much of a hurry we didn’t even have the sketchy map from the guide book with us. But Map Man was courageous and we just headed for the hills, grateful to no longer be prisoners in our meager room.

 Up in these hills we again enjoyed the sensory delights of countryside riding: the sound of birds, the dull clank of goat bells in the distance, the faint sweet smells of spring greens, the sight of herds of sheep and goats on the move, the gaiety of small springtime wildflowers in bloom, and the old guy smiling back at us as he was riding his donkey on the road.

Bill, hot on the kouros's trail.

 The day was our kind of great biking day filled with little adventures and a respectable 3200’ in gain. As we rode inland into the hills I spotted the name of the town nearest to one of the 3 “kouros” or statues on the island. This kouros was left laying unfinished in its original quarry, presumably abandoned because of a crack or flaw. We didn’t have much hope of finding it without our guide book but pressed on for lack of any other destination.

 Shortly after guessing which way to turn at an intersection, we saw a road sign with “Kouros” on it. Surprised at the unexpected help, we backtracked and headed down a narrow road to discover another “Kouros” sign, this time hand painted. A second hand painted sign pointed to what at first appeared to be a shallow river but was actually a paved but flooded road (those were heavy rains a couple days ago). The silt was too deep for riding so we stashed our bikes and rolled up our pants to do a little wading in our ever-versatile Teva sandals. Bill guessed that it would be only a few blocks and fortunately the water never got more than calf deep. The third style of “Kouros” directional sign was welcome as we followed its arrow pointing up the marble-cobble pathway away from the stream. In a few more minutes, there it was, the 6’ high, 6th century bce statue laying on its back just like on the postcard in town. Seeing him was a welcome consolation prize for not being able to get to see the 30’ kouros on the northern tip of the island due to landslides on the road.

 Back at our bikes we were pressed into service by a smiling Greek country woman to be additional ballast on the tailgate of their mini-pick-up stuck in the silt of the submerged roadbed. Then the 3 of us tried pushing from the front end with little effect. Bill was bubbling with ideas of what to try next to free the vehicle but the couple seemed content to abandon the truck and wade up the stream. 

Hilltop quarry with a massive debris field.

 After a pleasant lunch sitting on a patch of dry concrete next to this flooded road we pedaled back into the hills. There were dozens of just-cleared landslides that had covered part of 1 lane and several that had clearly swamped the entire road. The occasional huge boulder was left in place on the edge of the lane and a little wider swath cleared out on the opposite shoulder to make up for the lost roadway. Nothing at all was done to stabilize the banks and we itemized the rocks ready to fall with the slightest nudge from either more rain or a complete drying out of the soil. A couple of trees looked like they’d be in the road soon too.

White-washed, cottage-sized Orthodox churches with barrel-vaulted roofs or blue-painted domes were almost as numerous as the landslides. And the abandoned vehicles in fields and near the road ran a close third for numerousness. The several marble quarries gobbling up the tops of mountain peaks caught our eye and we pointed our steeds in their direction. The largest of the hilltop quarries loomed ahead like a colossal monument, but even bigger was the tail of marble debris that cascaded down the slope like an enormous white shadow fanning out from the quarry. We gasped at the thought of the value in the US of all those enormous, tossed-aside chunks of marble—here it was just a natural form of roadside garbage.  

A retaining wall made of scrap marble.

 The low value of some of the marble was driven home by the sight of car-sized chunks used to assemble a retaining wall; smaller pieces were used to line a drainage ditch; and the Macadam road surface glinting from the embedded white marble gravel. In contrast huge, prized chunks of rough-sided white marble rumbled down the road towards the port in hefty trucks. The 12-wheeled rigs carrying a single block of marble looked like they slowly ricocheted on the hair pin turns as they had to creep forward and backwards several times like they were parallel parking to make their way around the bend.

There were stunning panoramas from the 2,000’ hilltops at quarry-level down into the narrow, fertile valleys and out to the ocean. And as we descended I realized that one of the 2 white-washed villages clinging to a distant hillside wasn’t composed of homes but instead was dozens of massive marble blocks inventoried at the marble slicing and polishing operation we had passed earlier. It was remarkable how the clusters of huge marble pieces mimicked the look of the next hillside village. 

 And as we made our way back down to our home-away-from home we shook our heads as our path was blocked by the hero of the day: the combination backhoe/bulldozer loaded on a flat bed truck that was heading down to the main town on the island. No doubt he was the one that had cleared all those rain induced landslides that we had seen earlier. The trailer only had inches to spare as it all but scraped its way through the narrow village. The local men were out coaching the driver and people lined up to watch as if for a parade. We wondered if this was the same rig we saw the day before creeping off the first ferry to dock since the storm isolated the island. Bill also noted that this mighty machine hitching a ride down this windy road wasn’t secured to the flat bed in any way.

There was often a single block of marble on a truck.

Our outing had a fitting end: as we stopped in town for Map Man to purchase a suitable map for the next day's ride we saw the 2 young German speaking women who left Mykonos when we did. They where stranded on another island during the storm and had just completed their first day of sightseeing on Naxos. It was fun to compare notes on being hotel-bound and sightseeing experiences.


The War in Iraq

3/20  The start of the war would have been easy to miss in Greece. Our BBC radio coverage was so scratchy that we restored to watching Greek TV during the dinner hour. Only 1 station out of a dozen was covering the event and most of the video (and presumably audio) was covering the anti-war vigil in Athens. None of this “We interrupt our regular programming….” as I am sure was the case in the US. I believe the 1 station with coverage was an all-news station anyway. And no one was glued to TV stations in the retail shops. Later in the evening when the other stations did their news segment, they did cover the war.

3/22  The war coverage certainly isn’t all-consuming on Greek TV and unlike when big events occur in the US, it was easy for Greek viewers to watch their favorite shows without interruption. The part of the TV coverage that astounded us was the program hosts shifting to reading the newspaper headlines to the viewers. We had seen this before but can’t remember if it was Greece or another country. The entire video was focused on the front page of the paper with the host’s pen pointing to each word as he read it to the viewers. It would seem more valuable if they were translating foreign newspapers to give a more international perspective but instead these all appeared to be different tabloid-styled Greek publications. 

We always struggle to eek out news in English. We did an online update about once a day at the internet shop; tried, tried, tried to tune-in BBC’s World Service with some days only getting a few minutes of decipherable news; and read the news tickers on Greek TV. The Greek news relies heavily on other services for the reports so we got flicks of Reuters, Fox, and CNN news tickers along with the video. Sometimes the feed from one of these services was 1 of 3 windows on the screen and we had to stand within inches of the small TV to read a few words. Other times the screen was overlaid with such an assortment of Greek text that there was only a one-word-long slot that we could see of the ticker. And, at least for our needs, they seemed to wildly switch from one service’s video to the next with a jarring start and stop of the tickers.

We kept the TV on continuously while in the room with the audio off and the remote handy. We'd look up from our reading now and then to see if any news ticker was running (sometimes there was none for a half an hour or more) or if there was a coalition representative speaking with Greek subtitles. If there were Greek subtitles then we knew that the speaker’s words would not be obliterated by the translator and that we could catch a little audio. It was a huge effort to shift out a few tidbits of news. We vowed to shop for our hotel room in Santorini with an eye to getting English news on the TV and a telephone connection.


 Riding Day 2

The first day of spring was ushered in with a rowdy rainstorm that abated shortly after sunrise. We hoped for the best as we headed out for our second 30 mile ride on Naxos, this time into the rolling hills and valleys. The scenery was much the same as the day before with hillside after hillside covered with mostly abandoned terraces and areas that weren’t terraced being exposed rock and low-growing, tufty vegetation. The few terraces still in use supported gnarled olive trees with huge, twisted trunks, most with a precarious list.

Giant saws & cranes at the marble plant.

Broader and more fertile valleys were a part of the panoramas than on the previous ride, a fact punctuated by our first sightings of John Deere tractors—none of the fields on the hillier route the day were big enough to warrant tractors. There were more of those cute white baby goats looking clueless as how to respond as we rode by and another half dozen donkeys scattered on our route, either with an old man atop or patiently waiting alone for their next outing.

The bizarre assortment of exposed geology kept us guessing about the history of this land. Some stretches of road were framed by giant slabs of rock, other sections were lined by mounds of rounded boulders and in one area the uplift and erosion process left jagged, protruding rock formations that looked like a series of ancient cannons guarding a crumbled fortress. 

 We stopped to ponder the goings-on’s at a gravel quarry and processing plant—not as glamorous as the marble quarries but interesting nonetheless. We were surprised to happen across a pure-bred vizsla (the breed of our one-and-only dog) and several other pure-bred bird dogs and had to wonder what these bird dogs were doing on a Greek island. The couple of lose dogs reminded me of how comforting it is to have a handy holder for my pepper spray this year. I hope never to use it but the cheap little cell phone pouch made for strapping on a bike frame is the perfect size for the spray and keeps it in easy reach on my top tube. We did read that Greece has its own aggressive sheep dogs, like those we encountered in Turkey, but we have yet to make their acquaintance (and hope not to).

The touristic (a frequent Euro word not acknowledged by our dictionaries) highlight of the day was a small, reassembled ancient temple on a knoll in the middle of a fertile valley. Apparently it was a highly productive agricultural area even in the 6th century bce when this temple was built to thank the gods for the bounty. The archeological sight was hardly a ‘must see’ but it was an easy enough detour from our route to take it in.

The too prominent "USA" banner with a swastika replacing the "S".

Our pleasant day exploring the inland villages and countryside was marred upon our return to town by the sight of a huge “USA” banner with the “S” in the shape of a swastika on the port promontory graced by some ancient ruins. I sympathize with the sentiment but it fractured my sense of peacefulness with being here. The fact that no one had removed it seems tacit endorsement from the community which made it all the more compelling to leave the island as scheduled the next day.


Passivity in Public Spaces

The European attitude toward public spaces is different than ours and we still struggle to understand the origin of those differences. My first reaction to the USA/swastika banner on the Naxos promontory was that since it was still there the second day then the local people are either neutral or are in agreement as no one was motivated to remove it. But then I had to wonder if it just wasn’t a cultural difference about public space. In the States an unattended protest banner in a public park space would be quickly removed, only on private property would it be allowed or tolerated. 

 But over and over in Europe we witness what looks to us as an apathy, carelessness, or lack of entitlement to public space. As I write, I am amazed that none of the Greek passengers approach the lone smoker in the precious no-smoking area on the ferry. I won’t hesitate if he lights up again but clearly no one else is calling him on it. I’ve written in the past about a car alarm repeatedly setting a car lights to flashing at midnight in the tent area of the campground and it was us, not the Europeans, that finally complained to the owner. And it is us, not the native speakers that ask for toilet paper replenishments in the campgrounds. We see this seeming passiveness in the public domain over and over again and wonder about the unwillingness to speak-up.

I wonder if rather than passiveness if it isn’t a different sense of entitlement in public spaces. In the US we grow up with the belief that we are part owners of the public spaces and that our taxes in part go to maintain our share of the space. And in the anti-litter campaigns, part of the logic put forth is about not making a mess of your share of the public property. In contrast, the littering that we see, especially in southern Europe, shouts “It’s not my problem—somebody else will clean it up.”

I suppose it could be argued that it is our cultural “uppitiness” about space beyond our doorstep that has emboldened Bush to be an international bully.



We are now a little farther south and on Santorini island. The towns here are precariously perched on the upper rim of this ancient, partially submerged volcanic caldera. It has warmed up some but it is still cool and very windy.

We have seen 1 peace banner but haven’t seen any anti-Americanism sentiment expressed here and the service industry people are all welcoming to us. Weather permitting; we will catch a ferry to Crete tomorrow night, Sunday.




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