Chapter Mykonos
I have entered many airports around the world, in many countries, without seeing the cities — as fleas on a cat; transitory on a great carrier. We passed through Copenhagen (not a great airport) for a brief layover and on to Athens.
We landed at night, and could see the lit crown of the Acropolis on the way to our hotel. Our very Greek driver spoiled us with information.
Like many, English words are Greek: tomato, tomate, potato, potate, and so on like this, you see. Athens is very safe town, we don’t have crime because we don’t have guns, you see. You walk around with no worries, except for crowds, then we have pick of your pockets.
Of little comfort. But we did not see Athens, as our pick-up time was 5:45am for the ferry transport. We were tired and hungry, and in a void of traveling; we suffered from jet lag but held on to our excitement for the journey ahead. (Our Athens driver shared with us we were on the road from Marathon, and told us the story of the war & famous run: they did not have communicate like today, you see, they ran and they died from being tired. It was sweet.)
The ferries are the trains to the islands, and embarkation (&dis-) is a vaguely controlled chaos. We all line up, not exactly sure of where to cue and what to do with our suitcases. I looked for a woman without suitcases and a calm confidence, and asked her to explain the system. Greeks are not as prolific with their English as Icelanders, but always much better than my Greek. So, she gave us some insider information on what to expect, and I gave her my thank you’s as best I could. We hopped and jostled on, and rode the waves until our arrival at Mykonos — The Windy Island.
Mykonos, from what I understand, was a center of seafaring commerce, and now, the party island: “the Ibiza of Greece” (whatever that means, I haven’t been to Ibiza). The primary town/bay is north facing to the wayward winds, and on a promontory sit famous cylindrical windmills. These were used to mill flour for rusk (paximadi) bread that would last a sailor for many months out at sea. These mills sit at the edge of the bay, and beside the tourist lanes called “Little Venice.”
Little Venice is full of the iconic white buildings with blue trim of Grecian fame. They loom over small alleys in a labyrinth of white steps, shops, restaurants, and cat-turf. I imagine the cats of Mykonos (prolific throughout the Greek islands) snapping their little toe beans at 2am, engaging in a little cat fight with their pride of cat-gangsters; all of them preened in torn-ear glory with little mouse tattoos (okay, not tattoos — but you can get a tattoo and marijuana, no problem in Little Venice). Maybe the cats are little puss-in-boots ancestors from the Aegean Sea pirates.
It was fun to get a little lost in the shopping area of Mykonos when it was only 80-ish degrees and light tourism. The most pleasant season, you see. The idea of a cruise liner of 3000 fat Americans dropped off at the Fabrika square is unfathomable. A non-starter. Butt-loads (I mean, bus loads) of Boomers in geriatric 4x4 formation in 💯+ temps, confusedly milling and photographing in the two abreast lanes — no, thank you. The smells alone plus the feline fecal matter — abso-f*ck-ing not.
We had a good brunch at Cosmos (our first real meal in 48 hours) and a lackluster dinner at Nikos, then off to bed for another marathon sleep.
Travel tip: bring earplugs and eye-masks.
The next morning after a wonderful breakfast at the Adonis Hotel. Our driver picked us up to join an all day sail to Delos. I should mention here that we signed up with TourRadar. Thus far, we have been very happy with pick up and drop off, accommodations, tours, and general communications. They plan and book everything — soup-to-nuts with transport. It’s truly been one of the best, un-stressed, touring I have done — my passenger princess crown lies resplendent on my head. We also had plenty of downtime for shopping or naps. I would look to book other locations in the world with them or similar, as we can pay for semi-private levels and upgrades, and not deal with the floating toilet bowls of thunderous cruise lines. But, you do you.
Our pick up was a bit late, which I think is a bit the island vibe and a bit of bad-tourists not being ready — but off we went to a ~twelve-person sailboat. There were six-other passengers, our tour guide, first mate, and captain. (In my head, I am writing an Agatha Christie murder-mystery novel with all these wonderful characters.) The first mate was a scrappy old Grecian with salt-and-pepper hair, thin & strong from his smoking rolled cigarettes and cranking ropes and anchors. He balanced thoughtlessly against the waves on one-inch rails as he tucked in the sails. And the younger captain, with a six-inch gash up his leg earned from Poseidon’s trident, also with a nicotine rollie hanging off his lips at every opportunity, and a lust to speak his only just okay English. The sea had weathered both men. They are Sunfos Alessia Yachting. (The rest of the passengers don’t really play a part in this story or my murder mystery. Although the Greek in a turban I saw at breakfast will!)
Our tour guide was very well-meaning but young in her profession, the same age as my daughter (23), her spiel and her English was not as good as an old pro but we all have to start somewhere — so I give her ten points (inside joke, she kept asking us questions and if we got close; she gave us an ambiguous 10 points).
We sailed to Delos, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. This island was a major commerce island centered within the ancient trade (BCE and around the time of Christ — like the real dude turning water into wine). There remain a lot of marble columns and granite stacked walls, and the Lions of Delos.
The experts agree that many cultures and religions lived on this island at this time, including a vigorous slave trade (prisoners), meat markets (as evident from a marble butchering stone with a drain for blood), an amphitheater, many phallic sculptures, and several temples erect to the numerous Gods. They suspect they have only excavated ⅓ of the Island. Over the last 2000 years of its existence, museums and unscrupulous antiquities collectors have also ravaged it.
If I am not mistaken, our tour guide (and her English was better than my Greek) said that on Delos Island, Ghanima, the sister of Leto, gave Leto (mother of Apollo and Artemis) shelter. The two sisters were daughters of titans. The story goes, Leto’s beauty caught the eye of Zeus (a huge philanderer) and he impregnated her. Heras, his wife, became jealous; she forbade Leto from giving birth on land. They believed the island floated; therefore, it did not touch the earth, so there she gave birth. In return for the inhabitants’ generosity, Leto gave them a safe harbor and prosperity. So, in this way, and others, this island was sacred to the ancient Greeks.
Our tour guide took up precious time trying to come up with the correct English (I don’t blame her), so we had only ten minutes to tour the small museum (included with the price of admission). I would have liked more time, but so be it. (There are boat slip schedules. Take naps, so you are on time for your tours, people!)
From there, we sailed to a small island and laid anchor in a cove protected from the winds. We swam in the Aegean Sea (not warm but not too cold, actually), dined on Greek salad (tomatoes, olives, feta, cucumber, seasonings, and olive oil), and bell pepper and olive oil coated farfalle. The wine flowed nicely while we worshiped Helios.
I got seasick on the return. (No, it was not the wine, I actually had very little) but the old Grecian talked to me about the waves and windward sides of the islands. While I did not toss my tamates, the younger captain insisted I hold on to a barf-bag. I am mildly surprised at how wavy the Aegean Sea is — the winds are constant and the ferries and cruise liners persistently churn.
For our last evening on Mykonos, we entered the labyrinth of tourists and shops once more for dinner. I will give a shout out to the unassuming Peppers restaurant (super good, but bring cash). Good luck finding it. It was very good and worth the wrong, right turn. Party On, Gregos.
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