It’s only fair. . . 10 tips for guests

I ripped pretty hard on villa owners. To be fair, it's now the guests' turn. . .

1. Toilets. Yeah, I know, if you’ve been following this blog you’d almost think I had a thing for toilets. Not really, but they seem so essential for comfortable travel, I have to comment on toilet etiquette. In Greece, toilets operate differently than they do in North America and much of the rest of the world. This always causes some consternation among visitors. Read my lips: the only thing that goes down the loo is the stuff that comes out of your body. No paper. No plastics. Nuthin’. This is not some weird cultural affectation - there are practical reasons. (1)The Greek plumbing pipes are, for reasons that escape me, engineered too narrow to take semi solids like paper. (2)The S curves are engineered too tightly to allow stuff to be easily flushed away and (3) Their septic systems didn’t plan on so many people using it. Trust me – you want to get used to putting your paper in the little bin by the toilet like everyone else. I can’t tell you how unpleasant it will be to be standing ankle deep in your own waste whilst explaining how this happened to the old Greek lady who owns the place. Trust me. Adapt.

2. Towels. Greek studios or villas come with crisp clean white towels and sheets, but no face clothes. If you need one, bring one from home. You might also want to bring your own beach towel or mat, although you can buy them here easily and more cheaply than at home. Don’t be a slob. Do you really use a towel only once at home? This is a country of limited water resources, especially in high season. Be thoughtful.

3. EOT. This is the Greek tourist authority that governs legal rental properties. They have arcane rules, which is why you might not find any salt and pepper left behind by the last guests. Food safety and all that. Licenced places have a little blue EOT plaque on their building. This is not to say the other places are bad... just flying below the tax radar.

4. Electricity. Bring your own plugs and converter from home if you are bringing your own hair dryers and such. (These days, most villas and studios have hair dryers, by the way). Your computer, phone, iPod, battery chargers and other supermodern gizmos generally have a built in converter and therefore you only need the plug – but check to make sure so you don’t fry your gadget or the villa.

5. Environment. The Greeks pay only a token nod to environmental issues, although things are getting better. Facilities for recycling are not common on the islands and, sadly, you will see plastic bottles and crap on the beaches and gorgeous countryside. Doesn’t mean you have to add to the mess. Conserve water. Use electricity in moderation (do you really need to leave the lights on all day while you’re at the beach?). And dispose of your waste sensibly.

6. Cats, rats and unicorns. You will see many, many stray cats

and dogs on the islands. Some are in better shape than others. Many of these animals are homeless, but sort of taken care of by the villagers when possible. The feral cats serve a purpose that we don’t need to talk about in polite company. Most islands have an animal welfare organization that rescues animals and campaigns for neutering. Do something good and make a donation please.

7. Road safety. The Greeks have, bar none, the worst

driving safety record in the EU. If you’re a pedestrian, don’t wander around in a daze. If you are driving, keep well over to the shoulder of the road (double do-not-pass lines mean nothing here) and let other drivers by. Parking is a bloodsport. Good luck.

8. Manners. Mind your manners please, you’re a guest in this country. Leave your everything-is-better-at-home arrogance at the airport. It’s not better, it’s different. Why in the world did you want to travel if you think that way? Be respectful of the local customs. Be nice to your landlady. Clean up after yourself. Don’t be a slob.

9. Money. Always have small bills. The ATMs spit out 50 Euro notes, but try to break them down in places where they handle a lot of money. Your landlady won’t have small bills. Negotiate your rent in advance and, yes, rent is still negotiable on the spot. If you book on-line however, the price is pretty much set especially in high season.

10. Enjoy. Savour. Have fun. Appreciate. Delight. Keep your wonder. Be grateful.

From a villa renter to villa owners: 10 tips for happy holiday villa stays

1. Toilet paper. I know, it’s not my favourite subject either. But, listen, I just flew for 20 hours to get here. I am jet lagged. Greek plumbing is VERY different from what I am used to. So, what’s up with the one roll of toilet paper? Did you think I brought a stash with me in my suitcase? Do you think that after a 20 hour flight, landing in a strange village in the dark, I am likely to run out to the supermarket? Please leave me enough toilet paper to get me through a few days at least.

2. Towels. I am tired and stinky after that long flight. Don’t be mean with the towels. This is in your best interest. I will use your drapes.

3. Pillows. Change em out at least once a season. I have no great desire to sleep on other people’s drool. See note above about using your drapes.

4. Garbage. I come from a world where there is weekly curbside pickup. Please leave me instructions for what to do with my garbage. Do you pick it up? Do I have to take it some place? What about garbage bags? Can you leave me enough to manage? Otherwise I will throw my icky stuff directly in your bin and you can damn well wash it out when I leave.

5. Water. If you have a villa in an area where the water is not safe for drinking, please let me know. And as a kindness, please leave a few large bottles of water for me to tide me over until I can figure out where the market is. If you don’t let me know, then we will probably need to review Tip # 1 about toilet paper.

6. Kitchen gadgets. I am tired of annually outfitting villa kitchens. How about a can opener, corkscrew, decent bread knife and something more substantial in the pots and pans department? Dish soap would be nice too – for some odd reason, I never think to pack a bottle to take with me from Canada. Oh – and a cutting board, please. I will use your countertops otherwise.

7. Electricity. Hopefully your guests are smart enough to understand about the different power requirements for appliances and come equipped with plugs and adapters for their own stuff. However, in the countryside here there are lots of planned power cuts for mysterious reasons. The power company helpfully posts notices around the village – but I can’t read Greek very well. Can you let me know?

8. Security. Those little personal safes are great. Remember to leave me the code, please. Also, remind me about locking windows and doors when I go out. Bad things happen to good people – even though we prefer not to think about it. Thankfully, property crime is still pretty low here in this country.

9. Batteries. In my 30 years of renting everything from cheap studios, moderately priced hotel rooms to posh villas, I have yet to find one that has fresh batteries in the various gadgets. I routinely need to buy batteries for TV and air conditioner remote. It’s not a big deal, but it is annoying. I’d rather spend my time in a taverna or on the beach than fannying about the village trying to find someone who sells a AAA battery for a decent price.

10. Be nice. I’m coming back. And in this day of instant social media, I am definitely telling my friends and I will very likely write a review.

FINALLY!

I got my deed. I got my deed. I GOT MY DEED! Not bad - only took 18 months!!!! It's about 12 pages long and devotes as much space to my genealogy as it does to surveyor's measurements and map coordinates and has more stamps on it than a parcel from the North Pole!

The winter of my discontent

Always one to enjoy a good farce, I have to say I'm not having much fun with this one.

Normally, my travel gods ensure that I have blissfully worry-free travel with no health, money, or crime issues - good lord, I've never even missed a flight or has a suitcase go missing! Not so this trip.

For the first few weeks of my winter in Crete, we've been plagued by rotten rainy cold weather. No problem - well, except this lovely villa I've rented for the season has no central heating. It is a summer holiday let, you see, and not at all suitable for what can be cold winter nights. I've taken to bundling up in layers, drinking hot tea and raki and snuggling under fleecy blankies while I watch TV at night.

Just as the weather was finally breaking and Greek sunshine starting to show the promise of spring, I suffered a pretty catastrophic fall down a slippery staircase. Sadly, I was sober, or it might not have been so bad. I was trying to muscle a space heater from the second floor to the first and away I went. I already have a knee that is pretty much made up of loose gravel and twigs - ligaments and tendons long having been destroyed in an old basketball injury. But this time, I damaged it in a truly spectacular, if not technicolour, fashion. I cried like a baby, as nothing hurts worse than a joint injury.

My splendid friends here immediately showed up to nurse and soothe me. I was plied with drugs, hot water bottles, food, love and attention. I slept on the couch in my clothes for a few days as I really couldn't walk. In a few days I was able to hobble a bit with a cane. I resigned myself to a few weeks of being house bound recuperating.

Then came the salmonella poisoning.

Generally, I am one of those annoying smug people that never gets stomach upsets. I used to joke that I could lick the water out of a mud puddle in Mexico City and not get sick. Hardy har har. Not so funny now. No, the real comedic value here is the vision of me racing to the loo hopping on one leg, sort of like an animated corkscrew. Howling in pain all the while for complete dramatic effect. Let's just say that Mr. Dictionary deserted me in favour of a few choicer words I learned from my sailor pals.

One thing about constant pain - it is exhausting. Another thing about gastric nastiness - it also wears you out. While I am thrilled to have lost about 10 pounds, I am utterly exhausted. The superduper antibiotics I eventually took to slay the salmonella beast also wiped out all the other good bugs in my gut. Bring on the yeast infection in my mouth and eyes. I am not making that part up. Fortunately, that's an easy one to fix in the land of real yogurt. A few bowlfuls of good Greek yogurt fixed the balance - infection gone.

It is now week two of my confinement. Cabin fever is setting in. I can't bend my knee enough even to get into my little rental car and bomb around the country side. And if I did, the thought of having to haul over and find a clump of bushes is enough to keep me housebound. I am mending slowly. But it is frustrating. Getting lots of reading and sleeping taken care of so I can tick that off my to-do list. The time I spend lying on my bed of pain contemplating the ceiling also allows me to stew over losing my job the day I flew out from Canada and allows me to seethe that my former boss and dear friend is screwing me out of my back pay. What? Me, worry? Yes, this truly has been an epic adventure. I'd quote Queen Elizabeth and her "annus horribilus" line, but the obviousness of the pun potential is just too great.

But, listen: can I just say thank you to my wonderful friends here? They check in on me several times a day, bring me homemade soup and stolen fruit, meds, mags, laughter and buckets of love. I am overwhelmed.

I commented that I wouldn't get this kind of love and attention at home - my very wise cousin Harriet said, "maybe you ARE home."