Six tips for a great Greek vacation

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Turquoise seas, soft sand beaches, dreamy sunsets, history, culture, deserted islands, mountain villages, fabulous food and wine… Greece continues to lure vacation dreamers.  Yes, there has been economic uncertainty in Greece lately, but I want to assure anyone thinking of visiting – it is safe, it is calm, the people are welcoming and it is still a wonderful choice for a vacation.

I am often asked to help plan Greek vacations for people, including for my own travel agent.  After 30 years of vacationing and living in Greece, I’ve explored a lot of different options depending on my economic situation at the time – from five-star hotels to modest studios, hotel rooms and hostels.

Here are some ways to get the most out of your dream vacation, without breaking the bank:

Plan your route carefully.  So many times I have to caution first time visitors that they cannot see and do it all in a two week vacation.  You simply cannot cram in 10 different islands in 10 days.  It would be like saying you are going to San Francisco from Boston, but stopping off in Iceland for the weekend and then dropping into New Zealand if you have time.  Learn your geography and set a modest travel plan that is as adaptable, as circumstances change quickly in Greece.  Inter-island hopping is fun, if you have time and money, but a more sensible and economic approach is to select two or three islands in the same geographic group and thoroughly explore them.  There is always a next trip…… look at me!  Of the 2000-some Greek islands, I figure I have visited about 50 so far.  (It’s a heck of a to-do list!)

Travel in the off season.  I know a lot of people are stuck traveling in summer when the kids are out of school. But, in my opinion, this is the absolute worst time to visit Greece – too damn hot, too crowded and the prices are higher.  April to June and September to October are the optimum months for travel as far as I am concerned.  The weather is more reasonable, the crowds manageable and the prices, including air fares, drop substantially.

Be creative with your air travel.  Diligent research can pay off with cheap air fares.  Learn when and where the charter flights go. For example, if you can get yourself to London or some other European capital, you can get charter flights to Greece for under a hundred bucks.  Flying from the east coast of Canada, I’ve taken some pretty convoluted routes to save money – including going through Iceland or flying west to Toronto to catch a cheap charter east.  Doesn’t make sense – but hey that’s the airline business today.
TIP:  travel agents will not book the ultra cheap charters for you – you’re on your own there.  And, if chartering, make sure you know the airline’s baggage limitations, as the surcharges will add up.

Consider a studio rental.  Although meals in restaurants are still very reasonable in Greece, a studio apartment has the advantage of a small kitchenette so you could make at least one or two meals a day.  With so many fascinating markets stuffed with inexpensive fresh foods, it’s kind of fun to assemble your own fixings for breakfast or a picnic anyway. 

Greek cheeses - YUM!

For families, consider a villa rental.  This is especially thrifty if you rent in the off-season and is super economic if two families share the costs.  You get the luxury of a well-equipped villa (usually with a pool and barbecue) and a dependable home base to make day trips from.  Compared to per night costs in a hotel, this is a great savings.

 

Cruises and tours.  I’m not a huge fan of cruises and group tours, as I don’t like to travel in herds.  However, sometimes this is the cheapest way to cover a lot of ground fast. It’s also a good way to see a place for the first time so you know what you want to REALLY see when you come back on your own and what you can give a miss to.

For example, I had always wanted to cross the Theban plains and visit the amazing site of Meteora.  Negotiating the Greek national highway was too frightening – besides, I wanted to spend my time drinking in the astonishing views, not navigating the road signs and sucking in truck fumes.  A reasonably priced three-day tour was the answer.  It was just long enough so I didn't have the urge to  kill my fellow bus mates, yet long enough to get a good grasp of the area.

For a really cool holiday, consider chartering your own sail boat with some friends – with about eight of you, it’s actually cheaper than a hotel and the ship comes with its own captain and crew and will take you where you want to go.

Yes, yes, as I write this, Greece is a political and economical basket case.  However, life goes on there.  It is still a must-see on your vacation list and the economy and the lovely people of Greece can certainly use your tourist dollars. 

And please – trust me on this one – the stuff you see on the nightly news is wildly overblown and exaggerated.  No one is getting mugged, arrested, or otherwise inconvenienced except the few masked anarchists lobbing rocks at the parliament buildings.  Outside of the few blocks around the Parliament in Athens, the vacation destinations are calm and welcoming and still a great bargain. 

Bon voyage or as we say in Greek, Kalo Taxidi!!!

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.

Impulse shopping: Greek style

So, if you’ve been following along with this blog, you know that I have been trying to buy a little scrap of land in Greece. And you’ve patiently followed along on all the bureaucratic hoops I’ve had to jump through to foolishly spend my money.

Let’s review: a few years ago I found a tiny, but small patch of dirt on the island of Crete. Ever the impulse shopper, I took one look at the views from the land and said “SOLD!” Or the rough equivalent in my really atrocious Greek.

My sales agent, the ever helpful, endlessly patient Andreas, outlined the paperwork needed that I, as a non-EU citizen, would need to assemble to buy my patch of heaven. Mounds of it, piles of it, heaps actually. All duly stamped, notarized, authorized, certified, and stamped again. Paperwork is key – apparently actually handing over my dough is a minor detail - twiddling with more paperwork and stamps is ever so much more fun.

For the last two years I have been getting criminal record checks, arguing with the Greek Minister of Defense, whilst meekly begging for the opportunity to hand over my entire retirement savings to a country that is going bankrupt. I’ve been processed and cleared by the Greek departments of heritage, agriculture, environment, rural development and several other minor provincial offices. I still don’t have my land.

If you’ve been keeping up with the news, Greece is in a financial crisis of epic proportions. Not only is the country teetering on the abyss of bankruptcy, its profligate spending the last decade is now threatening to bring down the entire Eurozone.

I’ve been desperately trying to give Greece my money – buy some land, build a house, employ some locals to build and maintain it, and settle in. Apparently impulse shopping is not a danger in Greece as it’s now going on two years and I still have no land and no house.

I’m told that I am now mere days away from the right stamp being applied to the right piece of paper, duly notarized, authorized and certified and solemnly witnessed by everyone in the village from the mayor to the village barber. Mere days. The pace of land purchasing in Greece makes one dizzy.

I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, I’m going to go check on that bottle of champagne I put in the fridge to chill for the day I get my deed. I think it may have evaporated by now.

Living abroad; staying connected

I’ll admit it - I’m a news addict. I come by it naturally. My beloved dad was a broadcaster in both radio and TV for 50 years. As a teenager, he hung around the local radio station until they gave him a job. From those early days as a radio operator, he quickly grew into an on-air “personality” and eventually management. Midway in his career, he switched from private broadcasting to Canada’s public system, the CBC. Widowed early, Dad often needed to bring me along to the radio or TV studio when babysitters were hard to find. I grew up spending a lot of time sitting quietly in a broadcast booth or TV studio while dear old dad was “live on air.” The addiction was born. Radio was always on in our home and Dad taught me what made a good broadcast or how to recognize a talented announcer.

To this day, I can’t miss a newscast on radio or TV. The CBC encourages a lot of audience participation these days – their way of making the audience do the work of programming since the government has slashed their funding for production. So, I do my part by contributing to radio shows as an occasional guest commentator or by providing feedback on issues raised. I’m still good friends with a lot of the announcers my dad worked with or hired and the career I’ve had in the last few decades has had me building strong media relations.

So how do I stay connected when I’m living in Greece? Well the internet allows me to listen to or watch live broadcasts from home – with a 6 hour time difference. It’s very comforting - like having a coffee with a pal and having a good gab about local politics (thanks Terry and Stan). It’s also led to some really cool experiences.

For example, one day I was exchanging tweets with a friend back home while I was listening to the local morning show and pruning back my jasmine in the hot Greek sunshine. They announced a school closure due to a vicious winter blizzard. I knew about it before he did. We both got chills from the weirdness of me knowing that his kid had a storm day from half a world away before mum and dad even rolled out of bed.

The same local morning show maintains a live Twitter feed while broadcasting and they respond to incoming emails. So when the announcer is saying it’s minus 25 in Fredericton, I can shoot him a note and say it’s plus 30 in Chania and I’m off to the beach - sucks being meeee. They usually read it on air and get a lot of mileage out of bad weather jokes. But besides bad jokes, this past winter, it also meant that I was their closest connection to what was happening in Libya. I could relate my experience of meeting the refuges that had been evacuated to Greece directly on air to the folks at home. I could talk about how chilling it was to meet the young NATO airforce pilots one night in a taverna and then watch their jets whistle overhead on their way to bomb Libyan towns. And of course, this past autumn, I’ve had a front row seat watching an entire nation’s economy disintegrate.

Now that I am back in Canada for a few months, I read the Greek newspapers on line every day and watch the BBC broadcasts live streaming. A live web cam over the city of Chania lets me know what their day is like. Last year, in my ultimate act of geekdom, I watched Chania’s New Years Eve fireworks live on the web cam.

http://www.cretadeluxe.com/webcam/webcam_chania_en.html

I love my life in Greece; I adore my Canadian home. The amazing power of the internet keeps me connected to both worlds.

It’s complicated.

Like most love affairs, my decades long relationship with Greece is complicated.

I get weak in the knees and teary eyed when my ship pulls into port in Naxos; I curse the slow plodding bureaucracy that keeps me from settling there permanently. I hotly defend Greece's wacky economic policies; I am jealous when they let illegal immigrants hang around to mooch off tourists but boot me out after 90 days. Coming around a mountain pass, my tummy does a slow lazy barrel roll at the beauty I see before me; seeing plastic water bottles and a million cigarette butts thrown on postcard-perfect beaches makes my stomach heave.


I have to remind myself that my own country probably has as many dichotomies and perhaps I just can’t see them anymore.


I have to remind myself about the centuries of wars, invasions and struggles Greece went through that perhaps has left them with customs my North American mind sees as counter productive.


It’s been a year now since I applied to the Greek government for permission to buy a tiny scrap of land in Crete. One (1) year. The bureaucrats in Athens assure my lawyer that the file is indeed being processed. Fees have been paid, papers have been notarized and stamped, my government has assured the Greek Minister of Defense that I am not a criminal and my banker has assured them that I have a few bucks so as not to burden their economy. Yet, my paperwork sits in some civil servant’s in-basket waiting…. who knows what to make me legal. One year.

Let me crass but frank: I have a bit of money – not wads, but just enough to build a reasonably nice house and maintain it respectably. I have my own gold-plated Canadian health plan. I have my own income and don’t want to take anyone’s job away in Greece. I want to settle into my adopted village in Crete and contribute by being a community volunteer (I’m partial to helping animals and the environment.) The building of my little house will employ lawyers, bankers, engineers, architects, contractors, plumbers, electricians, labourers and landscapers. I will need local people to maintain it for me when I am not there. I will pay taxes and permit fees (LOTS of permit fees). I have no immediate plans to knock over a bank or a souvlaki shop and, as near as I know, I carry no communicable diseases except the odd cold I pick up in Frankfurt airport. I behave reasonably well in public (sometimes I laugh too loud) and I have no plans to open a disco bordello on my land. I will likely keep at least one vineyard in brisk business. And yet….. one year has passed while the Minister of Defense anguishes over my application. Meanwhile the Greek economy makes daily headlines around the world about how their economy continues to tank.

Assuming the Minister of Defense holds his nose and eventually signs my permit to buy land, I then have to face the fact that the enormously stupid Schengen Treaty only allows me to visit for 90 days at a time. Oh yeah, and I have to remain OUT of the Schengen Zone for 180 days before being allowed back in. Was it something I said?

It’s complicated, this affair of the heart. Exhausting, exhilarating, frustrating, fulfilling, a test of wills and endurance and faith … complicated.






With deepest love and affection,

Nancy, gamely facing year two.

90 days of Sogginess

It’s a particularly Canadian trait to bitch about the weather. We can live or die by it, you see, so we are endlessly fascinated with it. Like many Canadians, I love a good dramatic storm as long as I am safe inside. And like most tourists here, I also like basking in the winter sun like an old lizard on a rock.

The Cretan travel promos rattle on about “360 days of sunshine” and, generally, this is true. Last winter when I was here, the weather was sublime – thus giving me the name for this blog. This winter – meh – not so much. In fact, in the 3 decades I have been coming to Greece, I have never seen such consistently lousy weather. Good lord, I've actually even seen snow and hail here this year!




Lucky for me, I am not pressed for time and needing to pack in a lot of sight seeing in a short schedule. I have time to NOT go to the museum, NOT go tramp around the archaeological ruins or NOT go take the tour
of the Turkish fort. It is a wonderful way to travel – I can sleep the day away or spend the afternoon cuddled under a toasty brazier in a café doing crossword puzzles and not feel one whit of guilt.
Still, as much as the wild seas, empty beaches and dark clouds make for good pictures and bad poetry, I am weary of feeling damp and chilled and am in despair of my pale skin ever announcing to the world that I’ve spent the whole bloody winter on a Greek island.

It is Holy Week here. The towns and villages are starting to fill with Greeks returning home to mama and tourists hoping for some relief from winter. The kids are off school, the tourist spots are ramping up for the season, and the lambs are looking decidedly nervous. Today, as I write this, it is a mere 15 celsius and I am wearing a sweater and wool socks. In London, on the other hand, it is 23C. Global warming? Nawwww.

For mystical meteorological reasons, it has been a rotten winter and spring through most of Europe. Vegetation is about a month behind schedule – spring flowers are just


tentatively starting to peek out when normally by now they should be in full riot. My own theory is the volcano last year in Iceland created such a cloud it screwed up the weather for a while.




On the other hand, it is tempting to blame the Greek government for my lack of tan and warmth – seems only fair for what they are making me go through to get my land buying permits.

Today, the wine tasted like cherries

I’ve been in a bit of a funk this past week. Call it post-Pascha hangover, call it homesickness. Whatever. I haven’t really felt like doing much or socializing with my Naxian friends. The weather has been fine – gorgeous strong sunshine, but the winds on my north-facing aerie have been fierce and relentless the whole week. Perhaps their constant howl has added to my blue mood. I have less than three weeks before returning to Canada and about one more week here dedicated to work before I am officially in the “vacation” part of this odyssey.

So today to lift my spirits, I rented a car. A petite little orange thing that makes a Smart Car look like a bus. I suspect it is the only one on the island with an automatic transmission. There. Now you know. I can’t drive a stick – hanging my head in shame.

So once the rental formalities were observed - license, money, evidence of a heartbeat - I was good to go and I hit the open road. Map? Pfffft….. how can you get lost on an island? Just keep the sea out one window and keep turning in the same direction.

I visited my favourite parts of the island today – the golden beaches of Agios Prokopias, Agia Anna, Maragas and Plaka. Pretty much deserted of course this time of year … so I had miles of coast all to myself allowing me to commune with the sea, collect the obligatory handful of seashells, and ignore the two nutty Danes sunbathing in the nude behind an outcropping of rocks (it was 16C today, that’s why I say nutty). Drinking in the loveliness of this coast recalibrated my brain and settled my soul.

The tiny village of Agia Anna holds many tavernas, but one of my favourites is the huge Taverna Gorgona. The gorgon that owns it is genial with a dry sense of humour , bad knees, and a quirky but determined grasp of English. Her place commands the most important corner of the village, overlooking the crossroads, wharf and beach access. One can sit on her terrace, enjoy her excellent food and watch the boats bob in the marina. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon.

Today she brought me a generous slab of her moussaka, sizzling pommes frites (made the way god intended- in olive oil) and a special treat of her crispy spanakopites and tyropites as an appetizer. Since my intention was to dwaddle the afternoon away, I ordered wine. Wine can be a dodgy prospect in Greece – some of the local barrel wine can burn the hair out of the inside of your ears, and sometimes it is ambrosia and each mouthful is a gift from Dionysius. Today, I got lucky – for the gorgon’s wine was rich and fat and tasted of cherries. Bliss.

My mood lifted, my equilibrium was restored – not from the wine but from the total package of perfection of being in the right place at the right time, as the gods ordained. Endorphins cycling high from good food, sunshine, a friendly gorgon …. and a sea as blue as forever. And wine tasting of cherries.

Naxos Beaches

Strays adopting strays

I seem to have acquired a cat here in Naxos. I'm pretty sure I didn't adopt him, but he seems to have adopted me. He's relatively plump for a stray - which makes me question his fidelty (like most of the males in my life) and seems to be flea and mite free. He has tabby markings, angora like fur, and yowls with that unique Siamese type yowl - looks to me like a cross between a calico and a ..... well, a bison.

Like any good mannered Greek he is sensible enough to not show up too early in the morning. Rather, he comes to my terrace like clockwork in the late afternoon. Ouzo time.

I sit on my terrace every afternoon around 5-ish, with an icy ouzo at hand reading the day's newspapers while I watch the sun set He appears, yowls loudly until I give him a saucer of my fresh coffee cream and then we both sit in quiet reverence while the sun sinks into the sea from a sky painted in pinks and purples. I sense he is checking in on me each day to make sure I'm OK. A stray looking out for another stray.

I am a dog person. I speak dog. Fluently. I know not of cats. Never had one. I am not a cat person. Oh, I like them well enough, but I have dreadful allergies, cats being among the worst. Getting up close and personal with a cat can land me in hospital on a respirator. So, while appreciative of their charm, I am wary. Cats know this, of course, and tend to want to cuddle and nuzzle me. This one - who I have named Diogenes, is shameless. He weaves in and around my legs, nuzzles me and yowls until I have to scratch his head, whereupon he rolls on his back and shows me his tummy - wanton harlot (him not me)! I scratch, I pet, I nuzzle - then race inside for a full surgical scrub and a handful of allergy meds.

Once the sun sets and the purples and pinks have melted into the stunning royal navy blue of a Greek evening, he gives me a wise look, possibly a kitty wink, and tail held high - stalks off to his next rendezvous.

But he'll be back. Tomorrow, at ouzo time.

More Naxos pictures