Take a Look Around, See Which Way the Wind Blows

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By Dan

Early Sunday morning, we set off for Paros, and spent a couple of really rough hours bouncing around on heavy seas. Things were flying off shelves, and I was thinking that I was really very glad that I wasn’t with some 16^th century explorer, or 19^th century whaler, and destined to spend 18 or so months of this. Paros was much less touristy than Mykonos, but almost equally picturesque. We took a local bus and a short ferry to the little island of Antiparos, and then another bus to a cave, referred to on all of the signs on the island simply as “Cave”. It certainly lived up to its billing, because it was, indeed, a cave. Actually, it was pretty neat, descending a few hundred yards (and about 375 steps, for those who were counting) into the mountain, with various stalactites and stalagmites. (Or is it stalagtites and stalacmites? Where’s Abby when I need her??) Supposedly, among the old graffiti in Cave is Lord Byron’s name, but somehow we missed that. The best part of our visit to Antiparos was seeing Chris and Mary, one of the New Zealand couples on the cruise, roaring up on their rented moped. Mary committed to getting a “biker chick” tattoo by the end of the day. . . .

Sunday night was ouzo and octopus night on the boat, so Grayson was extremely happy. (His focus was on the octopus, of course, and not the ouzo.) Octopus may just have been added to the endangered species lists, as a result of his efforts. We started to see a different side of our cruise companions after dinner, when the activities coordinator, Julie McCoy-opoulos, pulled out the karaoke DVDs. The kids were fascinated, I think, to see a bunch of middle-aged folks being so silly. I have never felt so well matched with other karaoke singers. (Those who have seen me with a mike in hand and song lyrics in front of me, will understand what I mean.) We had a great time, and really bonded as a group. Dave, from New Zealand by way of Bahrain, and the aforementioned Chris, may just be the two least inhibited and worst singers I have ever come across! (Of course, I say that with the best intentions.)

The plan was for us to depart about 2 am, heading for the island of Santorini. In preparation, we all dosed up on Dramamine before going to bed, because the seas were rough. When we awoke on Monday morning, though, Santorini looked suspiciously like Paros. (We sent Grayson upstairs to check it out, since it would take the contortions of an acrobat to see out our port hole.) Turns out that we hadn’t departed, due to the weather conditions. Apparently, on the Beaufort scale, a 12 is a hurricane, and we were at 8, with winds of 35+ knots. Nobody complained too much about another day on Paros. So, as I write this, we are still docked on Paros, and it still looks hecka-windy out there. Not sure when we’ll leave, or where we’ll go. But, hey, we don’t really have anywhere we need to be any time soon, so it’ll all be OK. I’ll just walk down the dock to the nearby souvlaki pita place, for another little snack. . . . .

OK, update: we definitely didn’t get out of Paros on Monday, so we hopped on another local bus and went to a nice little village that we thought was a fishermens’ village, but was located smack in the middle of the island. It’s a small island, so I suppose fishermen could live in the middle, but maybe something got lost in translation. . . . In any event, it was a nice place to poke around, with beautiful views down over the water, quaint little narrow streets, etc. The Greeks seem to have mastered the art of whitewash with blue trim. Now if only they could do something about the mangy cats everywhere! Back to the main town for another lunch of, yes, you guessed it: souvlaki pita. Then, we spent much of the afternoon with our fellow passengers watching things blow across the harbor and playing spirited games of “When are we leaving, and where are we going. . . .?”

Once again, the plans was for a mid-night departure, and Tuesday morning, once again we woke up to a view that looked suspiciously like Paros. The natives were starting to get a little restless, so Julie McCoy-opoulos brought in the captain to deliver the bad news that we weren’t going anywhere soon. But Julie (actually named Elena, and an absolutely delightful woman) organized a trip by one of the big inter-island ferries that ply Greek waters to the neighboring island of Naxos. So, at noon we all climbed aboard. Greek inter-island ferries are a lot slicker than I remember, with mirrored walls, escalators, and burger joints. Apart from the hurricane-like winds blowing, it was a great trip over to Naxos. We wandered around there, admiring more beautiful little streets and the defensive architecture built by the Venetians in the 1200s. It is pretty amazing to track the various conquests and colonizations that have gone on in many of the Greek islands for the last 3 or 4 millenia. One really needs paper and pencil to keep it all straight. While the Greeks may have invented democracy, they were subject to foreign control by Romans, Venetians, and Ottomans for the better part of the last 2000 years.

We found a nice beach out of the wind, and the kids spent a few hours playing in the sand. Grayson had somehow managed to gash his toe on the side of the door to the bathroom in his cabin, so he had to keep a foot dry, which put a damper on the experience for him. But, they built some excellent traps to capture unwitting passersby, and stayed happy. The wind was absolutely howling as we headed back to Paros on the evening ferry, leaving us all wondering whether the Diogenes V would ever leave. We enjoyed a fun evening, though, with two guys from Antiparos on board playing the bazouki and singing traditional Greek songs. Abby showed that she has rhythm, getting the dance steps down well. Grayson, well. . . let’s say he tried hard, and leave it at that.