Second Time Around

About two years ago, I started planning a 3-week European tour with several friends from grad school. But by December 2004, 6 of the 8 people who were planning to go dropped out for various reasons. It was just me and my friend Sara, and Sara’s mom. We couldn’t agree on which countries to go to, so what happened was that we toured Italy together, then I hopped the ferry to Greece and Sara and her mom went to Germany. 

When I went back to Greece in May, I told myself that I was going to visit places I hadn’t seen before, like maybe Thessaly, Sparta or even the island of Delos. 

About three days before I arrived in Greece, I told myself “Who am I kidding?”, tossed out my itinerary, got online and started booking hostels on Crete. 

Crete is quite possibly my favorite place on Earth. I’ve been once before, and hit the hot spots—Iraklion, Knossos, Phaistos. This time, I did want to go to other places on the island that I hadn’t seen, so I also consulted my handy Let’s Go Greece 2003 edition (I was too cheap to buy the new one). The entry for Plakias caught my eye:

“Sunny and secluded, Plakias remains wonderfully underdeveloped and inexpensive compared to most Cretan beach towns. Towering surrounding mountains and steep gorges shelter the palm trees and small olive groves.”

Sounded promising. I had two goals for my trip to Crete: see neat Minoan ruins and lie on a beach. But first I had to get there. When my ferry arrived in Patras, I took the first train I could to Athens, there to get another ferry to Crete.

If you’ve already seen Athens, don’t go back. I was hoping to see the Parthenon without scaffolding, since it had been four years since my last visit. No such luck. If you’re planning a trip to Greece, I suggest doing Athens in a day and skipping out on an overnight ferry to the islands.

At my hostel, I met a group of classics students who were planning to take an overnight ferry to Agios Nikolaos on Crete. They were part of a dig through Iowa State University at a Minoan site near the tiny town of Pachia Ammos. Since we were all ancient history geeks, we had a lot to talk about. 

It was the first time I’d met people outside of my own history department that I could say, “God, wasn’t it a relief finding out that Latin only has four principal parts, after studying Ancient Greek?” and they would get it.

So I hooked up with them and we all took the ferry together. I also became The Amazing Luggage Girl. I only had my backpack with me, but since these guys were spending 7 weeks on Crete, they had a lot of stuff. Two of the girls in the group were tiny things, whereas I’m tall, with broad shoulders and a fair amount of muscle. So I ended up helping them lug their stuff – to the ferry, off the ferry, and across town to the Agios Nikolaos bus station. But Adrian did pay me 5 euro.

When we got to the station, the bus for Iraklion was leaving in five minutes and then next one would be for several hours. I had to buy my ticket and run for the bus, and sadly I didn’t get any contact info for the cool people I’d hung out with. 

(John, Ben, Mike, Courtney, Adrian, if you’re reading this, e-mail me!)

Crete has a very good bus system, except when you want to get somewhere fast. The buses are new, clean, and well-maintained. But unless you’re going to and from a major city, there are virtually no direct routes. I had to take a bus from Agios Nikalaos to Iraklion, then transfer buses at Iraklion to Rethimno, then in Rethimno I had to wait a couple of hours to catch the bus to Plakias. 

During the 7-hour trip, I began to notice stormclouds forming over the island. Please, please, please, I mentally begged whoever happened to be listening. Don’t screw me out of my sunny beach vacation like you did on my last trip to L.A.

No one was listening, or maybe I offended someone, because I swear the MOMENT my bus pulled into Plakias, the sky opened and rain came down in torrents. Not an auspicious beginning. By the time I walked the half kilometer to the hostel, I was soaking wet. 

The next day was still dreary and gray, and there were no Minoan ruins nearby. I had only a few days on the island. I hopped the first bus out of Plakias and headed in the direction of Matala, another town on the southern coast, which I’d visited before. 

That was the right decision. I swear, as soon as my bus pulled into Matala, the stormclouds broke up and the sun came out. And I still had three more days on Crete. 

The one thing I really wanted to see on Crete was the Minoan site at Kommos, a relatively new site and largely unexcavated—and not open to the public. But I figured I could skulk around outside the fence and take pictures. 

Now, while at the Plakias Hostel, I mentioned that I wanted to see Kommos to a woman named Dara, one of the “regulars,” (someone who visits every year for a couple of weeks or so).

“Oh, I went there a couple years ago,” she told me. “I waited until after dark and climbed all around the ruins.” 

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. But when I stood on the cliff overlooking the site, I felt my breath catch in my throat and a childlike sense of wonder and awe wriggle its way into my cynical soul. Then I remembered that conversation and got ANGRY. 

The fence is maybe 20 feet from the site. I could see everything perfectly. And this ignorant twit decided that it wasn’t close enough for her, so she needed to climb around on irreplaceable Minoan artifacts, doing god knows what kind of damage. I think I felt true rage for the first time in my life. I’m not talking about being pissed off at your little sister for stealing your bubble bath, I mean the kind of incandescent rage that leaves you literally shaking, where you want to isolate yourself from all other humans because you’re a living nuclear weapon. I’m an ancient historian, and to me, damaging ancient artifacts through negligence is like desecrating a church or other holy place. 

After a few minutes, I calmed back down. But I don’t think I’ll be going back to Plakias. I don’t trust myself not to say something incredibly rude to that woman if she should happen to be there. 

After I used up a roll of film taking pictures of the site, I climbed down to the beach. I love the beach and hardly ever get to go, as I live in landlocked St. Louis. I spent the next several hours soaking up the sun, reading a book, swimming in the ocean, and just relaxing. It was a great day.

Until a few hours later when sunburn caught up with me, despite the fact that I’d literally put SPF 50 on five times during the day. OW. I spent the evening in bed, barely able to move. I was still peeling for several weeks after I got back to the States. 

Next trip, I’m bringing a parasol. And buying sunscreen in bulk.

Caitlin Moriarity is a freelance editor and writer who has been hooked on travel since a semester studying abroad in college. You can read her other travel writing at www.tropeofirony.com.