An Unforgettable World Away

"All journeys have a secret destination of which the traveler is unaware"   

My schedule threw me off a little before our field trip. On Friday we had our Monday/Wednesday classes and on Monday we had our Tuesday/Thursday classes. It was amusing to say the least when it took me all of seven minutes to remember where I had to be next. It didn’t bother me too much though, because that was the day we would leave for the Island of Crete, one of the most important Island regions off the South West coast of mainland Attica. That evening all 75 of us filled two buses as we headed to the port. This is the closest I have ever been to experiencing a cruise ship, so I’ll admit I did get a little overexcited.

        How could you not though? The carpet was plush and a regal shade of navy blue, the crew was all dressed in sharp black and white suits, and Kenny G was being played the entire embarkation. Our ‘room’ was a set of two bunk beds where we would spend the next nine hours, presumably sleeping to recharge for the hectic week ahead. Of course we slept the whole way through, after a loud and competitive game of cards and a stroll around the decks. I promise I was the only one not tempted to re-enact the Titanic pose at the bow of the ship.

        After a quick breakfast on board at 6am, we were transported from the port of Heraklion, where we docked, to our first archaeological site. This trip was meant to provide us with the actual setting of the ancient Minoan and Early Bronze Age civilizations in the Aegean. We would stand in the sites that were photographed in our textbooks, and visit the museums to examine artifacts we discussed in class. The first site, the palace of Knossos was extensive; it contained a throne room, lots of ‘lustral basins’ (nobody actually knows for what purpose they were used), large storage rooms and a view to rival a penthouse in New York (which I hope to have one day).

        The entire week revolved around visiting other palaces scattered across the Island. We drove a lot, and climbed through ruins a lot, learned more than a lot, and hopefully retained most of it. All of the sites had classic Minoan characteristics of gypsum walls, diverse structuring of the walls and ‘benches’, and a fairly advanced water flow system. The pottery and art was initially simply functional, but as time went on and trade and wealth boosted the economy of the settlements, the transition to a more detail-oriented and elaborate set of patterns is clearly noticeable among the artifacts.

The palace at Knossos - the biggest and grandest of them all

        In school, I learned about the Mohenjodaro and Indus Valley civilizations. In college I learned about the Mesopotamia civilizations. Elsewhere I have learned about the transitions from village farming to settlements. This is the first time I may actually remember enough to teach someone else. To walk the paths the ancient Greeks walked, to wander their corridors and see the sights the way they did saw them; it leaves a lasting impression. I particularly enjoyed my professor’s emphasis about the difficulty of accurately identifying trends and conclusions about ancient life just based on ruins. Often, scholars and researchers are under immense pressure to produce material and results, thus leaving no room for speculation and alternative explanations.

        It was amusing to walk around the sites with tourists from all over the world; learning bits of information not written on plaques in the ground, discovering hidden sections of the site where the crowd could not follow, and mentally correcting the tour guides who had a few of their ‘facts’ wrong. During one visit, I had an umbrella open to shield myself from the sun. My professor made a comment about not knowing we had a tour guide amongst us. I laughed nervously, thoroughly confused as to what he was referring to. Only today did I learn from my friend that I had a few tourists following me for a couple of minutes, thinking I was a tour guide, what with my umbrella (and my natural air of seeming to know everything) – I decided to laugh it off, mostly because of how ridiculous I must have looked. In retrospect it was embarrassing but pretty funny. I wish I had known, and I would have turned around and given them a few stories about the palace.

        The town we stayed in was Heraklion; it was a little commercial, but worth it. Every night we wandered around the endless stretch of stores and little stalls. People were selling things from olive oil infused with walnuts, pepper, or cinnamon, to imitation Prada handbags – we saw it all. We sat down to dinner both nights at tavernas that were different from, but on some level the same as, each other. My favourite one had a different coloured chair at each table, a brightly lit ceiling, and cool Jazz music in the background. Three of us enjoying an early dinner soon (an hour later) turned into a party of about 12. We spent four hours talking about the highlights of our days, the highlights of our lives, and the delicious-ness of the meal. I really did expect the owner to give us a free meal. We settled for free rakhi instead: a strong smelling alcohol special to this Island. Afterwards, I was peer-pressured into trying dark an enormous scoop of gelato, and then I in turn peer-pressured everyone else to walk down the 2 mile pier till the end and back again. It was a gorgeous night, the stars have never been so clear, and the company never quite as endearing. It was a night to remember (not just because of the gelato and the colourful furniture). The next day we stopped for lunch at the beach town of Matala: it had the highest concentration of hippies I have ever seen. Actual, real, hippies.

        The small beach garnered much notoriety in the 60s because of the ‘caves’ along the cliff-side that people took advantage of to smoke in and have their ‘hippie’ moments. Dreadlocks and British accents aside, dots of caves along the coastline and marveling at three shades of the sea were a great way to spend some free time.

Junkie caves along the cliff and waters

        On the penultimate day, we visited a monastery in Arkadi before the end of the day. It was historically a site of great important during the Greek civil war of 1946-1949. The gun powder room was blown up by its own inhabitants to spare them having to surrender to the enemy, and has been unoccupied ever since. My favourite part remains the room in which I saw original 16^th-18^th century hand-written versions of the four Gospels of the Bible. Also, on the wall was a lock of a woman’s hair found on the ground after the complex was abandoned during the ‘holocaust’. It was as peaceful as one would expect, with pastel shades of pink, delicate flowers that worked wonderfully in my hair, and an altar room engendering thoughtful reflections about life oh-so-long-ago.

Shall we stop and meditate?

        The final day of the trip was mostly non-academic, which we were fine with. The Samaria gorge is a 16 kilometer hike through some of the most gorgeous scenery on can hope to witness anywhere on the Greek Islands. We settled down for an early nightcap in the town of Chania (pronounced Han-ya) where we stocked up on nuts, sunscreen, and enthusiasm for the next day. At 5.30am we ate a large meal (it is disrespectful to call such a meal breakfast, owing to the absurd hour), before settling in for the bus ride to the gorge.

        Throughout the whole trip, breakfast was an event I thrived on.It was almost an unhealthy anticipation. I delighted every morning in an unreasonably large helping of classic, thick Greek yogurt with a huge dollop of honey in it. To that, I add an even bigger dollop of Nutella.  Mmmmmm, it was so yummy. Rich and sweet and creamy, but not too heavy. Well, no, it was heavy, but that never stopped me from eating three bowls full of it anyway.

        With my daily fix of such a bowl full of happiness, I was ready to trek all day. Which we very nearly did. The gorge is a National Park in Crete – created by a small river running between the White mountains – starting at a height of 1,250m and ending on the shores of the Libyan Sea. The unoccupied and almost completely isolated village of Samaría lies exactly halfway through, and is home to the Cretan goat: the Kri Kri. They only exist here, and they are the cutest, most fondle-able goats anywhere, and very familiar with human faces. They ate right out of everyone else’s palm but mine.

Only halfway through. But enough said

        The gorge offers one of the most unforgettable views ever. At the ‘Iron Gates’  of the gorge, the path was only four meters wide, and we walked through the walls that stretched up 300 meters (1,000 feet). This ‘path’ for the most part was just huge rocks and a stream that you had to skillfully maneuver amongst. While you were at it, it was imperative not to talk too loudly, lest a hoard of rocks and stones come tumbling down on you. Luckily they missed us, though very nearly. Rocks are nice when they remain rock-like and don’t budge.

        Four long yet rewarding hours later, we emerged at the other side leading up to the beach. Before getting in the water, customary to tradition in Greece, we spent two hours in a taverna eating, talking, eating, and eating some more. And sleeping a little too (but that was just me). The feeling after completing the hike was an vivid sense of purpose and achievement. It was unlike any other feeling, but one that I could get used to. The variety of the path, the duration of the walk, and the views around every turn were exhilarating. Especially the Cairns that adorned the entire way: historically they have always been associated with an air of mystique and charm. Scottish soldiers would collectively make a pile of stones before leaving off on their journeys, to hopefully return one day and take their stone down. What remained was a heart-rending tribute to those lost forever, but who would be remembered through the generations.

        Now of course it is a way for people to leave their anonymous yet meaningful mark. Of course I made my own pile. To ensure my return? Maybe. To share my happiness and content in the moment? Definitely.

        Crete was an a whirlwind: of learning things beyond what I ever dreamed of learning at ancient sites, of tasting new things and falling in love with most of them, and of awe-inspiring sights never to be forgotten. Most of all, it was a whirlwind of falling in love with the people of the Island, the rich history that engulfed and shaped the culture that exists today, and feeling a renewed appreciation of the interdependent harmony of work and play.

Cairns to last an eternity