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| Port Aegina |
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| Port Aegina |
After two days in Greece without any rain to speak of, today, Greek Island day, we wake up to a thickly clouded sky and persistent drizzle. We grab our gear and an umbrella and head downstairs to breakfast. There’s nothing like a continental spread with Greek elements to brighten a gloomy morning.
After a couple (okay three) cups of coffee, some Greek yogurt with honey and fruit, and fresh sesame bread drizzled in the brightest golden-green olive oil I’ve ever seen, my stomach ahs convinced me: things are looking up. Since I’m finished, I sit back and watch my husband, Jesus, in action.
To my husband, breakfast buffets are best handled like
To my husband, breakfast buffets are best handled like
multi-course meals: first savory dishes like appetizers and main courses followed by fruit and desserts. It’s his system, and he’s true to it.
While he’s searching out his favorites, I watch a group of American teenagers come in and complain about the inclusion of dishes like sautéed mushrooms in the morning lineup. I try not to roll my eyes or giggle (folly, thy name is youth). Breakfast is different in every country. Not everyone has cornflakes and milk first thing. Jesus catches my eye, and cocks an eyebrow at me. He’s found the spiral shaped goat cheese pastry we like. Do I want some? I close my eyes and shake my head.
A while later, the most important meal of the day completed, we grab the metro to the Port. Our trajectory is deceptively simple, requiring us to change lines only once (if it seems good to be true). After extensive crowd-surfing and endless searching, we find the entryway to the line we need- closed for construction until further notice. We’ll have to figure out another route. Metro employees are no help and a cleaning lady proves to be our salvation, explaining to us, mostly via mime that we have to go back from whence we came, and make two line changes to get to the port.
Athens’ port is huge and confusing, but after a few inquiries, we get where we’re going and settle in to wait for our sea-faring vessel, a hydrofoil in the aptly named Flying Dolphins fleet. Once aboard, the boat zips along across the water. Inside it resembles a spacious airplane. With my tendency towards sea-sickness, we opted for the fast boat, despite the less than-scenic view from the salt-coated windows in order to arrive quickly with the contents of my stomach intact.
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| Sea Urchins |
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| Boats in Port Aegina |
Only 17 miles away from Athens, Aegina Town’s port is framed in blue skies and seas, and refreshingly free of grime. Turquoise waters sparkle; in their shallow depths sea urchins wiggle their prickly fingers, beckoning me into the sea. Basking in the respite from the intense sun in the port, we turn left and right down narrow streets until we find an appropriately quiet spot and have a frappe (frothy iced Nescafé with milk) surrounded by trailing vines, lush natural greenery, two cats, one midnight, one ginger, both snuggled into what appear to be their assigned “spots.”
We pace from one side of the port to the other in search of the bus station, stopping off to buy sesame and honey coated pistachios (Aegina is famous for them). Finally we stumble upon the station, abandoned, no bus or potential passengers in sight. A grinning Greek with more plaque than teeth tries to convince us that there is no bus service and we’ll need a taxi up to Aphaea’s Temple. Of course, he, Mr. Smiling Greek himself,can help us, no problem. He’s impossible to shake, and we eventually agree, and watch the bus pull up behind us just as we’re sliding into the back seat of the taxi. I cross my fingers that Mr. Smiling Greek spends his commission on long over-due dental care. Twenty plus euros later, we’re pulling up at the temple as a bus is loading up to go. Our cabbie offers to wait, but we tell him we’ll be at least an hour, no thank you. Jesus requests a card, just in case.
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| Aphaea’s Temple |
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| Aphaea’s Temple |
Blindingly illuminated in the midday sun, Aphaea’s Temple is gradually revealed from behind the veil of cedar trees as we near its privileged perch among above blooming flowers and fresh grass. Aphaea’s temple was built to honor one of Zeus’ daughters said to be so beautiful she couldn’t escape the unwanted attentions of men, even after swimming from Crete to Aegina. Aphaea means vanished, and according to legend her temple was built here, where she first disappeared. Her temple, the Parthenon, and Poseidon’s temple at Sounion, form an equilateral triangle, considered sacred in pre Christian times.
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| The Author at Aphaea’s Temple |
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| Aphaea’s Temple at Aegina |
Jesus and I stroll the premises, filming and snapping stills, but when Jesus whips out the tripod, the man from the ticket box rushes over. No tripods allowed, because that’s “professional photography.” So like true “professionals” we make due, and instead of the tripod we use the large boulders littered across the green lawn around the temple. Jesus stops to capture the fuzzy black and red-brown caterpillars crawling up and down the trees while I stoop low to examine tiny purple and yellow flowers from behind my camera lens.
Since we have a boat back in a few hours on the other side of the island, we file out and stop at the ticket booth. The surly attendants foresee a bus in half an hour. So we wait, leaning against a retaining wall in the small parking area in front of the temple. Jesus suddenly jumps away from the camera. I flick a caterpillar off the tripod calmly and roll my eyes at him, before noticing a crawly feeling under my own shirt and stomp angrily on the caterpillar that falls to the ground. Ugh. So much for higher ground. The caterpillars are everywhere, and my skin is making its protest known in fiery red streaks. We wait and wait, and ask again.
Now the very same attendants that were so sure there was a bus in half an hour have decided there might not be a bus after all, but we’re young, we can walk down the winding road to the next village, where there should be a bus or at least taxis. We start down the curvy road, sprinkled with the awful caterpillars, in crushed paper thin and wriggling three-dimensional versions. A hand-made sign signals a short-cut down to the village. Jesus cocks his head, and I shake mine, and frown no. He smiles anyway and pulls me down the mud and gravel path even as I protest.
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| The Shortcut… |
I’m complaining my way down the mountain and trying not to fall when we hear some sort of howling. Jesus thinks it’s probably an angry donkey and tugs at my hand. Our donkey is a large, unhappy dog, that appears to be untied. Time to turn around and trudge back up the “shortcut.” We hurry down one side of the twisting mountain road, stepping around caterpillars and pine needles. Despite what I’ve heard about Greek hospitality, none of the cars zooming up or down the mountain slow even a little, despite the complete lack of curb or sidewalk for pedestrians.
We reach the “village” at the bottom, and it’s a ghost town – sad summer homes and empty hotels. I sigh and extend my hand, palm up. Jesus puts the taxi driver’s card in it. I mark the number and flop down on the stoop, after checking for caterpillars, of course. Our carriage finally arrives and we zoom off to the other side of the island where we’ll take the boat back for our last night in Athens. Goodbye, Greece. I try not to frown or scratch the red trail the caterpillar blazed from my neck to my stomach. Temples and scenery aside, perhaps I prefer Athens’ city-grit and bright lights to Aegina’s unspoiled bug sanctuaries.
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| Greek Frappé |
Greek Frappé
Make your own authentic Greek frappé (a great summer coffee drink) with:
your instant coffee of choice
a glass jar (with lid)
milk and sugar (optional).
Add 3 teaspoons instant coffee, 2 teaspoons sugar (optional), some ice-cubes and about an inch of water to a glass jar with a tightly fitting lid.
Close and shake vigorously until frothy.
Pour into a glass and top off with cold water and milk if desired.
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