A Day In...

...Rethymnon.

The churchbells chime a melody calling the faithful to prayer in the sultry wee hours of the morning. (Greek Orthodox Easter is on 27 April 2008. We are well and truly into Lent.) In what seems like only minutes the bells chime 8 and this Gnome slowly wakes in hopes of a warm shower...

Days in Rethynmom are leisurely. After a meandering morning routine including coffee with Ivan (the assistant manager of Rethymnon Youth Hostel) and a breakfast of yoghurt with honey while chatting with my fellow travelers about their plans, the Gnome is off (around 10.30). Based in Rethymnon, my daily explorations ranged from chatting with archeologists and conservationists, to driving in the hills of the Amari Valley, to visiting a monestary, or hiking to a freshwater lake. Covered in dust, I'd return to Rethymnon in the early evening to dance around the kitchen making pasta and vegetables to the sounds of 80s/90s/today pop tunes. During dinner, the intrepid band of travelers shared their stories of the good and the great before plotting the next days exploits.

Fortress Rethymnon looking towards the Lefka Ori

After a week or so of doddling around the prefect, I pushed South-Southwest over the Lefka Ori (White Mountains) into the scenic interior of Crete - the Selinos region... a land without internet.

(NB: Each adventure is a fantastic story waiting for photo-editing so stay tuned in May for the updates.)

Hippie?

Greetings from the Selinos region of Crete!

Sorry for the delay (and equally information-less post). When I struck out from Rethymnon, I headed south-southwest where the internet is slow to reach. I'm actually using the managers computer at a bar called the Lotus to post to you - hence the brevity!

Apparently, I'm on the edge of being a hippie based on my holiday destinations... but more on that another evening. I'm catching a ferry shortly and should have a post or two for you tomorrow while I'm doing some rather boring chores.

Winds from the SouthWest

Kali mera! (Or, "Good day" to those speaking Latin based languages.)

As much fun as paying €23 a night to stay in the port city of Iraklion, while freezing under 5 blankets, was I've pushed west into the prefect of Rethymnon. Departing at 2100, the last bus of the day wound its way around the cliff-top curves of the northern shore towards western Crete. Thankfully, a skilled driver was at the helm and it was dark - at one point I could see the sea at the bottom of the cliff and nothing else. Scary!

Rethymnon is the third largest town in Crete, and home to Crete's only university. Overrun with cars, scooters, and motorcycles around the edges, it feels surprisingly provincial with its jumble of Venetian, Turkish, and dilapidated facades painted in cream and pastel hues. This is a place for wandering alleys, browsing specialty shops (each store sells one item - fruit, veg, sweets, breads, herbs, etc.) which close for a siesta and cease to trade on Sundays, or trying to avoid the touristy cafes and tavernas where waiters follow you down the sidewalk with a menu... With only an archeology museum adjacent to its Venetian fort, this is a place for chilling.

Rethymnon harbour, Crete

The wind has arrived from the southwest bringing heat, humidity, and sand from Libya and the Sahara creating a swealtering heat and low canary haze. I reckon this is what the deep South feels like in high summer. Weather for surfing the net in an air conditioned cafe, listening to Greek pop tunes, and reading magazines rather than rambling...

Anyway, after a busy travel week in Athens and Iraklion, I decided to use Rethynmom as a base for exploring the prefect - and so four wheels were hired...

Indiana Jones(-ess)...

... And the Mythical KTEL Buses.

NB: You get two for the price of one today... Don't miss the previous post on Knossos.

Let down by Knossos, I decided to take an adventure south towards Festos Palace the second most important Minoan site. Easy peasy, right?

Dressed in my khakies, boots and expedition hat I walked to the Iraklion bus station and purchased a ticket for the 0900 to Festos. Shortly after 0915, a bus arrived with an announcement in Greek followed up by "Festos, second bus." That announcement must have been specifically for me. After checking my ticket with the driver, he waved me on board leading me to believe the bus went directly to Festos. Greek bus travel is an experience, in luxury. This teal beast, complete with high backed seats and air conditioning, speed south over narrow mountains roads, through olive orchards, towards the coast stopping at Mires for the Matala bus change. I'd certainly be freaked if I saw this monster headed towards me on a cliff-top one way road. After 2 hours, for a journey which should take 90 minutes at most, I asked the driver when we would get to Festos. He said, "That was back about 20 minutes. Get off here, cross the road, and another bus will be along in about 20 minutes."

A bit worried, I got off the bus (because it was clear he wasn't going to take me any further) and waited by the side of the road in literally the middle of nowhere in the mid-day sun. An hour and a half later, the return bus approached only to deliver me back at Mires where I learned I had missed all buses to Festos. I could have used that bull-whip... Forty-five minutes later, a southbound bus arrived, the attendent ran out, said something to the driver, then came and got me. Apparently, she convinced this driver to drop me off at Festos despite it not being on the route. Lucky me! The driver was careful to make sure I understood that the bus back to Iraklion was at 1730 and there was no other means to get back if I missed it... Should I have taken that as a hint?

Festos Palace was discovered and excavated by Federico Halberr (Italian) around the same time as Knossos. Unlike Evans, Halberr opted to excavate and conserve which made a world of difference. Although created on a smaller scale than Knossos, Festos made use of alabaster and gympsum which remains in-situ.

Festos Palace over Messara Plain, Crete

A Canadian and Australian couple tagged along as I wandered around a practically deserted ruin overlooking the Messara Plain. I was the only one with an expedition notebook - a.k.a a well dog-eared copy of the Rough Guide to Crete, 2004. After their impromtu 'guide,' they offered to drive me 3km up the hill to the 'Summer Palace' of Ayia Triadha overlooking the Gulf of Messara. Again, completely deserted this was truly a hidden gem.
Ayia Triadha over the Gulf of Messara, Crete

A 45-minute stroll back down the hill, dropped me at Festos around 1645. The bus ambled up at 1745 and arrived back in Iraklion, happily, 90 minutes later.

Despite taking over 4.5 hours to reach, it was worth the adventure - I felt, and looked, a bit like Indiana Jones(-ess) discovering these beautifully sited ruins for the first time. Given that some of the most significant Minoan artifacts were discovered on these sites it was amazing to see than without the clutter of tour groups and guides.

Having seen what I came to see, I caught the last bus from Iraklion west to Rethymnon... I pick up the hire car in the morning for some off-the-beaten-track adventures. More to come...

Knossos

Iraklion is the third largest city in Greece, and the largest of Crete, with a population of around 120,000 souls (before the cruise ships dock). I arrived on a cold and wet Saturday and was... well... less than impressed. I've tried to come up with something positive to say about the city, but haven't been able to find anything, sadly. For the first time in all my years of roaming, I actually found myself freezing at a crepery, lost, with no sense of direction and little hope of discovering my location on the map without divine intervention as over 90% of the town in covered in scaffolding. Not the greatest start. After wandering through the Iraklion Archeology museum, which has been reduced to the highlights while the original structure undergoes a major renovation, I was set to track down some Minoan ruins.

Day 2 started crisply with clear skies as I booked it onto a KTEL No.2 towards Knossos. Despite lying 5 km south of the city, I was hard pressed to find the city limits as the bus ambled under the over 40m thick Venetian walls which protected the city in days gone by. Knossos was discovered in the late 1870s, before being excavated by Sir Arthur Evans at the turn of the century, effectively bringing the legends of King Minos, the Minotaur and labyrinth to life.

According to the Evans school of thought, excavation was accompanied by reconstruction rather than conservation... Something, which has created a bit of a farce. Situated on a lovely site, the ruins appear as a jumbled warren chambers, hence the legends. Due to Evans' recreation and predictions, sadly the site comes across a bit 'Disney-fied' for my liking. In my opinion, ruins should either be left as-is or recreated whole-hog, not the middle ground which Knossos represents.

Surprisingly, I had the place almost to myself (unheard of due to its fame) but the caretakers were keen that all tourists were escorted from the premises promptly at 1430 rather than the advertized 1500. (Note to self: Just because the sign says so, doesn't mean it is so.)

Dissatisfied for the second time in under a week (I'll get back to the Acropolis in Athens later in the trip), I decided to adventure further afield...

Greecian Spring?

Live from Iraklion (Crete)... Its Saturaday night!

Having chosen not to travel with technology (save my camera which is expensive enough) I've left the laptop at home. Good thing too... It started making a rather pathetic noise as I turned it off on Tuesday morning and needs to visit the Apple clinic urgently. =( As I am paying for the priviledge of posting to you these next few posts will be short, sweet, and contain only one image each which represents the past few day (besides each image is huge without Photoshop web-optimization). Longer stories will follow upon my return to the grind of modern Western civilization.

After a mad dash to the airport, my flights were delayed and turbulanced all the way to Athens arriving at the slightly delayed hour of 3AM. Not to worry - bed, bath and breakfast were readily available from Athens Backpackers so all is great! Doesn't take much to keep this Gnome happy. Sadly, the weather has been less than fantastic with cool temperatures and drizzle.

Parthenon (Acropolis, Athens) from Filopappau Hill

The majority of Athens can be seen in 2 days, but after 4 days of waiting for the weather to clear I opted to move along. I'll be back at the end of the month anyway. One overnight trip on the Minoan ferry Festos Palace, imagine the QE II crossed with a smokey casino, I arrived in Iraklion, Crete... To cold weather and serious rain. Never one to miss an opportunity, I stocked up on magazines and novels at duty free before I left Edinburgh and have been happily curled up watching the world go-by in this strange industrial cum land-time-tried-to-forget-city.

Regardless, I'm off in search of Minoan settlement tomorrow and Monday in the form of Knossos and Festos, respectively.

Its All Greek To Me

Time seems to have been at a premium these past few days... As some will recall from the fall, my aunt and uncle hit the road and explored some of the 'Big Sky' states in the US. Seems they are off again, this time destined for the deep South. For a bit of Americana, check out: On The Road Again.

Happily, I'm off to practice one of my favorite phrases while pondering huge piles of of rocks (I mean, ruins), wild flowers, and beaches. I hope this map will serve as a taster of my destination(s) over the next few weeks.


View Larger Map

Sadly, Aberdeenshire and London-town piccies will have to wait until I return.

Next stop - Athens.

Easter Monday

To my mind, Easter came earlier than usual this year. Somehow I even managed to miss out on my favorite chocolate treat - Cadbury cream eggs.

After some investigation, I learned that Easter is based on the cycles of the moon - about 14 days after the first full moon closest to the vernal equinox, to be exact. Strictly speaking this can be anywhere between 22 March and 25 April in Western Christianity. Confused yet? This year the first full moon was 21 March, with the vernal equinox the previous day. So, Easter was the following Sunday, 23 March. The last time Easter was this early was 1913... And it won't be repeated for a whopping 220 years - 23 March 2228. So a bit of history in the making. For those of you living in the New World - Easter Monday is an official holiday in the UK!

A few more fun factoids for this Easter Monday evening...
1) The traditional act of painting eggs is called Pysanka.
2) The word Easter comes from Eostre - an Anglo-Saxon goddess of the dawn.
3) The first chocolate egg was made in 1873 by Fry's.
4) About 90 million chocolate bunnies are produced annually. Apparently, 76% of us prefer to eat the ears first.

I'll leave you with two Easter egg pictures (follow the links) from my good foodie friend, NamiNami in Estonia. She has created the most beautiful colored eggs with natural dyes:
Happy Easter
Marbled Eggs

Those of you watching the passport saga, hold on to your knickers. While I was in London, it appears the Home Office decided to return my precious. The Royal Mail have subsequently misplaced the package... Blue gnome became red gnome in a hurry on Saturday morning. Stay tuned - the district manager is going to be listening to a rather irate customer tomorrow morning.

Holidays the NORAD Way!

Happy Holidays!

Things at Gnome HQ have been very busy as of late... but more on that another afternoon. I wanted to wish all of those who have popped in for a visit over the past year a very merry Christmas wherever you may be roaming.

Curious how Santa is getting on with his deliveries? Check out NORAD (yes, the US spy satellites) who have been keeping a very watchful eye on our cheerful postman.

Best wishes for a happy and healthy holiday season with your loved ones!

Update: 25/12/2007. With Santa's mission complete, some of his exploits have been captured on video at YouTube.

http://youtube.com/view_play_list?p=26B9B2ACB4AAC849

160-miles

25 May 2007

I was starting to think I'd never get out of town! When I picked up the hire car, I fully intended on stopping in Queensferry for a few pictures of the Forth Road and Rail bridges. Unfortunately, road rage and the 90 minutes to get out of town got the best of me - I hit the bridge with a lead foot! Get outta my way!

I headed north with nothing more than a mental map of Scotland. Once I passed Perth, the majority of the drive was along B-roads so I could take it all in and stop for a wander.
No trip is complete without Heamus and Seamus, the highland cattle. Did you know, originally they were black but, Queen Victoria preferred the ginger ones hence their modern abundance?
I stopped in Pitlochry to enquire about the weekend weather and distance to Aviemore before rejoining the highway. A few miles outside Bruar I found this wonderful vista – windswept and ever changing due to the impending hailstorm. What I wouldn’t give for a quiet retreat such as this.

After winding around the River Spey and over the steep Northern slopes of the Cairngorms I arrived in Tomintoul, exactly 160-miles from my front door, just in time for dinner. Hidden in the Cairngorms at an altitude of 354m (1160ft), it is the highest village in the Highlands - a tranquil, one-horse town perfect for exploring Speyside.

"Roads? . . .

Where we're going, we don't need roads."
-Doc Brown, Back to the Future (Amblin Entertainment, 1985)

Well, we might need roads, but burn the map!

In our fast paced, 24-7 global economy it can be hard to find stillness. Some find it behind a bolted front door, or a wee dram, or meditation. When I get a bit stir-crazy, I tend to head for the hills – fresh air, viridian landscapes, and vast cobalt skies. Nothing tops it for clearing the head and heart.

Over Memorial Day weekend (sorry to my Scots friends – the last weekend of May will forever be the start of summer and Memorial Day for me), Enterprise gladly handed me the keys to a brand new Ford Fiesta, black this time, and away I puttered. With only a mental map, and hopes of seeing dolphins at some point, I headed north on B-roads.

What follows is vintage Gnome… as soon as a couple of the panoramas are assembled. Needless to say, 567-miles and 4-days later, the trip was a fantastic success – cloths and trainers so dirty & smelly they could walk on their own, hoarse from singing with the radio/CD player, and some rather amusing antics in the wilds of Scotland...

Amsterdam III - Gables

It just wouldn’t be right to leave Amsterdam without a few more pictures.
I stayed at a smoky, but quiet, hotel in the Southern Canal Belt. Every morning started with a quiet stroll along Reguliergracht, culminating with a look down the canal at the 15 bridges that cross it. Often, tourists rent pedal boats to tour the canals (look toward the mid-left to see one).

The ornate detailing and variety of canal house gables was amazing. To my surprise, it was rare to see a straight building – most were leaning towards the canals or supported by their neighbors. Certainly never to pass a survey in the States!

But, grandeur didn’t stop at the door. Often restored to their 17th century glory these old houses remain jaw-droppingly beautiful – dining room of the Geelvinch Hinlopen Huis, now a business centre (left); garden room in the Museum Van Loon (right).

Through a tiny and unadorned doorway one might stumble into an hofjes or almshouse. The Beijnhof is a typical almshouse built in the 14th century for the Begijntes many of whom were unmarried or widowed women. Rent was paid by caring for the sick or educating the poor and the residents were required to follow three rules – no hens, no dogs, no men. Its hard to believe this quiet oasis is still inhabited by Begijntes less than 20 feet from Amsterdam’s biggest shopping street.

No trip is complete without at least on ‘kirk.’ It is said that genuine Jordaaners were born within earshot of the Westerkerk. Incidentally, Anne Frank took refuge next door.

Finally, for SCH… Blissfully pink tulips.

If you’d like more information, to hear more stories, or see more pictures drop me a note.

Amsterdam II - Tulips

When I think of Holland, two images come to mind – fields of crimson and buttercup tulips and Delft blue and white windmills. Don’t ask me why.


Traditionally, the first week of May is the perfect time for viewing ‘late’ tulips and bicycling along the Bloemen Route (flower route) between Haarlem and Lieden. However, as you’ll recall from my April adventures in Scotland, it seems spring came earlier setting temperature records through out Europe. As a result, the peak of the tulips (both in gardens and the fields) was around 10 April.


Thankfully, in Lisse (the heart of tulip country), the horticulturists have planted over 17-acres in the lovely Keukenhof Gardens to ensure that at least a few blooms persevere the eight week season.


On a very windy and ominous morning, I ventured out to see if any blooms remained…

Tulips were originally imported from Turkey in 1559. Over the following 70 years, their popularity and variety gained so much momentum that "Tulip Mania" swept the Netherlands in the 1630s. The rarest bulbs were auctioned for the equivalent of €4000 in today's money! Imagine the tech bubble of the late-1990s, only with flowers. Eventually, the bubble burst, and with it the fortunes of vast sways of the population.

Often the most outlandish shapes and variegated colors are the work of viruses.

I have never seen petals quite as curly as this (with the exception of another specimen called "Pink Panther").

Enough to make even the prettiest swan a wee bit jealous.

My favorite. I absolutely adore the soft pale 'blue' of these tulips. It reminds me of sterling roses... also a favorite.

There are, as ever, more images than space. But, I hope that gives you a flavor of the beauty and variety on show. Given that this is the closing weekend of the Chelsea flower show in London, I reckon these tulips could easily challenge any of the specimen plants on show.

Next up... some quirky gables and the likes from Amsterdam.

Amsterdam I – Canals

After calling Schiphol airport my second home for the best part of five years, it was time to leave the departures lounge and explore the Dutch capital. Better known for its vices, I strayed from the tourist trail of the Dam and Red Light district to find a genteel and tranquil beauty.

The Western and Southern Canal Belts are a walkers (and bicyclers) haven. Away from the tourist trade, the “Venice of the North” developed to house the growing wealth of 17th century merchants while the Jordaan became home to their artisans. (Even nosed around inside at the grandeur.) After watching Edinburgh develop into a thriving tourist hub, I was amazed at the quietness I found in Amsterdam and the fabulous local cafes. Even Queen Beatrix welcomed me. (Apparently in residence, I caught a glimpse of her on her way to a reception.)

I had the good fortune of meeting a local who was preparing for a visit from Canadian friends to show me around the Western Canal Belt and Jordaan one afternoon… canals and hidden almshouses… apple cake and coffee…


This is quite possibly the smallest doorway in Amsterdam at 1.8 meters, although it does open into a full 5-meter wide building behind. So what? Well, residents are taxed on the width of their property rather than the square meters. So, tall and lanky is all the rage! The only way to get your mattress up to the forth floor is via a hook and pulley conveniently placed on the gable. (Imagine trying to remove a bathtub from the fourth floor, as a few builders in the Jordaan were one sunny afternoon. Hysterical!)


Even floating homes have a bit of a giggle. (Although I’m dying to know how tall wooden ships with masts and sails manage to navigate the low clearance of some of the bridges.)

The world’s oldest floating flower market on the Singel.

I skipped most of the major museums (those are for rainy days or Friday nights when the Van Gogh Museum has live jazz and canapés – absolutely fabulous way to see art, in my opinion) in favor of street markets on a lazy Sunday afternoon…

Chess on the Leidestraat (left); hide and seek at an homage to Rembrandt’s “The Night Watch” in Rembrandtplien (right).

I’ve never seen an instrument quite like that before – street theater at the Dam (left); Bourbon Street Bar just off Leidestraat (right).

But where are those illustrious tulips?

Melrose

After the traumas of hiring a car and getting out of town, we found ourselves in the rolling, green pastures south of Edinburgh known as the Scottish Borders. The stretch of the A72 between Peebles and Melrose is particularly pretty as it winds along the River Tweed in the warmth of early spring – buds just on the trees, little moos and bahs bouncing around the field, unwinding tourists like myself driving at 45 in a 60…

Melrose, one of the prettiest and best preserved market towns in the Borders, is both the birthplace of Rugby Sevens as well as home to one of the finest remaining abbeys in the region.

This red sandstone beauty was built by Cistercian monks in 1136 in their search for a tranquil setting to adapt the Benedictine order. I continue to find myself baffled by the ploy they used to “employ” local Scots – one meal a day in winter, two in summer, and a stone bed to sleep in. Since when are locals unable to survive off the land? With the turmoil of the 14th century, the abbey was burned down at least three times and later became the final resting place of Robert the Bruce’s heart.

And who says the Scots can't do buttresses? (Admittedly, the main stonemason was French.)

From the top of Melrose Abbey looking N/NE towards the Eildon Hills. (No this photo was not retouched in PS... it was really that pretty and blue.)

My mum spotted this delicate specimen stranded in the dark stairwell leading to that fabulous view. Struggling due to the coolness, I rescued him before he was trampled by rampaging kiddlings.

This is my first entry in find the bagpiping gargoyle quest... As you'll see in upcoming posts, they are everywhere in Scotland. Can you spot the bagpipes this piglet wields?

Despite the centuries of erosion, these carvings continue to maintain their awe as the shadows approach...

I said AUTOMATIC!!!

Where has the roaming gnome been roaming? Well, it seems my company from Western Washington were keen to see a bit of Scotland... via 4 wheels.

After reserving an automatic from Enterprise on the web, I was gun ho about driving on the wrong side of the road! But, in true gnome fashion, life threw us a curve. When I arrived at Enterprise, promptly at 9am, there was only one attendant and the office was swamped. An hour later reinforcements arrived, but my precious automatic drove off the lot as they printed my contract. Reluctantly, and a foot stomp later, I hired a manual Ford Fiesta (with the optional damage waiver and a 30% discount for the hassle) having never driven a manual before in my life. (As way of an explanation for my European cousins, Americans get a drivers license with which you can drive any type of vehicle – manual or automatic.)

Twenty minutes later, I managed to get the car started and out of the lot. We were off! I only killed the car a few dozen times in town that first day. Ten days later, the car still had a working clutch and even my mum was impressed with my skill!

We roamed quite a bit – over 710 miles to places like: Melrose and the abbeys, Borders in general, Fife & St. Andrews, Stirling/Killin/Loch Lomond, and Rosslyn chapel. These long days hopefully explain the delay in posts. My company was here from 1-15 April; I’ve spent the past week recuperating. Happily, all this roaming has provided a deep portfolio of photos for upcoming posts...

Warm fuzzies

I'm starting to think it may be a universal truth that wherever I live I'll find the zoo... Pink flamingos for Dad.
Is that a small child?
20oC is to warm, turn down the heat!
Company's favorite critter.
My favorite critter.
Think monster trucks rumbling by... Wonder what got into these two besides the spring weather? Awe twitterpaited...
Last year Edinburgh sponsored the CowParade, a charity event. Around 100 'moos' were decorated and placed around town. After ten weeks, those still standing were auctioned and the funds donated to two charities - OneCity (local poverty group) and VetAide (animal health and welfare in the third world). Luckily, this marvel found his way home.

To market, to market...

As a present, my company arrived with the sun on Sunday!

















Once a month, Fredrick Street (Edinburgh, Scotland) becomes a traveling market. Barkers from Holland, Germany, Spain, and Southern France display their wares in hopes of impressing the punters… Makes for wonderful street theatre!