There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.
Nelson Mandela
This is our 46th day of travel. We spent 22 of those in the Kyklades, visiting six islands. Six islands as different from each other as different can be; beautiful, rich, vibrant, entertaining, wild, cultured, and individual.
We left in sunny, warm, and summer-y weather. In truth, we’d already felt the seasons turn in Glyfada, almost on cue. The days could still be oppressively warm in the sunshine, but the evenings had a clean freshness about it that hinted autumn. Which is good, since one thing I love about home home (Calgary) is that we have seasons.
We returned in weather that is typical of late October for southern Greece; overcast (the sun still breaks through form time to time), windy, and with a bit of moisture. Even with a full day of drizzle in Syros, we’ve only had four days where precipitation actually touched our skin.
Four days in 46 is not a bad record.
And so we return “home” to Glyfada, which is at the same time a suburb of Athens and our home base in Greece. It’s cool, a bit windy, and we’re the only ones not wearing winter coats. I am, in fact, still in shorts.
We’re glad to be home now, though.
Our voyage on the Bluestar Ithakia would be her last in the Kyklades*, she has been sold. To Canada, to ply the Maritimes out of Nova Scotia, or so we’re told. The captain happens to be from Syros, and so he exercised a little privilege to make a victory lap around harbour.
Not quite turning donuts, but not far from it.
Upon pulling out, those trucks pulled up. Horns blared, flares of celebration were lit, and little boats followed us around like eager puppies. Applause in the lounge too. It’s quite fun being caught up in this kind of thing, not knowing about it beforehand.
But now, we are home for a week of rest and relaxation before heading to Creti* for a few weeks.
* Nota Bene – “Why the hell does he call places by funny names?”
The Cyclades are Kyklades. Crete is Creti (thanks, Mom, for that.)
Imagine you’re a German (or most any non English speaking, European country) travelling to Canada. Only, you don’t write it like that, you write it like this: Kanada.
Looks weird, don’t it? Well same thing. Greeks don’t call them “sea-clad-ees”, the say “key-clad-ees” (apologies for crappy pronunciation key; I never took a linguistics course in Uni). And so I choose to call (and spell) the places I visit by the names they are known in their own country.
Similarly I say “Munchen”, “Wien”, “Genova”, and “London”. It’s a thing, I know.