October 2014 – robinchartier

another day at the beach (October 5 continued)

Going through all of my photos and I still can’t believe how beautiful Crete was/is. I was wishing I could be back there. We did one main thing each day and had plenty of time for relaxing and reading.

On our drive home from the botanical gardens. People actually live in these towns. Real life.

I can’t imagine living in this kind of adult Disneyland.

The village church — I have no words to describe how cute this is.

Once we got home from our garden exploration and gourmet lunch we walked down to our local beach. This was the first time (of many) that we saw nude sunbathing. The amount of nudity here is shocking coming from a place where some women won’t even show their elbows (or faces!). Kids are completely naked at the beach up til around the age of 7, women go between tops on and topless without a second thought, and men switch their swim trunks for underwear and shorts without retreating to a bathroom for shelter (generally with a towel in their laps for a bit of modesty).

When I say topless, I don’t mean the American version of topless: lie face down on a beach towel, untie bikini ties and then carefully adjust if needed. The Cretan version: grandma lies back on a beach chair face up, arms crossed behind her head. She sits up and pulls a triangle top out of her bag and puts it on before she strolls across the beach to buy a drink the way we would put on a pair of socks — 1/2 on 1/2 off, mid conversation, tuck in the boob, and off you go. I rather like it. Not because it’s attractive, cause it’s usually not, but because it’s so relaxed. Cellulite hanging out and wrinkled belles are no big deal.

No one stares here, unlike where we’re from, where everyone stares at everything. I’ve gotten used to that, but it’s nice to feel invisible for a change. I felt a bit like a woman in an abaya on the beach — fully covered in my long pants and sweatshirt while the people behind me were sunning sans clothes (not in this photo, don’t bother zooming in), except it was nice to know that no one cared what anyone was wearing, fully clothed or not.

It was warmer today than the day before (but still not warm enough for me to swim).

The boys and Josh went for a swim out and across our cove. I’m thankful that they are all strong swimmers and can enjoy the beach without having to worry about them.

We stayed until sunset and then headed back to our villa where Josh made a dinner of fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, greek yogurt and feta, grapes, and wine. The kids ate dinner inside and Josh and I shared a dinner for two (with a few cats for company) outside on our patio under the olive trees. Paradise.

The Garden of Eden

One of the best things about being in Crete is driving in Crete — something that can never be said about Bahrain. All of the roads are picturesque and look like they deserve the poetic caption “The Road Less Traveled” or the more modern version, “Everyday is a Winding Road.”

Our friends had been to Crete back in the spring and they said one place we must visit is the botanical gardens. Considering we’ve had a severe lack of green in our lives over the past few years, we were interested to see what made this garden so special. The road up to the botanical gardens is winding indeed. As we drove up into the hills the road took us on a series of switchbacks like I’ve never seen before. The car GPS looked like a toddler was scribbling out our route.

We arrived at the gardens and were given bottles of water and had the option of selecting walking sticks to assist with the “hike.”

Of course the 2 younger boys grabbed huge walking sticks.

The garden path winds along the hillside and overlooks the valley below.

The number of exotic flowers and plants on site were overwhelming. I can’t believe they can grow tropical fruits like loquats and strawberry guava next to apples and grapes.

Even though it was October there were citrus fruit ripening and other flowers in bloom. It would be even more beautiful in spring and summer.

who has the bigger stick?

This is called a sausage tree because the fruit turn brown when they are ripe. The boys would read all the signs and find the matching plants. It was charming at first and then all the, “Mom, did you know . . . ?” got to be a bit much. I was wishing the Nanas were there not just because they both love plants, but because they would have chatted tirelessly with the kids.

A Yucca in bloom. The white spike of flowers grows right out of the middle of the fronds.

It’s 2 kilometers of beautiful paths, packed with never-ending variety

Looking back over the valley — the restaurant/giftshop is perched on the hilltop on the right (red roof).

We saw a few statues — Camille was wondering why she was naked.

I realized Calvin isn’t in many of these pictures. I think because we kept telling him to walk ahead (we kept telling them ALL to walk ahead) so Josh and I could walk in peace. I guess he was the best at it.

In addition to wild peacocks and turkeys roaming the grounds they had a donkey, some chickens and a few other animals in pens on the valley floor.

Look at all the citrus trees in the background.

then follow the switchback path up the side of the mountain. The way down was through the tropical garden, the way up was all native plants.

Like this grape arbor, ready to harvest

Caleb didn’t believe me that raisins were actually grapes until I showed him these.

After our hike we stopped for lunch in the on-site restaurant. We were told this was the highlight of the place and we were not disappointed. Much of what they serve is grown on site and it was fun to spot the varieties of plants we had just seen on our plates.

A salad of wild greens, cucumbers and a special cretan cheese that is milder and creamier than feta. Not the olives in the bottom right corner that are grown and cured here too.

More of the cheese and greens. There were greens that we ate that I never would have known were edible.

I didn’t want to be “that guy” so I didn’t take a photo of our main dishes, though I should have because I can’t remember what we ate, only that there was tons of it and we had leftovers to bring home. I remember smoked pork, rooster and tomato sauce (which is way better than it sounds), this dish that Calvin ordered called “Captain Jack” that we teased him about for the rest of the trip because it was the most expensive thing on the menu (it was good though). I’m sure I ordered something with eggplant. The homemade sourdough bread was warm and puffy and the olive oil on the table was dark and floral.

At the end of the meal we were stuffed and then they brought out a dessert platter of seasonal fruit picked from the gardens — grapes, orange slices, guava, and pomegranate. We were very impressed. They also served everyone mountain tea with fresh honey to sweeten it to taste.

We all pushed back from the table and said that we needed to come back here again for another meal before our vacation was over.

7th inning stretch

I was on a roll with my Crete posts and then on Friday we were at lunch after church and I realized how sore I was from a workout the day before. Not totally surprising because I had taken 2 weeks off for vacation, but I didn’t expect to feel pains in every muscle in my body. An hour later after almost passing out in the mall (I went from thinking I was sore to realizing I was getting very sick in a span of about 5 minutes) I was home, in bed, dressed in sweats and wool socks and shivering under 4 layers of blankets. I slept all afternoon and by evening I was hungry and by midnight my fever had broken and I woke up the next morning as if I had never been sick. Who gets the flu for only 12 hours?!

The next day we went to the boys’ final basketball games and parties. I had no carry over symptoms from being sick and had slept tons the previous day and night, so I went too. Camille was extra whiny and clingy during the games . . . and I bet you can guess where this is going, huh? She fell around 1:30pm exactly 24 hours after I did. I picked her up out of her car seat when we arrived home and I could feel the heat on her cheeks. I was hoping she would kick it in the same amount of time that I did, but she was miserable all night and into today. She has a good hour where the Motrin is working for her and then varying degrees of unhappiness until it’s time for her medicine again.

I’m hoping the 3rd time is the charm because I came downstairs to check on Camille this morning (she made a 1/2 hearted attempt to join her brothers in watching the world series) and saw that Caleb’s cheeks looked really bright. Yep, fever number 3. He seems fine other than being upset because his fever is messing up his school holiday play plans, but he’s consoling himself with a movie day.

One of the best things about today was the boys arranged to watch one of the World Series games with Papa Dave. They had the day off of school (for Islamic New Year) so they woke up early, FaceTimed with him and cheered on the Giants as they beat the Royals 11-4.

Hoping for more wins and less sick days!

Anna vs Elsa, a tale of two costumes

I had a revelation in the shower this morning, thinking about Halloween costumes. Camille wants to be Elsa. Every little girl wants to be Elsa. I watched the movie Frozen and fell in love with Anna, the casual, fumbling, good natured sister who I think of as the center and heart of the movie, so it caught me by surprise when all the little girls fell for Elsa. (because she has powers, Mom!)

I was wondering if it was something about getting older and becoming more comfortable in my own skin that made me feel an affinity for Anna. Well meaning, but mixing up words, not needing to be perfect, falling hard for something and then realizing she was completely wrong . . . she’s human. Maybe in my “maturity” I was picking up on qualities that are long lasting and preferring them over fleeting beauty and the ability to make a statement with the swish of a cape. And then a flash of insight: I used to be Elsa.

I don’t know why it took me almost a year to put it together, but that anxious little blonde girl with a braid was me, without the special powers. I was excellent at conceal, don’t feel, put a good face on the outside and pretend even when I didn’t know what I was doing. Feelings were weakness because they couldn’t be controlled. I guess the same way Elsa kept her gloves on and kept her distance from people because she didn’t want to hurt them is what I did in relationships — I didn’t get the nickname Ice Queen for nothing. (Seriously, how embarrassing!) My thinking was if I didn’t date anyone or let anyone know how I felt about them, then I’d never hurt anyone or be hurt by anyone and that safety was totally worth it.

Don’t let them in, don’t let them see, be the good girl you always have to be. Yep, life as a patstor’s daughter. Totally sums that up. I don’t have any regrets or think there’s anything anyone could have done to change it, that’s just how I was. I had all these expectations for myself — I couldn’t tell you where they came from, a bunch of innate first born neuroses most likely.

And then I realized perfection could never be achieved and maintained. I broke and Let It Go. My mountaintop ballad would have included this verse:

It’s funny how some medicine
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can’t get to me at all!

I’ve changed so much since then, I can’t believe I identified so completely with Anna and forgot all those years as Elsa. That’s good. I guess I’m never going back, the past is in the past. (Now I’m just cracking myself up.) I’m happy I can relate to the relaxed and imperfect character. Not that long ago I would have seen many of those qualities as faults and cheered on the Ice Queen in her castle all alone.

BUT . . . You’ll never see me cry. I still hate crying. I rarely do. I guess I haven’t left Elsa entirely behind. As for this Halloween, Camille is going as a butterfly and I’m going dressed as Camille. I see a lot of myself in her, but I admire her “anything goes” Anna spirit. I hope in time she can figure out how to be the best of both.

October 4th, Chania

The previous evening I scoured Booking.com, Air BnB, and Trip Advisor to find the “perfect” place to stay. Right price, right location, not too spartan . . . it’s a tough job when you aren’t a decisive decision maker. I finally settled on a group of apartments near the beach instead of downtown by the harbor. Since I had reserved a rental car, we could easily drive into Old Town, but I figured the kids would rather go to the beach.

Our car for 2 weeks. A diesel (didn’t know how essential this would be until later) Volkswagon with room for 7.

We arrived at the apartments and found that I had chosen wisely. The best way to describe the compound is a Greek Melrose Place. Several individual 2 story buildings that all face a pool in the middle. The grounds are covered with olive and pomegranate trees with small patches of grass that run in-between the buildings. And several resident cats that the kids made friends with, naming the mama, Moon, and the baby, Night. There was a huge big daddy black cat that roamed the property as well and would stalk around under our table after dinner, hoping to catch any leftover scraps.

The olives were ripening all over the country. I never realized that olives vary in varieties that are as small as capers to large fruit that are bigger than my thumb.

Mmm, pomegranates growing right outside our back door. I realized after we left that I never took photos of our beautiful villa. I booked a 2-bedroom, but upon arrival the owner upgraded us to a 3 bedroom, two story villa that felt like a cabin inside, with an interior balcony that overlooked the living room below.

After we moved our luggage into our home for the next 4 nights, we decided to hit the beach. It was overcast, but still warm enough for shorts and t-shirts (except for me).

We had goats as neighbors — the boys would bleat at the goats and the goats would talk back as we walked to and from the beach.

Less than 10 minutes past the goats and through the neighborhood and we were at “our” beach.

The Mediterranean Sea is a bit cooler than the Arabian Gulf.

But still warm enough to swim

ready to scope out some fish

I relaxed on the sand (in my sweatshirt) while Camille played on shore and the boys went swimming with Josh.

A bit cold, we decided to walk home, warm up, and find dinner.

Something unique about Crete’s bathrooms. Every place we went had a hand-held shower that was installed waist high (no way to hang it on the wall to stand under it). This place was high class in that it actually had a stall, unlike another place where the shower was just a corner of the (very small) bathroom. It turns out it’s not unusual there. The boys made me laugh because they thought the shower was actually a tiny bathtub so they filled it up and had a soak.

Meanwhile Josh and I sat on our bedroom balcony and basked in the knowledge that we had almost 2 weeks of this ahead of us.

For dinner we asked the owner of our apartment where we should go to eat and she drew us a map so we could find a restaurant called The Well of the Turk in a back alley downtown. “Not touristic. Very good.” She said if we went early, “7 or 8pm”(!?!?) we would be able to get a table without a reservation. No problem there, I was starving at 5:30.

Old Town is beautiful and quaint.

We wound our way through narrow alleys and found this — no way for tourists to find it unless they stumbled upon it!

And she was right about the fabulous food — pasta with smoked salmon and dill, eggplant with meatballs, chicken kebab. . . and much more, but since I’m not writing this the day we ate dinner, it’s all been buried under a pile of subsequent vacation memories. We sat and ate and laughed for a few hours and the lady at the next table over asked where we were from: “New Zealand? Sweden? You can’t be from America, your children are too well behaved!” She must have missed Carter trying to eat his chicken kebab off the skewer like it was an ear of corn.

After dinner we strolled by Starbucks to see if they had mugs to add to our collection

A one stop shop for all of Greece and the Greek Islands!

Here’s where we made a mistake. They had so many mugs that we figured we’d purchase ours on the way back through Chania before flying home. No sense in carrying them around for 2 weeks in our luggage and risk them getting broken. When we returned, they were all out. Nada, zilch, nothing. Oh well. Now we have to come back next year to pick up our mugs!

harbor at night

And ice cream as a nightcap!