A Truly Excellent Experience... For A Dollar!

  Now, you probably have the impression there's nothing to do around here because we've hardly done anything, right? There's no mountains, deserts or beaches. There's no ancient ruins, missile silos or things on sticks. It's a nice house and all but, with nothing of note nearby, we're forced to go further afield to find anything interesting. Thus, we continue to search.

  Tripadvisor told us to go to Historic Williamsburg. Our bank account told us to skip it. I mean, fifty bucks each for a couple of hours watching people engaging in colonial LARP? Not. I knew there must be something engaging that would provide better value so I dove, head first, into Googleworld and found two places that might be interesting.

  Our first stop was the Army Transportation Museum. It's free and gets good reviews. Score. The only problem is, Google doesn't tell you the only way to see it is by entering Fort Eustis, an active army base. We didn't know any of this until we came to the gate and a soldier demanded our pass. Pass? Google didn't say anything about a pass. Of course, Google didn't mention needing a pass to enter the top secret radar base on top of Mt. Olympus in Cypress either, but that didn't stop us. The soldier with the rifle did. Anyway, without our passports to prove we weren't Russian spies we weren't going to get a day pass so we turned around and left.

  That left us with two options resulting from my exhaustive Googling, Costco and the Mariners' Museum. Leaving frozen food in a hot car while we tour a museum is unwise so Costco was relegated to option B and we headed off to check out what the mariners had in store for us. It's worth noting that the last time we encountered mariners was at a ballpark in Seattle and it didn't turn out well for them. We assumed this place involved different mariners.

  In my research I'd found this museum held artifacts recovered from the Civil War ironclad USS Monitor. If you're not familiar with it you can click here and find out why it was significant.  We expected this to be an interesting way to while away an hour. Were we ever wrong. It wasn't interesting. It was fascinating! And it took us all afternoon to see the place. And (drum roll please) admission was only $1 each. Yes. ONE DOLLAR.

  We started with a fifteen minute summary of the place presented to us by a very knowledgeable docent, very obviously thrilled that people from Canada came to see his museum. From there we encountered a reproduction of the ironclad casemate from the CSS Virginia (if you clicked on the link back there you'll know what I'm talking about).

Outside, there's a full size replica of the Monitor recently built by a local shipyard so you can see what it would have looked like IRL:

  It's worth noting here that, in my high school American History class I was taught the resulting battle was between the Monitor and the Merrimack. I'd never heard mention of the CSS Virginia. Well, it's that old "the victors write the history" thing. Because we're in Virginia and they were on the side of the Confederacy, it's referred to here as the Virginia. Everywhere else it's called the Merrimack since no one wanted to confer legitimacy upon the Confederates.

  At the end of 1862 the Monitor sank in the Atlantic Ocean off the Outer Banks of North Carolina and, starting in 1998, expeditions began recovering significant artifacts.

  The turret, guns and engine are in huge tanks as they are subjected to various chemical treatments designed to remove rust and preserve them for eventual display. As the wreck lay upside-down in the Atlantic Ocean that position has been maintained for the artifacts being treated. Here's the upside-down engine in one tank:

And the upside-down turret in another:

These artifacts have been in these tanks for thirteen years and may be immersed for seven more before they are deemed safe to expose to the air. Until then, the museum undertook to build a display to show what the upside-down turret looked like upon recovery:

As well as one depicting how it looked, right side up, when new:

  The museum also included a significant display of merchant marine models, some up to thirty feet long, and another display hall of various types of small boats including the 2013 America's Cup winner. All in all, quite an impressive museum. And all it cost us was $1 each.

  It wasn't always that way. Until 2016 admission was in line with other museums at around $15 each but management decided they would better serve their community by dropping the cost and encouraging the local population to visit and revisit this magnificent collection. Apparently, it worked. They collect virtually the same admission revenues as before but expose the collection to fifteen times as many visitors. Well done.

  The only black mark on this place was an annoying tour guide leading a herd of old people around. It seemed wherever we went there was that loud voice doing a passable imitation of RFK Jr, followed by a lot of shuffling and glazed eyes. Maybe they looked uninterested because it was nap time or maybe they were equally as annoyed with him as we were. Either way, they didn't look nearly as thrilled with all of it as we were. If you go see this place, and I heartily recommend it should you be in the neighbourhood, (although who has any reason to come here, I don't know) make sure you call before you go. Just ask if the annoying tour guide is working on that day. You've been warned.

  One other thing. They have a gift shop. I say this because every attraction like this has one. I know this because Penny says, "Oh look. They have a gift shop." Otherwise, I would never know. Like all the other ones, I say, "Ok. I have to pee. I'll meet you in the gift shop." I do what I have to do and then spend fifteen minutes wandering around looking at things I'll never buy while I wait for her to be done. Every once in a while I buy something I need, like a t-shirt, so they're not so bad and, in this case, I thought this place might offer something interesting.

  Anyway, after I'm done in the washroom I go to the gift shop and... it's empty. No Penny. I start looking behind things and under tables but no Penny. The nice lady, alarmed at my behaviour, asks if she can help. When I tell her I'm looking for my wife she asks, "The lady in the pink shirt?" Pink? I thought it was white. "Ooooookay", I stammer, "Yeah, pink shirt." She points outside and there she is sitting on a bench, waiting for me. I relate all of this because of its rarity. An entire gift shop unshopped. I checked her temperature and asked if she knew where she was. All was ok, except for the unshopped gift shop. I'm chalking this up to her being excited by the upcoming Costco visit. Maybe not, but we did just have an eclipse so anything can happen.

  And so, our "we'll spend an hour in this place" became an entire afternoon of fascinating discovery and education. We still went to Costco, because it was there. We plan to return to the Army Transportation Museum, with passports in hand, because it's free. And it might end up being another hidden gem. Stay tuned.

We Finally Did Something

 Yes, after two weeks of sitting on our butts we finally got up and went to see some of the sights here in Tidewater Virginia. But first, I just wanted to note how excited we were to read that the Olympic torch was lit yesterday at Olympia, Greece, in preparation for the Paris Olympics. Those of you who loyally follow us will remember we were THERE just a month ago, standing at the very spot where they light the torch. I think it bears saying once again, what we've been doing is SO COOL!

  Now back to the present. We're in a wonderful spot here on Healy Creek. The house is beautiful and the setting is incredibly scenic and, yes, the cats are still head cases but they're getting used to us. Midnight slept on our bed a couple of nights ago and is hanging around us in the mornings, so she's becoming friendly. I can't say the same for Maisey as she still hisses at us unless we have "kitty crack" in hand.

  Now, before you go calling the ASPCA on us, the cats both get really excited for Purina Cat Chow like it's some kind of exotic delicacy. The owners don't like to give them much of it, preferring that gross wet food that smells like... cat food. Anyway, Maisey whines whenever we're in the kitchen, expecting treats. We feed her the gross stuff she's supposed to like but, unless we throw some "crack" in it, she just turns her nose up at it and walks away. Cats.

  Speaking of animals, our little spot here is rife with wildlife. Deer graze around the edges of the property.

Lizards hang out on the front step.

Like our digs in Minnesota last summer, hummingbirds are in abundance here.

  There's also what we think is, a very weird sounding frog. Penny sent a recording of it off to David for identification and here's what he said:

"Could be Fowler's Toad. It sounds lower and more nasally than the American Toad trill and the habitat fits. Good find. They are at the extreme northern range in Ontario at Long Point so we don't encounter them much."

  Did you get that? All I got was "Good find". I'm glad David went off to school and learned this sort of stuff so we don't sit here wondering if there's some kind of weird, noisy alligator living under our deck, or Bigfoot, settling down for the night after eating some of the oysters under our dock.

  We did manage to get out for some golf last week but the course we played had just aerated their greens. For those of you who aren't up on greenskeeping, "aerating" is the act of poking holes in the ground to allow air to get at the grass roots. Golf courses use a machine that pulls quarter-inch diameter cores out of the greens and then they fill the holes with sand. In a couple of weeks the green is good as new but, until then, it's like putting on a sidewalk... and it was. As a result, golf was less enjoyable that it could have been. On to other things.

  Remember when we went to Cyprus and I checked the weather for Paphos and figured it would be warm and then it wasn't? Same here. When we arrived we were told this spring's weather has been unusually shitty. It's not January in Edmonton but we were expecting temps in the low 20's and it's taken until yesterday to achieve that, thus it was time for us to get out and about... or as Canadians are supposed to say, "oot and aboot" (that's for any Australians in the audience).

  Yesterday was hot, around 32C, so we grabbed our water bottles and sunglasses and ventured forth in search of historical significance. I checked all the Internet sources I use to figure out what's worth seeing in an area and decided Yorktown and Jamestown were worthy targets of our wanderlust, so off we set.

  As you all remember, we use Atlas Obscura to help us find weird and interesting sights. It wasn't much use in Cyprus and Greece as it kept pointing us at legitimately historical things. There were no giant gods on sticks, no Zorba The Greeks made of old tennis balls, no weird places where aliens were reputed to have stopped for souvlaki. We had to make do with actual, legit history.

  Back in the States we know the ol' Atlas will be a potent weapon in the battle against boredom and mediocrity. Not here. It seems it's great in places where there's nothing interesting to see, like Oklahoma or Kansas. Once there's interesting stuff, forget it. Instead, we were forced to come up with our own interesting stuff, so here it is.

  Our first stop on the way to Yorktown was a place I spotted during a run to the local Walmart for groceries:

  Ok, I thought, this will be a good place to check out. I mean, "Fort Nonsense", right? Probably named for the famous Revolutionary War general Bartholomew "Nonsense" Tutwaddle after the famous Battle of Noseworthy where twelve Americans defeated seven hundred redcoats using nothing but a pile of rocks and a mousetrap. Right? Ok. I made that up. We stopped to check it out and, guess what? There's nothing there. It turns out the Confederates were going to build a fort there in 1863 and abandoned it so the locals christened it with the "Nonsense" moniker. Disappointing.

  Continuing towards our destination Atlas Obscura did point out something of note nearby, so we took a detour near Gloucester, towards the well-signposted Rosewell Plantation. We were assured this was worth a look as Thomas Jefferson was said to have penned an early version of the Declaration of Independence while staying there. Significant, right?

  Well, it turns out it's only open on weekends.

  Now, this place is really closed. They might as well have posted signs reading, "Piss off and Go Away! This means YOU!". They even had a barbed wire fence to keep us out. It's a ruin for God's sake! We climbed all over ruins in Greece that were three thousand years old. What did these people think we were going to do with their measly three hundred year old ruin? Anyway, here's what we could see without breaking out the wire cutters and making like we were in a bad remake of The Great Escape:

  Like I said, ruins. Nice trees though. We should have turned around right there and then as it was a sign of things to come. But no. Intrepid explorers that we are we decided to push on in search of more historical edification. And, sure enough, it didn't take long for us to find something extraordinary:

  Well, if they had an extra sign lying around it would have been more impressive. Just the same, this is no ordinary place. Not far from here is a pretty good BBQ joint and a really good ice cream spot. Not ordinary at all. Nor this:

  I've always said those Two Men and a Truck movers are liars because they always send three men when we hire them to move us. At least these guys are trying to be honest.

  Continuing on our trek it didn't take long to reach Surrender Field near Yorktown, site of the last major battle of the Revolutionary War in 1781. This is where British General Cornwallis surrendered to George Washington, triggering negotiations which led to the Treaty of Paris two years later and independence from Great Britain. A more iconic site in the United States would be hard to find, right? We followed a sign directing us to a tour road that would take us around the site, expecting the kind of detail and presentation we'd seen a couple of years ago while touring Antietam and other Civil War battlefields in Maryland.

  Now maybe we're a bit jaded after Greece. We know there's little remaining evidence of early European history in North America because they built everything out of the readily available wood and wood rots. No marble here. But this is an iconic site right? There's tons of documentary evidence describing exactly what happened here and when and who did it, like with the Civil War battlefields, right? Wrong. We saw the odd signpost that would indicate this spot is where Washington's adjutant cut his hair or this other spot is where the mechanic that fixed the broken cannons did his work or this spot is where some guys made camp and slept.

  The most impressive display was this "Washington slept here" board:

  Yeah. Tents. The house in the picture was nowhere to be seen. We drove around the rest of the tour road for another twenty minutes but didn't encounter anything that was remotely interesting so we went in search of the actual Surrender Field and its Visitor Center. We expected to see a museum there displaying various bits of war detritus like musket balls and soldier hats and lots of flashy movie displays and annual re-enactments on the schedule, right? Wrong. There's a little open air viewing platform giving out onto the field:

  There's a display of cannons that were captured and stamped with "SURRENDERED" and other "you lost, nyah nyah nyah" stuff on them.

  Otherwise, nothing. Just a field. By the way, have a close look at this cannon. You'll notice all kinds of royal-like inscriptions, fancy handles and engraving, etc. It's a cannon guys. It seems kind of weird the British would put so much effort into making their cannons look nice.

British soldier: "Hey Yankee, look at how nice our cannons look. They're shiny and have a crown on them and lots of fancy writing. We do that because we're bigger and stronger than you and we're going to deliver a beatdown on you if you want to fight us."

American soldier: "Hold my beer."

Perhaps the British could have put the same kind of effort into training their generals. Just sayin'.

  So, it was starting to look like the locked up ruins of the Rosewell Plantation would be the highlight of our day, but we pushed on, nevertheless. Our next stop was Jamestown, or "Jamestowne" as the early colonists spelled it, because they loved putting unnecessary "e"'s on the end of everything. If you don't know, Jamestown(with an "e" on the end) is where the first British settlement in North America was established in 1607 and is considered to be the place where America was born. It's most famous residents, John Smith and Pocahantas, can be found frolicking in a Disney flick somewhere. Thus is the state of American history in the twenty-first century.

  We arrived at the Jamestown (with an "e" on the end) Settlement and were greeted with the kind of Visitor Center we expected to find at Surrender Field. Lots of exhibits of artifacts dug up by archaeologists and history things and a movie and a gift shop. It's all run by the National Parks Service, the people who bring you the same impressive sites like those we visited last year, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, Petrified Forest and the like. We flashed our handy annual parks pass to get in free and set off to explore the ruins and see all the history stuff.

  I should stop here. That's not exactly what happened. We did flash the pass and did get in free but we were told that only got us admission to the New Towne (see?). It would cost an additional $15 each if we wanted to see Old Towne (yep) as it's not run by NPS. Apparently it's on land that's owned by a private concern called Preservation Virginia and, until recently, they bundled both sites together under one, much cheaper, ticket. Unfortunately, as the docent told us, the two groups are not currently "getting along" so NPS ticket holders aren't welcome in Old Towne unless they pay extra. We decided against it. I mean, there must be more than enough history to go around, right?

  Wrong again. There's nothing there. A few bits of brick foundation. A broken down eighteenth century mansion that was obviously not built in accordance with the building code. Oh, and a mini Washington Monument. Well, it's the Tercentennial Monument, built in 1907 to commemorate the 300th anniversary of the settlement, but it does bear a striking resemblance to the big one in DC. According to the documentation it was built for $50,000 which isn't much for a monument, so here's what I'm thinking...

  It's 1906 and the local historical society wants to do something to show people they're on the job. 1907's coming up and they need a monument they can rally around, get their names in the local paper, get some famous rich white guy to make a speech at its unveiling... that kind of thing. One of them says they like that Washington Monument thingie they got up there in DC and he knows a guy that knows a guy and they should build one. Of course, the one in DC is rather large and they only want something about 50 feet tall so they buy a copy of the plans and get their guy to build a scale model. Much cheaper. It was also completed on time, rare for government work. Now that's just my take on it but I'll bet the real history isn't far off.

  That was it. Nothing else to see, except for a fence and a big Preservation Virginia banner draped over it and a lot of interesting stuff behind it. By then we were hot, tired and pissed so they weren't getting our fifteen bucks to see what we should have been able to see with our parks pass if those jerks would just talk to each other. So we left.

  On our way out we came to the Glasshouse. No, it's not made of glass and no, they don't throw stones there. This was a replica of the place where they made glass for windows... and other glassy things. This must be worth a look, we thought, so we did. Well, they make glass there the old way, using a big stone furnace. Except it's powered by natural gas and can make glass overnight as opposed to the old-fashioned way that uses hardwood for fuel and takes two weeks to make glass. Otherwise, it's the same. It's even built out of wood. With a 2,400 degree furnace inside. Wood. Hmmm. I was sure this didn't meet fire code.

  Sure enough, after watching a guy make glassy things for a few minutes we wandered around to see the ruins of the original glasshouse and read a sign proclaiming that the new Glasshouse was built after the previous one, built in 1974, burned down in 1976. Inside the display of the ruins is a picture of another replica glasshouse, circa 1957, also made of wood, also burned down. Somebody give these guys a course in physics.

  With that, we were done, We headed home with some unforgettable experiences... sort of. We also learned so many history things... sort of. Ok. We went home. I know that for sure. And we had BBQ and ice cream at Ordinary. The best part of the day.

Until next time.

84.5% of an Eclipse

   In the interest of giving you all the news that's fit to print here we are an hour removed from the Eclipse Of The Century and I'm already posting a new episode just for you, loyal readers.

  Yes, we're in Tidewater Virginia, so not in the Path of Totality, but we did manage to spend the time outside in hopes of seeing something dramatic. Nope. Apparently, 84.5% totality doesn't have much effect. Crickets disagreed with me as they started chirping when things started happening, as if it was dusk. Some dogs started howling. Otherwise, it wasn't much. It did get cooler though, so we knew something was going on.

  On the other hand, the kids back in Toronto were in the aforementioned Path Of Totality or, at least, 95% of it, so they managed to see a mostly total eclipse as the clouds started to part. Here's a cellphone shot my grandson, Lucas, captured:

  David tried to get a shot from Bradford but it was cloudy and so he offered this memorable pic:

  Too many damn comedians in this family.

  Eclipse aside, things have improved here in our little isolated piece of Virginia. The weather warmed up and Penny got over her cold. She's been having a grand time trying to identify all the birds that hang around the water beyond our backyard. I'd been waiting for warmer weather to get out in the kayak and today finally delivered:

  The cats have even warmed up to us. Well, one of them. Here's Midnight, who lets us pet her when she appears at night or early morning.

  She's very nocturnal, only appearing between the hours of 7 pm and 7 am. The rest of the time she can be found sleeping on the floor behind the beer fridge. If I've been drinking I can be found sleeping on the floor in front of the beer fridge. I think that's why she likes me. A kindred spirit.

  The other cat, Maisey, is still a head case.

  She's only friendly when she's hungry or when it's treat time, which is any time she's awake. I say friendly in that she doesn't run away or hiss at you... until after you've fed her. You can see the evil in her eyes. This is a cat that would be at home on the lap of an evil genius. I think one of her ancestors can be seen with Blofeld in a bunch of James Bond movies. Also, she  eats A LOT. Consequently, she poops A LOT. Like, enough for any two other cats. To quote Richard Dreyfuss in Jaws, she's an "eating machine". I'm thinking of feeding her license plates.

  Even though Maisey may be the most unfriendly cat I've ever encountered (she makes Lucy in Cyprus look positively wonderful in comparison) I can't say the same for the local residents. I went for a walk a couple of days ago and spent much of the time returning waves from every driver that passed me by. I think I may have developed carpal tunnel as a result. How do the royals do it? I should note that I'm white in an overwhelmingly white, middle to upper class part of the country that will likely vote for Trump in November. If I were Latino I'll bet the local constabulary would have shown up and waved me over, rather than waved at me. Maybe I'm overreacting but I've only seen white faces everywhere we've been around here. Not too many BIPOC's buying waterfront property in Tidewater Virginia.

  We haven't yet done much here other than shop for groceries but I think that's about to change. We're planning on hitting the local golf course tomorrow and we'll likely head down to Norfolk and Newport News/Virginia Beach later in the week. There's a lot of history in that neck of the woods as well some major naval installations and museums. Also, the Norfolk Tides, the Triple-A team of the Baltimore Orioles, are there and we all know how Mikey loves a ball game. I think Tuesday is $2 Beer night. Hopefully I don't end up on the floor in front of the beer fridge.

Cheers.

A Little Piece of Paradise

   Well, here we are once again, living in someone else's house for a month. This time we're in Virginia, a little place called Hardyville in the Tidewater region. We're on a creek that flows into Chesapeake Bay, southeast of Washington, DC.

  We left home Sunday morning and drove south, stopping in the chocolate capital of the United States, Hershey, PA. Unfortunately, Penny came down with a cold that morning so we didn't partake in any of the local sights (or tastes) so she could just stay in bed when we arrived. Neither of us is particularly fond of Hershey's chocolate anyway, preferring real chocolate respected around the world instead of that ersatz stuff they call chocolate in America. Give me some Cadbury's or Lindt any day.

  Our day finished with a bag of McDonalds' finest, consumed in our palatial surroundings while watching My Cousin Vinny on the motel room TV. Speaking of Vinny, if you're familiar with it, I have an issue with the courtroom scene where the FBI expert testifies the tire size on the accused's car being identical to the tracks found at the crime scene. He refers to "SR75/14" as the size but doesn't quote the width of the tire. It could be 175, it could be 235, it could be any number between 165 and 235. Anything wider wouldn't fit in the wheel wells of a 1964 Buick Skylark. I mean, really, what kind of expert is this anyway? If I was Vinny I would have shot him down immediately but I guess that would eliminate the need for the climactic scene where Vinny's fiancée has to testify. Without that there's no movie. Am I right?

  While we're on the subject, in Ms. Vito's testimony she claimed only the 1963 Corvette and 1963 Pontiac Tempest had independent rear suspension and a limited-slip differential. Having owned a Chevrolet Corvair I can attest that the 1963 and 1964 models also offered the same configuration with a similar track width. Now that you've been educated on early 1960's American car technology we can move on, as it has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this episode, but I'll bet you remember this next time you watch the movie.

  Monday morning we set off from Hershey, Penny armed with various cold medications, and pointed our way south. Our route was originally going to wander through Baltimore so we could catch a look at the ruined Key Bridge but the day was rainy and we didn't think we'd be able to see anything from our proposed vantage point some two miles away. Instead, we followed Google's advice and aimed for the west side of Washington which was okay until we hit I-95 just off the southwest part of the Beltway.

  At that point she (Google) advised us there was a thirty minute delay due to a crash near Quantico and we'd save ten minutes by following a different route. Of course we took that advice and sailed off on the time-saving route. It's important to note, at this point, that I've since determined a flaw in the whole Google giving us routing advice thing. I mean, as much as I'd like to think we're special, Google doesn't agree. She gave the same advice to everyone. WHAT THE HELL?!?!?

  About three minutes into the time-saving route we encountered a lineup of about sixteen thousand other people who received the same advice. Needless to say, I'm pretty sure the time-saving route took about fifteen minutes longer than if we'd just sat in the original line. At least she didn't direct us to drive into a lake. It could have been worse.

  With our driving adventures behind us we arrived at our destination, a beautiful house on the water with two cats who have mental health issues. We've now been here about eighteen hours, as I write this. I have no pictures of the cats yet as I can't get near enough to either of them.

  Maisey is orange and very vocal when she's hungry. She also hisses and runs away if I get within five feet of her. Feeding her didn't ingratiate me with her either. Midnight is black and hides behind the refrigerator in the library. Yes, library. I managed to catch a glimpse of her by throwing treats in the gap between the fridge and freezer. Maybe she'll come out to watch us when we're playing pool. In the library. I'm sure they'll warm up to us... eventually.

  The house itself is bright and open and newly renovated -- chef kitchen, deluxe bathroom with multiple showers and a lot of windows overlooking the water. The view is so nice the owners didn't hang curtains anywhere, not even in the bedroom. It was cloudy and rainy this morning so no problem today but we face east-southeast and a clear sky will put sunrise right in our faces around 6:45 am. Can't wait.

  That's about the only thing we can take issue with here. It's a great spot, although fairly isolated -- the closest decent-sized grocery store is at least fifteen miles away. We do have kayaks, a bbq grill and a hot tub so I'm pretty sure we'll be happy just hanging out here and we're not far from Jamestown, the original European settlement, about an hour away. Let's see... hot tub overlooking the water, kayaking, checking out historically significant sites, decent golf nearby. This one's gonna be tough but I'm sure we'll persevere.

  Since we're so far from supplies I'll have to lay in a decent supply of alcohol so we don't run out. Gotta go. Later.

And Then We Were Home

  When we last talked Penny and I were chillin' in Volos, hanging out on the beach with umbrella drinks being constantly replenished by our faithful bartender, Linus. Ok, maybe I was wishing that was the case because it wasn't terribly warm and no one puts an umbrella in your ouzo but, hell, it would have been nice if we could have been doing that.

  We did end up spending three relaxing days there, ate at some decent restaurants which didn't pile french fries on our plates and wandered the streets checking out all the shops that seemed eternally closed. To be fair, we were there from Saturday afternoon through Tuesday morning and Greece seems to operate from Tuesday to Saturday morning. The rest of the time everyone sits in a coffee shop, of which there appear to be thousands in every town, and drinks... coffee. Or, if they're male, they spend their time arguing with each other at raised volume in a contest where the one who talks loudest and longest wins. Reminds me of home when I was a kid... but I digress.

  I was going somewhere with this and it's this: we were there three days and never touched the car. I'd found a parking spot on the street outside our lodgings and there it stayed until we left. Great. Except for the parking ticket. No idea what was wrong with where I parked. There was a spot painted on the road. There were no diagonal lines drawn through it. It wasn't too close to the corner. Who knows what was wrong but I got a ticket. I assume it was a parking ticket since it was all in Greek and, yeah, I can't read Greek. Well, I know what Greek for "taverna" looks like and I figured out what "emergency" was when we passed a hospital but, after that, I got nothin'. I even tried using Google Translate but the print quality was poor (carbon paper anyone?) and there was a lot of scrawled handwriting on it. I figured Budget could handle it and add it to our bill when we returned the car.

  The morning we left there were cars parked close to both front and rear bumpers but I managed to squeeze out and we headed off to Athens for our Wednesday morning flight. Two hundred kilometers later, while parked at a roadside rest area I noticed there were no number plates on the car. Someone stole them! I mean, they were there when we got into the car, right? They were, right? Well, truth be told, neither of us noticed because there were cars parked close to front and back bumpers. Anyway, we noticed now. What to do? The decision was made that Budget would handle that, too, when we returned the car, which we did the following morning.

  The first thing the rental guy says when he looks at the car is, "Where are the number plates?" I shrug in a Gallic sort of way that says, "Who knows, mon ami?" All I was missing was the beret and a Gitanes on my lip. I hand him, what I assume is, the ticket, asking if this helps. He takes a gander at it, scowls, mutters to himself and says, "The police took them." Ok. I was prepared for marauding number plate thieves who hang out at roadside rest areas looking to filch plates from unsuspecting motorists relieving themselves in the facilities but the police? Really? Apparently, he explained, the Volos PD takes your plates if you don't pay a parking ticket within twenty-four hours of issuance. That's how they make sure you pay. Except us. We didn't pay, now did we? Did anyone notice we had no plates? We drove through a five km detour complete with five sets of police officers directing traffic and none of them stopped us. That's some kind of deterrence they've got going on there.

  Anyway, the Budget folks promised to take care of the whole thing, no charge. I figure they'll get on the phone to the Volos PD and give them an earful for doing this to a tourist's plainly labeled rental car knowing full well they'll have no idea what happened because, wait for it, they can't read Greek. Problem solved and off we went to find a plane to take us home.

  Before we go further, it's important to know a) we were flying home via Frankfurt, Germany and b) there had been a strike by airport staff in Frankfurt the previous day. We were supposed to take off at 1400 and make a ninety minute connection to Canada. Trouble was, the plane we awaited to take us to Frankfurt was an hour late and we didn't arrive until fifteen minutes before the connection. As well, Lufthansa pulled in at gate A42 and Air Canada was leaving from B43. The two gates are approximately seventeen miles apart. I might be exaggerating a smidge. Also, as if the distance wasn't enough, there was a customs stop before we could enter the "B" concourse. Only two agents were on duty and both were in heated exchanges with people, one of whom was trying to get into Germany with a passport that expired in 2019! Where do they find these people? It took almost twenty minutes before we cleared customs and arrived at a deserted gate B43, out of both breath and patience.

  We wandered around for another thirty minutes before we found the Lufthansa Transfer Desk and they arranged for us to fly the next day on Icelandair via Reykjavik, providing vouchers for a room and meals. It's worth noting the dinner voucher was for the buffet. That sounded promising. I was starving and "buffet" is a French word that translates to "eat until you puke". We took the shuttle bus to the hotel, dropped our non-existent bags in the room, and headed off to stuff our faces.

  The buffet was, in a word, disappointing. Mysterious foods that smelled like cheese. Quasi-Asian things that were soggy and bland. There was a sign on the coffee machine that told us not to touch it. It's for breakfast only. We ate what we could without gagging and headed off to our three twin bed-equipped room to sleep off a wonderful day.

  This would be a good time to revisit a comment I made when we were back in Cyprus, when I was looking for a T-shirt or sweatshirt of socks that showed I'd been in the country. I believe I said I'd been to fourteen countries. Well, Penny and I had a discussion about that because I said the number was actually higher when you include the countries where I've changed planes. My argument was, if I touch the ground, I'm in the country. Think Pope John Paul II climbing down the airstairs and kissing the tarmac.

  Like that. If you include those countries the number is actually twenty. Add Germany makes twenty-one. No arguing. We were in a hotel in Frankfurt outside the airport property. It absolutely counts!

  Thursday saw a much better buffet for breakfast, including the aforementioned coffee machine, an uneventful flight to Iceland and a quick change to the homecoming leg, except we had to take a bus to the plane and I'm pretty sure the driver didn't know where they parked it. He wandered around the tarmac, driving us, literally, around the entire airport until arriving at our poor, lonely plane in the back forty. It was a bit like parking at the shopping mall and wondering where you left the car when you come out. It was a 737 Max 8 and I think they were keeping it away from the other planes so they didn't catch whatever it had.

  Interesting tidbit. In Iceland they don't let you skateboard aboard the bus:

  I thought maybe they were concerned about kids hitching a ride off the rear bumper a la Marty McFly except we were at the airport! I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone skateboarding at the airport. Well, once they've seen that sign I'm sure no one will try it now. Anyway, the flight home was as uneventful as the first leg of the trip and, bonus, we crossed Greenland under a cloudless sky.

  We arrived home to a find all the kids with one kind of sickness or another, happy to see them all just the same.

  This was our first overseas house sit. It was interesting and exotic and fun, mostly. We went to places where no one goes, saw things no one sees and did things no one does. When we're old and gray we'll tell our grandchildren about the time we tried to break into the UK radar base atop Mount Olympus and caused a general alarm attracting all the UN peacekeepers within fifty kilometers. Ok. We told our grandchildren that when we got home and none of them believed it. None of you believed it either but I'll bet it made you snicker, just a bit.

  We've now been home a few days and our next trip is just around the corner. We'll be motoring down to coastal Virginia, a place called Hardyville (look it up). The house is right on the water and they have a dock and kayaks so this promises to be one of our better house sits. There's a decent golf course fifteen minutes away and some passable restaurants within a short drive. It's not close enough to Washington to spend any time there but we're scheduled to do another house sit in Baltimore for a week after this sit so we can do that in May.

  When we return home after Baltimore it will have been almost a year since we started this adventure. We'll stay home for the summer before heading to points unknown in October but I'm planning on writing a "best of" episode covering all the fun times and interesting things we saw and did during our first year on the road.

  Until then I'll keep posting our experiences for all you faithful readers.

Some Thoughts on Greece

   We're winding down here in Greece. We saw all the things we wanted to see and now we're hanging out in Volos, just chillin'.

  We're here until Tuesday, then we make our way back to Athens before catching our flight back to Canada Wednesday, presuming the airport workers in Frankfurt aren't carrying out their threatened strike action.

  On our way here we stopped at Delphi and caught up with the Oracle and Apollo. Here's the ruin of the Temple of Apollo:

  It seems the whole "Oracle of Delphi" thing is very much like the American evangelistic thing, only ancient. The Oracle, Pythia, would hang out at the Temple near a vent that emitted a gas of some sort that would put her in a trance. People would come to her to gain guidance on the difficult decisions in their lives and she would "channel" Apollo and provide advice. For that service they would pay her tribute in the form of money, statues, jewellery, etc.

  The thing is, while she was in this trance she would speak "in tongues" which could only be understood by the people who attended her. I think I've heard this one before. They would interpret her answers in language the petitioner could understand. Sure. Think of her as the ancient Magic 8-Ball. "Oh great priestess. Should I marry my sister?" Mumbo jumbo results, which is interpreted as, "Go for it, it worked for Zeus." This might be connected to the downfall of Greece, but that's only my opinion. Also, Apollo, god of music was also known as god of ambiguity. Go figure.

  It's also worth noting Delphi was the centre of the world. How do we know? Well, it seems Zeus released two eagles, one to the east and one to the west. Where they met he threw down an egg-shaped rock called the omphalos which denoted that spot.

  That Zeus. When he wasn't marrying his sister or posing for wonder of the ancient world-type statues he was, like, Mr. Google Maps. "Hey Zeus. Show me nearby Chinese restaurants." I'll bet his directions wouldn't make you drive into a lake or the wrong way down a one-way street. I mean, he's a god!

  Speaking of driving, before we came to Greece I read many articles which warned against driving here. The drivers are aggressive, the streets are narrow, no one pays attention to speed limits, etc. Similarly, when we arrived in Cyprus, Penny (the homeowner) warned us about the "crazy Cypriot drivers". I must have driven over two thousand kilometers in these two countries over the past five weeks and I've not seen anything to dissuade me from driving here. Obviously, anyone who complains about driving in this part of the world hasn't driven in Toronto during rush hour. Piece of cake, this.

  There was one instance where it wasn't, and it was entirely my fault. You see, back when we were going to Poseidon's Temple the road switched sides as we entered the parking loop. What that means is, we're driving on the right side and suddenly have to switch to the left to enter the loop that goes clockwise around the site.

  When you come out, the road empties into, what was, the right side of the incoming road. No sign to tell you to switch back over to the other lane. Being the day after we left Cyprus, I was still in "driving on the left" mode so thought nothing of continuing that... until another car decided to use my lane in the opposite direction. Well, no one got hurt but the look on the other guy's face was priceless. I'll bet he didn't make the same mistake when he came out later. Would it have been too hard to make the parking loop counter-clockwise? Sigh.

  Meanwhile, with Delphi done we headed up Mount Parnassus, eight thousand feet above sea level, as the road doesn't go around it but over it. No guard rails either. Penny was not thrilled. It was quite a view.

  From there we headed to Kalambaka, which is the jumping off point for Meteora, and a night at the Arsenis Guesthouse. I mention this not because this is a wonderful place to stay. Rather, it was a unique experience, and I'm not referring to the three inch thick mattress. Our host, Costa, was lonely. He runs the place with his wife and his parents live there too. This time of year the place is deserted and those are the only people he sees so, fresh meat. I'm sure he repeated at least four times his family history and how the Internet ruined his business and that Lonely Planet writer didn't help either and the Germans and Dutch and Belgians are the best people and those damn Greek Mafia don't tell Americans to come to his place because of that damn AirBnB and... you get the picture. It was tiring. And the food was crap. Don't go there. I'm sure he'll add that damn Canadian to his list after this.

  We escaped the guesthouse the next morning and took off for the monasteries perched atop the rock formations of Meteora.

  To say these aren't prime building lots is understating things just a bit. Great view but they ignored rule number one... location, location, location. I mean, these places will never sell.

  There were originally twenty-four monasteries built here between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries. Only six are still operating and all allow visitors. We decided to visit two, Varlaam and Holy Trinity. Varlaam was the more interesting with access to many of the buildings as well as a museum which contained a library of scripts more than five hundred years old.

  Holy Trinity, although much less interesting did have one major thing going for it. The climactic scene in the James Bond movie, For Your Eyes Only, has our hero scaling the cliffs in pursuit of the villain. Of course we had to go up there!

  This is why I go to the gym 😂. These bridges, paths and stairs were only recently constructed in the past century. Before that the only way to get up to the monasteries was to be hauled up in a net, pulled by a rope.

  I'll take the stairs, thanks.

  That was it for our quest for all things historic. We originally planned to go to Vergina to see the ruins of Phillip II's palace, where his son, Alexander (not yet The Great) was crowned but we're all historied out. No more ruins, please. We've had five days of intense ancient history and we're ready to zone out with umbrella drinks, thus we're in Volos now.

  It's a nice town with decent restaurants. We had a great dinner last night with no french fries in sight, unlike literally every other meal we've had. We're looking for more of the same the next two days and maybe we'll get the chance to soak up some rays.

  Greece has been great and we agree we'd come back. We've not been to any islands and I feel we've had a non-typical Grecian experience. We've ignored the beach and party scene which the islands are known for, since it's not warm enough, and absorbed a ton of fascinating ancient history. We've seen some beautiful scenery, stayed in a few places we'd happily revisit and generally enjoyed the tour.

  We visited Athens and saw all the things. Since it's the off-season it was cheap and uncrowded. We toured the mainland and saw all the things. The car rental, for nine days, was only $110 CAD, about $9/day. We have a tiny car but it fits two of us and our luggage, gets great gas mileage and has no trouble fitting into narrow spots any other car could only do without its mirrors and paint.

  We stayed in some wonderful inns and hotels and none of them cost us more than $80 CAD. Restaurant meals are close to Canadian prices but they include all the fries you can eat. All in all, it was an inexpensive trip and very enjoyable.

  Wednesday we're back home for two and a half weeks before we head off to Virginia for our next house sit. Stay tuned for more thrills and spills.

Greece Tour - Days 1-4

  Hey gang. First, I did end up getting a t-shirt. In Greece. Box checked. That takes care of unfinished business. Now, on to current affairs.

  Penny and George, our homeowners in Cyprus, arrived home on schedule so we could get out of town on Monday. They dropped us at the Paphos airport so we could pick up a rental car to drive to Larnaca, where our return flight to Athens awaited us. Except, not so fast. When I showed up at the Sixt Rental Car desk and presented my license and credit card, as I have probably done a hundred times around the world, I was told I didn't qualify to rent one of their shiny cars. "Why?", you might ask, as did I. Did they uncover some previous traffic infraction? Had I been convicted of drunk driving in absentia? Was I a sleepwalking axe murderer? As it turns out, none of the above.

  When I asked for an explanation I was told I hadn't been driving long enough to satisfy their insurance company. Really. Let's see. I got my license in 1974. That makes fifty years of driving. Not enough? Strange. You see, the problem was that I had renewed my license in 2023 and Ontario driving licenses don't show how long you've been licensed. As far as the nice lady was concerned, I'd only been driving for one year. She asked if I had the old license. Sure. I always carry all my expired licenses as well as health cards, old license plates from every car I've owned as well as all my bank statements since I was twelve. She couldn't let me rent a car without proof I'd been driving at least three years.

  "But wait!", I said, "Your Larnaca airport desk rented me the car I used to get to Paphos a month ago." I showed her the emailed contract. I politely asked her to call her manager to straighten this out. She did as requested and, after a lot of "Yes" and "Uh huh" and "of course" she hung up and said, "No". I was flabbergasted. I explained I'd rented from Sixt in Larnaca and Johannesberg and Cape Town and Mauritius. All those other people said I was a qualified driver. "No." I asked her to call the Larnaca airport Sixt manager and she said the person she just spoke to was the very same. "Why did they rent to me a month ago?", I said, getting very irritated. "Please sir, there's no reason to get agitated", was the response. "So", I said, "you're prepared to let me walk away and rent from someone else?" Like a good rental car Nazi she responded, "I'm just following orders". Idiot. The guys next door were happy to rent me a car.

  Tucked away in our non-Sixt rental car we headed down the motorway to Larnaca, stopping briefly in Limassol to check out this building we saw from the highway. It looked more spectacular from there but, since we drove all the way down there to get this picture, it's going in the damn blog!

  We eventually got to Larnaca and, after a forty-five minute delay, found ourselves winging our way to Athens for new adventures. "Now", you might ask, "did you get a rental car in Athens?" Damn right I did. I even decided to risk having another rental clerk discover I had no evidence of the other forty-nine years driving experience, asking if it was a rule at Budget. He looked at me like I had two heads. "Sir", he said, rather uncomfortably, "you look like you've been driving much longer than three years." I'm not sure if it was a compliment or an insult but I smiled and thanked him for his common sense. I didn't care if he thought I was ancient. He was giving me a car! And so our Greek adventure began.

  We spent the night at a wonderful little place at Cape Suniou, which is the southernmost tip of the Attica peninsula where Athens is located. It is not what Phil Collins was wailing about in  that horrid song from the 90's. The hotel posted this tidbit in the dining room:

  That Alexander The Great was great! Cape Sounio is where the ancients built the Temple of Poseidon and it wasn't hard to find. After driving for ten minutes there, on top of a hill overlooking the Mediterranean, was the Temple.

  Now, after a month in Cyprus looking at ruins upon ruins, this was a sight for sore eyes: intact pillars, roof beams, foundations... and marble! It was like they built it to last, unlike those pikers chasing after Aphrodite, the slut, in Cyprus. Aphrodite was here. Aphrodite was there. She was everywhere, with any guy who'd have her. Poseidon, on the other hand, got a temple on a hill projecting power out into the Med. With marble. What a guy.

  This place was like a cool drink of water after days in the desert. We drank it up, climbing all over the hill to see everything it offered. We noticed how the pillar construction was different than those we saw at the Acropolis in Athens. The sections were smaller and the flutes carved into them were a bit cruder - obviously older than what we saw in the big city. Maybe, being located in a more remote location they had less skilled craftsmen or less labour. Or maybe this was a precursor to the Athenian temples. Since we're not archaeologists we'll have to speculate... or ask the Google. Some other time. It was impressive nonetheless.

  While wandering around the site I found this inscription on a foundation stone:

  I ran the image through Google Translate and it came back with "Mortanist". No idea. If there's any ancient Greek scholars out there I'd love to know what that means.

  After a couple of hours we'd seen all there was to see so we headed off to the Peloponnese. This is the peninsula where the Myceneans lived three millennia ago when Homer wrote about them in the Iliad and the Odyssey. This is where the Spartans came from. This is where the first Olympics happened. Now this is history. This is Poseidon.

Penny took a picture of his butt but he's a god so I won't humiliate him by publishing it here.

  Our first stop was the Corinth Canal. For two thousand years, going back to Alexander The Great, Greeks tried to dig a canal linking the Saronic Gulf on the Med with the Gulf of Corinth and the Ionian Sea, cutting three hundred miles off the trip. It wasn't until the late nineteenth century, after the success of the Suez Canal, that the technology existed to actually complete the project, thus turning the Peloponnese from a peninsula into an island. Anyway, the canal itself is not particularly interesting, as canals go, but it does have a submersible bridge at each end. Yes, you heard me. Submersible. When ships are in the canal the bridges are lowered to the bottom, approximately eleven metres below the surface, and are raised after they pass. Sometimes they catch fish on the way back up so the bridge operators get free dinner. Cool.

  We stopped for lunch at a taverna overlooking one of the bridges, hoping to see it go into action as something on the order of eleven thousand ships a year use the canal. After an hour, nothing. Time for the Google, only to find out that the canal was undergoing repair work and would not re-open until the end of February. It's March, but only barely, so we cut them some slack, finished our lunch and headed off for Napflio, where we would spend the night. Along the way Penny spotted this, in a junkyard filled with old Volkswagens.

  Maybe it was for sale, I don't know. "Used only once. Great for carrying all the little Trojans. Low mileage." Although "Trojans" has a different meaning now, I guess.

  Now, we had no idea what to expect regarding Napflio. We knew it was situated on the Argolic Gulf so there would be a waterfront, but that was it. What a pleasant surprise this place was. A vibrant town centre teeming with shops, restaurants, a square with open air cafes, museums, ruins, castles. It had it all. Win. We stayed in a very classic bed and breakfast in the old town, inaccessible by car, although I tried. I ran out of navigable road about a hundred feet from the entrance and ended up reversing three blocks to get out of there as the alley was only slightly wider than our car. I did get my workout though, hauling baggage up the million steps to the hotel. Who needs the gym when you've got a million steps and luggage? We settled in then headed out for a bite at a waterfront cafe at sunset.

  That island out in the gulf is another Frankish fort. We've covered this before so no "frank" jokes, please. Also, it's not on fire. That's a reflection of the heater beside our table. Just so you know.

  The next morning after a wonderful breakfast we headed out to Mycenae to check out the place where Agamemnon, Perseus and the guys hung out back in the day. Again, impressive.

  

  The large blocks of the Lion gate make up what is known as the Cyclopean Wall. The legend claims the Cyclops helped build the wall (yo, read Homer). I think it's yet another example of extra-terrestrials dropping in and giving us a helping hand. Draw your own conclusions. The scale of the place was impressive with a terrific defensive position established on a hilltop with views all the way to the sea.

  With Mycenae behind us we returned to Napflio to check out the top of the town's mountain and the local castle ruins.

  And then it was off for points west and north as we completed our circumnavigation of the Peloponnese. We headed down to Kalamata for lunch but didn't get any olives. We did see lots of olive trees though:

  We also encountered the first in a series of comical faces on town streets around Greece. More on this later.

  We ended up in another of a series of tavernas catering to tourists. This time it was burgers. Kalamata itself didn't seem to be anything to write home about, so I won't. We continued to the west coast and stayed in a rundown beach community where we scared up a club sandwich for dinner. Sigh.

  That brings us to today. An hour from the down at the heels beach club lay the ruins of ancient Olympia. What an unbelievable cache of cultural history all assembled within a few acres. In this space the Greeks launched the first Olympics. They built temples to Zeus and Hera. They enshrined the principles of fair play. It attracted all the biggest names of the time, Phillip II (Alexander's father), Ptolemy II of Egypt, Nero of fiddling fame. It was like a giant Grauman's Chinese Theater. You know. Where all the Hollywood stars stick their hands in wet cement. Well, maybe it was better than that, but you get the picture. It attracted a veritable who's who of the ancient world.

  We started at the gymnasium where the athletes practiced before competitions.

  Try to imagine it with walls and a roof. It's about a hundred metres long with columns down both sides. There. Now you've got it. From there we explored the temple where the priests conducted sacrifices before the games.

  Beside this building was the studio where Phidias sculpted the giant statue of Zeus that would stand in the temple bearing his name. Note the construction of the walls of his studio:

  Quite stylish for 435 BC! Anyway, we sauntered over to the Temple of Zeus to see where the statue sat.

  Yes. Right there in the middle. Well, if it still existed that's where it would be. The same statue of Zeus that's one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The only wonder still in existence is the Great Pyramid of Giza but we were right next to where Zeus' statue sat... if it still existed.

  Oh, almost forgot. Lego.

  Then we wandered over to the Stadium. In front of it was a pillar atop which sat the original Winged Victory statue.

  The athletes entered through this arch.

  Forty-five thousand spectators would side on the grassy hillsides surrounding the running track to watch the events.

  Before the games began all the athletes and judges swore an oath of honesty and fair play, promising to give their greatest effort in the name of sportsmanship. It was very similar to the oath modern Olympians swear today. If any of the competitors was caught cheating they were fined, with the money going towards a small statue of Zeus. Underneath each of these statues was the cheater's name and a description of his dastardly deeds.

  There are sixteen of these "Zones" (plural of "Zeus") but only the bases remain. From there it was on to the Temple of Hera. You might recognize it since this is where they light the Olympic Flame which has then been carried by hand to every modern Olympics site since 1936.

  Fun fact. When I said "carried by hand" I wasn't exaggerating. A relay is run from Olympia to each Olympic site. When they have to cross an ocean the flame is kept in a secure lamp on board the airplane so that it is never extinguished during its journey. They'll be doing it again April 16 for the Paris Summer Olympics.

  Finally, we stopped at the Phillippeion, a structure dedicated to Phillip II, Alexander The Great's father.

  It was a round, pillared structure which contained statues of Phillip, Alexander, and the rest of Phillip's family. It's the only structure at Olympia dedicated to humans.

  With that we were done. So much history and culture wrapped up in one small place. It seemed like all our modern society's mores and principles were defined in this place over three thousand years ago. It was both exciting and humbling and an experience we'll always carry with us.

  Now then, back to the big face in Kalamata. The Greeks are very religious and Easter is the most special of holidays. Carnival starts ten weeks before Easter and lasts until Clean Monday, the first day of Lent. Eleven days before the end the country shuts down for Meat Thursday. All the tavernas bring their grills out to the street and cook meat all day. The smell of barbecued pork is everywhere and people dress up similarly to Mardi Gras. Big carnival statues pop up on street corners everywhere.

  It's quite a show and we saw it first hand in the town of Patras as we were looking for lunch. An unsatisfying lunch, again, but the town was certainly having a good time.

  The rest of our day was spent driving to Delphi where we'll be checking out where the Oracle of Delphi hung out twenty-five hundred years ago. To get there we first had to cross the Gulf of Corinth from Patras using this sparkling new bridge.

  And a great bridge it was. It had a great toll too, which might explain why we were the only people using it. After we crossed we had to pay fifteen Euros. Highway robbery. Well. Bridge robbery. Anyway, it was faster than driving around the Gulf for eight hours.

  With that out of the way we wound our way up the mountains. Really. Here's what my Google Maps screen looked like:

  We finally arrived at Delphi where we're staying in a wonderful inn on a mountainside, overlooking the Gulf and surrounding hills.

  Oh. And we had a terrific dinner which didn't include chips and salad, pizza, burgers, club sandwiches or any other such crap. We had farm to table classic Greek food and it was worth the drive.

  Wow. That was a lot to cover. I would have published last night but the crappy joint we stayed in had spotty Internet so I couldn't connect long enough to do anything. Apologies for the long read but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we did doing it.