8 Mile to Syntagma Square

SEPTEMBER 26, 2012

"Police spokesman Panagiotis Papapetropoulos told CNN that some protesters had thrown Molotov cocktails in Syntagma Square, opposite the Greek parliament building in central Athens. Police responded with tear gas.  Live footage from the square as the trouble briefly flared showed smoke rising from burning tires, as police in riot gear faced hooded protesters lobbing petrol bombs." from CNN.com

As it turns out, I made the right call leaving Athens.  I was in Syntagma Square less than 24 hours before it got ugly.

Up north in Thessaloniki where I spent the night, there were still protests, although much more peaceful.  The protests were not lead by idealistic students, the radical <pick one: right/left>, or religious extremists.  They were lead by lawyers, public school teachers and hospital workers, including doctors fed up by the current state of politics and the (relatively) new tax structure.

Two days later at a Hostel in Skopje I would be recounting my story of leaving Athens in the nick of time.  Two other travelers there actually thought I made the wrong decision.  One was an Aussie photographer with an interest in disaster photography.  The other spoke calmly when he gave detailed instructions on how I could have blocked the effects of the tear gas’s crystalline structure by covering my mouth with a wet bandanna and keeping my eyes clear with either water or enclosed glasses, like swim goggles, both of which I carry with me.

Another Aussie asked the guy the question we were all wondering, “Where the fuck are you from that you know so much about surviving a tear gas attack?”

In a word, he answered, “Detroit.”

Time to Go Solo

SEPTEMBER 24, 2012

"All right. Then get me an avocado, an ice pick and my snorkel.
Trust me, bro. I've made (more) with less." 

- from the movie Half Baked

After one final open water swim in the Aegean Sea, it was time to drop my parents off at the Athens airport and say farewell.  With a flight out of Slovenia four weeks from today, I knew I had options.  I just had no idea what they were.  The original plan was to bunker down in Athens for a night or two and do the planning that should have been done weeks ago.  However, with the call for a transit strike and various protests to occur in Athens tomorrow I knew it was time to GTFO and get as close to the Macedonian border as I could.  Trains directly to Macedonia were shut down and the internets told me nothing about bus service. It looked as if I needed to go to Sofia, Bulgaria tomorrow and then double back.  Not ideal, but I could make it work.  After all, I had a tooth brush, a pocket full of cash, an American Passport, and good running shoes.  Trust me man, I’ve done more with less.

Delphi, Greece

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SEPTEMBER 23, 2012

If the almost complete omission of any pictures or references to historical facts, museums, and archeological sites has not made it obvious already, I am not the biggest intellect when it comes to my travel.  I can appreciate those things, yet when it comes right down to it, I’d rather go play in the mountains than a museum.  One big exception to this was time spent in Delphi. 

Delphi was a last minute add on to the trip.  My only knowledge of Delphi was the mythology of the oracle who, upon hanging over a crevasse and inhaling magic vapors, could predict the future.  That and the scene from the movie 300 that bordered on pediporn.  I had no idea there was an entire ancient settlement there dedicated to the god Apollo, built with the spoils of victory of the Battle of Marathon.

It’s impossible for me to even wrap my brain around the magnitude of a project this was to complete in more than 1000 BC without the aide of long haul trucks to transport materials and the heavy machinery to put it in it’s right place. 

One of the most impressive structures was the old stadium.  As my dad and I sat there reading the story of the stadium and the events held there, someone behind us made the comment that nowadays we build stadiums that last 50 years.  This one had been stading for over 2,000 years and was in good shape.

My Grandparents' Old Villages, Gavros, Greece

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SEPTEMBER 20, 2012

“You want to find an abandoned village in the mountains?  You’ll never do it.  I was up there with my family once and we got so lost we thought we would never make it out.”  - Skeptical Greek guy next to me on the plane ride to Athens

Up to this point in the trip there had easily been five to ten missed connections, wrong turns, or general navigation screw-ups each day.  Today, we were headed out to the villages my grandparents left in the early 1900's.  Until speaking with the locals at our hotel, our directions consisted of a couple hand written notes my mom took when speaking with one of the last living relatives from that generation who by chance was passing through Michigan about a month before our departure.  

Not only did we find the villages today.  We found them without a single wrong turn, U-turn, or nav error.  It’s like we were guided.

I have a pile of video footage I’ll put together at some point.  It showcases the both villages.  For now, here are some nuggets. 

My grandmother’s village of Gabresh, present day Gavros, was still operational as late as the 1950’s based on some stamped concrete we found.  Currently, it is a ghost town.  The only thing still operational is the church, pictured in the back of this shot.

This destination being the main focus of the trip, and one that would likely never be repeated in my or my parent’s lifetime, I really didn’t know what to expect.  Sure, it was a big deal.  A really big deal.  That I knew.  I just wasn’t sure of what it would be like emotionally if we actually found it. And there we were. We found it.

I wasn’t really prepared for the state of ruin the village was in.  After visiting various historical sites that had stood for centuries, I thought the villages would have survived as well.  Of course, the major cities of civilizations past had been built by entire slave colonies using granite and marble.  Gavros was build by a few of the people who lived in it 120 (200?) years ago out of homemade bricks, filled with stones and hay. 

As usual, the best findings were those slightly off the beaten path.  I discovered a couple fruit and nut trees. 

I was later told that these were plum and apricot trees and what plums and apricots are supposed to look and taste like in the absence of genetic modifications and chemicals.  I couldn’t help but wondering if it was possible that these are the same trees my grandmother spoke about.  She left home at age 12 in 1920.  Is it possible that these trees live and bare fruit for that long?  I don’t know what science says, but I’d like to believe so.

   

We were told by a relative that my grandmothers house was the first house.  We never asked, “Right or left?”  If it is the one on the right, what is left is merely a shell.

 

If it was the first on the left, it is still standing.  Sort of.

My grandfather’s village of Kranionas is also in an abandoned state of collapse. 

Although, some of the buildings were in a bit better shape and being used by some folks to store hay.

Other open spaces were still being farmed.

The villages of my grandparents are only about five kilometers apart, maybe less.  This is only odd when you consider that they did not meet until after they individually crossed the ocean by boat, landed in Canada, and immigrated (illegally) to Detroit.  When I think about the general discomfort or the complexity of the logistics of my trip, I can’t imagine what they went through.  A night without Wi-Fi and I’m lost. 

Both villages were located in the mountains.  Everyone in the family likes to quote my grandmother describing her youth, “…in the mountains with the bears and snakes,” which was at least partly validated by this warning sign a couple kilometers down the road on the fancy new Greek highway.

I’d have to give the nod to my grandfather’s village in terms of beauty.  The views were pretty spectacular.

 

Kastoria, Greece

SEPTEMBER 19, 2012

The town of Kastoria lies in northwest Greece and would be the launching point for our journey to locate the tiny abandoned villages my grandparents were raised in. 

Kastoria is a really a neat town.  Geographically it has all the requisite characteristics I seek out – foothills of the mountains, surrounding a lake, warm days, cool nights, long growing season. 

Our accommodations that night are likely never to be outdone.  Hotel Chloi is owned by the widow of the architect who designed it.  Needless to say it was beautiful.  The service was also what you would expect from a family run business and despite being a huge hotel they treated every guest like they were running a small B & B.  Each morning they brought me a huge plate of fruit, knowing that I didn’t eat the dozen other things offered in the buffet.  How sweet is that?

Although little time was spent in Katoria proper, I really enjoyed it and saw a mix of old world rural living and those making it happen in the modern part of the small city/big town.

That night, my mom really enjoyed her chance to speak with the owner about life in the area.  And – this is big – they actually knew how to direct us to the old villages that my grandparents grew up in. 

Road Trip Begins Athens to Marathon to Meteora

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SEPTEMBER 18, 2012

If two days in Athens is about 1½ days too long, then 2 days on the island of Santorini is about 1½ weeks too short.  There were all sorts of beaches and churches that were worth more time, but we had to catch a flight out.

Is this the Delta house?

Back in Athens we rented a car and headed north.  As an endurance sport coach I made the requisite drive on the original marathon course with a quick pit stop at the marathon museum.  As the story goes, Greece won the battle of Marathon and sent Pheidippides running back the 26.2 miles to tell the Athenians.  Upon arrival in Athens, he shared the news of victory and promptly died, thus executing the best pacing strategy in the history of endurance sports.  I only wish he left behind a Garmin file for the rest of us coaches to analyze.  But I digress.

Meteora

To understand the amount of stress required to get out of Athens and land in Lamia that night, you’d really have to be there.  To paint a picture, there were times near the city I would compare the road and traffic to the Jersey Turnpike, if said turnpike had no painted lines or speed limits (actually, there was a speed limit and people routinely doubled the max speed).  Other times it was like driving Hwy 1 through Marin, if Hwy 1 also had no painted lines, speed limits or guardrails. 

At one point between Lamia and Kastoria we had to make the call whether or not to turn back and reroute or drive through a flock of sheep.  Fortunately, the herder saw us coming and commanded the dogs to drive the flock out of the way.  It was pretty fascinating to watch.

Beach Walk in Santorini, Greece II

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SEPTEMBER 17, 2012

What?  You want more cat photos? Okay.

Travel guidebooks are good.  Talking to other travelers is great.  Advice from locals is king.  And the local sitting next to me on the plane said that Santorini had the best sunrises in the world.  (He had no comment on the vegetables.)

The following morning in Santorini I woke up early and had a quick bit of food with the locals before wandering down to the beach.  All of Greece is overrun with stray dogs and cats.  And unlike other countries, including the U.S., they are really friendly. 

It was too overcast to catch a good sunrise.  

Instead of crawling back in to bed, I walked the shoreline heading away from town.  At first glance from the road there appeared to be only 100 meters of walkable beach without much to see.  

Still, the eroded sandstone (note: I have no idea if this is sandstone, it just makes sense at first glace) cliffs lining the shore caught my eye.

A kilometer later a reentrant caught my eye and I hand to explore.  It was a bit unnerving going in there.  Every two meters there was a blind turn and I had no idea what waited around the next corner.  It turned out that the only thing wait was more corners and more intriguing rock structures.

 

Another two kilometers down was old decommissioned structure.  Near that structure was an old rusty bike who had clearly lost the battle against time and saltwater.

Were the skies clear and the sunrise in fact the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, I may have got my picture and retreated to breakfast without exploring the beach.  This is always the way travel has worked for me.  The best views, the best food and the best conversations are always found down the road from the popular spots and usually require a bit sweat or social discomfort to find.  No story worth telling has ever began with the line, “So I’m at the bar at the Marriot and…..” 

More cats as promised. You're welcome.

Arrival on Santorini, Greece

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SEPTEMBER 16, 2012

Several years ago I found myself living in Florida.  My best friend down there was a guy named Alfredo who’s job is to conduct international business for a large company that regularly flew him all over the world.  In the course of business he has had the chance to eat his way around the globe. 

Just a couple switchbacks

One day in Florida Alfredo was recapping a recent trip to Europe and was so excited to tell me that the best salad he ever had was on the Greek island of Santorini and insisted that I must go there to eat the freshest vegetables in the free world. 

Olives by the 5 gallon bucket

To understand how ridiculous that suggestion was at that time, you would have to understand a bit about my situation.  I wasn’t broke.  I was beyond broke.  After leaving my financial planning practice in Detroit, I rolled the dice and lost pretty big on a start up project in Ft. Lauderdale.  The rent on my ghettofab 220 sq ft (there's no digit missing there - 220 square ft) apartment in the Hollyhood District of Hollywood, Florida was more than the mortgage on my home in Michigan which lay vacant.  Salad al fresco in Santorini?  How about beans and rice on the floor of my funitureless studio.

That was 2006.  Today my parents and I arrived in Santorini on my dime.  And I crushed that salad.  

Jetlag in Athens, Greece

SEPTEMBER 14, 2012

There are some good ways to see Athens, Greece and there are some bad ways.  This was one of the bad ways.

The government building at Syntagma Square

A day earlier, my parents and I packed it up and headed to the airport for what would be their first international flight since my dad returned from the Vietnam War.  We were to fly to Athens, then rent car to head north near the border of Macedonia (F.Y.R.O.M.) in an attempt to find the villages my grandparents were born in.

Arriving in Athens, my mom and I had basically not slept since we woke up in Michigan 20 hours ago.  It was 10:00 a.m. local time.  Long day ahead.

By the time we were through Customs and ventured to the hotel it was 13:00.  Logic would have rationalized a nap.  But who can nap with this kind of nervous energy.  Instead, we ventured out like Yankee zombies and headed to the Acropolis, the token landmark of Athens.

Three things struck me immediately on the taxi ride to the hotel.  The trash is everywhere, everyone is smoking, and there is an incredible amount of graffiti.  Not just run of the mill “J Dogg was here” type graffiti we have in the states.  Rather, there was a huge amount of political statements mixed with some genuinely cool street art.  And it was everywhere on every building, every home, and every monument.

The Acropolis is, of course, known as the famous location of the 1987 Yanni Concert.  I think there were also some famous other Greek events before that.  I’m just to damn jetlagged and smelly to focus on that right now.  

Leaving St. Paul, Minnesota

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SEPTEMBER 8, 2012

"Now it's two-thousand-and-
And I'm still kicking like old habits
Still sticking with no address or mattress."

- Black Rose by Cecil Otter

Leaving is hard.  I have done it before.  I will likely do it again, though I hope not to.  Today, I departed from Minneapolis.  Not sure I can call it “home,” per se, though it is certainly where I have lived for the last five years.  To say it was a bit of a struggle fails to properly describe the loss of sleep and years I aged during my time in town.  I started a (couple) business(es) and worked half a dozen contract jobs (CFP, tri coach, cycling instructor, yoga teacher, personal trainer and moonlight software developer), watched Cyndi fight cancer, suffered from two B & Es plus two unrelated thefts plus two vehicle fires/malfunctions resulting in about $25k in property and casualty loses, and had to bounce around from one short-term housing situation to another because of shady landlords, ghosts (seriously, I’ll tell you about it sometime), and a departure date that was put on hold twice to support Cyndi in her battle.  In my last two years in Minneapolis I had five addresses and didn’t own a mattress.  In short, it kinda sucked.

Cyndi and I pulled out of town toward Madison, WI to support some of my clients and our friends at Ironman Wisconsin.  I would press on alone to Detroit to connect with my parents before heading for Europe.  As Cyndi and I crossed the border to Wisconsin we saw this:

As time wears away the rough edges of the last couple years, this is all I want to remember – the rainbows, the blue skies and the fluffy puppies.

Character Zero in Denver, Colorado

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SEPTEMBER 2, 2012

“I was told a month a go,

to bide me time and take it slow.

Now I was told just yesterday,

to rush and never waste a day.”

Character Zero by Phish

A month ago, maybe less, my friend Cerv texts me from Michigan with all the casualness of a neighbor in need of  a cup of sugar and asks if I’m going to the tour ending Phish shows in Denver.  It was the two nights following what would be the real date of escape from my day job.  I didn’t have a flight yet.  Or a ticket to the show.  I needed to pack my life up for a big move out of Minneapolis.  I couldn’t.

So I book last minute airfare and head out to Denver.

Mountains are no strange sight to my eyes.  Yet they sever cease to leave me in a bit of wonder every time I see them.  Scott and I got out into the Rockies a bit to play west of Denver before heading to Ned for lunch before heading back into town for night two of music. 

 

There were two things I was hoping would happen that night.  The first was that Cerv would find a couple PBR silos in the lot and enjoy them.  After a lengthy discussion earlier that day about the culture surrounding PBR and why all the hipster kids in the lot preferred PBR to other inexpensive crappy beers, I was sure one sip and he’d “get it”.   He didn’t.

$3 silo of PBR + $1 Garlic Grilled Cheese.  A lot classic.

The second thing I was hoping for was to hear the Phish song Character Zero.  Now, if Cerv liking PBR was a long shot, hearing this song was a complete impossibility since he said they played it on Friday the night before I came.  Then, at set break tonight with no prompting from me, he said that he was mistaken and they really played a different fav of mine (Chalk Dust Torture if you must know).  This was an odd mistake by Cerv who is normally a Rain Man-like source of encyclopedic jam band knowledge.  So you’re saying there’s a chance!

Not sure why I like Character Zero so much.  It’s catchy, no doubt.  And despite having about 25 hours of Phish in my catalog I somehow don’t have that song.  Perhaps more important, the lyrics, quoted in part at the top of this post, had always struck a chord with me.  In short, part of me knows I should slow down, take it slow, and enjoy the moment.  The other part of me constantly tries to cram as much into life as possible.  It is a constant battle.  But that’s too is a whole different story.

Then it happened.  You know how it works.  Band shreds a rousing version of a popular song.  Walks off stage.  Crowd goes nuts.  Band returns for tour-ending encore.  Crowd goes more nuts.  The last song of the last set of the last night of the whole summer tour.  And I got my wish.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BLV3pMblAXA

My Momento Moment in Denver, Colorado

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SEPTEMBER 1, 2012

  

“Never understood what my body was for.  That’s why I always leave it hanging out on the floor.” 

Axilla by Trey Anastasio

Okay.  Let’s take inventory.  I’m sitting on a truck tailgate sweating like the fat kid I used to be.  I’m foggy, rather groggy.  I’m in the parking lot of some gathering.  There are random dirty kids tailgating all around me – mangy dogs, beer coolers, dreadlocks, even an entire Pop-A-Shot – and next to me on the truck my friend Cerv is staring at me with the widest eyes and most anxious look I’ve ever seen on that face in the 26 years I’ve know it.  Oh! I know! It’s Phish concert and I just passed the fuk out.  Who needs recreational chemistry when you’ve got a low blood pressure problem?

Instinctively, I had taken the weight off my bloodied left knee that took most of my weight in the fall and hopped up on the pickup truck bed I was hunched over.  Fortunately the rest of my weight was supported by my friend Cerv who was quick to action as he listened to me mid-sentence cut my story and mumble, “Everything is black and white,” and promptly collapsed. 

Passing out isn't a great way to get attention when you're 

competing against the guy going for the world record for high fives.

So let’s Tarantino this this back to the beginning.

Okay, maybe not the beginning.  That would be a long story involving a walk down a memory lane known as college to give you the background on my musical tastes.  Let’s just start with my planning for this trip about six months ago. 

At the time I was restoring an old VW microbus that would be done about the same time I my stock vested from the previously mentioned financial services company.  The following weekend the band Phish would be making a 10 day run of concerts down the east coast and what better way to break in the bus and cleanse myself of korporate America than a few Phish shows?

 

Well, that part of our story did not end so well.  I was stuck in the job for longer than I wanted and the bus …well, that part of the story really didn’t end…

But I still made it to that Phish tour.