The Cyclades Chronicles Part 1

We are writing this blog collaboratively between the four of us (Martin, Nat, Jen, and Adam) we are expecting some creative diversions fuelled by a few glasses of vino in our current marina which is home! Here we go….

With some difficulty procuring a taxi we ended up picking up our vessel which was proudly flying a Canadian flag. We each fell quite naturally into our chromosomal roles as the boys learned about the bits on the boat whilst the girls went out to spend some more money at the supermarket (if you could call it that). In a store the size of a 7-11 but with less selection, the girls managed to fill 5 shopping carts with cans and bags of mystery contents (it’s all Greek to me was a most appropriate phrase on this endeavour).

We set out early the next morning in an effort to beat the gale force weather. Unfortunately, Ionia, our vessel was to be trailed with a ribbon of vomit induced by the 3 metre swells. Natalie’s pre-digested croissant and coffee seemed to beckon pods of dolphins on more than one occasion. They played in the bow wave dipping to and fro beneath our boat, what a magical experience!

We finally found refuge from the gale in a serene bay overlooking a quintessentially Greek fishing village that appeared to be made of white Lego houses. The first night we discovered the hidden delights of our boat as Nat and Jen practiced their “pummel horse routine” on the table that vaguely resembled a pummel horse in a performance that more closely resembled a routine from the “special Olympics”. The not so hidden delights of the island were discovered the next day on our excursion ashore which landed us on a nude beach. If they made us wear a” neckerchief” in Pamplona, we saw one man wearing what could only be described as a “Schlongerchief” shielding his valuables from the hot Mediterranean sun.

The following evening found us sandwiched between an industrial tanker and a Turkish mega-yacht. As we pulled into harbour, we were “greeted’ with the icy stare of an overstuffed Turkish crew member who kept his gaze fixed and his arms folded for the entire time we moored. Not a hello, not an offer of assistance, just a glare. Thank goodness we had had a semi-disastrous dry-run during our lunch stop in the previous village and had worked out all glitches. The situation was soon forgotten after a good meal and several bottles of wine, however the lewd Turk continued staring at us for our entire stay… even the the even-tempered Adam was getting irate. Of course the girls had to dump fuel on the fire by continuing their Olympic rehearsals which only encouraged the staring.

The following day offered excellent sailing punctuated by a brief lull in the wind where we jumped overboard for a quick dip. Unfortunately the wind came back up before Natalie and Martin did….. oh well it’s more peaceful without them anyways.

The next port of call was the party island of Ios. Mooring right in town had its privileges considering the night time activities got started at 2am and continued on until dawn. The days were spent recovering, beaching, and scootering around the island. Our anemic scooters required a little extra help (in the form of pushing them along with our feet) navigating the hilly terrain. We were occasionally blown sideways by the strong breeze, which became even more of a nuisance during our beach visit which found us rather well exfoliated from all the sandblasting. Waiting out the gusts an extra day in Ios, we unsuccessfully attempted another beach visit before retiring to our boat just in time for our afternoon entertainment. Act 1: The three hour disastrous attempt at mooring incorporating numerous three point turns, pirouettes, and aborted docking manoeuvres. Every skipper in the harbour was standing on the bow of his boat anxiously waiting to fend off the uncontrolled approach of the charter boat full of Germans who uncharacteristically had nothing organized for their approach. We ended up having to jump aboard several unattended boats to fend them off as they crashed their way into their slip.

Act 2: Adam and Martin free diving down to our anchor which had snagged on a permanent mooring line. After several dives and a bleeding eardrum the anchor was successfully freed.

Act 3: Gin and tonics on the deck finishing up our unfinished entry from last night.

The weather is settling down and we are all set to sail through volcanic crater of Santorini tomorrow. By the way Adam has not hurt himself YET and the four of us are still enjoying each other’s company.

P.S. Hide the lemons!

Pamplona & Bibao

We've all heard of Pamplona, famous for their somewhat unique festival called San Fermin or more commonly known as “The Running Of The Bulls”. Since we were in the general area and knowing very little about the festival other than what they show on the 6 o’clock news, we decided to check it out.
We arrived in the afternoon just after the opening ceremonies to a scene difficult to describe. Imagine an entire town of some 100,000 people ALL wearing white outfits with red neckerchiefs and red sashes. And I do mean everyone from newborn babies to the oldest inhabitants. Then triple that with an additional 300,000 or so white and red clad tourists, (mostly Australian and British from our estimates). Take this massive group and turn the entire town into a party where every street and plaza seems to have a band, parade or street party at any time of the day. And let's not forget the Sangria that is regularly launched at the revellers staining your white outfit red as if you’ve just been gored by a bull.
This is the scene that greeted us as we pushed our way very nervously (and conspicuously NOT wearing white) through the drunken crowd in the town square to access our hotel.
A short time later and a quick visit to the local store selling white outfits and we were ready to join in with what we can only described as the biggest party we have ever experienced. The next 48 hours were a blur of dancing, drinking and sleepless nights since the only way to get a good vantage to see the bulls is to wake up at 4am and sit in the cold until the 8am start. It was a long and cold wait for the 30 seconds of action but it was totally worth it. Martin actually ran with a crowd of 3000 or so others as the bulls attempted to exact revenge before reaching the stadium. All in all, an amazing experience but we didn’t have the stamina to last whole 8 days of the festival.
We made our escape from the party and headed to the town of Bilbao, stopping briefly in San Sebastian for lunch. Bilbao is perhaps most famous for the spectacular Guggenheim Museum of Modern art. We wandered the rooms amazed at the things artists can dream up and sell as art. For example, one artist signed his name to a simple bottle holder and proclaimed that because he called it art and signed it, it was art! The building itself is perhaps the best example of art with its stunning titanium “fish scale” exterior and juxtaposed curves and lines. Bilbao seemed to have more to offer with its great Basque food and quaint cobbled streets, but it was just a short visit before heading to Greece.

Hola Amigos!

We arrived in Barcelona a couple days before Nat & Martin. Just enough time to find some summer attire for the warm days ahead. Unfortunately our timing also coincided with Barcelona’s equivalent of a Boxing day sale. So many people, so few fitting rooms. We wrapped up our shopping in time to pick the Lampas up from the airport- or so we thought. When we got back to our hotel room to change before heading to the airport there was a note on our door—they were at the tapas bar down the street!! It wasn’t until we were jogging down the street that Adam discovered that in our excitement and rush to see old friends he had put his shirt on inside out! It was a classic airport reunion in the middle of a crowded bar. At least the tears were enough to empty a couple of adjacent seats at the bar. We got caught up over a few too many bottles of cava but we did end up getting home before sunrise (barely). The next couple of days were spent doing some light sightseeing and some not-so-light dining. We caught up with Sandra (one of the friends we made last time we were in town) and attempted to repay her for her kindness last visit with a couple rounds at the bar.

We were off early Sunday morning to Pamplona. We thought that at six in the morning we would have the subway all to ourselves (if it was even running) so you can imagine our surprise to see that it was chock full with partiers only just coming home from the bar!

Off to Pamplona to see (or run?) the running of the bulls! Little did we know what we were in for!

Johannesburg

We ended up with a couple of spare days left in Johannesburg. With a 40% unemployment rate it is no surprise that crime and violence is rife in this city. We elected to stay in one of the safer suburbs, Sandton.

During our stay we did a tour of Soweto, one of the townships. The townships are the communities where Africans were forcefully relocated under apartheid. There are a few middle class houses in Soweto like those of Winnie Mandela and Desmond Tutu but an even greater number live in poverty in shacks constructed of scrap material. We visited a shantytown which was home to 25,000 people who had no electricity, shared 40 water faucets, and 1500 outhouses. The daycare facility constructed of scraps of sheet metal and painted in cheerful red displayed a “this is a gun free zone” sign at the gate. We visited one of the homes, a sparsely furnished two room (no not 2 bedroom – 2 room) shack that was home to one woman and her five children. In spite of the modest conditions it was evident that the owners had a sense of pride and ownership with their neatly kept yards, the odd potted plant, cleanly swept floors and brightly painted doors and window frames.

We also visited the apartheid museum which definitely earned its place as our favourite museum on our trip thus far. The exhibits were interactive and really moving and the architecture correlated with the journey through the history of apartheid. Even four hours wasn’t quite enough to take it all in.

Amidst all the heavy stuff we also managed to fill the social calendar with a great couple that we had met in Kruger that were staying at the same hotel as us. The first night the four of us were too nervous to venture out into the notoriously dangerous streets so we ordered dinner in. By the third night we were getting a bit of cabin fever so we braved the streets (which really weren’t that bad) and walked up to the nearby square for a great evening of dinner, drinks, laughs, and somehow managed to avoid getting mugged. The next evening we were “out of Africa” and on to the last and perhaps most exciting part of our journey… meeting up with Nat and Martin!!!!!

Kruger Park

Unfortunately it was time to part with our newfound family for the past 12 days. Admittedly, walking into this 16 day excursion we were a little worried about who we might have to put up for such a big chunk of time. I must say we were REALLY lucky. We were blessed with a great group of open-minded, considerate, and interesting people. They made evenings around the campfire with a few bottles of wine reminiscent of hanging out at home with friends. We exchanged hugs and contacts and the next day we were off to Kruger Park to meet up with a new group and hopefully some more wildlife. We were excited to be trading in our tent and arthritis-inducing sleeping mats for our own little rondavel (traditional-style African house).
Our new traveling companions were fantastic with the exception of one couple who collectively had less personality than a brick, the I.Q. of a potato, and a complete inability to stop talking. Somehow, the wildlife wasn’t frightened away by their endless banter and we got to see several different animals. We were all very excited to see a young male lion on our last day. Our driver pursued him down a steep dirt trail before we discovered his truck wasn’t 4 wheel-drive. Nobody was jumping out to push with the lion only 15 feet away, so we all had to clamber over the seats to put weight on the rear axle in order to reverse up the hill. Click here to see some of the wildlife pictures that we captured.