I stayed on Santorini long enough to see the sunset I showed yesterday. The island, with its volcanic rock faces dropping directly into the sea, is beautiful. But it's also full of tourists. And expensive.
When I got to Oia--the place you see in all of those Instagram photos of Santorini sunsets--it was like being in an older and more beautiful version of Times Square on New Year's Eve. It's was so crowded that with people taking selfies that you can't do much more than take a selfie--which, as you've probably noticed in this blog, is something I don't do.
It's odd that another New York analogy comes to mind: the road that winds (and I mean winds) its way down to the port of Athinios in a similar way to the Route 495 spur to the Lincoln tunnel. The difference is that the road to Athinios is about a tenth as wide (or so it seems) and its turns are sharper: hairpins in a couple of places. To complicate matters even further, the port itself sits on an improbably small shelf of land in front of a rock face. So, only one vehicle can reach it at a time and people spend more time waiting in that line of traffic than they did in getting from wherever on the island they came.
One more thing about Santorini: I saw mules. Some, it seems, are for tourists while a few others were being used by families who have been living there for generations. In a day and a half, however, I saw one bicycle.
Anyway, it is worth it to visit Santorini, however briefly, for its natural beauty and, of course, its sunsets. And, away from the tourist traps, the food is actually quite good, often made from local produce. Still, I was happy to go to Milos, which the world knows because of Venus de Milo(s). I took a "Sea Jet", which really is more like riding in the cabin of a plane than a boat, except that you get to see the blue (Yes, it really is!) Aegean and some islands instead of endless clouds. And the port of Adamas isn't just a port: There are other things to see and do, which I'll talk about in my next post. The best part, though, is that it spreads across the shoreline and is not nearly as claustrophobic as Athinios.
Last year, it was about a sunrise. This year, sunsets.
I'm trying not to read too much into that. I am being quite literal: Last year, one important reason I went to Cambodia was to see the sun rise over the Angkor Wat. This year, I wanted to see the sun set at least once in one of the Cyclaides Islands, though it didn't loom quite as large among my reasons for coming to Greece.
But a sunset I wanted, and a sunset I got.
Yesterday, I got to Santorini later than I expected and my hotel was further from Oia, that village you see all over Instagram, than I thought.
Then again, the Hotel Santa Irina is right by what some believe to be the nicest beach on the island. Better yet (or worse, if I am going to wear the bathing suit I brought), there's a great bakery, also called the Santa Irina, on the premises.
The hotel's receptionist--Georgia, a sweet woman about my age--suggested another nearby village for a sunset. "The one in Pirgos is unique," she said. A few local people echoed her belief.
I must say, it certainly is unlike any other I've seen. And yes, it's beautiful.
All right, I'm going to "come out" about something else. (Believe it or not, even after you've revealed yourself as transgender and begun to live as who you are, there are still all sorts of other ways in which you can "come out.") It's something you may have already figured: I am a romantic. There, I've said it.
Today I had an entirely insignificant achievement that had nothing at all to do with cycling, writing, teaching or any of the other more-or-less respectable things I do. Still, I feel a little bit of pride.
What is that momentous deed? I went to Aristotle's Lyceum. That means I visited all of the archaelogical sites covered by the 30 Euro inclusive pass.
The Lyceum site, as it turns out, was on the way to the next part of my trip. At least, it's along the Metro line I took. According to Lonely Planet (the source of all of my scholarly information!), the site was excavated only in 2011. So, for 2346 years, it lay buried beneath what is now a police station and down the street from the War Museum.
I have long known that, until fairly recently, most major cities are located on the banks of some significant body of water. I have also noticed that many school catalogues show a body of water on their covers even if there isn't one within 100 kilometers of the campus.
As it turns out, the Lyceum was built by a river that has long since been filled in or rerouted. A chief reason is that, in keeping with the philosophy that the mind and body are one, the school had a gymnasium. The river supplied water for the baths which not only cleaned sweaty bodies, but also served as a purifying ritual.
Hmm...I always want to wash up after a bike ride. But I usually feel that the ride itself was in some way purifying, or at least cleansing, of my mind and spirit.
I imagine that it didn't take vigorous exercise for Aristotle's students to work up a sweat on a hot day. They probably were glistening after the walks they took, during which they talked about ideas of one kind or another with the master. Because of these walks, the Lyceum was also known as the Peripatetic (after perapos) School.
After visiting the Lyceum, I got back on the Metro for my next destination. Here's a clue to it:
Yes, it has water around it. I'll tell you more soon.
