Molyvos 1

Molyvos - the first 24 hours  AKA   Volunteer on Sandwich duty

I had a 10 day hole in my schedule and someone I met at breakfast in the hostel I was staying at had just come from Molyvos and said they needed people there so off I went to do the volunteering thing for, as my grandfather would have said, both the right reasons and the wrong reasons, but, I must admit, mostly for the wrong reasons - i.e. mostly because I thought it would be interesting rather than because I am am noble.

And it is interesting. There's a 'new volunteers intro talk' each day at 10 am where they tell you about the process and ask about your skills so they can use you efficiently. I took an overnight ferry which arrived on the island of Lesvos at 8 am thinking I'd be able to catch a bus and make it the 50 km to Molyvos by 10, but it turned out I had come on a national holiday and no busses were running. I walked/hitchhiked instead - which took forever - and didn't get there till noon.

It's a lovely island, with olive trees and goats  and rocky mountains in abundance ofc but also wetlands with thousands of flamingos and hills of drying salt.

About 11 am as I was walking up up up an endless switchback hill in the hot sun, none of the very few cars that passed stopping to pick me up, the thought crossed my mind that being a volunteer was harder than I'd expected. 

I'm sure the same thought was on the mind of one of the young volunteers already at Molyvos - a pediatric emergency room doctor whose speciation is drowning - as a toddler lay dying in his arms.

Needless to say the mood was very somber when I arrived. Lots of kids had been on the boat that had come in that morning, the family of the dead boy were inconsolable and the families of four other children, who had at least made it alive into ambulances, were frantic.

The volunteer coordinator first told me to come back the next day at 10 am for processing but just then got word another boat was coming in and so asked me to join the sandwich team instead. My first job was to hand out cheese sandwiches to dozens of wet cold scared people. They get off the boats, are given emergency blankets and real blankets, have their names listed, get given a sandwich, can trade their wet clothes for other drier ones that previous boats' occupants had discarded that have been sun dried, but not washed or cleaned, and then are loaded onto busses and taken to the refugee camp a few miles away where they are processed properly. Within 2 hours four more boats had arrived and I was busy not only handing out sandwiches but also doing many other jobs. It was very gratifying with small kids and old men all equally extremely grateful, to be on land and to be offered a sandwich and dry clothes. They had a gazillion questions; what island was this, where could they buy a sim card, what would happen next, where was Germany, etc etc (often asked in Arabic) and many of which I couldn't answer even if asked in English.

As more and more refugees arrived chaos ensued. Part of my job was to keep the groups separate which, with one of me and several dozen in each of them, proved difficult.

One old man had a heart attack and while the two doctors were looking after him a woman right in front of me who was sitting on a stone wall in the sun fainted and dropped her newborn baby 6' onto the cobblestones below...

At 3 pm I was sent with a mini van to the grocery store in the next town, which had opened up just for us, to buy ALL the sliced bread, sliced cheese, and bottled water they had, and then, as everyone else with training was busy, I made 40 loaves of bread into sandwiches all by myself, some for the incoming people and others for the refugee camp. When I was done I glanced at my watch to see if it was after midnight or not and it was 7 pm.

I returned to the harbour to ask if I ought to bring the sandwiches down.

The situation was indescribable.

It was dark. More boatloads of people had arrived. The young doctors were doing CPR frantically trying to save several half drowned kids, ambulances were coming and going, dry clothes had run out, the press had arrived in droves and was getting in everyone's face and tensions were running high. Then another boat was found capsized at sea by the coast guard after a refugee, who had been swimming for 5 hours, was rescued by a fisherman and a helicopter with a searchlight started combing the sea looking for more survivors (or bodies)...

I hadn't slept well on the ferry the night before, had walked miles on the hot sun in the morning, and it was more that I could deal with right then so I went to check in to my hotel (which would have been closed for the season by now but has stayed open just for volunteers and is letting rooms at the hugely discounted rate if 10€/night).

I got back to the harbour early the next morning and went straight to help making sandwiches again, as I knew how to do that, until 10, when I went for the processing meeting. The coordinator was just too busy to do a meeting that day and said that she needed me to help serve breakfast to the 400!! new refugees who had arrived overnight and then take a break so I'd be good to do a full shift from 3 pm to 11 pm later that day and that she'd try to run a meeting the following day.

Then we learn that 40 people drowned just offshore.

It's noon now. I've been here 24 hours.

Molyvos is an idyllic little town crowned with a castle.

The harbour is deceptively quiet looking. It was beneath the green tent that we fed breakfast to 400 newly arrived refugees many wet, scared, and very uncertain about their immediate future.

One girl fills a water bottle while another walks along the top of a wall on which clothes have been put to dry.

Greek Isle #3

Naxos - Just another awesome part of paradise

Nadine and Jean Marc rented a car on Naxos and took me everywhere with them.

The weather was changeable but the view always great.

Naxos has lots of marble. It was being mined and used 2500 years ago when Demeter's Sanctuary was built...

... and it is still being mined today. There's so much that the scraps get used as breakwaters. 

Even the parts of Naxos that aren't marble are still pretty rocky...

... and the number of stone walls in some fields is crazy.

Houses were built of stone...

... and windmills ...

... and churches.

We did all sorts of things; stopped at beaches to skinny dip, at restaurants to sample local cuisine, and at this half-built deserted hotel to marvel at the graffiti.

We saw sheep ...

... and cows ...

... and goats.

The wild flowers were interesting...

... and the cultivated ones stunning. And, as usual, I threw my hands in the air and was thrilled to be privileged enough to visit.

Greek Isle #2

IOS  - Closed for the season

At the only restaurant left open the flowers are in full bloom but the bar stools empty.

I was on Santorini just yesterday, it's so close you can see it from here, and it was a happening place. My hostel was almost full, there were often 5 cruise ships in port, the restaurants and boutiques were open for business, the infinity pools sparkled, and the teenagers partied at clubs till 4 am and then got up at 9 in the morning and roared off on their rented ATV's to go and explore the island. (I was impressed. I assume 'explore the island' translates into 'sleep on the beach', but I was nonetheless impressed. But the point is, it was a happening place.)

Ios, on the other hand, is already closed for the season. The hostels and hotels, the shops and restaurants, the taxi boats and beach bars - all are closed. Beaches are deserted. Pools are empty (of water). Coke machines are unplugged and turned backwards. Outdoor lighting is bagged and duct taped. Beach chairs are stacked and tied firmly down for the winter. Nobody is here.

Why?

It is 28 degrees and gorgeous out.

The water is still warm and the flowers are in full bloom.

Ios, where Homer lived and died, is a delightful little island. It has rocky headlands along the shore separating deep bays with sandy beaches and clear turquoise water perfect for snorkeling and a quiet interior where cows, goats, and sheep roam and grapes and olives are grown.

Why is it empty?

I explored the narrow winding (deserted) labyrinthine laneways of the principal town before walking to the main beautiful km long (deserted) beach where I swam and then stopped for a super meal at the last restaurant still open on the island (where I was the only patron). The owner said there are 15,000 tourists per day on the island in summer. We both agreed the number now is likely 15.

I was going to stay at the Far Out Beach Club which has camping, 3 star, and 5 star sections, various pools and activities, and DJs from Athens every night. Not in October. I'm staying instead in a lovely little family run pension with a fantastic front jungle garden right by the port. It's great, which is good, because not many other options currently exist.

If you want to walk, swim, read, relax, or otherwise occupy yourself in a picturesque part of paradise in total peace and quiet with only birdsong and the occasional jangling of a loose goat's bell to disrupt you, then Ios in October would suit you well.

Deep bays with (deserted) sandy beaches.

Interior of Ios.

Detail of interior showing terracing put in by the Romans now neglected and overgrown.

The shady front garden of my lovely pension.

EVERY pool I saw was empty!

Greek Isle #1

Santorini - Super!

(Kos doesn't count on my list of Greek Isles because my decision to go was rushed and full of mistakes and my decision to leave was rushed and full of mistakes and I was barely there inbetween.)

(I was a bit worried that I might have trouble being a tourist elsewhere having not stayed to volunteer on Kos... HA! That was a silly thought.)

So, to start with a summary: Santorini was super.

(I'm a little afraid that I accidently chose the best island to see first.)

Santorini is interesting geologically: it's a crescent shaped volcanic rim, distinctive layers of black, red, and white volcanic rock cut with dykes, with a collapsed caldera in the middle and a very young new volcano, complete with hot springs and active sulphuric vents, in the middle of that.

A somewhat busy photo but if you look closely you can see new flattish volcano in the middle and imagine the old island like a big crescent around it.

60,000 year old olive leaves preserved in old volcanic flow.

It's interesting mythologically: there was a huge explosive eruption here 3600 years ago and it's the best possible candidate for the lost land of Atlantis.

It's interesting archaeologically: a city, complete with three story buildings, hot and cold running water systems, and evidence of extensive trading networks, has been unearthed from beneath 60 meter deep lava flows that accompanied the above mentioned eruption.

Detail from excavation of 3600 year old town.

Detail of fresco from wall of above house.

It's interesting visually: the predominantly white villages clinging to the top of the dark cliffs look for all world like snow.

It's a cruise ship destination and so comes with lots of lovely boutiques and restaurants.

Its rich volcanic soil and arid conditions are perfect for producing wine.

It also has its own brewery.

And, most importantly, coincidently, luckily, I happened to be there at the same time, and meet, several other wonderful people and so there was always someone else congenial to do things with.

The best of the best - drinking sweet wine made from sun dried grapes with the warm and welcoming Jean Marc and Nadine.

I knew it would be my kind of place when I read that the top rated activity on tripadvisor was to walk -  free - 10 km along the cliff top from Fira to Oia marveling at the view all the way.

So, despite any misgivings I might have had before I arrived, I slipped easily into tourist mode and totally enjoyed myself: I walked the cliff top walk, went to the volcano and hot springs, visited the excavation site and accompanying museum, toured wineries, walked through art studios, snorkeled at beaches, snacked at bakeries, and chatted endlessly with the other people I'd met.

Yup. Santorini was super.

Kos

October 12 - First day in Greece  AKA Starting off with the wrong foot forward

Well...

I left Turkey in a bit of a rush and didn't plan very well. I'd intended to go straight to Kos, the nearest island, see what was there and, while there, plan where else I wanted to go in Greece.

(I've actually actively started looking for a boat to crew on but I think I might be too late - the season is winding down fast.)

I got up and interneted for a bit in the morning before packing up and heading to the ferry docks. I'd just assumed that ferries to Kos ran all day, but no, they go at 9:30 am and 4 pm... and I got there at 10 am. AARGH. And ferries cost almost twice what a full day boat excursion including lunch costs. Is that possible? I pissed away the day very ineffectually. It was threatening rain and I'd left my pack outside at the ferry office and I was worried about a sudden downpour soaking it so I didn't want to stray too far away lest I had to rush back and save it.

It was a very windy crossing on the ferry and I got rained on in the short walk to my hotel.

I like hostels; they tend to attract other solo travellers and to be very sociable places with common kitchens or lounges or roof top decks where anyone can congregate to chat. I hadn't been able to find a hostel in Kos so I'd booked a cheap hotel room close to the ferry docks instead. Big mistake. It was horrible in the way that cheap hotels are: the promised wifi was broken, there was no hot water, the room was small. Worst of all I had no roommates and there was no space where there was any chance of meeting other travellers. Oh, and did I mention no wifi? My room did have a stove top and fridge though so I walked - in the drizzle - to buy stuff to cook, but then, surprise, neither worked. I went down to the front hall to try the wifi there - no luck - and the landlady talked my ear off complaining on and on about 'the situation' and all its ramifications.

So, due to poor planning, I'd wasted a whole day waiting for a ferry and had ended up all on my own in a small dumpy room with no internet or fellow travellers. Yeah.

And, I found out the next morning, I'd apparently left my favourite t-shirt behind somewhere.

Also the tourist information was closed for the season.

And it was still raining. AARGH.

I gave up on Kos, likely too quickly, parked myself outside the still closed McDonalds for free wifi, found a great looking hostel in Santorini, and, since ferries only run twice a week from Kos to Santorini, chose to go that same day.

Predictably, my landlady still wanted me to pay for two full nights. Which is what I'd booked. But still.

Then I realized that I'd lost my passport.

Yikes.

It was not my best day.

First I found my passport at the ferry ticket office. Then I prepared to piss away another day waiting for a ferry.

Kos it turned out (like everywhere in the Med) had an interesting past. It's the island where Hippocrates lived. Who knew? I visited the very same tree he used to sit and teach under 2500 years ago.

From there there's a bridge leading to a castle. I decided to wander the castle, because, why not.

And that's when I realized where I was.

Kos is one of the closest islands to Turkey.

I'd heard of it on the news before but not made the connection.

I'd come because it was close to Turkey. 

So had thousands of refugees. 

Every day. 

For months.

Looking down from the castle walls were a bizarre and sobering set set of views. The harbour was awash with dozens of derelict semi-submerged discarded boats, hundreds of life jackets, and countless other random bits of flotsam and jetsam. Tents were stacked up beside the castle walls and down along the beach as far as the eye could see five or six deep with barely space to walk between them. And long long long lines of people stood, immobile, waiting to register at the police station, or to receive a welcome bag containing a sleeping bag, a sweater, and a towel, or, I don't know what else. I hadn't realized what being on the island closest to Turkey really meant. My landlady's grumblings suddenly had context. And I felt terrible at how put out I'd been to have landed myself in a small dumpy room with no internet. It had rained hard enough in the night to wake me up, but at least I'd been dry. I have a great passport. I can go where and when I want to. I have no cares in the world. My complaints felt incredibly petty.

A small sampling of the debris in the marina...

A few of the many many tents...

Just the start of the line in front of the police station... it went round the block and down the street...

It wasn't until I was on the next ferry and we were already at sea that I considered I ought to have stayed on Kos, tried to get a refund for my ferry ticket, gone back to my room, found out who could use an extra volunteer for a couple of weeks or even a couple of months...

Volunteering there would be a good thing to do, for both the right reasons and the wrong ones. It would have, if nothing else, been incredibly interesting.

(Having left, however, I couldn't see going back.)

But how will I be able to enjoy myself being a tourist on Santorini when I didn't even think to try and stay and help out on Kos after I'd finally realized where I was?

No. It was not my best day.

Ordinary Day

AKA  August 10: Last day in Turkey..

Someone asked me what a typical day is like on a extended solo holiday so here is what I did today.

I woke up at the Ecofarm, in the middle of nowhere, ate breakfast with the other guests and volunteers, and then said sincere goodbyes - when you're traveling alone, as all of us were, spending four whole days with the same people seems like a long time, and, relatively, of course, you really feel you've gotten to know them.

I hiked 3 km into the nearest village, Turgutreis, and then caught a minibus to the town of Bodrum.There I checked into the Backpacker's Hostel (yup, literally named that) for one night, dropped off my pack, and went out to explore.

First on my list was St Peter's Castle - exactly my favourite kind of castle; it's huge, you are allowed to wander and clamber anywhere, and it's filled with interesting displays, in this case bits and pieces of glass, jewelry, pottery, etc collected from underwater shipwrecks.

Next I went to the Mausoleum, tomb of Mausolos, king of Caria, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world and my reason for stopping in Bodrum. It was, as expected, merely ruins.

Then, with time to kill, I checked my tourist map and noted the prominently advertised Oasis, combined mall and cultural center, and hoofed it out there stopping to get some stuffed grape leaves for lunch along the way at a grocery store I happened to pass. The movie Martian was playing in 3D in English in a couple of hours so I managed to mill about the mall long enough to wait for that.

Back at my hostel I had a long aimable chat with my roommate, an Australian named Emily who had been travelling by herself for 3 months and had just arrived in Turkey. It was her birthday and the hostel desk clerk was taking her out for drinks when he got off shift at midnight. I gave her both my Lonely Planet Turkey and my copy of Birds without Wings as 'birthday presents' and she was polite enough to pretend to be thrilled.

I declined to join in for drinks but stayed in and interneted (is that a recognized verb yet?) instead, chatting with one of my kids, leaving wee notes for the other two, checking facebook, and replying to a couple of emails. (I was very conscious that it was Thanksgiving and I was, yet again, failing my family merely by being away.) I checked CBC news - 95 killed in a pair of bombings at Ankara train station, a place I could easily have been given that several people have told me that the cheapest way to leave Turkey is to catch a train to Ankara, the capital, and fly from there.

Omens seemed clear: time to move on. I booked the next two nights accommodation in Kos, on Kos, the nearest Greek island and will catch a ferry over in the morning, and, hopefully, carry on to other Greek Islands from there.

So, my last day in Turkey, though I didn't know that when I woke up, and, overall, pretty typical - an interesting, relaxed (and only slightly lonely) day.

Lycian Way

Hiking the Lycian Way: a too short trip report interspersed with photos

Lycian Way day 0 - Several days actually

Before starting my hike I spend a few delightful  days in Fethiye a town on the Mediterranean coast. I meet a great group of British expats on a 12 island boat tour, a couple of other Canadian women, each travelling solo, in the hostel I'm at, and all is sunshine and roses. I find a good trail map and once again clean up my pack tossing out any unnecessary stuff.

View from my hostel in Fethiye.

There are SO many ruins that some, like these Lycian sarcophagi, lie neglected.

Lycian Trail day 1 - A good start

I start at the ghost town of Kayakoy  deserted during the population exchange of 1923, and hike first to Oludeniz, a popular beach and the landing site for the 100's of tandem paragliders that have thrown themselves off of Baba Dag just like James Bond did in Skyfall, and arrive just after 4 pm at Butterfly Valley. I had hoped to leave my pack at the top and hike down for a quick end of the day swim but decide it's too late - I don't want to be coming back up in the dark - and so instead just stop at the campsite on the lip, set up my tent, and then lounge in a hammock and read my book. Camping costs $18/night/person including buffet supper and breakfast. And supper is fantastic, the best Turkish meal I've had yet: soup to start with lemon wedges and chile powder, pasta, rice, hot curried mushrooms, an eggplant dish, two other hot dishes I can't identify, three types of salad, and yoghurt with honey for dessert. YUM. It's my first night in my tent, and, although I'd intended to camp free, in the rough, along the trail, I am very happy here.

Kayakoy.

Oludeniz ... note paragliders.

View from my tent at Butterfly Valley.

Lycian Trail day 2 - Balance in the universe.  

I am up early, pack up my tent, eat, and am on the trail at 8 am. By 8:05 I'm lost. It takes ages to find the trail. I am lost again before 9, and again before 10, by which time, even in complete shade, it's so hot sweat is dripping down my face. By 11 I have given up trying to follow the trail and am walking the road to Kabat. I stop for a swim at Kabat beach before starting over watching the trail markers very carefully. The scenery is stunningly beautiful but the trail very challenging with lots of clamboring and climbing. My 10 kg pack is a bit too heavy, my only shoes, my Keens, not really good enough, I get frustrated by how hard it is to follow the trail - having been spoilt by the one in Romania - and it's just too freaking hot. I freely admit that the whole trail is likely spectacular have but I've not passed another person going in either direction in two days and I'm not really having fun. At 4pm, hot, tired, and discouraged, I get to Paradise beach, where I'd intended to stop for the night. A conversation with a German couple, just out for the day, convinces me to keep going in the cooler evening air however, so, after another quick swim, I intend to carry on, but then I waste a whole hour trudging back and forth in my pack fruitlessly looking for the next section of trail and eventually give up and turn around. At 6 pm, as the sun is setting, there is still sweat dripping down my face and I have no regrets about quitting.

Typical view...

Day 3, hiking back out of the wilderness, I wear my coolest if somewhat inappropriate clothing.

Final thoughts...

I'm sure the Lycian Way is fantastic: it goes past mountains, beaches, tiny villages, cities, and ruins of all ages. It is a challenging rocky trail with great vistas. But for me, right now, with a pack too heavy, shoes not quite good enough, no hiking partner and no sign of anyone else on the trail... in 30 degree heat... with all the trouble I've had following it... I have no regrets about starting out, and no regrets about not continuing on.

Having failed at completing the Lycian Way, I decide to take a break from my vacation, and, after visiting Dalyan, a town on a delta by a beach where 500 loggerhead turtles lay eggs each year, I retreat to Bodrum Ecofarm, in the middle of nowhere, to sit and read and relax and plan what to do next...

Lycian tombs at Dalyan.

Dalyan boat trip through the delta.

Rescued baby turtle who didn't make it to the sea being nurtured in a tank for a few days before being released.