Death by Donkey

We're at sea today, but yesterday we were in the Greek island of Santorini. The island is basically a big old mountain, and the towns are built at the very tippy-top.


And of course the boat leaves you at the very bitty-bottom. So how to get up there, you ask? You could ride up on the cable car. And you could walk it (I don't recommend it, for reasons to follow).

Or you could ride up on a donkey. Doesn't that sound like fun? Who doesn't love a donkey? Nobody, that's who, because everybody loves donkeys.

I love a donkey too, so naturally I chose the donkey. So I got up to the donkey-giving guy, paid, and then suddenly I was hoisted in the air and tossed onto a donkey. "You go!" the man yelled, and the donkey, well, he went.

And that's when it became clear that I'd been given the demon donkey. My brother went cantering by, waving cheerily and hooting, "Look how well he obeys me!" My sister-in-law wielded her camera in one hand and her bag in the other, snapping pictures as she glided up the mountain.

Me? I held on for dear life, screaming, "I don't wanna diiiiiiiie!"

On the donkey path
My donkey didn't care. He went where he wanted to go. He galloped at breakneck speed. He crashed repeatedly into the cliff face, crushing my leg in the process. He rammed other donkeys, and then tried to bulldoze them to the side (leaving my poor defenseless legs right in the line of fire of the other donkeys' hindquarters).

He had a particular yen for the other hapless tourists making their way down the mountain. He headed right for them at top speed. Oh, the poor souls, how they tried to avoid him, stepping this way and that, but my donkey was far more nimble than they. He'd draw nearer, hot breath like the flames of hell washing over them, and they'd press themselves desperately against the cliff wall. Their eyes would grow wide with horror.

And the screams, oh God the screams, they haunt me when I try to sleep. "Nein! Bitte nein!" or "Non! Mon Dieu, non!" or any of a handful of other languages that I do not speak, but the meaning was clear enough: terrified denial at that which could not be avoided.

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Somehow, miraculously, I survived and so did the tourists. The cruelest thing would have to be the way that, with (what felt like) miles to go to the top, the donkeys stopped, and the donkey-handling dude came up behind me, grabbed me, and yanked me unceremoniously off the donkey. "Done!" he yelled. "You go now!"

Sheesh, I went. And just about died climbing up the rest of the mountain. I have grave, grave concerns regarding my ability to climb Mount Vesuvius tomorrow. If I do not return...remember me.

Opa!

After a day at sea on Saturday, we spent today in Athens.

We had a crazy Greek tour guide who was straight out of My Big Fat Greek Wedding -- or maybe she herself had seen that movie too many times. She was very much, "If you can speak English, you can speak Greek, because all English words come from Greek words!" And then she'd list all the words she could think of with Greek roots.

We started out at the Acropolis, which was every bit as fantastic as I'd imagined. I couldn't actually believe that I was there. I still don't, even as I look through the pictures to decide which one to post.

My brother (with the baby on his back) at the Acropolis
It's also a bit of a treacherous climb...the kind of climb you'd never see in lawsuit-happy-and-thank-God-for-my-sake-it's-so America. Lots of marble slabs that have been polished shiny-slick by millions of feet passing over them.

Then we drove for a couple of hours along the coast to Cape Sounion. Lovely sights. I was amazed once again at the European parameters for luxury. As in, the high-rent, beach-front district boasts dreary little condos with cheap plastic chairs on tiny, dingy balconies crowded by drying laundry. And those people have more money than I could ever dream of. I think they should all move to my town and buy villas with their millions. And bring their food with them. More saganaki, please!

My niece's first time on the beach, at the feet of the Temple of Poseidon in Sounion


In Cape Sounion we saw the Temple of Poseidon, which isn't as grand as the Parthenon but felt somehow more majestic. I think the difference is that the Acropolis is swarming with tourists and guards and scaffolding for renovation, whereas we were the only tour group at the Temple of Poseidon. It stands silently atop a rocky bluff overlooking the sea. I really felt a sense of reverence...I could imagine Ancient Greeks walking the same paths I did in a way it was hard to at the Acropolis.

(Um, and I could imagine Lord Byron there too. The Greeks love him, I guess. He carved his name into a column in the temple. That's supposed to be really cool now, but I say it's just graffiti. He's a goober.)

Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

View of Dubrovnik (and my niece) from the ship
We spent the day in Dubrovnik, Croatia. I didn't know what to expect. It's a popular beach resort, so I guess I pictured something like the Caribbean.

The reality is somewhat different...lots of rocky mountains with quaint little red-and-white homes built all the way to the top. The sea is gorgeous, glittering turquoise.

We walked around the old town for a bit. Then my brother said, "Hey! Let's climb the old city wall!" Then my sister-in-law said, "Yeah, let's!" I declined, but then I figured that climbing up those steep, narrow stairs would be a great workout.

So we climb up this looooong staircase and look around and take some pictures. I say, "That was nice!" and head for the staircase again. Oh no, I am informed. What we must do is walk all the way around the city wall (as in, all the way around the old city) and climb all the way to the very tip-top turret.

Five hours and 8,302 stairs later....


I say that counts as today's workout. Anyone got a problem with that?

I wish I could post a picture, but for some reason that's not working. I'll give it one last try today, and if it doesn't work I'll give it up until I'm back. Not that anyone is just dying to see my vacation pictures....