Bosnia and Herzegovina



My last trip this summer was to Montenegro's neighbor(s?) to the West: Bosnia and Herzegovina. I went with my dear Ana, she who was good enough to take care of my deceased Phantom while I was gone in Greece. Anyone who is willing to find a pet cemetery that will bury your cat while you are out of the country truly must have a heart of gold! This is the litmus test for goodness. Anyway, it was the least I could do to take her on an adventure to Sarajevo by way of Mostar, and this we did one adventurous weekend.



The drive to and from Bosnia and Herzegovina from Montenegro is really fantastic. The whole way there and back, one winds through mountains and canyons, beside rivers and lakes. The mountains themselves range from arid and rocky to forested and nearly tropical, and each kilometer of the road greets you with new and fabulous spectacles of natural beauty.



Our first stop in Bosnia and Herzegovina was in the town of Mostar, named for the high, elegant bridge ("Most" in the local language) that spans the river and connects the city's halves. Even when the river was low (as it was then) intrepid divers plunge from the bridge into the water below, making for an interesting sight. But it is the architecture and winding alleys of the little town that makes this place truly special.




After a brief stop we continued on to Sarajevo. Sarajevo is a beautiful town nestled into a small, tree-lined valley. The modern visitor, however, is immediately reminded of the wars that transpired here. It is creepy to see a place, wonder why it looks familiar, and then recall that one had seen that same city burning with plumes of smoke on CNN. Though the city has been largely repaired since then, the over-spilling plots of gravestones that mark the city and the valley's walls are enough to remind one of the tragedy that had transpired here.





Despite the echoes of the past, however, Sarajevo is a beautiful, lively, and intriguing town. It certainly feels more oriental than Montenegro, as the towering minarets and bazaars of the old town make one feel the lingering presence of Ottoman influence in the region. Whether ambling through shops selling hookas or thick embroidered carpets, or otherwise enjoying the Muslim culture through visiting a mosque or drinking at a small tea shop, one feels as though transported from Europe to the Middle East.





Our stay, indeed, was too short, but the weekend quickly drew to a close. Our return trip was just as scenic as the voyage there, and passing through Montenegro were able to appreciate the canyons and mountains of this country more. Altogether, my venture to Bosnia and Herzegovina was an ideal way to round out the adventures of the summer.

Delphi



My final destination on my tour of Greece was a place I had been most looking forward to seeing: Delphi. I had always found the legends surrounding Delphi to be fascinating.




In pre-Olympian times, the site was a place of worship for the Earth Goddess Gaia. Legend tells how the site was protected by Gaia's child, a mighty python named Pythia, that was killed by Apollo when he commandeered the site for his own worship. Following this, oracles at Delphi were said to be able to channel the voice of Apollo after becoming intoxicated by fumes from a fissure in the earth, fumes released perhaps by the decaying body of Pythia himself.



Greek rulers would often come to Delphi to ask the oracles questions of the future. Even Alexander the Great went there before conquering the whole of his empire. Leaders would build temples, tripods, or storehouses for offerings at Delphi and soon the site became riddled with temples, a theater, and even a stadium.



The visitor of today has a wealth of archaeology to explore, with most of the temples reconstructed and ready for the meandering tourists who venture this way. The museum is similarly well-developed and full of elaborately detailed friezes and statues. Above all, however, the site itself - a cedar-dotted terrain of mountains and cliffs falling sharply away to the rivers and sea below - is truly breathtaking. Even if there were no mystic oracle here, one can see why the Ancient Greeks would have chosen this spot as a place to build a temple to worship the Earth Mother.





For me, this was an ideal place to make my last destination in Greece. I was able at least to lose myself in Hellenic antiquity and imagine what the Greece of Homer and Plato must have truly been like: a Greece of severe beauty, timeless legends, and the impending judgment of the gods.

Mykonos



The unwary reader of Lonely Planet may get the impression that Mykonos' days as the hotspot for Greece's party goers is on the wane. Such a reader may decide to live it up on Ios instead of Mykonos. Such a reader, however, would be very disappointed.

Mykonos remains a hub in the Cyclades for anyone yearning for Dionysian fun and with money to burn. It bears some of the best nightculbs in Greece - indeed, in Europe - with star DJ's spinning their technotronic hypnosis day and night. For anyone wanting to sleep and enjoy a relaxing, quiet time in the Greek Isles, Mykonos is bad. For anyone wanting fun, however, Mykonos is good.

Sadly, when I first arrived, I was in the category of those who wanted quiet. My credit card debacle was still frustrating me and I was down to my last available Euros. So, destitute as I was, I chose to spend my first (and, originally planned, only) night on the island at an isolated camping ground on the far side of the island from the buzz of the central town. This place, called innocuously enough "Paradise Beach" would be a place for me to collect myself before making my tired way back to the mainland and, from there, back up to Montenegro.

I was in for a shock. Paradise Beach was one of the most insane spots on the island, with hundreds of hormone and alcohol addled young revelers partying and making wild all night long at the ultra-loud, ultra-hip, and ultra-expensive central, open air club. My plans for quiet were dashed. I was also frustrated to learn that there were no tents for me. So, trying to escape the noise and fervor of the club, I dragged my sleeping bag out to the beach and, with the cheapest bottle of wine I could find, tried to drink myself to sleep. However, the music nagged. It was, in fact, very good techno, and the party-goers' energy infected me. So, eventually, I spent some of my last euros on the entry fee and went to the club. After a few hours dancing and drinking I stumbled back to the beach and slept by the surf, awaking the next day to the heat of the beach and the dull warmth of my hangover.


Sleeping by day after partying by night on Mykonos

That day I was supposed to leave Mykonos. I took my belongings and waited in the town for my ferry. While I whittled away the hours I went through my belongings. This is when I discovered that the reason my back card hadn't been working was because, stupidly, I had been trying to use my old one. the one that had expired two years ago. I was speechless when I found my proper card in my bag, inserted it expectantly into an ATM, and received the boon of fresh, copious, delicious cash. My fingers trembling with fund-filled joy I went on a buying spree. New clothes, new sunglasses, a new cellphone, a ticket to leave the following day from Mykonos, and a cozy room in the center of town with an actual bed and shower. Heaven. Pure heaven.







Scenes in Hora

That night I went wild. I danced and drank at downtown's Space Club and ogled the girls dancing on the stages there. Then, at night, I went to one of the late night discos: Cavo Paradiso, allegedly the 3rd best club in Europe, but I couldn't really tell why - just hundreds of Italians, a swimming pool, quiet music from a lame sound system, and cold girls. The view was nice, though.



Space Club


Cavo Paradiso

As dawn broke I made my way back the hotel, rested an hour or two, and checked out. I was feeling good, happy, refreshed. But of course - as always happens at times like this - tragedy struck. I went online and found out my wonderful, dear, beloved cat Phantom had died while I was away. Feeling that empty feeling of bereavement that accompanies loss, I went to Paradise Beach and watched the waves. I was feeling melancholy, listening to the slow moan of the surf, when suddenly music erupted behind me. An impromptu party exploded at one of the cafes. Although I was sad, I decided to put off greiving for tomorrow. I grabbed a bloody Mary and joined the dancing throngs. On Mykonos, you forget your troubles.





Paradise Beach


Sunset

Naxos



Although the modern sailor upon the Hellenic seas need not worry of Scylla and Charybdis, this is not to say that the waters are always calm. In summer especially, Poseidon seems bent upon churning the waves. Of course, he is doing this only so that he can sit back and laugh at the hundreds of stranded backpackers who - as a result of the now canceled ferries - throw themselves in shock and horror at the overwhelmed ticket officers and try to finagle their ways onto anything with a hull. Thick clots of tired and frustrated travelers beat their breasts in the finest tradition of Greek tragedy as they whinge their woes of transportation unrealized. This was the scene that met me when I tried to leave Santorini.

It was with some luck that I managed a boat to my next destination, Mykonos, that day. It would take longer than originally planned, but there were two unexpected bonuses to this redirection. First, I met again a number of fellow backpackers whom I had met earlier in my voyages, and second the ferry made a brief stop on the island of Naxos.



Naxos, though a central island of the Cyclades, was reputed to be quiet and uneventful, so I had given the island a miss on my itinerary. I soon came to appreciate, however, how nice these quiet islands are and Naxos in particular! I disembarked with a couple fellow Americans (one of whom was actually Greek American, and so had greater access to the country through her language abilities) and explored the main town. It was a very charming place with small winding alleys and quaint shops. The three of us bought bread, olives, cheese, and house wine for an impromptu picnic.





This we shared at the Temple to Apollo, the sun god.





I really liked this temple. rather than an enclosure to a god, this temple serves more as a Japanese Torii. It enframes Apollo's chariot as it advances its fiery course at sunset into the sea, and thus serves to honor the god directly. I certainly enjoyed this opportunity to take a quiet break with food and company and worship the sun, and appreciated yet another beautiful Greek sunset. Shortly thereafter, the ferry was ready to leave. I felt more refreshed than I had the entire journey thus far in Greece, and was thankful both to Poseidon and Apollo for making the circumstances turn out as they did, allowing me the opportunity to pay proper respect to both sea and sun.

Santorini



Santorini is one of the most beautiful islands in the Cyclades, and perhaps one of the most unusual islands in the world. The island had been dominated by a massive volcano until it erupted. The result of the eruption was that the center of the island sank down into the sea, leaving a massive caldera around the crescent-shaped remnant of the island's outer half and leaving the tip of the magma-covered volcano to remain exposed above water as an island in the center of the island's new bay. The breathtaking white cliffs have become dominated by a surge of real estate development, and now the crust of the island's cliffs are peaked with hundred of beautiful white and blue houses which glitter with lights at night. As much of the caldera faces East, sunsets are a momentous event on the island. Clearly, a place of such sublime beauty deserves to be on the itinerary of any Greek traveler, and certainly was on mine.

Santorini is also, I would say, where things really started to go downhill for me during my Hellenic voyage.

Everything started well enough After being proved my relative geriatricness on Ios I was looking forward to spending some time around an older, more distinguished set of revelers. I reserved a nice hotel near downtown and was all ready to enjoy 4-wheeling by day and partying by night on the island. The ferry ride had been smooth and offered great views of the island's cliffs as we approached, and I had even befriended a couple of nice Australian girls. I was ready for fun. Unfortunately, as soon as I stepped foot on the island, things went immediately wrong.


getting off the ferry

I went first downtown to rent a 4-wheeler. It was then that I learned that my credit card had stopped working. No reason why, just stopped working. Of course, when you're on an island and your credit card is your one source of monetary replenishment, this is bad news. I had maybe 200 euros in my pocket and had no idea how long that could last me in expensive, touristy Greece. I could only spend one night in my hotel and could not afford a 4-wheeler. Even that was a disappointment as the power went out that evening and I could not even take a shower before heading out that night in Fira, the center of urbanity on Santorini. I watched the sunset from the town's walls and, later, allowed myself one drink at a lively pub. I met the Australian girls, but after it was clear I had no money with which to buy them drinks they soon parted from my company. Dejected, I went back to my dark hotel room and planned for the next few days.


Fira, before sunset


Fira, after sunset



Fira's architecture


A drink with the Aussie girls

My next course of action was to find the cheapest place to stay on the island. This I found in the small settlement of Perissa, on the island's more hum-drum West side. I found a camping ground and rented a holey tent for only 8 euros a night. I feasted on cheap spanikopita and gyros during the day and spent some time on Perissa's sandy, but painfully windy, beach. I tried to climb the mountain to the ruins of Ancient Thira nearby, only to find they were closing (at 3:30 no less!) It was not a winning day. That evening I went to Oia, where the best sunsets are supposed to be found. After a nice meal of moussaka and house wine I tried to get a good view of the sunset, but everyone was absolutely packed with tourists. I would up following some Australians around a treacherous bit of cliff, through a deserted and crumbling building site, and onto a promontory that offered excellent views. We had wine and had some fun with photos. I tried to go back with them but, unfortunately, their tour guide would not let me on the bus. I never saw them again, and went back to my dark and dirty tent to drink cheap ouzo and forget the day had happened.


A church in Perissa


A view of Perissa


Moussaka and wine!





The architecture of Oia


One of the crazy Aussies in Oia


Enjoying wine and an Oia sunset

After this, I decided to throw caution to the wind. I decided that I should try and enjoy myself at least a little while I was on this island. So, I rented a 4-wheeler. This was fun! I was able to tool about the little island wherever my will would take me. I sped back up to Ancient Thira before closing first, and enjoyed the awesome views from there. Afterwards, I checked out the black sand beaches of Kamari and then the red sands of the island's southern beaches. In the evening I bought some moussaka, house wine, and baklava from a small restaurant (sadly, not as delicious and even more expensive than the night before, but oh well) and sought out my own, perfect sunset spot. This I found, in an undeveloped wasteland just south of Fira. There was no one around, only stray dogs, and yet I found a spot on the cliff's edge that offered me views of the entire caldera, the volcano in the middle, and the sunset. Despite being perhaps the best place on the island, I was all alone there. I enjoyed my dinner and the sunset in solitude, at once depressed and energized by my intrepid discovery.


My 4-wheeler. Vroom!


In Ancient Thira


A view of Kamari beach


An even better view!


Red beach






Views from my lonely lookout at a Santorini sunset

The next day, I left Santorini. On Santorini I faced hardships, loneliness, and dashed expectations yet again. But, at the same time, I learned to reappreciate how I as a tarveller can rise above these obstacles and still make my travels into adventures.