Hello from Ano Viannos, Kreta, Greece
A dream come true, a flight from Hades, and a small mountain village
Hello, Yiásas (γεια σας), “To your health!”
I sit in the center of the large bed, one the second floor of an old tone house that has been renovated. White plaster has been loving smoothed around the ancient rocks with small nooks intentionally built into the wall for climbing or hiding things. I sit facing South in a high-ceilinged room with the balcony doors opened. A warm breeze comes through the open doors and I can smell oil cooking. I pause and look out and see the rooftops. We’re nestled against Mont Dicté in Southeastern Kreta in the small village, of Ano Viannos on the island of Kreta (also known as Kriti or Crete).
I chose this spot because it was quiet, not touristic at all and for it’s magical vibe. If you’re like me and ever tried to book a a place to stay in a foreign country, I find it can be excruciatingly exhausting wading through pictures, descriptions and reviews. Gawd, how does one chose a place to vacation? I often have to go with my gut, a feeling, and my sixth sense. And that’s exactly what happened when I found The Red House. Magic happened.
There’s a tiny, 1300-year-old chapel 15 meters from our front door. I like go and sit quietly on the rickety green bench and lean back again the dark, cool walls imaging what went on here for the last thousand and a half years. There are paintings on the walls of Eve with a snake and The Last Supper.
Tantric Eve,
and the Last Supper.
We arrived in Greece after a grueling five-legged flight from Phoenix to Newark, Newark to Zurich, Zurich to Geneva, Geneva back to Zurich and finally Zurich to Athens. We sat on the tarmac for two hours before leaving Newark because someone had dropped their laptop between the walls of the plane. How and what?! I learned that laptops contain lithium batteries which need to be in the main cabin on the plane otherwise they may explode. Okay, important. So the mechanics proceeded to removed the panels of the airplane (inside or outside I wasn’t quite clear), retrieved the computer, and left Newark airport two hours late.
The only person I know who can sleep on airplanes is my father. He can sleep anywhere. After a nine-hour flight across the Atlantic Ocean, we woke to find our plane circling over Zurich and the captain informed the passengers there are severe thunderstorms and could not land the plane. We also did not have enough fuel to keep up the current flight pattern so the plane would be rerouting to Geneva. In Geneva we landed and refueled overhearing conversation from the other travellers about possibility of needing to deplane and find another flight to Athens another day. We waited another hour on the airplane in Geneva before the captain decided to fly us back to Zurich, where all passengers were redirected to other flights, hopefully reaching their final destinations that evening. We finally arrived in Athens five hours late. Luckily our welcoming party chose to hang out at IKEA and wait for us. Hurry!It was a trying day for everyone.
Jet-lagged and hungry we were whisked to Isthmia for a dip in the turquoise-blue-green sea, and fed a dinner at the local Taverna, of fresh grilled sardines, saganaki (fried cheese with lemon) and a cold beer. Jesse and I would spend the next five days with our teacher and mentor, Bhavani Maki, and her husband Ray, and their son, Niko, in Bhavani’s family home. A dream come true for me.
Thermal cold pools where Helen of Troy was rumored to have bathed. (Seriously, this water felt thick with prāṇa and minerals.)
Jesse, Bhavani, and myself in front of an ancient temple to Apollo, the Sun and above use on the mountain the Acrocorinth.
High above the ancient city of Corinth is a castle, Acrocorinth, with walls dating back to the 4th century B.C.E. It was besieged by Crusaders, Ottomans, and Venetians, and is the site of the myth of the Pegasus. (Niko’s playing in the background.)
Shinay communing with an ancient water spring site near Perachora.
On the third day of our stay in Isthmia, it was about 11AM, after a second cup of coffee and lounging around the open-air porch telling stories when the most organic yoga session ensured. Without saying, “Now let’s do yoga,” Bhavani, Jesse and I started moved the rugs, sweeping the floor, and sliding the coffee table aside, all in unison without checking it out first. We rolled out sticky mats three-in-a-row and we each proceeded to do a good two-hour session of “our own thing” without saying much to each other except occasionally laughing or sighing when something “hurt so good.” We moved, breathed, and riffed off each other’s postures. This, was pure magic. If you ever get the opportunity to practice along side your teacher, there are not words in English language to describe the feeling of elation I got from this experience. The organic nature of the whole event, the not saying a word while dropping in to the body and the breath—it’s a whole other level of integration for me. Thank you Bhavani, Ray and Niko for welcoming us into your space! The magic continues.
Also, on most evenings sitting around the living room long after dark, seeing Jesse geek out on astrology with other practitioners was so cool. I realized that when we engage with subjects we are deeply interested in, there’s a part of us that lights up, turns on, and radiates something big. That was useful and awesome.
Waiting for our train to the ferry in Korinthos.
After a heart-full and tear-full “see you next time,” Jesse and I took the train from Korinthos to Piraeus (about an hour ride) and an overnight ferry from Piraeus to Heraklion, Crete (Kreta, Kriti, it has many names as I’ll come to find out, about a nine-hour ride). Not knowing what to expect, and having booked online, I purchased the cheapest seat available, “deck seats.” We arrived in the lobby of the ferry, where we snagged a table by the bar. I four-seater with faux-suede seats and a round, wooden table where we planned to set up camp and survey he scene.
As we munched on olives, feta, and crusty bread bits we quickly realized families had been camping out on the bench seats around the periphery of the dining area for hours. After feeling out the scene for a few minutes, I bought water and talked to someone at reception. “Put your name of the list,” they said when I inquired about a sleeping birth for two. “We’ll call your name,” they assured me. We waited an hour. I walked outside and watched the ferry pull away from dock and out to the sea, picking up speed. I asked two young travellers what they usually do. “Deck seats,” they said animately. “Does that mean out here in the open air or are we allowed to sit inside?” I asked cautiously. “You can go inside and sleep on the chairs after three AM,” they said cheerfully, “the tickets for sleeping cars are expensive.”
I’m starting to get the feel of things. It’s very much like India. One has their own trip. It’s about one’s personal comfort/adventure-level. You can pay for a sleeper car if you’ve got the money, otherwise, you plan strategically. The question I asked myself, seriously, was, is it worth it to sleep on the chairs in the dining room all night? I went back and checked in with Jesse. He was tired, we were getting on each other’s nerves. I sat and deliberated over spending money versus an actual night’s sleep. I heard my name called, “Smith,” over the intercom. I walked back to the deck not knowing what to expect, or how much we’d be required to pay for two beds. “15 Euro for a separate women’s and men’s dorms, or 45 Euro more for a sleeper bunk.” I was raised in the mindset of frugality. What’s it worth to you, Shinay, to get to lie horizontal and get some sleep? I asked myself this question carefully, trying not to trigger all my buttons, and be gentle with myself.
“Let me go get my visa card,” I told the man behind the counter as an excuse to walk away and think for a moment. “Okay,” he said, “but I can’t guarantee there will be rooms available when you get back.”
Port of Piraeus.
I thanked the man at reception and walked back to where Jesse sat waiting patiently and looking a little worse for wear. I presented him with our options. He smiled, softly, looked at me, and said, “What do you feel good about doing?” Knowing that this is one of those moments to move slowly as to not upset each other. We sat, me fidgeting and trying not to cry, Jesse breathing slowly and trying not to make me cry.
I breathed and said, “I want a room of our own.” Jesse nodded and said, “Okay then, I think that’s a good idea.” He smiled and I scampered back to the reservation desk and asked the man if a room was still available for us to sleep together. He smiled kindly and said, “Yes.” I breathed a sigh of relief. The man behind the desk gestured to a young fellow who walked me back three hallways, two flights of stairs and another hallway to our room. A four-bed suit, no windows, but there was a bathroom of our own, and a shower! Holy, Aphrodite, a hot shower! I was elated. Worth it. Totally worth the extra cash.
After tucking away the top two bunks the young man handed me the keys to our very own ferry birth. Holy shit, I have never been so happy in my life to have a bed to sleep on. (I should have learned my lesson in India when Jesse and I shared a bed on a train from Chennai to Karala meant for a half-sized human.) Yikes! I retraced my steps back to the lobby to collect Jesse. I was beaming. “Okay, lets go!” I said triumphantly jingling the keys in my hand. He looked weary yet very relieved. We walked back to the room where we both took hot showers and then took a stroll on the deck of the ferry before laying down and sleeping. It was already nearly 11PM.
I woke up in time to see the sun rise, bright red, over the clear blue Aegean Sea. We arrive in Heraklion, Crete at 6:30 in the morning. We get off the ferry and wondered around, inquiring about the best way to get to the airport where we’d pick up our rental car. A woman in a blue dress pointed us to where we’d pick up the airport bus. Waiting at the bus stop trying to purchase bus tickets, we almost lost five Euro but luckily I had tweezers handy and plucked it out from where it might have been swallowed in the jaws of the machine. Jesse walked to the gas station just behind the bus stop to exchange bills for coins. We caught the next bus and rode a short way to the airport. We were an hour early to pick up our rental car so we ate Spanakopita and drank Greek coffee and waited on a bench inside the airport until 10AM.
Get ready, driving in Crete! We got the smallest, cheapest rental car, which means it doesn’t go very fast. Sigá, Sigá, slowly, slowly, is our mantra. Everything becomes, Sigá, Sigá (for us at least). We drive through thousands, tens of hundreds of thousands of olive groves, we pass bougainvillea, and the pink flower bushes the Cretans plant along their roadways. We made our way up into the hills driving about an hour South from Iraklio (Heraklion) to Ano Viannos (under Viannos) where we met our the owners of the house we would rent for the next three weeks. We met in the village square at the café Oneiro. Jesse and I sat and all four of us talked and laughed under the shade of red pepper trees before we followed our hosts car further up the sttep mountain, around hair-pin turns, passed ancient stone building most of which were falling down. From the upper parking lot where the villagers have made clear signs in red spray paint not to park in front of the trash cans, we walked through the upper part of the village. The air was hot and the streets narrow. “Most of the village is full of old people because the younger generation need to leave and find work elsewhere,” Kiki and Antoni were telling us. The same everywhere I thought. We picked our way passed mangy cats and dog poop, passed fig and lemon trees with big bees humming in their branches. We walked a little further to The Red House, a beautiful old stone building which Antoni had renovated himself and where they both had lived for five years before moving North to Malia.
Crash landing. We walked down the cobble stones steps to the local Teverna where we ate dinner at 6PM (early for most Greeks). Walking back up the steps to The Red House has me huffing and puffing. Jesse and I laughed together, guessing at why were were so winded. After dark we watched a little bad TV because we could and fell asleep by 9PM. We woke early to the sounds of swallows, the fresh mountain air coming through the open double doors and the sun cresting Mont Dicté turning everything rose gold.
We’ve landed, we’ll here two more weeks, we’re dropping in. I look forward to seeing you in the yoga classroom in August.
Join the next in-person yoga class in 2023. On-going yoga classes: Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays 8:00am-9:30am. Check out Shinay’s local offerings in Prescott, Arizona here.
Ever wanted to sit with your yoga teacher and ask them all your questions? Now’s your chance. Join Patañjali’s Yoga Sūtra Study Group Sundays 11:45-1:15. Find out more information here.
“The Tender Hearted Warrior” Yoga Immersion happening September 7, 8, 9, and 10, Thursday through Sunday 7:00-12:00. Find out more information here.
A new episode of the Yogi’s Roadmap Podcast just out this month. Listen here.
What a sweet peak into the raw delights of your travels. The turquoise water, the ancient paintings, the weary travels, and saving graces of a bed. Thank you for sharing your journey. Big hello to Jesse.