Crete – Let Luce!

Mission Improbable

Posted on 14th Jul 202316th Jul 2023 by luce

Last night, we headed to the cinema in Chania, Crete to indulge in the opening night of Mission Impossible. Many of you will know of my penchant for a cinema visit whilst abroad and may have read my previous blog, ‘Tickets, Cinema, Action!’ from October 2022 which was when I last visited this particular cinema. In my opinion, a cinema trip abroad is a cultural pleasure not to be missed.

On this occasion, there were a handful of us waiting patiently on the pavement to purchase tickets whilst the ticket man organised his petty cash in his miniscule booth that would not even accommodate a small swinging cat. An extremely short woman dressed in heels near the kiosk was intermittently looking around and also glancing at her phone. It was unclear whether she was about to buy a ticket and, upon seeing her hearing aids, I had visions of me awkwardly gesticulating in a chaotic way whilst uttering a mumble of broken Greek in order to ask her. However, after a few moments of British-queue etiquette, I settled for a gentle, hesitant tap as a means of checking if she was queuing or not. She was.

She appeared to be waiting for someone and when she had glanced at her phone for a final time before buying her ticket, I noticed her screensaver and did a double take. Either her partner was a perfect look-a-like or it was Tom Cruise. My husband had clocked it too and we both affirmed that it was the famous TC. I was curious: my screensaver had always been of someone or something personal – my family or a favourite place. I had thought (perhaps naively) that this was the norm but this woman had opened my eyes to new screen possibilities.

When she asked for her ticket, which sounded like, ‘ένα Tom Cruise’ (one Tom Cruise) I was somewhat relieved as I had been wondering how I was going to say ‘Mission Impossible’ in Greek. When it was my turn, I sort of copied what I had heard, added a slight roll of the ‘r’, puckered my lips a little more than usual in an attempt to create some sort of Greek intonation and asked for ‘δυο Tom Cruise’. It sounded a little greedy asking for two of him, but my message was understood and tickets were received.

After finding our seats in the auditorium, one which we hadn’t been in before, I headed off to the loo. Turning right, I strolled across the foyer, pushed open the fairly innocuous wooden door to the unisex toilets and then gasped an inaudible gasp as I walked in to an improbable visual feast.

As I took in my surroundings of the overwhelming, brightly lit floor-to-ceiling black and white shiny tiled decor, which was everywhere including in every cubicle, I momentarily felt like a Hollywood star stepping into a scene. This was a stark contrast to the faded seated auditoriums, the paltry roadside ticket booth where the buttons on the antiquated till were still going strong and the simplicity of the snack counter which resembled a ladened market stall without the pizzazz and jazz of a 21st century cinema complex. This toilet decor was something!

I half expected Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to rhythmically shimmy across the bathroom floor but as they didn’t and no one else was around, I got out my camera eyeing up every nook and cranny. No surface had been left untouched by the glittery black and white splendour. Upon reflection, my reaction may have been a little over the top but I wanted to remember this heavenly bathroom palace. Back in the auditorium, I whispered to my husband, ‘You have to go to the toilet. Wooden door on the right.’

Two and 3/4 hours later, as the credits rolled on the lengthy, action-packed film, I left the cinema full of ideas of how to next redesign my bathroom.

cinema, Crete

Tickets, cinema, action!

Posted on 11th Oct 202212th Oct 2022 by luce

Yesterday evening we went to the cinema here in Crete. The film ‘Mrs Harris goes to Paris’ was light-hearted and enjoyable and hit the spot for an evening’s entertainment. The added thrill (for me at least) was being at the cinema in a different country. Before the film started, I noticed that I felt a certain sense of childish excitement and anticipation. It was at that point that I inwardly acknowledged and self-diagnosed that I have a fondness, appreciation and affinity for going to the cinema when abroad.

I have never intentionally sought out the big screen overseas but rather it has come about by chance. Since ditching full-time employment for intermittent travelling to various European countries, both near and further, we have realised that there are only so many dinners out that a human body can ingest and so an ad-hoc cinema trip has offered an alternative evening’s entertainment. As an English speaker, there is an obvious language advantage as so many films are made in English/American and since visiting a few different European cinemas over the last couple of years, I have happily realised that films are not always dubbed into the local language.

Last night’s film, however, did offer a little problematic amusement in some scenes. As the film title indicates, Paris is the setting for much of the film and therefore it would have been amiss not to include some French. I am guessing that in the UK there would be subtitles for the French, but here in Crete there were already Greek subtitles for the Greek market. Therefore, at odd points during the film, I found myself blunderingly trying to listen to the rapid French, whilst at the same time, read the Greek subtitles to identify key words to help my understanding. The idea was to then patch the French and Greek together to make it fit with the story…all this in split seconds before the scene moved on. Lost in translation springs to mind but I think I got the gist.

A particularly delightful aspect about a cinema trip in a different country is that it gives an added insight into the local culture and, believe me, the innocent buzz of seeing the decor, using the cinema toilet or comparing popcorn habits can be enlightening! Last night, as we were unsure if we were allowed to take in our own metal water canisters, we had left these at home and so had to buy water at the cinema. I smiled as I paid and took my two bottles of ice cold water, pondering on how refreshing the total price of 1€ was compared to the pounds one can knock up in a UK cinema just by glancing at the pick and mix.

Here in Crete, even buying the tickets gave me a thrill. I approached the street-side window of the tiny booth which housed one elderly man and his till. I loved his till! There are two prices for this cinema: 5€ (Mon-Wed) and 7€ (Thurs-Sun). This somewhat old-fashioned till had not just one, but five buttons in a row each labelled with 7€ and another five buttons in a row each labelled with 5€. I’m still pondering on why you would need five different buttons that do the same thing?

In my best Greek, I asked for two tickets for ‘Η κυρία Χάρις πάει στο Παρίσι’ and after an agonisingly slow finger scroll down a piece of paper mounted on a board in front of him, the ticket man finally established which screen we were in. ‘Πέντε’, he said holding up five fingers. As his finger then hovered over the till, it was tantalising to watch, wait and see which of the five buttons labelled 7€ he was going to press. I could hardly contain myself!

After securing the tickets, we had to walk two short paces to the door and give them to another man (also many years into retirement) who tore them to confirm purchase. Then we were inside and it was time to investigate the retro delights of the Greek cinema decor…

A unique design – not an easy approach to this door from the spiral staircase!

Crete, Greece

Now Ewe See Me, Now Ewe Don’t!

Posted on 29th Apr 202229th Apr 2022 by luce

I’d woken up to another glorious day. With a gentle background of sweet-sounding birdsong, the warmth of the Cretan sun offered its daily comforting welcome as I gradually opened my eyes. I carried my morning coffee to the balcony and settled in the hammock with my book. Bliss, I thought, appreciating the time to do nothing else but enjoy my surroundings and indulge in a good read.

After about half an hour, it was time to make the leisurely move from hammock to table for breakfast. Relaxed and without rush, I ambled through to the kitchen and went out the back door to take in the view – the gorgeous mountainous landscape which stood proud in the distance beyond the expanse of the vivid blue of Souda bay.

Suddenly I stopped.

“A sheep!” I shouted in panic to my husband.

There standing in front of me and staring at me was a woolly creature and it didn’t look friendly. The reason for my startle was that it should have been on the other side of the fence but it wasn’t, and without that fence as a barrier, I suddenly felt extremely vulnerable.

“Sheep!” I yelled with a greater sense of urgency.

Somehow this particular sheep had got through the fence – a metal fence which was secured on top of the low stone wall acting as a perimeter and thus separating our property from the adjacent field.

Spot the hole between the fence and the wall! *(Photo by Heather Knibb)*

My immediate thought was that the elastic had gone in my pyjamas and so I knew that I was in fear of tarnishing my upstanding character with our immediate neighbours. Should they look up from their balcony to witness me straddle-walking across the land in an effort to prevent my pyjamas from falling down whilst I confronted a sheep…this was not an image I wanted to share! I also had no footwear on and to walk barefoot through the blanket of wild flowers would not have been sensible given that there were also cacti, thistles and other such pricks, not to mention a possible sighting of a snake or two (not poisonous in Crete, I hasten to add).

Clutching the waist of my pyjama trousers, I rushed back into the house to quickly change into more fitting attire and also to grab my trainers. My mind was racing: who do you call to help with a sheep rescue? Should I shout for our neighbours? Should I ring our friends further up the mountain? Should I ring the shepherd? How would I ring the shepherd if I didn’t have his number? Was there a Cretan Sheep Rescue Helpline?

My main concern was that the sheep would end up in the swimming pool and I had visions of my husband and I splashing, heaving and swearing as we tried to haul the waterlogged animal out with its entrails of bedraggled chlorinated wool making it a dead weight beneath our arms. I quickly shut off my thoughts before I had a chance to consider what a dead sheep’s eyes would look like close up, let alone how we would explain to the shepherd in broken Greek that he was now one sheep short in his flock.

Whilst hopping around the room on one foot trying to put on my trainers quicker than was humanly possible and thus not getting either shoe on correctly, I felt like I was in some inane comedy sketch where all I had to do was eventually fall over and I’d get a laugh. My mind was still buzzing with thoughts about how we were going to get the sheep safely back onto the other side of the fence before it rampaged across the patio and ended up head first in the pool. Was there a manual for such a rescue? Too late if there was: I didn’t have that bloody manual and even if I had, I certainly didn’t have time to consult it and now was also not the time to Google ‘How to get rid of an unwanted sheep’.

After just a few minutes, I ran back outside appropriately dressed with a fitted waistband and my feet safely ensconced in my trainers.

“Where’s it gone?” I said stopping abruptly.

“It went back through the fence,” came the reply. My practical husband didn’t even look up as he casually continued to replace the stones on the wall where the gap had been.

“What do you mean, it went back through the fence?” I exclaimed trying to contain my frustration at not having had the chance to gain my Duke of Edinburgh award for sheep rescue. I felt robbed of an adventure!

Moments later, I relaxed and felt a wave of gentle relief as the frantic mind-whirring stress of the last few minutes ebbed away. I was, in truth, thankful to that sheep who had the foresight to make the sensible decision to head back to where it had come from.

It turned out that I didn’t need a manual after all…but I did need some new pyjamas.

Crete, earthquake

Shake, Croissant and Roll

Posted on 31st Oct 202131st Oct 2021 by luce

Tuesday 28th September 2021 7:47 a.m.

My first experience of an earthquake.

I was already awake when the hotel bed unexpectedly started moving. It felt as though an invisible someone was at the end of the bed pushing it back and forth. Woken up by the tremors, my husband suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, wide-eyed and confused.

We looked at each other and a wry smile immediately came over my face as my first thought was that perhaps the couple in the next door room were having an early morning shag! (We were staying in a nice beachside hotel but it did have rather thin walls.) However I then realised there was absolutely no sound: no heavy breathing not even a grunt or two and no bed frame squeaks. In fact, there was nothing but an unusual silence. Almost instantly, I became aware of the eerie quiet that hung in the air. Finally the penny dropped; it was another earthquake.

24 hours earlier, as we had woven our way along the Cretan coastal road to Rethymon and then headed through the mountains to the south of the island, we were oblivious of the earthquake (measured at 6.3 on the Richter Scale) that had occurred whilst we were on route. We had felt nothing and we only discovered news of this first earthquake later in the day when we had arrived at our destination, the coastal town of Mátala.

At the time we casually brushed off the idea of an earthquake; we hadn’t felt it, we saw no evidence of it, so we didn’t worry. However later when we saw a BBC news report, it became apparent that it was more serious than we thought. A frantic phone call with one relative, who had seen the news from the UK, enhanced our concern as we considered the severity of our location which was just 40 miles from the epicentre.

It was with these thoughts that we woke up in our hotel room to the second quake – this one we felt – which was measured at a magnitude of 5.3. To die-hard experienced earthquakers, perhaps they would have just relaxed in their room, lay on the beach, taken a dip in the pool or enjoyed a beer in the beachside bar, but to us earthquake novices, we felt a deep sense of unease that morning. We decided to leave. We abandoned our planned sightseeing which would have taken us closer to the epicentre, and agreed to head back to our dwelling on the north of the island further away from any earthquake movement.

Decision made, we soon sprang into action. Never have I showered so quickly, nor packed up my things so efficiently and never, never ever have I eaten so little in a hotel buffet breakfast. It seemed scandalous to depart so swiftly without taking advantage of the abundance of croissants, Greek yoghurt with honey, toast, cheese, eggs, rolls, bottomless orange juice and coffee, but sometimes you have to weigh up the odds and make a sensible decision. Earthquake versus big breakfast? Or to be more dramatic: life versus calories? In less than half an hour, we had fled the area.

In the days that followed, where little if any earthquake movement was detected or reported, we pondered on our decision to up and leave so quickly. Upon reflection, perhaps we could have continued our sightseeing and perhaps we overreacted by departing so suddenly but hindsight is always a wonderful thing. At the time, it was a scary moment of the unknown and I shall not forget how I felt at the silence of the tremors.

To end on a more lighthearted note, a return trip is planned and I look forward to finishing my hotel buffet breakfast!

Crete

Vamos a la dentist!

Posted on 11th Aug 202128th Aug 2021 by luce

Anyone who knows me well will be aware of my irrational fear of dentists. My siblings may recall my teenage screams echoing down the corridor during check up appointments. In those days, my mum would bundle us into the car and take us on an hour’s drive to Cheltenham to our Swedish dentist who was a friend of a relative. Only in later years did I realise that he reminded me of the child-catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Hence my hang ups. I mean no offence to said dentist, but as a child it’s easy to make these unintentional and unconscious connections.

*******

Yesterday afternoon I found myself unexpectedly paying a visit to a dentist here in Crete. Driving to the village of Vamos (about 6 km away) the car was registering 42.5 degrees Celsius. To say it was hot was an understatement. Even the air con was having to work harder than usual and the heat wasn’t helping the sick feeling I had in my stomach.

I was experiencing intense pain in a tooth which wasn’t going away. Thankfully, a friend, who lives on the island, came to my rescue. In a flurry of WhatsApp messages, after giving me the number of her dentist, she patiently alleviated my fears, assuring me that, in her experience, he was sympathetic to nervous patients. She even made the appointment for me because I freely admitted to her that I would happily procrastinate when it came to anything dentistry. When she offered to ring him, I was so grateful.

The closer the appointment, the growing concern and whilst driving through the deserted winding country roads, I was discovering that nerves mixed with exceptionally high temperatures produced copious amounts of sweat. Wiping my forehead, repositioning the car aircon vent and taking timely deep breaths whilst trying to recall some of my usual pre-dentist meditation tracks did nothing to stop the sweat dripping down my face.

Upon arrival in Vamos, I reluctantly walked up to the dark green door which stood on an empty street – no one else was out in this heat. It was an unassuming building and if you were just driving past, you probably wouldn’t even have realised that it was a practising dentist. In the relentless Cretan summer sun, a faded sign quietly acknowledged the presence of the business. With some degree of hesitation, I was aware that I was venturing into the unknown to a strange dentist in a foreign country but I knew that I had to overcome my fear in order to eliminate the pain.

I entered the small building and I felt my body involuntarily sigh with a slight sense of relief (yet still tensely clutching muscles) as I walked into a smart reception area which was tastefully decorated with choice pieces of furniture. The dark wood and cool air welcomed calmness, faith and encouraged a positive aura.

The dentist leaned his head around the door from the adjacent room and, with a smile, he welcomed me. I had noted from the sign on the outside door that he had kindly opened his surgery almost an hour earlier than his usual hours to accommodate my emergency. Moments later, I was in ‘the chair’ and, glancing around, I noticed the simplicity of the bare stone walls, the traditionally tiled floor and a beamed high ceiling, all which thoughtfully complemented the modern dentistry equipment which gave the room its purpose. Gentle music was playing, the air conditioning unit was successfully cooling the room and so I bravely settled down as the investigation into my tooth problem began.

‘You need a root canal,’ he explained as he turned to get the injection ready.

‘What? You do it now?’ I asked filled with trepidation mixed with an abundance of sweat trickles. (In the UK, it was usual to have to make another appointment for the actual work to be done which gave further delay – a welcomed delay in my book!)

He smiled and it was the sweetest and calmest of smiles that put me at such ease for which I was truly thankful. I knew I had absolute faith in what he was about to do, but at the same time, I couldn’t quite shake off the image of Steve Martin as the psychopath dentist in Little Shop of Horrors. (Watch it if you haven’t.)

Forty five minutes later, I’d had the prep work for a root canal, been prescribed antibiotics for the abscess and a follow up appointment had been made for a few days time. I felt confident and calm: the immediate, welcoming, no-fuss nature of my Cretan dental experience was refreshing. I left with a smile.

Crete, Travelling

Let Loose Again

Posted on 6th Aug 20216th Aug 2021 by luce

It has been about nine months since I have stepped foot out of the UK and at first it felt a little strange to be on the move. As I tore myself away from the familiarity and comfort of home, which has been the base of my lockdown life, a sense of muted excitement lulled in the air, mixed with a slight reluctance.

It felt like the world had shrunk and that anything beyond my locality was just a little bit scary. It felt like one of those times where it would have been so easy to stay put, so easy to stick with the familiar, so easy to stay at home. I was excited about heading to Crete but not at all thrilled about the journey itself which would take me to public locations where I would have to mix with people in situations that I hadn’t for nine months.

Heading to the airport, I lowered my expectations of what it might be like: check-in, the flight, getting through security, mixing with people, passport control… I imagined long queues, chaos, delays and disorganisation. This mindset was my way to avoid any disheartened disappointment where I knew the world was still figuring out how to deal with often changeable covid-related rules and regulations in public places.

Despite the unsociable early hour of the morning, thankfully we arrived at a relatively quiet airport, which was free from the usual mad rush of passengers starting the school holidays. This gave a promising start. I was hopeful. We immediately joined a not-so-long queue of fellow bleary-eyed passengers, and waited to get our documents checked before heading for a much needed coffee. As the queue shuffled along at a pleasantly steady pace, my spirit was lifted further and I soon realised that the entire airport operation was well organised and prepared. I almost felt guilty for my negativity but I was equally pleased to be proven wrong.

Papers checked, bags dropped, security passed and stomach fuelled, we were aboard the plane within an hour of arriving at Gatwick. And despite my awareness of the close proximity of the passenger in the seat next to me (which felt odd after so much social distancing) the thought that every adult on the plane had had their papers checked and in most cases had been double vaccinated, gave some element of safety.

Landing just a few hours later, I felt the welcoming heat of the Cretan sun and a warm gentle breeze on my face.

It felt good to be let loose once again. ☀️ 🇬🇷