Are we in Greece?

Mykonos was never in the plan. Whenever we spoke about Mykonos prior to the trip it was to agree that we would not go there and to tell people that we would not be visiting Santorini or Mykonos. So how did we end up here?  Astypalea was always on my list. It lies between the Cyclades and the Dodecanese island groups. It is one of those quiet, off-the-main-tourist-trap islands that we had been enjoying. However, a one-day slip up in making our booking, meant we were not in sync with the ferry that went from Amorgos to Astypalea. Plan B was put into action.

Plan B was to visit Delos. We both wanted to visit Delos. The island where Apollo and Artemis were  born. It’s important in both ancient myth and history and on the UNESCO World Heritage List. It was habited from about 3000BC (wow! Right?) – and the archeological sites are phenomenal. Delos is now uninhabited, since about the 8th century AD –  and apparently, no one is allowed to be born or to die on the island – and you cannot stay overnight. To get to Delos, you catch a ferry from Mykonos. So we agreed to Delos, via Mykonos for a few short days, we would go.

It didn’t start well. Right from the beginning. The ferry from Koufonisi to Mykonos was one of the ferries we had been trying to avoid. A small jet ferry. It was expensive compared to the other ferries we had taken so far. Seats were allocated, and we were allocated seats not next to each other. There were no outside areas, and we could not see any of the islands we passed. It was a quick but unpleasant trip that did not help our moods. 

Arriving anywhere by ferry in Greece is chaos. The unloading and loading is quick and frenzied. People push to get on and off and uniformed figures, yell and wave their hands in the direction they want the people to quickly walk. Noise is all around – the ferry engines, hydraulic gang planks going up and down, trucks and cars, loading and unloading around the the people.  Then there is the bag wheeling and back-pack-swinging that adds to the confusion and mayhem. We scurried off and luckily found our transport quickly and easily. Both of us grateful that we booked transport to meet us at the wharf.

This is where we truly learnt about Greek driving. Drive fast, don’t be frightened, avoid people walking on the road, avoid other cars on the road – and large buses, try to keep one hand on the wheel, and always, always, have your other hand holding your mobile phone to your ear. It was a wild ride from the new port to our accommodation, so taken aback by the driving we barely had time to look at our surroundings. We just knew it was crowed and chaotic – an without any footpaths.

As usual, we dropped our bags and headed to check out the beach. There were wall-to-wall umbrellas and sun beds. At fifty Euro you could get a pair of sun beds and an umbrella in the front or second line. If you were a cheapskate, you could get a pair of sun beds further back for just 40 Euro. Just at the entrance to the beach, there was a strip of sand, maybe about five metres wide which led down to the water about 10 metres away, which was free. Not far out into the water were the boats and yachts. We had enjoyed looking at them on the other islands but this was like a car park. All the vessels were anchored port-to-starboard, bow-to-stern. You could probably cross the cove by jumping from one boat to another. The boats blocked the view of the ocean and the umbrellas and sun beds blocked the view of the beach. We went back to our accomodation dejected.

I kept trying to find an underlying beauty in Mykonos. Sometimes I thought I caught sight of it, like the wedding down by the sea, the old windmills on the hill, or places in the Chora and buildings that surround the old port, but Robert was adamant there was nothing he could possibly like about the place.

Mykonos is a place for tourists, with tourists prices and a feeling that you really could be anywhere touristy. I certainly had to look further than the bad souvenirs to find any feeling of being in Greece.

I asked Robert last night if he thought visiting Delos was worth the few days we spent in Mykonos. He answered, “It’s borderline”. This morning, I get the feeling he doesn’t think it was worth it at all.