Location: Spartia, Kefalonia

We began the day with a drive into the “big city” of Argostoli. We had an address and a mission: Athena had to complete an online French competency test before July 15th, and we needed an actual, hardwired computer with a full keyboard to do it (we only brought phones and an iPad). Argostoli has two “Internet cafes,” but one allows smoking and Trip Advisor recommended bringing a gas mask to it, so we aimed for the other. Street signs are scarce here, and when they exist, they are often only in Greek and/or so faded by the sun that they are illegible and/or covered with graffiti. We drove the wrong way down a one way, circled the centre of town twice, and finally asked a young local for help. She kind of helped.

When we finally found the place, it was less cafe than computer store, but it was relatively quiet. There was some fussing about to get around the bilingual keyboard (Greek and English) and to figure out how to get French letters out of it, but then we left Athena for an hour to try to impress Sciences Po.

We strolled the four blocks of marble-tiled pedestrian tourist strip, visited the Greek Orthodox Church in the square, and looked in vain for anything that seemed familiar from Captain Corelli’s Mandolin.

When Athena emerged, we headed to the harbour to see one of the town’s main attractions: the sea turtles. As predicted, they appeared near the fishing boats, huge and scrappy.

The sun was getting intense. We needed shade and food, but the cafes only seemed to serve ice cream or pale North American style burgers with fries, so it was into the car to crank the AC and hunt down a meal. We finally found it on a hilltop in Lassi.

After only one false turn (and a U turn in a middle-of-nowhere neighbourhood), we managed to re-find the oddly wide, surprisingly well-maintained, strangely empty road that isn’t on the map but that we took home from Fiscardo. We suspect that the locals are trying to keep it a secret from the tourists so that they can get where they need to go without having to pass a dozen cautious rental cars every mile. This time we took it heading north.

We were off to try to find Myrtos Beach, one of those beaches that they use to make photo calendars of Greece, the most famously beautiful beach on Kefalonia. And it did not disappoint. Indescribably light blue water, so clean and crisp that even I (a confirmed hydrophobe) was drawn to go in. And the whole beach is surrounded by white cliffs. The sand too was quite white, but rougher than we expected. The unpredictable ground required footware; it ranged from big round white rocks to soft round pebbles to wee round grains of the same rock. And all of it covered with chalky salt.

When we arrived, a huge yacht was parked in the bay, and before we left, a two-person paraglider landed on the beach.

We rented a couple umbrellas and four loungers, but they were hardly used; the water was too enticing. Even I went in, heavily supervised and literally handheld.

David and Triumph loved it in the “Crush Zone” where the waves broke into whitewash that would knock one down and throw one about rather violently. Or, as in Athena’s case, it might make repeated attempts on one’s bikini top.

Speaking of Athena, she found one of the two women’s WC stalls occupied by a mommy goat and her kid. She then watched the lifeguard shoo the goats into a little pen with the same bored exasperation as the waiters who shoo kittens away.

We heard French, Spanish, and Swedish on the beach. Many families, a lot of couples, a wide range of body types and tan lines, and everyone was having a blast. It was lovely.

Home to change and then dinner in Lord Byron’s old stomping grounds near Metaxata for another dinner full of feta and laughter, finished off with watermelon and baklava.

Location: Spartia, Kefalonia

Today was our second Sit-By-The-Pool day. It was rather windy, so there was more reading than swimming, but David and Triumph did spend a bit of time in the water.

David went out on a solo grocery run, but the rest of us didn’t leave the villa until we went for dinner in Spartia, our most immediate village. It was a family run establishment that served us, without question, the best food we have had in Kefalonia. Another taverna filled with Brits, these ones fascinated by the geckos on the wall. (There are so many animals in restaurants here: cats and dogs are de rigeur. And so many other weird practices, like having the kitchen on the other side of the road from the tables.)

After dinner, it looked like all the inhabitants of Spartia had gathered outside near the cafe across the street. There must have been 25 locals sitting out and chatting at 11pm.

It seems we are finally getting our bearings on these crazy roads. This was our first of many outings where we didn’t get even a little lost! Granted, we were only 15 minutes away, but still!

Location: Spartia, Kefalonia

Today we had an appointment to meet a Lincolnshire bloke named Peter in Fiscardo. We had arranged to charter his Jeanneua 36′ sail boat for a day of sailing from Kefalonia to Ithaka. The kids were good sports about the alarm going off at 6:50. It may look like a dot on the map but Kefalonia is one of the larger and more mountainous of the Greek islands. Our seaside villa is near the town of Spartia in the extreme Soutwest of the island. Only a few kilometers away is Mount Enos which is 5300 feet above sea level. It is a perfect island if you are a goat. It also seems to me that the roads on Kefalonia follow ancient goat trails because they follow the contours of the land to an absurd level. Fiscardo is in the extreme Northeast part of the island and it was my job to drive us to our 10 o’clock appointment. We left at 8:15. Google maps said it would take an hour an 12 minutes.

Just north of the main town, Argostoli, is where we left the sea and headed to the sky along a shear cliff edge with the most dodgy embankment railings offering scant assurance in case of an accident. The mountain we were ascending was Mt. Agia Dynati ( 3700 feet). None of this potential jeopardy seemed to have any effect on the average Greek driver zooming past me with a cigarette in one hand and a mobile in the other. We clearly had taken the ‘scenic’ route which had us arrive a bit late to the delightful but touristy Fiscardo. (It had taken us two nail-biting hours to get there)

We met Peter at Cafe Greco and then boarded the yacht. After the safety demonstration, we motored out of the bay and made our way across the strait to the west side of Ithaka (home of Odysseus) with the goal of dropping anchor and swimming in one of those secluded Greek bays you see pictures of in travel magazines. Unfortunately, the sea swell was such that we could not drop an anchor so we continued to the east side of the island and there found the picturesque clear water bay for a swim. We anchored in 30′ of water and you could easily see to the bottom. We all had a swim (even brave Kristine) in the very salty, and consequently buoyant, Ionian Sea. Then we lifted anchor for lunch in the nearby charming town of Kioni. Lucky for me the wind arrived after lunch. We lifted the main and motor-sailed until we got past a headland and the Northwest wind was between 15 and 20 knots, with gusts. We stopped the engine, raised the Genoa and beat to windward on a long tack towards the island of Lefkada. As we approached the island we tacked to port and headed to Kefalonia. The sailing was more physical than I expected. On my Laser, I expect physical, but on a cruiser I kind of thought I would be holding the helm with one hand and a beer with the other. The gusts caused a lot of weather helm, and I was working the wheel for the whole time, all the while heeled over at 30 degrees. Awesome!!!

Safely back at Fiscardo, we said our goodbyes to Peter and then drank a frappe coffee to steel ourselves for the hair raising journey home. Fortunately, Peter and his 83 year old Greek co-worker told us of a new road which was more inland, shorter, faster, but not on the maps. Despite getting directions twice from them, I am sure it was only dumb luck that allowed us to find that road. Indeed it was a better road, but no less mountainous and curvy. Fortunately, the embankment railings looked more sturdy. So from sea to sky we went again the the top of the mountain passes where only the goats outnumbered the amount of switchback turns we made. As we made our way back down to the sea and our beautiful villa, Kristine commented that I had sent the entire day turning a steering wheel.

Location: Spartia, Kefalonia

Today we were truly on vacation. We slept in. Some of of us REALLY slept in (cough, Athena). We ate breakfast and lunch on the deck, read on the couches under the pergola, and dozed on the deck loungers, all the while soaking in the surreal, travel brochure view.

The biggest draw of the day was the pool. We swam and played on the floaters and with the ball. We all got a bit too much sun doing it (pink shoulders and backs), but no one got truly burnt, and it was loads of fun. It got windy late in the afternoon, which felt rather refreshing in the 32 degree weather. The pool deck is home to a strange three and a half foot tall clay swan. We’ve named him Leonard (after Cohen, who lives on an island not far from here). We think he looks better in David’s old hat.

We dined at one of the restaurants recommended by the British owners of our villa, a place called The Olive Grove in … you guessed it … an olive grove. The place was filled with Brits. Apparently, they love this island. We guess this is because it is relatively close to them (west coast) and has its own airport. (The villa owners had left us what they consider the “essentials”: a bottle of wine, some instant coffee, some tea, sugar, and biscuits.)

Strangely, our first waiter of the night could not understand our accent. Not British enough, I guess. He was teased for this by our second waiter. (You never have just one waiter; three or four usually come to the table in the course of a meal. And all of them here were young and male like last night.)

An early start the next day sent us home and in bed before midnight.

Location: Spartia, Kefalonia

After another yummy Aliki breakfast, we headed up into Arachova to find food for our big journey. A lot of the town was papered up. Whether these places only open in the winter (this is a ski resort) or if this is a sign of the tough economic times, we are unsure. Either way, we found no open bakeries, either there or in Delphi, so we gave up and began our descent. We took a seemingly endless series of switchbacks down into the same valley of olive groves we sat above at dinner the night before. Our waiter had told us with conviction that there were “a million olive trees” in that valley. We believe him. There was also a fascinating clay factory there. Its excavations have covered the building, the machinery, and even the sides of our road in a layer of brick red dust. These factories must be the source of all the clay roofs and pots.

We continued along the top of the huge Gulf of Corinth through tons of tiny villages and tried to imagine what it would be like to grow up in one of these remote, impoverished places. Our privilege felt very real.

We stopped in Galaxidi, yet another cute seaside resort that makes its living off rich yachters and vacationing locals. This town has painted all its buildings in pastel colours, which gives it a fairytale feeling … at least for the first couple sea-facing blocks. We bought coffee for the road, as well as bread, cheese, olive spread, and cookies for a picnic lunch that we planned to have somewhere along the Gulf. The old men in the coffee shop looked at us as if we were from Mars. I guess they don’t see many people as pale as we are. One of them jumped up to offer us his seat even though there were five other seats beside his. Side note: Why are all the cafes filled with old men? They sit and smoke and stare on every outdoor cafe porch. Where are all the women?

It was getting hot. The car’s air conditioning was a life-saver as we continued down our 230 km trip west across the mainland, following the gulf. Although we saw many beautiful vistas, we never did find an easy place to pull off for a picnic; we sought shade and a view, a tricky combination. So we just pressed on to the west coast of mainland Greece.

When we were making this same journey (Delphi to the Peloponnese) 17 years ago, we had to take a ferry across the gulf of Corinth, from Rio to Patras. Since then, they have built a snazzy, ultra-modern, suspension bridge, a great feat of technology. Once across, the landscape changed dramatically. Beyond the extensive urban sprawl of the city of Patras, we found agricultural land the like of which we had not seen since Thebes: corn fields and produce stands were everywhere. There were roadside tables overwhelmed with pumpkins and open pick up trucks full of melons.

Our destination was the town of Killini, where the ferries depart for the island of Kephanolia (which, by the way, can be spelled about six different ways). We arrived there just after 2pm, and had booked the 4:15 ferry, but a quick chat got us on the 2:30 boat. The ferries are dated but relaxed. The windows have heavy curtains (presumably to keep the heat out) which block the gorgeous ocean view, so we sat outside and got delightfully misted with salt spray was we finally ate our picnic lunch. The colour of the water was mesmerizing.

We landed on the south end of this rather large island and tried to follow our useless map through some very rural, very hilly, rather verdant land with unexpected villages of about 10 buildings around every turn. After almost an hour ( likely on roads smaller than we needed to take), we stopped at a “mini-market” for the next day’s breakfast and lunch supplies and soon stumbled on the right area, more by geographic instinct than actual knowledge. By some miracle, we found our villa, a secluded paradise with a private pool and a 270 degree view of the Ionian Sea. I understand why Odysseus did not want to leave this part of the world to go fight at Troy. Wow.

After a quick swim, we took a trip to the beachfront restaurant in Spartia (our closet village) for dinner where we had our first young waiters … but the staff is still all male.

The next 5 days will be more easy than educational, more sun than sites. And we welcome that.