Corfu, Greece 2021

I heaved my duffle bag onto my back, and my backpack onto my front before striding out of the Corfu airport. Dressed like a turtle, and feeling just as slow, I trudged along the streets, many of which were missing sidewalks, towards the scooter rental shop. My hope was to snag a scooter to make the 40km trip from Corfu town to our Airbnb. An island-ride with the wind in my face seemed more fun than a 1.5 hour bus ride. Sadly, after arriving at the shop I learned that Greece has different license requirements and my California driver’s license wasn’t valid without an additional international license—which I didn’t have.

I still had an hour to wait before my classmates arrived from Berlin so I thought I’d try the bike rental shop, even though a 30km bike ride with luggage would be miserable. I trudged another few kilometers like a turtle to the bike rental shop only to learn that it was closed for the season. I was secretly relieved that I didn’t have to bike. With my figurative tail tucked between my legs I made my way to the bus station where I met up with my classmates. We bought our tickets and then settled in to wait a few hours for the bus. Over beers I learned that our classmate Paul had successfully rented a scooter from a sketchy shop outside of town and called them up. Five hours later after making it to the Airbnb we were overwhelmed with the sweet rattling sound of 50cc scooters in the driveway. Our special delivery had arrived. We scrounged in our pockets to collect 600€ cash and handed it over for the week-long rental of four scooters.

With our island-chariots secured we hopped on, fired them up and scooted off to the grocery store for supplies. Max speed: 45km/h. For the next six days we explored all over the northern half of the island. We did our best to avoid the rain with varying success while we hunted for the best beaches and food that Corfu has to offer.

My classmate Julia suggested early on that we tackle Corfu’s highest peak for a sunrise hike, so one morning we woke up at 4 am to ensure we’d arrive before the sun crept over the horizon. According to Maps the hiking trail was about 45 minutes away by car. Likely more than an hour by scooter. In the cold dark morning we wiped the dew off of our seats and mounted up, two to a scooter. The extra weight made climbing up the hills a crawl. We pulled the throttles back as far as they would go and still we inched our way up the hill at around 10 km/h.

During the steepest climb I leaned forward and prayed that the scooter would get us up the hill. Over the wail of the engine I heard a scream in the background. I looked in my mirror and watched as one of the scooters drove off the side of the road into a ditch. I wanted to stop to check on whoever had ridden off the road but if I stopped I wasn’t sure the scooter could get going again. So I pushed on.

When the road flattened out around the next bend I stopped so the others could catch up, assuming their scooters still worked. Julia, queen of the sunrise hike, had lost her balance riding so slow on the steep hill and rode into the ditch with her passenger in tow. She twisted her ankle trying to catch the scooter but was otherwise okay. With everyone accounted for, and no serious injuries, we plowed on.

It took us around an hour and a half to get to Julia’s trailhead. But the tardiness wasn’t an issue because there was no trail to be found. Instead we parked the scooters and walked the rest of the way up the steep road to the top. Twenty minutes later we were at the summit, roughly an hour before the sun would be seen that day.

For the next 60 minutes we walked back and forth, did jumping jacks and squats, and huddled like penguins to stay warm. We watched as the sky slowly grew lighter before the sun finally crested the horizon in the distance, bathing Albania and Greece in sunlight. The sky turned orange and the wispy clouds were tinged with purple for what felt like only a minute, but lasted at least 30. We were still cold to the bone even with the sun rising higher in the sky, so we hopped back on the scooters in search of a hot drink and a warm meal.

Skiathos, Greece 2021

After shuffling out of the tiny airport we crawled into a tiny Nissan Versa that was delivered by the all-too-friendly Hertz representative who went by Tim (his full name was unpronounceable for us non-Greeks. We pulled up our mapping app and headed out on the tiny roads of Skiathos, swerving around scooters and potholes. Our digital guide took us straight up the mountain, including an 18° rutted incline that made the engine squeal and the whole car shake. We all leaned forward and prayed that the little engine could make it. After that first harrowing drive up the hill nearly everything else went according to plan. (If we don’t count the jellyfish stings I endured on my first swim.) For two weeks we enjoyed ourselves on Skiathos, an island made famous for the scenes of Mama Mia! that were filmed there.

The reason for the extravagant trip was my mom’s 60th birthday, which we celebrated in style on a chartered sailboat adventure around Skiathos’ neighboring islands. Our captain Stefanos, a wisecracking local to Skiathos who hates Mamma Mia!, motored us from his home port of Skiathos Town east to a small cove on the eastern side of Arkos. He outfitted us with snorkeling gear and kicked us off the boat for 45 minutes of underwater exploration. After pulling up the anchor we motored yet again (the wind was blowing towards the west), past the small lighthouse-topped island of Repio on our way east towards Skopolos.

Before anchoring on the coast of Skopolos for lunch we made a snorkeling pitstop around Dasia where we swam through an eerie underwater tunnel and explored caves with thousands of tiny silver fish. Lunch, which was more like a feast for the gods, consisted of no less than four massive courses of Greek breads, spreads, cheeses, veggies, seafood, and pasta; all washed down by tsipouro, a savory take on the famous Greek ouzo. Sadly, I promised our snarky captain that I wouldn’t reveal the details of the banquet to prevent food IP theft by other ambitious captains.

Our midday repast left us stuffed like turduckens and more than a little tipsy from the bottomless tsipouro cups so we didn’t mind a leisurely sail (yes, sail, the wind favored our return) back towards Skiathos. We made one final pitstop on Tsougkrias where we jumped from the bow into the crystal clear Mediterranean waters and drank a celebratory, and thankfully very thin, Gin & Tonic before pulling up our anchor and returning to Skiathos Town. Thoroughly salted and sun-dried we deftly navigated the gangway before setting foot back on solid ground. We claimed it was sea-legs that made us wobble our way through the harbor but I’m not so sure.

For my birthday a little over a week later we went on another boating adventure around Skiathos and its neighboring islands, sans captain. Unless you count my unlicensed sister at the helm of a 12 foot motor boat. Essentially a souped-up dinghy, our transport was small but mighty, and felt like more than enough boat for four inexperienced boaters to handle. But what it lacked in size it made up for in freedom. We weren’t at the mercy of a guided tour so we crafted our own itinerary for the day which began with Lalaria, Skiathos’ most famous destination.

We motored, slowly but surely, around 1/3rd of the coastline before laying anchor among the giant underwater boulders on the shore. Unable to motor directly to the beach, we jumped off the boat and swam ashore for a painful walk along the picturesque white rocks. The far end of the beach features a beautiful stone arch that’s the backdrop to millions, if not billions of photos. What I discovered, though, is that unbeknownst to 99% of tourists who visit (that’s a wild guesstimate) is a second underwater arch. This secluded arch is home to thousands of fish swimming in schools in the safety of the shade under the rocks. Sadly I had no camera so you’ll just have to trust me on this, or go see it for yourself. I swam through the secret arch a few times before making my way back to shore where the others were admiring the beautiful rocky beach.

Our stomachs started to grumble so we swam back to our boat, pulled up the anchor, fired up our mini-motor, and made our way to Arkos for a beachside taverna. After eating some classic Greek dishes we motored west, to a portion of the island only accessible by boat, where we found an idyllic cove with majestic Cotylorhiza tuberculata, aka fried egg jellyfish, floating in the current. With only an hour or so before we had to return the boat we lazily swam around the rocks in search of fish before drying off and starting up the motor for the short ride home.

After two weeks on Skiathos we decided that we wouldn’t mind another week exploring the island’s beaches and cliffs, but sadly our time was up. I, however, had one more Greek destination on the itinerary: Corfu.

Athens, Greece 2021

Our flight arrived around 9 p.m. and after climbing into a taxi we made our way along the broad highway towards Athens. While Lena and I sat in stunned silence in the backseat our driver Facetimed his son, letting him know he’d be home soon, while swerving across lanes and speeding around other traffic. Luckily he wrapped up his call before we made it into the city proper, where even at 9 p.m. the streets are filled with cars, trucks, and chaotic scooters. With his eyes more focused on the road he pointed out a few landmarks along the way in broken English. We nodded and pretended like we knew what he was talking about. In truth, we’d researched hardly at all.

At one intersection he pointed out the Acropolis in the distance, lit up by hundreds of floodlights and visible from anywhere in the city that had an unobstructed view. I only had a vague idea of what it was (again, no research) but knew instantly that I wanted to go. I’m a history nerd but Lena isn’t so I made a point of extracting a promise from her that we would go to some of the ruins in the city.

Our stop in Athens wasn’t really our destination, it was a way to get two trips out of one on our way to Skiathos, a small Greek island north of the capital, where we’d be spending two weeks for my mom’s 60th birthday. This was the justification for our lack of research.

In the end I didn’t need to extract any promise from Lena to see historical sites because that’s just about all there is to do in Athens anyway. Punctuated by brief stops for coffee and prolonged Greek feasts we hoofed it from one ancient ruin to another over two days.

For lunch Lena found a famous souvlaki stand that she said was worth the 20 minute walk through Athenian traffic. When we arrived there was a line of ten or so. Nine of which looked like tourists. We couldn’t all fit into the tiny shop so I volunteered to order for us when we got to the front of the line. I stepped through the door and waited for the cook behind the counter to show me he was ready to take my order.

“Two chicken, one veggie, and one beef souvlaki, please,” I said through my mask.

He looked at me with a blank stare. “We don’t have that, only pork,” he said in accented English.

I paused, feeling stupid for having no clue about what food I would be getting. I shrugged.

“Then four pork souvlaki, please!”

I passed the man’s wife 10 euros for the bag of souvlaki and squeezed past the line back outside. Still shocked that each bundle of pork and veggies wrapped in pita was only €2.50 I relayed the story to the others and they laughed, not at all upset that they wouldn’t get what they’d ordered. We walked to a nearby park and dug into what can only be described as heaven. The pita was soft and doughy, the pork tender, the veggies fresh and crisp, topped with fresh tzatziki for both creaminess and some zest. It’s one of the world’s many wonderful flatbread wraps. We enjoyed every moment of our wraps while resting our feet in the park before moving, somewhat reluctantly, on to the next set of ruins.

After a long first day our feet were all sore but over dinner and ouzo I insisted on waking up early to be at the acropolis at 8 a.m. when it opened. There was some pushback but we all agreed in the end that avoiding the heat of the Mediterranean sun and quite a few tourists would be a good idea. It didn’t hurt that the light for photography would be much better.

The next morning, with our bellies full of greek yogurt and caffeine, we made our way across town and up the hill that sits under the acropolis, arriving only a few minutes after 8. It was already bustling with people. I ran around shooting hundreds of photos of the Parthenon and Erechtheum as the sun marched higher into the sky. Before long we all craved a cold drink and some shade so we made our way back down the hill.

Before we knew it our two days were up. But we didn’t have a moment’s thought to spare before boarding a tiny Olympic Air propeller plane on our way to the real vacation: Skiathos.