Hey there! Didn’t think I’d continue, did ya? Well here it is, an attempt at finishing The Cretan Adventure story line. Now since this is all pretty far back, I can only hope to remember the good stuff. So today, 13th day of vacation, 3 days left, The BF wanted to take a bike tour. He had looked at the bikes at the rental place the first few days and decided it would be easiest to rent one for a day and do a tour on his own, rather than a guided tour. At the reception we asked for maps and some interesting routes. I don’t know as much about bikes as he does and I’m not fit enough to (nor interested in) doing a mountain-bike tour up steep mountains in 40°C heat. The BF had arranged to get the bike the evening before, so that he could leave very early that morning. In my half-sleep I heard him get up and then at one point realized that both he and the bike were gone. I “slept in” as far as it went, considering the buffet hours, and then got up to go eat alone. Felt very weird.
The route The BF took was supposed to be around 42km long. His first stop was the Arcadi monastery, which is known for a tragic historic event. During the turkish occupation of Crete, about a hundred of men, women and children locked themselves in the ammunition room of the monastery and then blew themselves up because they would rather be dead than slaved. Today you can still see one of the bullets that flew into a nearby tree. The BF had taken my camera with him and showed me all the pictures later. He also stopped at a little pottery village and brought back a serving dish for me. All this time he was riding up and down the winding roads, realizing it would take him much longer and the receptionist had said. Along the way there was a tavern, in the middle of nothing, that was seemingly closed. Then a little old greek man came out and signaled with his hands that they were open and The BF could come in to drink. A little while later a french couple stopped by (yes, them again). They went in without even asking if anything was open, sat down and then, once a young waitress came by, simply ordered “deux cafés au lait”. No hello, no attempt at english, nothing. And these were people who probably only understood greek. The girl went to get a menu and just plopped it in front of them.
Meanwhile, back at the hotel, stupid little me came to notice that I had locked my wallet in the safe. The BF and I agreed to meet up at the River beach when he was done, only I needed money to pay for the chairs. The best part? He had the key to the safe with him. Somewhere in the mountains. There was nothing I could do without my wallet. I thought I could try asking the reception if they had a spare key, but all I got was their favorite question: why? Like it mattered, since they didn’t have one anyway. So I stayed inside and waited. In that time I had gotten two different text messages from The BF (luckily I had left my phone out), saying he would be late. And even later. At the end, his legs were killing him and he had run out of water. I was very happy when he returned safe and sound – after about 6 hours.
The rest of the day was spent as usual: lunch at a tavern, lounging on the beach. On our way back from the beach we decided to walk along the sand instead of the roads. This is how we discovered beach number three. It seemed much more official – it even had a lifeguard chair and a sign saying “beginning of beach”! At the entrance were signs explaining different things, for example the meaning of the different colored flags. There were two up on the lifeguards chair and the other day we had seen that they were both red. Now we knew this meant that there wasn’t a lifeguard on duty and that the water was too dangerous to swim. They actually forbid you to swim when the flag is red. Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t try those waves the other day.