Normally, I stay with my personal viewpoint in this blog. Billions of other events happen elsewhere while I am experiencing my own life, and I can easily become too bogged down with extraneous details of my own adventures to seriously consider relating other views of reality.
Because I brought it up earlier, however, I should at least tell you that the contingent that went to Chania in search of relatives found a house that belonged to John Megas' cousin, Eftalia Barakis, but she had gone to a home in the hillside village of Madaro to escape the city heat.
While Eftalia didn't have her own phone, her neighbor knew the number for the village phone in Madaro.
Their taxi driver placed the call for them, and after several minutes in which a village messenger found her and brought her to the phone, reportedly spoke with Ms. Barakis, who told him finding the village would be easy if they drove up the hillside.
The two taxis began winding up the narrow country road, but before long, our intrepid voyagers realized they were running out of time. Some short but costly time delays getting off the ship, pumping gas, and stopping at a bakery, which actually proved to be the highlight of their journey for most, delayed their arrival enough to make them abort the culmination of their trek.
Still, they saw much of the coast of Crete and got a feel of where Grandpa Nick lived until he was 18 years old and bravely set out for new worlds.
At the bakery, they enjoyed eating chunks torn from a giant loaf of freshly baked bread, the aroma and texture of which competed with the taste in a sensory celebration. The black ash on the bottom highlighted the unique flavor and appearance of this bread. For them, it was the taste of Crete.
Because I brought it up earlier, however, I should at least tell you that the contingent that went to Chania in search of relatives found a house that belonged to John Megas' cousin, Eftalia Barakis, but she had gone to a home in the hillside village of Madaro to escape the city heat.
While Eftalia didn't have her own phone, her neighbor knew the number for the village phone in Madaro.
Their taxi driver placed the call for them, and after several minutes in which a village messenger found her and brought her to the phone, reportedly spoke with Ms. Barakis, who told him finding the village would be easy if they drove up the hillside.The two taxis began winding up the narrow country road, but before long, our intrepid voyagers realized they were running out of time. Some short but costly time delays getting off the ship, pumping gas, and stopping at a bakery, which actually proved to be the highlight of their journey for most, delayed their arrival enough to make them abort the culmination of their trek.
Still, they saw much of the coast of Crete and got a feel of where Grandpa Nick lived until he was 18 years old and bravely set out for new worlds.
At the bakery, they enjoyed eating chunks torn from a giant loaf of freshly baked bread, the aroma and texture of which competed with the taste in a sensory celebration. The black ash on the bottom highlighted the unique flavor and appearance of this bread. For them, it was the taste of Crete.
