Leaving on a Jet Plane ... Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again

After 11 hours of long but uneventful flight, we arrived in Toronto, where we passed customs unscathed (albeit with some raised eyebrows as we calmly declared olives, olive tapenade, olive oil, olive wood - and oh yeah, gummibears) and were greeted by my brother, Brendan, bearing a box of some of the most fantastic donuts ever.
We had a short visit, complete with great donuts, our last expensive pop for a loooong time and some really good laughs, before boarding our last leg to Winnipeg, where we were met by our families and friends, all ecstatic to have us back after a month away.
We hugged them.  We hugged each other.  And with heartily humorous vows to call one another in the morning, we parted ways in the cool Winnipeg night.

And with that, we thank you, Followers of the Sisterhood.  Thank you for your remarks and comments, your encouragement and enthusiasm, and your vicarious enjoyment of our adventures.  It's been an incredible journey and we are sad to see it end. 

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”
                                                                                  ~Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

Wow, 4 weeks --- a month, 28 days - 5 countries, 11 abodes, all combinations of planes, trains, automobiles, buses, subways and boats.  A month, 28 days - medieval walled cities, renaissance castles, ancient civilizations, breathtaking art and architecture.  A month, 28 days - time to deepen friendships, forge new ones, miss the ones you left behind.  Wow, 4 weeks --- a month, 28 days... 2000 pictures and not enough words.

As always,
The Sisterhood...

Ferry Nice!

We crossed today from the island of Santorini back to the mainland of Greece.  We changed our ferry tickets when we changed our plans and for 3 Euro more, we took a Hellenic Seas High Speed 6 - a large and well appointed boat, making the crossing in the same amount of time as what we now refer to as Hell Ride 2013 (aka Sea Jet).  The ride was easy by comparison!


We had a long ride from the port to our hotel because of the changed booking.  This brought with it a little drama of its own.  I knew exactly how much cash I had and figured it to be right for both cabs to and from the port/hotel/airport.  I neglected to account for the change in ports!  After getting lost, we made it to the right hotel, happy to see Marjorie and Nichola on the steps.  We are greeted warmly by the owner of the establishment, who promptly comes outside to welcome us.  This in itself is no longer unusual to us. 

... Then she begins to speak to the cabbie.  The conversation soon becomes a shouting match and we five are ushered into the hotel.  Turns out the cab driver was attempting to rip me off by 15 Euro and she was having no part of it!  I left the money with her and she sent us off to our rooms, where we waited until the taxi had departed before coming back down to the lobby. 

We walked to the main square of Nea Makri with a certain slow sorrow in our steps.  We admired the dresses and shoes with a noncommittal nod or shrug.  We ate dinner quietly, bemoaning the differences between "this" and Charlina, in Perivolos.  Ah, the great Charlina. 
We did manage to enjoy some great ice cream in fresh waffle cones before making our way back to the hotel to reshuffle bags and do a final check to make sure all of our finds were safe and secure.

“Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.”
                                ~Isabelle Eberhardt, The Nomad: The Diaries of Isabelle Eberhardt

Tomorrow, we leave. 
Me thinks tomorrow sucks.

A Near Miss

Today we decided to walk the length of Perissa Beach, which is to the left when we reach the black sand at the end of our street.  There are many shops and restaurants along this stretch, as well as a camp ground and youth hostel.  At the end of the strip is an enormous outcropping of rock jutting out into the sea and up into the sky.  We can see a house part way up the cliff and we wonder about who might seriously live there.  Because it is the windy season, rough surf pounds the shore, wave after wave, and we talk about swimming when we get back to our favourite spot. We meander and peruse the shops for local wares, scouting out sun dresses, sandals and pottery.  We eyeball the menus for the best priced gyros for lunch.

And then we hear the raised cries of panic, we see a frantic man and woman, we watch a young man run, calling out in search of a lifeguard.  In under a minute, we hear word that a child has been swept in to the tides of the rough sea.  Emma and Teagan are trained lifeguards.  Marjorie and I have had our fair share of CPR training.  We pause and assess our roles and the angry sea.  We leave the girls on the short to assist with whatever might come and we wade into the water at the shore, spreading ourselves out among the others who have gathered to help.  With every wave, we search the rolling waters, praying not to see a child, lost.  There is a rope anchoring a buoy line to the shore.  I yank at it repeatedly to make sure nothing is trapped.  We watch the father dive and dive into the surf.  The mother is led away to notify the lifeguard.  Her knees are weak, her voice is feeble and her face is abject terror.  An image that is not lost on us as mothers, and one we will not soon erase from memory.  We push further into the water.
And then, shouts from further down the beach.  A sobbing young girl is brought toward us by the young man who ran for the lifeguard.  She is reunited with her family and we return to the hot black sand of the shore.  She had been swept along by the tow so quickly that she became disoriented.  When she dragged herself up onto the beach, she had no idea where she was.  As the word spread along the beach, someone realised who she must be.  A near miss.  A lesson for all of us.  The sea is mighty.  Stay alert.

Slowly, we wandered along the rest of the beach, pausing for lunch in a waterfront cafe.  Toting our latest treasures, we made our way back to our spot on the beach and after a very short, very rough dip, we went back and sat at the pool.  The ocean was not friendly and we were content to admire her from afar.

We ate our last Santorini meal at Charlina, our most favorite restaurant.  We each had our favorites - saganaki, Greek salad, souvlaki, lamb, white wine... We celebrated our time in Santorini and the amazing month that had passed.  We were grateful - for time, for sunshine, for the Sisterhood, for the good people we've met along the way, for the near miss.  It was a great end to a wonderful adventure.  Tomorrow, we leave for Athens and from there, the airport.  We booked a different ferry when we changed our plans.  We hope it will be much better than the last!

Homeward bound,
The Sisterhood