We’re told Greece has the highest car accident rate in Europe — and after a couple days of driving here, believe it. There are no rules of the road here, at least no rules that anybody bothers to follow. People pass on corners, hills, wherever. It seems like half the people drive very fast, and the other half very slowly, which is a combustible combination. The small towns are packed with double-parkers, and people trying to get around. There are intersections with four to six streets converging, but with no stop signs, or lights, for anyone. It’s just a free-for-all. There are no bicyclists, at least no living bicyclists, that we can see, other than the occasional old man riding slowly through a small town. There are towns, such as Argos, where the streets just go willy-nilly, in all directions, suddenly changing from two-way to one-way. It doesn’t help that nearly all the road and directional signs have been so defaced with graffiti that they are almost unreadable. We didn’t get lost today, or seriously lost anyway, thanks to my trusty map reader and driving advisor, Courtenay. Will spent the whole ride blissing out to Scooby Doo on his video player. Tomorrow is another day — and a long drive over the mountains to Ancient Olympia. So look out Greeks: Here comes an Oregon driver.

  Sitting our hotel room in Nafplio; it’s 2:20 p.m., and we’re tired and wet after a great day of rainy sightseeing. “I love you,” says Will, sitting next to me drawing. Outside the window, the bay is a pale jade green; across the bay, the mountains are this amazing purple gray, blurred by a mist.

 We started the day with another strike scare. The International Herald Tribune reported that national museum and archeological site officials were debating yesterday whether to strike today; there was no way to know, so we decided to proceed as planned. Fortunately, the sites were open. (Again Rick somehow manages to avoid disaster by his clairvoyant travel planning.) We drove (Rick will fill in the details of that escapade) up to the ancient Mycaenean palace, circa 1600 to 1300 BC, thought to be the home of Agamemnon, best known for leading the Greeks in the Trojan War (his brother’s wife was Helen, stolen away by Trojan Paris). The Mycaeneans dominated much of this part of Greece and the Mediterranean; it’s the classic Bronze Age civilization.

 The setting was gorgeous: rolling hills of olive groves lead up to the archeological site, perched on a rock between two deep ravines. The palace had a sweeping view of a strategic pass to the north (think foreign invaders) and down the Argolid plain to the sea, where Agamemnon likely launched his ships (and where our hotel is.) It was very quiet, with no other tourists when Will, Rick and I entered the so-called Treasury of Atreus (Atreus being the cursed family of Agamemnon). It is a huge “beehive” tomb, built into the hillside, entered under a door-lintel weighing 50 tons. Inside, the acoustics were eerie; when you spoke from one side of the tomb, your voice sounded like it was coming from the opposite side. Bees buzzed at the entrance.

 Up on the ruins, which are apparently brutally hot and crowded in the summer, it was green, with wildflowers, especially poppies, blooming everywhere. It smelled like thyme and fresh rain in dust. We saw the famous grave circles where ancient kings were buried with gold death masks and jewelry and pottery. We saw the bases of what were once  colonnades, and tried to imagine what the palace must have looked like. We descended into an ancient cistern, but it was dark dark dark, and Mommy freaked out and had to ascend.

 Finally, we drove over to the ancient ruins of the temple of Asclepius (considered the father of modern medicine) and the adjacent theater of Epidaurus, with its reputed amazing acoustics. We weren’t that impressed with the acoustics, but there was a gorgeous view from the amphitheaters’ seats. Musical performances are still held here in the summer; I’m sure that gives the acoustics a better test than listening to Eastern European tourists wearing plastic bags over their hair warble. It was pouring by then, so we headed home. Another amazing day.

We had grilled octopus, something of a Greek speciality, as an appetizer last night. They also took me into the kitchen after I ordered fish to actually pick out the one fish I wanted them to grill. They showed me a half dozen sea bream, which looks kind of like a perch, and I picked one out. …. We’re driving a Range Rover rental now, but the car on Santorini was a tiny Renault, with virtually no trunk or rear end, just a second seat that ended at the back wall. I snapped awake at 4 a.m. on the day we were supposed to leave Santorini worried that we’d never get our luggage, and Will, in that car. I woke Courtenay, and she politely told me that it would work out, and to go back to sleep. She was right … We found an owl on the sidewalk last night, stunned, I think from flying into a window. …There’s a little rain this morning, Friday in Greece, and it smells like home…. We’re kind of hungry for news of home. It’s easy to talk back to us on this blog. Just put your cursor over the small comment button (usually they say “No comments”) after the headline on each blog entry, and hit enter. You’ll see a box to write in, and then hit submit when you’re done. We love and miss you.

 After a fairly long day of traveling — starting with a crowded rush for the plane at Santorini because the previous day’s flight had been canceled, and ending with a several-hour, sometimes white-knuckled drive from Athens — we rolled up into pretty Nafplion to discover that the power was out throughout the whole town, courtesy of the striking unions and their supporters. We carried our bags up four flights of stairs. The water was out, too, of course, but that didn’t stop Will from making a beeline for the bathroom, and, um, going, leaving us with nothing to do but to throw open the sliding glass door, and pray that the power and water would be back on, as promised, in about an hour.

We spent the time wandering the town, and looking, with some eagerness, for potpourri. Thankfully, the power, and water, was back on by 7 p.m. Nafplion is a cool little town, the former capital city of Greece. It hugs a small harbor filled with tiny white fishing boats, and an ancient castle looms over back of the town. There’s a main town square surrounded by restaurants and tavernas, with kids playing soccer and tag well into the night. It’s filled with narrow little streets and pedestrian walks, lined with shops.

We had a seafood dinner by the harbor, and Will finished off with gelato before bed. I’m down in the lobby, late now, writing and downloading pictures from our stay in Santorini. Tomorrow we’re going to explore the ancient ruins at Mycenae, and the Theatre of Epidaurus, and I’ll get some pictures of Nafplion to post here. We’re promised electricity and water through our stay here the next two nights. This strike is something. I think that forever more I will associate piles of garbage, and now power and water outages, with Greece. Hope everyone is well back home.

 While millions of Greeks joined a strike Wednesday, and an estimated 100,000 protesters, including some with firebombs, marched outside our former hotel room, we rented a car this morning on Santorini, sort of a car, a tiny bright red Renault, squeezed in and took off on a daylong adventure around the island. By the time we reached Fira, 15 minutes of twisty turns later, everybody was carsick. But we recovered our legs in Fira, an incredibly beautiful tourist trap hanging over the steep cliffs of the caldera. You could see from all the cliffside bars that this would be quite the party place in midsummer.

Many of the tavernas, bars and hotels were still closed during our visit, but we passed one stunning view after another (photos will come later when we can get on the Internet on our computer). The general strike had closed the museums, but other than that, it was another day in paradise. Almost everywhere we walked around town, workers were remodeling houses and buildings, and most of them were using donkeys and burros to haul their concrete and other materials. This place is just a dream for a burro-buff like Charlotte.We had a traditional Greek lunch in a classy modern taverna called Zafora on the edge of the cliff. The food was good; we knew it was fresh because theyhad just opened for the season the day before. Will was fascinated by a bright yellow parakeet, so the waiter moved the cage over next to our table. The bird’s name was Donald, and Will dubbed his new friend “Donald the Love Bird.”

We left Fira and drove up the island to a black sand beach at Perissa. The black sand was dotted with pumice, it and the sand was from past volcanic eruptions. The litter, presumably, came from somewhere else, more recent. Will and I threw rocks and waded into the Mediterrean, which this time of year felt about the same temperature as the North Pacific. The sun was out, the winds had died down and it was a great afternoon on the beach.On our way back to Oia, we stopped at the Santos winery, the largest windery on the island, and sampled three of its white wines. (Santorini is famous throughout Greece for its wines; they grow the grapes in low basketlike circles of vines, tucking the grapes inside to protect them from the wind — the vineyards look like huge expanses of bird nests.)

The wines were all very good, even a dessert wine made from raisins that we weren’t sure about, and the tasting room had an incredible view (did we mention the views before?) across the caldera and towards Fira and Oia. We bought a bottle of white to share tonight, our last moments on this trip to Santorini, and a little bottle of the dessert wine to slip into our suitcase to take home to refresh our memories down the road. We kept thinking how everyone we knew would love this place.

Well, we escaped Athens yesterday (Tuesday) amid news that the metro and trains were already shut down by the strike, and that the airlines were planning to cancel most, if not all, flights by Wednesday (today). So we made a beeline for the airport. (You have to credit Rick with some brilliant clairvoyant planning by helping us avoid the major effects of the strike.)

We finally managed to get a cab, driven by a delightful young man who had moved from the countryside earlier this year to escap a 700-Euro-per-month factory job. He giggled as he told us that Greeks strike too much, with central Athens shut down by some such strike at least twice a week. As we were inching forward in gridlock traffic, suddenly the two Asian men in the car ahead of us jumped out of their rental car and attempted to switch places. They had forgotten to set the brake, and one of them fruitlessly tried to stop the car as it rolled slowly backward into our cab, hitting with a slight bump. Our cabbie, rather than get angry, as one would expect, started to giggle, his laughter rising as the rental car, its new driver behind the wheel, began lurching ahead as the driver popped the clutch. A little humor is what one needs to navigate the vicissitudes of life in Athens.

We arrived on the  island of Santorini early afternoon, the white-capped and swelling ocean making us glad we hadn’t tried to take a ferry. We got a taxi to a tiny town, Oia, pronounced “eee-a,” at the far end of the island, away from the normally tourist-bloated town of Fira, where the cruise ships stop. (With the winding roads and whizzing motorcycles, Rick compared the drive to a James Bond movie.) Our cab driver told us the winter population of 24,000 people balloons to 300,000 over the summer! Yikes. What we found out, however, is that in the off-season, there’s no reason to escape the crowds. Nobody’s here but us. We’re staying in one of the few hotels open in Oia, and there’s only one restaurant open. Our room is indeed poolside, but there is no water in it yet! Very few people are around, mostly workers trying to get the lovely, cliff-hanging hotels, restaurants and shops remodeled and white-washed in time for the summer onslaught. We saw three donkeys hauling cement and other building materials down the narrow footpaths that wind down the cliff. Charlotte would love it here!

The town, and the caldera it sits on, is stunning. We’ll put up a slide show of photos when we get the chance. The only Internet access is the hotel computer we’re typing this on. Meanwhile, here’s our visuals: Dr. Seuss must have used this palce for inspiration for his fabulous Whoville. There’s a narrow stone-paved walkway along the rim of the volcano, lined with stuccoed, white and umber buildings inset with gorgeous blue doorways and windows. Narrow pathways spill over the edge of the cliff, with homes and hotels and terraces clinging to the cliff. We saw a gorgeous sunset, supposedly this is the most beautiful place in the world to see a sunset. Well, maybe. But it was great. For dinner, wine, cheese and bread in our room. (We’d sampled the one restaurant for lunch. It was good, but not twice a day good. Today we’re off to explore the rest of the island, including beaches. Tomorrow we’re headed back to the mainland to head to the Pelopponese. We love and miss you.

 We’ve decided that the only thing worse than Athens, is Athens when the garbage haulers are on strike. As they are today, and apparently have been for a while. Lovely. We couldn’t figure out why the piles of garbage rivaled the height of the Acropolis; after a day of walking through both the seamier (for those who have been here think Omonia) and chi-chi (try Kolonaki) parts of Athens, we are up to speed on the labor unrest here. A general strike is planned for Wednesday, including a major demonstration on the square outside our window, but please, parents, don’t despair. If we are able to snag a taxi to the airport tomorrow (the Metro is on strike too, as well as engineers, doctors, even journalists!!!), we will be happily in Santorini by mid-day Tuesday. And blissfully walking around the rim of an active volcanic caldera. We’re hoping the volcano – on whose rim clings the lovely whitewashed towns of Fira and Oia  – is on strike while we’re there, showing solidarity for pension reform in Greece.

Rick says I write too much, but he leaves out all the great details. We, or I should say I, started Monday at 1:30 a.m. local time, followed by my comrades at about 4 a.m. (Gotta love jet lag: counting the hours ‘til the restaurant opens for breakfast, one two three four five…) We had some quality time reading art history and guide books and watching a few choice Scooby Doo movies.

 Then I brushed Will teeth. Or, I should say, I knocked out his last front tooth with over-vigorous brushing. He said, “Ow Mom,” and spit out blood, along with, apparently, his tooth, which quickly vanished down the drain. But he was thrilled. He’s hoping, with the dismal exchange rate, that the tooth fairy brings Euros tonight. Dollars are like Monopoly money here.

 We set out to explore Athens about 8 a.m. We were planning to catch a funicular up the tallest hill in Athens, not far from our hotel, about a thousand feet above the city. But by a slight (one block) miscalculation on my part, we never found the bottom of the funicular, but ended up walking up the entire mountain, Lykavettos. By 9 a.m. with no water. And a 5-year-old. But amazing panoramic views of Athens, the mountains and the sea —  apparently a rare view in this notoriously smoggy city. Lovely fresh air. A fabulous café on top – closed. A nice English gentleman who took pity on us after we spent another half hour trying to find the top of the funicular – closed. But he managed to get the closed café to give us water, and then we descended on foot.

 This afternoon, we had a great meal at a neighborhood deli (artichoke hearts cooked with peas and carrots, yummy pasta, chicken stifado) (by the way, Will says the food here is better than at home – he is having a total blast – we’ve never seen him so excited about traveling, and energetic) and then on to the National Archeological Museum, along with about 8,000 bus loads of other culturally-minded tourists. But I must say it was amazing, despite the crowds. Especially after my mythology and Archaic Greek art classes this year at Stanford – it turns out I actually did learn something without doing all the homework. The museum is phenomenal, with the most amazing collection of vases – all these important vases I’d been seeing in books and on slides – right there in front of me, you could reach out an touch them (Don’t worry, I didn’t.) But still, it took my breath away. And the sculpture, too, was unbelievable — the sword-throwing bronze sculpture of Poseidon/Zeus that many of you may have seen – I swear he could have at any moment stepped down from his pedestal and said, “What? Who are you staring at?”

Lastly, exhausted and tired of the grittiness of the city, we got an obnoxious cab to a famous hole-in-the-wall donut place – menu only in Greek – for loukamades, a honey-drenched Greek donut. We staggered back here, and Rick is now lying passed out on the bed (I’m hoping he’s not in a diabetic coma), I’m sure just resting his eyes for another exciting night in the big city. Rural Greece, here we come!!!!

 Love you all. We may not have Internet service on Santorini, so don’t be worried if we have a break in our blogging. Oh, and did I tell you our soup-hating son now loves soup – avgolomono, a lemon/chicken soup he insists I learn to cook when we get home. I guess when you don’t have front teeth you’re fated to fall in love with a soup…

.. 

 The latest from Athens: Will lost the second of his front teeth this morning, while brushing. He’s all smiles — even though he popped awake, for good, today at about 4 a.m.

We started the day in front of the Parliament building, watching the ceremonial changing of the guard. Will posed with one of the soldiers wearing the fantastical traditional uniform complete with pom-pomed shoes and pleated white “skirts,” (Will actually grabbed the guy’s tight-encased leg — we think trying to see if he was real or a statue — fortunately the soldier didn’t flinch) then the police cleared the plaza, with much shouting and gesticulating, and a brass band marched in, followed by another two dozen or so Greek soldiers, in full regalia. (Stray dogs, ubiquitous in Syntagma Square, wandered among the columns of men.) Then we walked past the National Garden to the Temple of Zeus, a spectacular series of columns, the largest in Greece, built over nearly 7 centuries. Then we started up the hill to the Acropolis, visiting the still unfinished, but sort of open, Acropolis Museum, where we managed to get scolded twice. We caught glimpses of some of the most famous sculptures in Greece, but we couldn’t get near because they are just installing them.

The weather was perfect, about 70, with a light breeze. The Acropolis was packed with people, mainly European tour groups, and the steps up to the Parthenon were jammed. But the views were stunning, and the setting, overlooking Athens’ population of nearly 5 million people, was amazing.  Again, we got scolded for posing for a picture with a little soldier doll we had bought for Will — apparently it was disrespectful of the archaeological site. Rick’s such a trouble-maker. We also visited the Agora Museum, where they had scores of remarkable pots and other antiquities dating back thousands of years — including one by Exekias, the great master of Black Figure, along with a bronze Spartan shield and a ceramic child’s potty seat. Cool. We tried, but I fear failed, to imagine Socrates holding forth in the Agora, but it was fun to try. We saw other tourists — Greeks this time — get scolded for sitting in the wrong place. Whew.

We had a decent lunch in a taverna in the Plaka (though Rick is already laying off the Greek salad), and walked through the Sunday flea market there, which was bedlam. Walked down a very cool pedestrian street outside the Agora packed with Athenians out for their Sunday coffees  and ouzo — cafe after cafe lined the walkway. We also saw two tortoises on way up to the Acropolis, and dozens of ownerless  dogs, which wander free and easy in Athens. We’re having a great time. Hope everybody’s well back home.

Hello, family and friends. It’s 12:30 a.m. Sunday in Athens. We made it. Will snoozed for nearly nine hours of the 11-hour flight from San Francisco to Munich, Germany. He thrilled to a couple hours of Scooby Doo on the flight from Munich to Athens. His parents weren’t quite so fortunate in terms of sleep and entertainment. Now Will’s ready to party, but we’re pretty wiped out.

Our room is in a beautiful old hotel, The Grand Bretagne, which our cab driver said was the first hotel in Greece. It overlooks a huge, busy square, the Parliament building and, standing on our balcony, we have a fabulous view of the Acropolis, including the lit-up Parthenon.

Tomorrow I’ll try to post some photos. Will’s take so far: “Everything is different here. But it’s all the same.” Anyway, all’s well. Hope everybody’s great at home….