We woke up Monday morning with an ambitious goal: to take a ferry to the Milos, one of the Greek islands. We had an incredible time in Athens, but now that the kids were (hopefully) through the worst of the jet lag, it was time to start the vacation portion of our vacation.
Our driver, Nicos, was near Sue-level helpful. And there’s no higher compliment for a travel acquaintance. He was waiting in front of our house right on time, offered to pick us back up at the ferry terminal in a couple of weeks, and sweet talked his way past the police barricade at the ferry terminal. Nicos told the officers that we had a baby in the car, and couldn’t walk the hundred yards to the dock. We didn’t tell them what we did the day before.
Ferry trap #1 is that you need to convert your ticket to a boarding pass at the ferry company’s office, and you can’t do that on the boat. There are dozens of ferry companies, with very similar-sounding names written in characters I’m not used to reading. So having Nicos drop me off at the door of the correct one was extremely helpful.
He then drove us a bit further to the boat loading ramp, helped us unload our bags, and gave me his cell phone number in case any problems came up. I’ve never come across a more delightful taxi driver anywhere on the planet.
Without a guide like Nicos, the ferry terminal can be a pretty intimidating place. There are dozens of mega-ships heading out to sea all within a couple hours of each other. So the flurry of activity at the crack of dawn is impressive. And it’s not just passengers getting on the boat. Cars, armored vans, concrete trucks, freight containers, and food shipments move back and forth from each of the islands nearly every day.
These ferries are the lifeblood of modern Greek island life, and allow about 200 of the islands to be inhabited year round (there are about 4,000 islands total).
Our job was easy. We knew what ship we needed to get on, we knew when it left, and we saw where the line was. We just needed to wait.
Mimi hadn’t had her coffee yet.
Pulling out of the port, we saw what can only be described as a sea-traffic control tower. There are so many ships coming and going every day, that a fleet of tug boats, coast guard helicopters, and what must be a small army of radio operators are needed to keep it all running smoothly.
Like everything else in Athens, the port of Piraeus is unfathomably historic. As you’re sailing out, there’s a sign announcing the 2500th anniversary of a major sea battle that the town is famous for.
The city has been celebrating this event for 10 times the entire length of time our country has been in existence. Amazing.
Getting on the boat was relatively uneventful, due in no small part to Nicos’ advice. The passenger compartment was appointed like a giant airplane that you get to walk around freely.
And this being Europe, there was not one, but three fully stocked espresso bars on board.
I’m not complaining.
There were television screens scattered about the cabin displaying safety information, items available for purchase, and entertainment programming. Mimi walked up to one of the screens at her level and wouldn’t stop touching it. I tried redirection, I tried stern dad voice, nothing was working. Then I realized, oh yeah, you’ve never seen a non-touch screen. Kids these days.
And speaking of touch screens, we’ve been able to keep Mimi away from most screens for the past two years. But we’re not above a little digital babysitting to make it through a five hour boat ride. Nothing holds a toddler’s attention better than music videos on an 8 inch screen.
As we got closer to port, no screens were needed. There was plenty outside the boat to hold all of our attention.
I liked how things were shaping up.
There was a flurry of activity as we pulled into port. We were one of at least five stops for that ferry, so it only docks for a few minutes at each one. The passengers grab their luggage and the cars line up in the hangar as the door comes down well before we reach the dock.
I hope Mimi’s hand recovers from the death grip I applied.
Thankfully, getting off the boat was just as uneventful as getting on it. Our hotel was just a few minutes away, but under the midday Mediterranean sun, with a lopsided rolling suitcase (one wheel was sacrificed to Athen’s bumpy streets), and a toddler that just spent five hours on a boat, the walk felt quite a bit longer. The afternoon had echos of Cham Island. Being in paradise was wonderful, but man, it’s a bear to get here with kids. And like Cham Island, a quick scan of the visitors confirmed that we were among a vanishingly small number of parents with questionable decision making skills.
But we knew it would be a lot of work to get here. These travel days are tough, but always worth it.
The universe has a way of correcting itself, and that day, it took the form of Ms. Sasha, the hotel’s proprietor and Mimi’s new Greek grandmother.
Tired and hot, we walked up to the hotel, and I introduced myself in broken Greek. “Oh vee know who you ahh, dahhling. And who ees theees little precious?”
And just like that, Mimi was occupied for nearly an hour while Aimee and I melted into a couple of chairs to enjoy the fruit and honey Sasha put out for us. We were going to be just fine.
Sasha offered to babysit Mimi for us this week (and has repeated her offer several times since), so Aimee and I can go out for dinner or on a boat ride. It’s a testament to Sasha’s effusive hospitality that we’re even considering leaving our child with a stranger in a foreign country. But it’s tempting.
By lunch, we were already seriously considering moving to Milos.
And as if we needed one more reason to confirm that this island is paradise, it has “slides and swings! Slides and swings!”
In Mimi’s book, that’s worth flying halfway around the world. Win-win.
We walked down to the docks for dinner, and every ten feet, Mimi pointed and said, “I love that boat.” I’m really starting to think that she was Captain Ahab in another life.
