T H I S P A G E : TH E W IN D SPIRIT C RUIS E SHIP WA IT S IN A C A L DE R A BE LOW SA NTORINI, GR E EC E . O P P O S I T E : D OE S L IF E GE T A N Y BE T T E R TH A N THIS ?
AMONG ANCIENTS THE THE
Writing by Wynn Horn Photography by thomas Santalab
watchmaker is asleep at h i s d e s k , t h e a l l ey c at s are straggling in from an all-night p a r t y, a wa i ter hoses dow n t he pavement a nd i n t he r a k i s hop a clerk perches precariously on a ladder, shoving pale bottles of liquor onto insubstantial shelves. It’s early mor n i ng i n At hen s a nd t he ci t y i s still covered in a bluish mist which unfurls like a blanket over the smoldering heat of the day to come.
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Yesterday at this time, we were hovering at the gates of the Parthenon well before opening time, just as our guidebook had instructed. Trouble is, about 30,000 other people had read the same guidebook, and we’d all cunningly arranged to arrive before 7:30 a.m. It was amusing to watch fellow travellers emerge at the top of a steep flight of stairs, clutching bottled water and coffee, smiling smugly, until they spotted all the other not-quite-so-smug faces. We walked around the impressive Parthenon for an hour and then continued with our mental must-do checklist: 1. Saw Parthenon in cool early morning light as the cicadas sang in the trees. 2. Walked to the Plaka (old Turkish neighborhood) for lunch. 3. Downed four souvlakis, two Mythos beer and one calamari. 4. Engaged in ancient Athenian ritual of vainly trying to hail a taxi. 5. Like all travelers, both ancient and modern, made a velocitous exit from Athens and headed toward the Greek islands as fast as possible. This morning, we boarded Windstar’s Wind Spirit and sail into that old world, from Athens to Mykonos to Santorini to Rhodos to Kusadasi, Bodrum and finally, into magical Istanbul. It is a journey that will cross thousands of years of history and civilization. OK, it’s a lot to ask from a single seven-day cruise, but then Mediterranean cruisers are a demanding bunch, not merely interested in just Sand and Scotch, seeking instead a bracing shot of Culture and Education. With fewer than 200 of us aboard the Wind Spirit, we cruise toward our first stop of Mykonos, a Greek island with a justifiable reputation for partying. We start by walking along the narrow whitewashed streets and through
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Little Venice, with windows opening onto the sea. Later we sit in one of the outdoor tavernas lining the edge of the boat-filled harbor and watch the steady parade of tourists, fishermen, hippies, school children and families lucky enough to live in such a stunning setting. The next stop is a cruise favorite, the much-photographed island of Santorini. We choose a shore excursion which will take us through Oia, a tiny village near the capital of Fira.The bus from the dock climbs a hill which provides a great view of the bay and the “burnt islands,” then pass through a little town dotted with classic white block houses and stone streets lined with cacti and lavender bouganvillea. We pass through Fira (“fire”), past the startlingly white dome of an orthodox cathedral, a fish market and Volcanic Rent A Car. Volcanoes play a huge part in Santorini’s natural makeup, since one-half the once-round island disappeared in one of the biggest eruptions in recorded history, about 1450 BC. The remaining chunk now drops off into a massive caldera, the submerged crater where our cruise ship now lies at anchor.
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BODRUM’ S LITTLE HARBOUR IS LINED WITH GORGEOUS TEAK TRIMMED SAILING SHIPS . . .
The Wind Spirit sails through the night and we wake up outside the well-preserved walled city of Rhodos and the nearby Acropolis of Lindos, an important Doric city that was established around 200 BC. The entire area is so rich in archaeological finds that the guide tells a story about renovating his house and finding a couple of ancient tombs in the back garden. “We had to redesign the house plans, so we now look down on the tombs,” he remarks, although those of us with more mundane gardendisaster stories feel no sympathy. We had been warned that Lindos is Tourist City (500,00 visitors a year) but the never-ending stream of people is indeed astounding. Still, the Acropolis is impressive and the site, overlooking two little bays, is spectacular. Rhodos itself is also heavily touristed, but is a fine example of medieval fortification. Bodrum, our first stop in Turkey, is less spoiled than Mykonos or Rhodos and the people we meet are uniformly friendly. Bodrum’s little harbour is lined with gorgeous teak trimmed sailing ships waiting to take visitors on six-hour, day- or week-long trips along the Turkish coast. Back on board, dinner is barbecued lobster and steak, served out on the deck overlooking the harbor. Bodrum is so lovely that many passengers take the tender back into town after dinner for one more stroll along the promenade. Next stop is Kusadasi, which is better known for its ancient neighbour, the city of Ephesus. Half a dozen tour buses are lined up at the port when we disembark early in the morning: almost the entire ship is taking this shore excursion, the highlight of the trip for most. Our charming guide tells us we will be changed by the experience. “You will not be being the same!” he promises over and over again. When we arrive at the site, the parking lot is full of tour buses. But we are soon lost in the huge grounds, walking in relative peace along ancient streets lined with slippery marble worn down by hundreds of thousands of feet, including those of Hadrian, St. John, St. Paul and St. Peter. We pass a small temple of the Emperor Hadrian dated AD 1172, a fountain from the first century AD, and long-empty rooms with floors of still-bright mosaic tile. Ephesus was active for about 1,100 years. The city’s 250,000 residents had water, sewer, bathrooms and even central heating (fires under the buildings sent hot air up the pipes). We all marvel at the Greek, Roman and Byzantine architecture, but our group is starting to show decidedly plebian tastes: everyone is equally eager to see the brothel. Much to our disappointment, it’s an entirely innocuous-looking building.
P H O T O , T O P : N E E D A C U T L I N E P L E A S E . MIDDLE IMAGE: ENTRANCE TO THE ANCIENT PORT CIT Y OF RHODOS. IMAGE TO LEF T: VEGETABLE MARKET IN INSTANBUL IS A VISUAL FE AST. OPPOSITE: LUXURY FOUR SE ASONS HOTEL, SULTANAMATE ARE A OF ISTANBUL.
. . . P OM E G R A N AT E T R E E S A N D T H E MYSTERIOUS GRASSY MOUNDS. . . We are equally taken with the reconstructed public toilet where citizens sat together in an open room, conversing. “Row to row, cheek to cheek,” says the guide in a wellrehearsed joke. We stroll down a long shopping mall/street toward the Library of Celsus, once one of the biggest libraries in the world, with 30,000 scrolls of papyrus and parchment (all destroyed by a fire in Roman times). The restored marble facade is even more impressive when we realize that 90 percent of Ephesus remains unexcavated. It has taken 130 years to complete only ten percent of this intricate jigsaw. What wonders still await under the pomegranate trees and the mysterious grassy mounds spreading out across the plain? At the edge of the restored site is an ancient outdoor theatre, one of the oldest and best-preserved in the world. Concerts are still held here and performers have included entertainer/spiritualist Shirley MacLaine. (“For Shirley, it was the second time here,” quips the guide.) We climb to the top, trying to find the spot where my husband sat 20 years ago as a backpacking youth. The hum of cicadas undulates from a grove of pine trees and we can look out over a palette of green fields to a columnlined harbour road which once led to the sea. Our cruise is over, but it’s just the beginning for many passengers, who will spend extra time in Istanbul. The next morning, we are all on deck by 6 a.m. to watch the Wind Spirit slide into Istanbul harbor and moor behind The Grand Princess, which looms over us like a New York sky-scraper. Ahead, we have a week of antique-hunting, running the gauntlet in the Grand Bazaar, long, inexpensive lunches at sidewalk cafes, retreats from the fierce midday sun beside the Conrad Hotel swimming pool, ferry excursions along the Bosphorus River, and candle-lit dinners overlooking the Blue Mosque’s nightly light show. We have travelled while we slept, awakened with our destination already spread out like an unwrapped gift, and packed our bags only once in seven days – not bad for a journey of 3,000 years. And our guide was right: we have not been believing our eyes. IHS
A B OV E, TOP : IS TA N BU L H A R B OU R W ITH A V IE W OF ON E OF TH E M A N Y F E R RY B OAT S TH AT C RUIS E TH E B OSPHOROUS TO HOL IDAY IS L A N DS L IK E PRINC E S IS L A N D. A B OV E, B OT TOM : IS TA N BU L H A R B OU R IN E A R LY E V E NING IS BATH E D IN A G OL DE N L IGH T A N D TH E A IR R E V E R BE R AT E S W ITH M U E Z Z INS ’ C A L L S TO
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PR AY E R. IS TA N BU L IS WORTH Y OF A F E W E X T R A DAYS F OL LOW ING A C RUIS E .
The 148-passenger Wind Star and Wind Spirit sail the Mediterranean from May until October, 2006. The small ships are known for understated luxury and for the ability to access harbours inaccessible to large cruise ships. Book now for best deals (see special IHS offer, opposite).
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