wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.

Category Archives: Travel


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The Caves of Dirou

Having camped for almost a month near the small town of Kardamili, south of Kalamata (of olive fame), Greece,  the Captain and I decided to take our VW camper van for a ride to the very south tip of Greece. On the way, we stopped at the caves of Pyrgos Dirou.

In those long ago days, the entrance fee for a 40-minute boat ride and a short walk inside the cave was about $5.50 Cdn. Now it is about $27 Cdn.

As the Captain and I sat in the flat-bottomed tour boat, a guide paddled us through the cave, reminding us now and then to duck our heads down to avoid getting our blocks knocked off by a stalactite. The tour was creepy and awesome at the same time. Cables ran along under the water to provide lighting all the way through the cave. That was fine, but I couldn’t help thinking of the primitive wiring I’d seen on our travels through Greece. What if the lights went out? We hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight with us.

Fixing the wiring Greek style

Back in the cave, an elderly Greek woman in a black dress and a hat with a netted veil, sat in front of us in the boat. She was probably only about 70 but we were less than half her age. In spite of signs throughout the cave saying not to speak too loudly, she turned to talk to us about the fengari.  What the heck was a fengari?

Apparently, it was the moon. We definitely didn’t see a moon in the cave, but this friendly woman, most likely a widow,  was perhaps inspired by the reflections of the lamps lighting the cave. Maybe the soothing sway of the boat reminded her of happier times when she saw us, the smiling young couple seated behind her.

Suddenly, in a good strong voice, she began to sing a romantic Greek song about the fengari. As the tour guide paddled us along, I chewed my nails about the possibility of the ceiling coming down on us, and the Captain reached up several times to  push the nice little old lady’s head gently to the side to save her from hitting it on one stalactite after another. She didn’t stop singing, but smiled her “thank you” at him each time.

At one point we got out of the boat (there were two or three boats travelling behind each other) to step out onto a trail for a short walk through the dry part of the cave.

When we came back, we were loaded into a boat for the return trip to the cave’s entrance. Unfortunately, when it was my turn to board, there was no space left for the Captain. They assured me that there would be another boat in a few minutes to bring him back, but I refused to go without him. It was not a place to be abandoned even for a few minutes. I only remember it because they argued so hard, trying to fill that one space. We insisted though and waited together for the next boat.

Although it was an experience that I remember fondly even decades later, it was a relief to get out of the cave and breathe again. My claustrophobia had been put on hold for long enough.

 


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Dwindling

Not so many years ago the Comox Glacier, on Vancouver Island, had ice and snow all year round, especially on the plateau part of the landscape. I think this photo might have been taken about five years ago. It may have been early spring or late fall, but it had a good layer of ice all year.

Every year, there was less snow, even in the winter. I took the blurry photo below from the side of the road just a few days ago, using my cell phone. I didn’t care so much that it wasn’t a sharp photo. My point was made when I saw the lack of snow and ice. This is the least ice I have ever seen on the Comox Glacier. Soon this icon of the Comox Valley could be completely gone. Since I took that picture, a tiny skiff of snow has dropped on the tops of the hills, but that won’t make any difference to the huge loss of the glacier.

Our climate is definitely changing.

 

Do you see any signs of our changing climate where you live?


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Not so Grisly Grizzlies

If you’re lucky enough to have a boat and can travel up Canada’s west coast, when you get close to the US (Alaska) border, you may find yourself near the Khutzeymateen Inlet, behind Somerville Island. You would then be in grizzly country. A few years ago,  a friend anchored in this inlet and saw some of these wonderful bears on the beach nearby. He took these photos and I am posting them with his permission. Farther up the inlet, south of the Kateen River, is an area that, in 1994, was declared the Khutzeymateen Grizzly Bear Sanctuary.

 

This might not be the best place to go ashore to stretch your legs.

In case you were in doubt about what kind of bear this is, check out the hump on his (or her) back that identifies him (or her) as a grizzly. And no, he/she’s not a camel.

 

Camel, you say? Come over here and say that! Bruno, did you hear what he said? Just because my back has a hump….

Yeah! I heard. You’re no camel. I’ll “back” you up on that, Honey. Get it? Get it? Ha ha … “back” you up? Although … that is quite a hump you have there.

Now that’s enough out of you. You shouldn’t forget who your friends are. I might have to swim over to that boat and climb aboard to teach that guy a lesson.

It’s okay, Honey. Calm down. He’s just another gawking human. I’ll keep an eye on him from here while I eat some salad.  Hmm … I wouldn’t mind a bit of hamburger with my grass.  But I don’t see him coming ashore any time soon.

 

 

My thanks to Ken Johnstone who kindly allowed  me to use his photos.


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First Day of School

It will soon be back-to-school time, and I was remembering my very first day of school in grade one.

My dad took this picture of me that day. It was just a few weeks before we left Germany to come to Canada. I hated my hairdo then and I hated it for many years until I was allowed to have it a little bit longer so it didn’t look so chopped off.

But anyway, it’s not about my hair. It’s about this big cone. Too bad the photo is only black and white. The wrapping on the cone was so pretty. This big decorated cardboard cone is bribery, I suppose. All grade one students get one of these on the first day of school as an incentive to be brave. If you go to school without a fuss on the first day of grade one, you get this cone that is filled with goodies. My mom, who is peeking out the window to watch this memorable moment, allowed me a quick peek into my cone. I remember that it had some of that packing straw in it with a big chocolate bar under it and a bunch of grapes on top of it. Probably there were other goodies lower down, but at first glance I could only see the few things right on the top, and I wasn’t allowed to do any more peeking after that first quick look.

The rule was, you couldn’t indulge until you came home after school. As it turned out, it was a pretty good day,  and I loved school every day after that, even if we didn’t get a cone full of goodies after that first day.

My left hand gives away how I felt that morning before going to school. It’s in a fist. Just a bit of tension there.

Thirteen years earlier, my older sister, Hanna, went through the same thing. Here she is with her “first day of school” cone. Like me, she had a leather schoolbag over her shoulder and I’m sure she felt every bit as important as I did on my first day. She seems a lot more relaxed than I was though.

I think it would be fun to have this tradition for first graders in Canada, but I don’t suppose that’s likely to happen. I just remember that it made an intimidating day into one of happy anticipation.


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Grade Three-Four Coup

This post is inspired by those beautiful photos on Lynette’s blog where she often showcases the lakes to the north and south of Penticton, B.C. (Okanagan Lake and Skaha Lake).  Please visit her blog by clicking on the link at the end of this post.

On one of Lynette’s posts I told her that the kids in my class threw me into Okanagan Lake and I promised I’d post the photo if I could find it.

Well, it’s not flattering. I look like a drowned rat, but you can see from the look on the kids’ faces that they loved every minute of it.

It  was an end-of-the-school-year picnic on Okanagan Lake and I had the help of a few of the parents to supervise and make sure no one got into trouble at the lake. I should have hired someone to save me from getting into trouble myself.

I had such a lovely class and we had a great picnic and games by the beach. But then I heard someone whisper a call for rebellion.

“Let’s throw the teacher into the lake!”

I looked for the parent helpers who suddenly were nowhere to be seen. Next thing I knew, four of my little angels had hold of my limbs, an arm or a leg each, and swung me back and forth. I heard them shouting through my squeals, “One! Two! Three! HEAVE!”

And “Splash!” That’s all she wrote.

 

I still remember shy little Maureen, grinning like crazy. I think it was her mother who took my picture to immortalize the drowned rat who was her child’s teacher.

That was decades ago, but I remember that splash like it was yesterday.

It’s lucky for those little eight- and nine-year-olds that I loved them all so much.

 

Lynette’s posts:

Sunday Bench

 


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Three-wheelers in Greece

Once again, old, old photos taken with a cheap camera, but I find the content a treasure so I put up with the poor quality.

I don’t know what brand of vehicle this is, but I wonder if it’s something that was built in a backyard workshop.  You can see that the vehicle up ahead is also a three-wheeler, but the blue one in the foreground looks like it has had some modifications.

One thing I wonder about is the stability of the vehicle. I can imagine that it isn’t particularly safe to go too fast around a corner or it could roll over.

Check out the license plate.

Several modes of transportation were popular.

 

Even the bus can have a mishap. The tools lying beside the flat tire tell the story. The driver has gone for help. Either that or he has left town. Perhaps in a three-wheeler. One less tire to go flat.

These photos were taken in Kalamata (known for its olives, although it should be known for its dogs that bark all night).

During both nights we spent in a campground in Kalamata in our VW van, once heading south and then, weeks later, heading north again, dogs in the neighbourhood barked for much of the night.

When I checked my journal that I kept in those days, I noticed that after I mentioned the dogs barking, I also made a comment about people walking around late at night. This seemed to be a common thing; women pushing their babies in strollers at 11 p.m., because it was at last cool enough to be outside. So maybe that’s what the dogs were barking at – all the people going for walks at night.

 

 


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Double Trouble

If you’ve never left North America, you may never have experienced a ride on a double decker bus like this one in London.

There is a mystery about them that no one has ever solved.

This bobby at the Charing Cross station is still trying to figure it out. He scratches his head and says, “I just can’t figure out who’s driving the top bus.”

By the way, did you know that the term “bobby” for a policeman originated from Sir Robert (Bobby) Peel,  the man who founded the British Metropolitan Police (also known as Scotland Yard) in 1829? Sometimes the bobbies were also called peelers (for his last name), but that can’t be a good thing, as some may associate that term with strippers.