Static Zombie

My Friend's Big Fat Greek Wedding

I spent the last two weeks on the Greek island of Crete. If, like me, the phrase "Greek island" conjures up images of blue-domed whitewashed buildings nestled atop hills with breathtakingly scenic overlooks of the Mediterranean, you'll want to get off the ferry a few miles away at Santorini. Crete's a rugged island with dramatic mountainous terrain and people who are just a wee bit touchy about all the name-calling, thank you very much.

Much of my time was spent exactly as I wanted it: curled up with a book on a beach chair facing the Mediterranean under a shady umbrella, near the town of Chania. Glorious. I don't understand how anyone in that region gets any work done, with the warm water glistening an invitation to lose yourself in its tender embrace. Kind of like porn spam, but without the spelling errors.

The wedding itself was lovely, held in a tiny synagogue oozing old world charm. The reception, in the courtyard of a nearby restaurant, was delightful-- some Greek dancing, plenty of good food, and fabulous ambience. It's always a little odd spending time with a friend's family, as I did with the groom's. It's a little like being in a Star Trek landing party-- the dynamics are fascinating to observe but you're powerless to interfere.

No visit to Crete would be complete without a pilgrimage to Knossos, but it should be because the site is an utter disappointment. If you're going to make guesses and reconstruct an ancient site, go big or go home. I don't want to see a wall here, a room there, a few giant amphorae and painted columns scattered about. I want a full-fledged Minoan palace. I want to sit on the throne, stroll the hallways, peer from the balconies. The problem with Knossos is that so much of what you see is a reconstruction, it's difficult to know what's "real" and what's supposition. And despite this, it's still a fragementary ruin. It felt dishonest to me, and not nearly as impressive or inspiring as other sites in Greece like Delphi or Epidavros. It was also hotter than Catherine Zeta-Jones in a leather bustier, so I didn't spend as much time there as I expected.

I am now a huge fan of Greek salads, although I suspect nothing here will compare to the luscious tomatoes, tangy feta, delicate oregano, and full-bodied olive oil of Crete. The yogurt was also spectacular, especially topped with the silky local honey. The thin, runny goo you find in local dairy cases doesn't hold a candle to the creamy ambrosia that is Greek yogurt. Surprisingly, the lamb-- and I had a lot of it, in many varieties-- was almost universally inferior to the kabobs I make on my trusty Weber. Go figure.

Posted by Peter at June 21, 2004 07:09 PM