Mythos time - sailing the Greek Islands

The Greek economy may be on the brink of collapse, but the doom and gloom isn't affecting the islands - its outdoor restaurants are packed, bars are pumping and marinas are crowded with schmick-looking yachts.

Obviously, the crisis hasn't kept the tourists away - among the Italians, French and Americans was a healthy contingent of Greeks. Were they escaping crisis-hit Athens to forget about their troubles for a while, or were they the unaffected ones, the non-tax payers with fortunes squirreled away in offshore accounts?

To explore the Greek Islands, we took a 7-day sailing trip on a 50-foot yacht, run by upstart sailing tour company Med Sailors. The group began offering skippered yacht tours in Croatia just last year, and expanded their offering to include Greece this summer.

Travelling in a flotilla of three yachts, with 8-10 people plus a skipper on our boat, we set sail from a marina in Athens. We explored a set of islands in the Saronic gulf, reaching westwards from Athens around to Corinth and down the coast of the Peloponnese - the big hand-shaped peninsula that dangles off the Greek mainland.

Finding Marina Kalamaki, the mooring for the Med Sailors yachts, wasn't easy. But it's probably because we forgot to print off the PDF instructions showing the exact address. The Med Sailors website said the tour left from the Athenian port of Pireaus. We took a taxi there, but it turned out to be a hub for enormous cruise ships, with over 50 separate bays.

Eventually we tracked down Kalamaki, a few kilometres to the south. Finding the exact co-ordinates of the yacht among the hundreds of masts looked impossible - until our friend Ryan, known for his thorough, boy scout-style packing skills, pulled out a pair of binoculars and located the Med Sailors flag hanging off a mast.

Storm brewing

Ryan quickly established his credentials as the group's drunk and disorderly sailor. His first question in the group briefing related to the amount of esky space available for beer. Keen to live up to his new-found reputation, he hit the supermarket, eagerly loading up on cases of Mythos, our Greek beer of choice.

Setting sail, we got to know the rest of our group of 8 plus our skipper, Christophe. Aside from us three Aussies, there was British couple Andy and Nat, Sarah, another Brit, Judy, a Kiwi and some other guy who needn't be part of this story. We were on the water for less than three hours when a freak storm blew in - we were just about to dive in the water for our first swim, when the sky turned orange and everything started flapping violently.

At this point we were just about to drop anchor at Perdika on the island of Aigina, but the sea was too rough so we took shelter behind a nearby rocky escarpment. The storm passed, but the skippers were reluctant to stop there for the night, so we continued sailing with the wind behind us until it got dark. We stopped at the town of Methana, a settlement on a peninsula connected to the mainland by a strip of land. It had a nice waterfront strip with rows of tables and chairs, but was an otherwise unremarkable place.

The storm slightly messed up our itinerary for the week, as we weren't supposed to stop at Methana until the way back to Athens, but the Med Sailors crew handled the change of plan smoothly. We didn't really care where we stopped and when, as long there was time to do a little sailing and stop to swim and refill the Mythos esky.

Christophe hoists the Australian flag

After the freak storm, the weather totally cleared up, and it was all blue skies and plenty of sun. The next morning we attempted sailing - only to discover that the main sail wouldn't unravel properly after being broken by the additional crew member not mentioned in this story. We made do with the jib, or sail at the front of the boat, meaning we fell significantly behind the two other yachts.

This didn't seem to ruffle the feathers our beloved skipper, Chistophe. In fact he seemed relieved when we didn't follow the other boats too closely, and did our own thing. Christophe's renegade vibe was contagious, and soon everyone wanted to moor away from the other boats, and trashed talked the other crews (who were pretty boring groups of 30-somethings anyway).

We quickly established ourselves as the wild boat, naming our yacht "Mythos III". Ryan, often accompanied by Andy and Adam, got the party started early in the day. Once Mythos Time was declared, it was all over. Ryan decided it was his personal mission to get Christophe as wasted as possible - everytime Ryan said "What time is it?" Christophe would have to answer "Mythos time!"

The second night we moored in a marina in the town of Poros, the largest settlement on the island of the same name. Poros, with its collection of white buildings and terra-cotta rooftops lining a hilltop, had a lot of character. At the top was a beautiful watch-tower, offering stunning views of the surrounding islands and mainland.

Idyllic Poros

The next day it was back on the boat for another attempt to pull out the main sail, which fortunately unravelled this time following the expert touch of Christophe. Only a couple of people had really helped with the sailing at this point, whereas others were either permanently drunk or just content to sunbathe and read at the front of the yacht.

At Poros we had stocked up on pool noodles, investing in one for each person on board. Stopping for a swim, we began a trend of elaborate jumps and dives off the boat, and lounging in the water wrapped up in pool noodles, beer in hand and sunglasses on heads. By the end of the week, we had honed these activities to a fine art!

The next day it was a short hop to Ermioni, a little peninsula on the mainland with a marina on one side and cliffside bars and swimming spots on the other. After sunset, we feasted at a restaurant on a pier by the marina that describes itself as "the oldest restaurant in the Saronic gulf." It was easily the best Greek meal I've ever eaten - it may as well bill itself as the "Best restaurant in the Saronic gulf."

Best Greek meal in the Saronic gulf

After devouring a series of mouth-watering entrees, including plump vine leaf rolls, creamy taramosalata, greek sausage and tender calamari, we were pretty stuffed but our mains were already on the way. Crispy pizzas from the restaurant's woodfired pizzas were delicious, but the lamb Kleftiko that Adam and I shared was simply outstanding. Served in a clay pot with a shank bone poking out, the supple, tender meat was encased in a rich stew and topped with stringy, melty saganaki cheese.

We retired to the boat for drinks and card games. Judy introduced us to an amped-up verson of Snap where there were an array of excuses to slap down on the cards - someone deals a queen, etc. The result was slightly violent - a pile of hands crashing down on the cards every few seconds. The game was abandoned after the first round, on the consensus that it was too stressful!

Hydra

The next morning we sailed further south, arriving at the hilly island of Hydra in the mid-afternoon. Unlike many islands that are visited by car ferries and have roads and buses and trucks, Hydra has two modes of transport - scooters and donkeys. A series of cobblestoned footpaths connects its quaint town, rising up the hill from the main square in front of the marina.

Up the hill and further around was a spot, aptly named "Sunset bar", offering panoramic views westwards across to the Peleponnese mainland. We ordered cocktails and sat around, waiting for the heavy humid air to dissipate and the sun to set. Afterwards we ate at a restaurant tucked away on a little lane behind the main square. It was set in a charming vine-covered courtyard, and we got a few laughs from the translations - Coq au Vin was Cock in Wine and there was also a Lamp in Lemon Sauce.

Unfortunately, our fun angered the waitress, who maybe thought that we were laughing at her expense for some reason. Things became a little awkward at the end of the meal when she told us all that we had been complete smart-asses for the duration of our visit, even though we were just having fun.

View from Hydra's Sunset Bar

The following morning we travelled northwards, returning to the village of Perdika where we had been unable to moor on the first day. I really enjoyed this leg of the trip as nearly everyone got involved in helping to sail the yacht. Christophe showed us how to tack - move the jib sail from one side to the other to catch the wind, use the navigation equipment and steer the yacht. We had competitions to see who could achieve the highest speed while at the helm - Adam held the record of 9.5 knots.

There was no space at the Perdika marina, so the three yachts anchored together in the bay and we took the dinghy into town. By this point in the trip we had gelled into a pretty cohesive unit, and we had an amusing dinner at a waterfront restaurant which consisted mainly of a series of drunken toasts to various things. "to Christophe the Great!" everyone cried, smashing our glasses together. The other, boring crews looked on aghast - we had firmly cemented our reputation as the noisy, drunken sailors.

It's Jager time!

Our final stop was Aigina, a little further around the island from Perdika. The weather had been heating up towards the end of the week, so we sought refuge in an air-conditioned bar. I had not really planned on drinking but felt compelled to as the cocktails were priced about the same as a fruit smoothie.

One strawberry mojito turned into several, and by the time I knew it, Ryan was ordering rounds of Jagers and it was only 4pm! The bar, instead of kicking us out, sent out free Kamikaze cocktails with multiple straws for us to share. We then placed a bulk order of pork and chicken Gyros for a sunset feast to mop up the alcohol.

That night, most of us slept in a hotel on dry land to escape the heat. The cosy cabins of the yacht were pretty stuffy and airless at night, especially if you were a couple! The next morning we motored back to Athens, stopping for one last nostalgic pool-noodle-and-sunglasses swim before arriving back at the marina.

Mythos III crew

Incredible Istanbul

Straddling Europe and the Middle East at the end of the Silk Road, Istanbul has for thousands of years been a travellers' nexus and a meeting point of cultures. Yet the city is completely unique - somehow it doesn't really belong to either continent.

We were a little apprehensive about visiting Turkey's most famous city during the month of Ramazan (as it is called locally). Would it be appropriate to eat and drink in public and, more importantly, consume alcohol?

Don't be put off from visiting during Ramzan!

It turns out our fears were completely unfounded. Turkey takes a very liberal apprach to Islam. Plenty of people were observing Ramazan by fasting, praying and wearing traditional clothing, but plenty were not.

 Bufe restaurants and coffee houses were packed with locals and doing a roaring trade all day long. There were also swarms of pilgrums visiting from other parts of the country. The old parts of the city - Sultanahmet and the Bazaar quarter - teemed with an almost seemless blend of locals and tourists, creating an amazing buzz.

The atmosphere intensified when the sun went down, as Ramazan observers hit the streets in droves, packing out parks, streetside restaurants and cafes to break their fast. The city's mosque's were ablaze with colourful lighting, spelling out a message which I assume loosely translates to "Happy Ramazan." I can only imagine what this place is like on Eid, the festival marking the end of Ramazan.
 

Inside the Hagia Sophia

Istanbul, with a colourful history spanning three empires and over 2000 years, is so crammed full of historical and cultural sites its easy to feel overwhelmed. Sultanahmet square is a logical starting point. It is flanked by the city's most important mosque, the Blue Mosque and the stunning Byzantine church (later turned into a mosque) the Haghia Sophia.

We were stunned by the magical interiors of the Hagia Sophia - one of the things I love about this building is its unique blend of design, art and iconography, arising from a series of conversions to different religions over the years. The Hagia Sophia was built in 360 AD as the cathedral of Constantinople in the Byzantine empire (the continuation of the Roman empire after emperor Constantine shifted the capital from Rome to here). It has been converted from an Orthodox place of worship, to a Catholic church and then a mosque over the years. It has since been declared secular and is now a museum. Inside, ancient Christian mosaics rub shoulders with bold islamic calligraphy.

The multi-domed Blue Mosque

Opposite the square, the imposing Blue Mosque buzzes with activity all day long. Unlike the Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque is a working monument, playing hosts to thousands of Muslims who pray there daily. We arrived right after afternoon prayer time had started, and were diverted into a free information session. The presenter said some interesting things about the history and structure of the mosque, but then went a bit religous and dogmatic on us.

We then covered up and went in - I put on a headscarf, but was told my knee-length skirt wasn't long enough and was given a sheet to wrap around my legs. The entire interior of the mosque is covered in beautiful blue decorative tiles. Despite the building's size, it felt quite claustrophobic in there, and a little bit weird walking through an area dotted with people prostrating and praying.

There was a distinct lack of oxygen - the floors are covered with a luxurious, thick carpet and the space is too big to air-condition. The air was heavy with a pungent smell of body odour. I was glad I visited but it wasn't a place where I wanted to linger.

Sultanahmet rises up from the Bosphorous, a busy channel that slices Istanbul in two and is the main route between the Black Sea and the Marmara Sea, which leads into the Mediterranean. It is a bit of a tourist mecca - streets lined with restaurants, bars, tile and rug shops.

Looking out over the Bosphorus

Yet the precinct has a fun, vibrant atmosphere, and wasn't overly tacky like tourist hangouts normally are. Most places were several stories high, with rooftop terraces where you can sit and watch ships cruising along the Bosphorus.

Most cities have a central market - Istanbul has a whole section of town dedicated to its bazaars. The centrepiece is the Grand Bazaar, a sprawling labyrinth of interconnected buildings - all delightfully air-conditioned. The complex houses all manner of merchants and goods - jewellery, painted crockery, rugs, tiles, paintings, scarves, clothes and shoes.

The bazaar overflows onto the surrounding streets all the way down to the Golden Horn, a waterway branching off the Bosphorus that separates old Istanbul from the newer commercial centre of Beyoglu. My favourite bit was the Spice Bazaar, an L-shaped complex rammed with spice merchants. Stalls were piled with cumin, saffron, cinnamon, special spice blends, teas, figs, nuts, nougat, caviar, turkish delight and baklava.

Spice bazaar

The salesman were tenacious - cast so much as a sidelong glance at their produce and they are all over you like a rash. It probably didn't help that I was by myself - Adam and Ryan had decided they'd had enough sightseeing and escaped to a pub. One merchant gave me a full rundown on all of his merchandise, scooping up spice mixes to so I could smell them and hand-feeding me turkish delight!

Everyone we came across was friendly and welcoming. People seemed genuinely interested and were keen to chat, laugh and joke around. This applied to people in shops and restaurants, and also just random people we met in the street.

When we visited the Rumeli Hisari - or Fortress of Europe - a half hour bus ride out of the city, we met a big family group. The patriarch was so amazed by Adam's size he wanted to have his picture taken. After the first shot, his daughter asked to have her picture taken with me, and for the next 10 minutes they turned into the paparazzi, snapping photos of everyone.

Adam's Turkish admirer

There was a moment of confusion when they asked where we were from. We said Australia, and they went quiet and looked confused. One said a word in Turkish that sort of sounded like "straaii?" We shrugged our shoulders, and it wasn't until she then said "Tel Aviv?" that we realised they thought we were from Israel! We then said "Aust-ra-lia" and the mood instantly improved, and everyone burst out laughing.

The fortress itself is pretty cool - overlooking the Bosphorus, it was built by the Ottomans after they took control of the city in 1453. Its ramparts and towers were used to throttle supply ships going back and forth between Istanbul and the Black Sea. Besides a lonely guy at the ticket office, the site was virtually unmanned, so we were free to climb on top of the walls and climb up to the towers. It was sweaty work in the midday heat, but the reward was a stunning view across the Bosphorus to a string of grand Ottoman summer palaces on the opposite shore.

The most elaborate Ottoman grandeur is on display at Topkapi Palace, residence of a string of sultan rulers for more than 400 years. The centrepiece is the harem - home to the sultan's many wives, concubines and immediate family. Arranged around a shaded pine courtyard, the harem is a series of stunningly decorated rooms - painted blue tiles edged in gold and elaborate calligraphy. There are exhibitions of sultans (and sultanas!) clothes, jewellery, calligraphy scrolls and weapons - the centrepiece is the jewel-encrusted Topkapi dagger.

Beautiful Turkish tile art