Arrival in Chania

The hotel receptionist in Rethymno, a young woman, chatted with us and asked where we were going next. Upon learning that we were going to Chania, she exclaimed:

• Ah! Chania! (By the way, the Greeks pronounce this name as “Shchanya”) I was born in this city! It’s the most beautiful city on the south coast! 

 And then, looking around and lowering her voice to a whisper, she added:

• And the fortress there is better than here...

We say goodbye to Rethymno and move on.

At the beginning of our journey, we visited numerous ancient Greek sites in Nemea, Mycenae, Corinth, Nauplius, Olympia, Epidaurus, and Delphi. Each ancient city had a more or less standard set of public buildings: a theater, a stadium, two or three temples to various gods, an agora, and a bath complex. Yes, that's exactly what we came to Greece for, but sometimes our eyes became jaded and we realized we were tired of the abundance of visual historical information. Denis wisely planned everything so that, in between immersing ourselves in history, we'd also visit the hot springs, swim over sunken Roman villas, laze on the beaches, and actively hike along the trails.

Something similar happened during our visit to three major cities on the island of Crete. Here, too, we see a certain "standard" of significant city landmarks: a Venetian fortress and a harbor with a lighthouse and traces of the Ottoman conquest. Chania also has all of this, but some differences can be found. For example, here are the covered shipyards, remnants of the Venetian expansion. Ships were built and repaired here. The Küçük Mosque on the shore is recognizable by the spherical shapes of its domes.  It's no longer in operation, but it hosts exhibitions of local artists. You can also walk around the harbor to the lighthouse. Which is exactly what we did one evening, having a romantic dinner on the pier, right by the water. 

We arrive in Chania, our accommodation, in the morning, but it's still too early to check in. It turns out the cottage is literally a three-minute walk from the beach, so we can have a wonderful time swimming in the sea. Parking is also excellent here. This is probably because it's located a bit out of the city center, in the suburbs. Later, we found two routes to the historic part of town. One was a bit shorter, running along the outskirts, was quite noisy, and not very clean. The other followed the shore. We found it much more pleasant. However, there were a couple of odd spots there. In one, we kept seeing nudists, even though there was no official beach there. And in the other, there was a place for illegal immigrants, made from improvised materials: a tent, a wooden umbrella from a nearby beach, sheets of plywood, and iron. This was despite the fact that there were modern, expensive hotels just a five-minute walk away.

When we checked into the cottage, we were pleasantly surprised by the warmth and hospitality of the hosts. As a compliment, a jar of olives, a bottle of olive oil, a carafe of raki, and an orange pie—all homemade—were left on the table. We then went to the store and stocked up on food for three days. That evening, at the restaurant, we finally tried a traditional Cretan dish: snails in tomato sauce, lamb with vegetables, and yellow Cretan cheese. A fitting end to the day.

Now, when I recall our trip, vivid images flash before my eyes, like movie stills. The Venetian harbor in Chania. Twilight. The reflection of lights in the water. The dark silhouette of the fortress. Yachts and fishing boats. The lighthouse, beautifully illuminated by spotlights. We sit by the water and toss crumbs into it. A school of fish quickly makes short work of them, as if the fish in the sea have nothing to eat. A multilingual murmur of voices and, often, laughter can be heard. People feel happy here.

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