At the end of the 1970s and beginning of the 1980s, Karen and I had a short-lived thing for Greece, mainly the Greek islands. We went three times, once to Crete in, we think, 1978, and twice to Rhodes, in 1979 and 1981.

The islands were just beginning to be mass tourist destinations in 1978. They'd long been known to bohemians and hippies as a cheap, warm place to hang out. Leonard Cohen was living on Hydra, writing poetry, in the early 60s when he met his Norwegian girl friend Maryanne. Joni Mitchell wintered on the same island a few years later, until she missed her "clean white linen and...fancy French cologne."

Karen and I were drawn to the Aegean more by the lure of cheap package holidays. At first you could only easily get to the islands by going to England, which is what we did in 1978. We spent a few days in London at the beginning of our holiday, doing touristy things.

Speaker's Corner at Hyde Park, London. No memory of what the dude on the soapbox was gassing on about - probably the certain road to hell we were all treading.

The clock tower at Hampton Court Palace

Presumably the view from our hotel - no memory of where it was.

I don't know why this pair of posters attracted me, but the one on the right confirmed the date. It's for a musical, England, England, about the London gangsters, the Kray brothers, written by counter-culture figures Snoo Wilson and Kevin Coyne. It opened in 1977.

The precincts of a large church, but no idea which. That's Karen behind the iron gate.

The precincts of a large church, but no idea which.

No clue exactly where this was taken, but in London, I'm pretty sure.

We also fit in a flying visit to Paris - or we may have done. Karen has cast some doubt on this. I certainly remember a trip in which we were in London, then trained down to Dover and caught the Channel ferry over to France. Judging by the order in which the pictures appear in the album, it looks to have been all part of the trip to Crete, which is certainly plausible. Karen says it might be a different trip. The London, Dover and Paris pictures (to follow) definitely were the same trip - Karen's hair and clothes are the same in all three places. Who knows? In any case, for some reason, I took a lot of photos in Dover that survived. 

These first few are of Dover Castle. The one of me posing at the castle gate in my cool new leather bomber jacket was staged for a reason. In 1965, my father took an almost identical picture of me that was famous in the family. He called it 'The Sulky Tourist' because of the sour expression I was wearing. I probably was sulking too, but not on this trip. The others below were taken around town - as I remember, fairly close to the B&B where we stayed. I've always loved the one of Karen sunlit in the archway.

I'm pretty sure this was the dining room of our B&B in Dover where I discovered that I actually did like tea, if it was brewed correctly so that it was a clear, reddish brown, not the inky substance my parents, and Karen, drank.

Isn't she lovely! That's me in the background.

The next day we got on the Channel ferry and bopped over to Paris. I can't remember how long we stayed, but judging by the small number of surviving pictures taken in such a photogenic city, no more than a couple of days, maybe only one.

Eiffel Tower (Yes, the verdict's in - she is lovely.)

We weren't very imaginative tourists apparently. It had only been seven years since we were
here last - did we really need to do the Eiffel Tower again?

I'm not certain, but I think this is in the grounds of Notre Dame.

This for sure is Notre Dame.

Near our hotel?

Tuileries Garden

Presumably the view from our hotel window.

We went back to England and, according to my timeline, caught a flight to Crete from there. Or did we stop in Athens? Initially, I was thinking we'd flown to Athens, then taken a ferry from Piraeus, the nearby port. But I have no memory of that boat ride, and I'm thinking now we must have flown directly to Crete. There was certainly an airport then, at Heraklion, the major city on the island. And it started receiving charter flights from Britain as early as 1971. So it seems likely. It was all part of a cheap Thomas Cooke package we'd bought before leaving home. (How did we manage that in the pre-Internet era, I wonder? Can't remember.) 

The tour operator bused us to what felt like quite a remote location. We stayed in a resort that I remember us thinking was a little out of our league. It was fairly posh. Most of the others on the tour appeared to be middle-aged, middle-class Brits. 

There was a little fishing village down a dirt road that was starting to be developed for tourism. We walked to it a couple of times and had lunch there once. The waiter had a hard time getting us to understand that he was offering, in addition to what was on the menu, whatever came off the fishing boats which were coming back from their morning's work. He finally waved at the sea, where one of them was just steaming into port.

But where was this place? We don't really know. Karen thinks is was on the southwest side of the island. We have pictures that seem to give some clues as to the local topography, but after an hour poring over the Google Earth map of Crete, I gave up trying to figure out where it was. Of course, it would almost certainly have changed, possibly beyond recognition, with all the tourist development in Crete.

I originally thought this was the view from the ferry as we came in to Heraklion, but if we flew, that doesn't make sense. I think it's Heraklion, though.

A port-side restaurant in Heraklion? I don't think we ate here.

We're fairly certain this is a view over the grounds of our resort.

We did go to Knossos, the Minoan archaeological site. There is some disagreement between us over how we got there. Karen insists she remembers me driving, but I can't think where we would have rented a car, given the remoteness of our location. I also have a dim memory of riding a public bus along the north coast highway. No matter, only one picture of Knossos survives, along with fragmentary impressions of the place.

Next up: Rhodes.

Rhodes & Athens

Rhodes & Athens

Karen and I have very different memories about the order in which our trips to Rhodes occurred. On one we were on our own, on the other we met up there with friends Lesley Classic and Jerry Lenton. Karen remembers that those two trips were less than a year apart and that the one on which we were on our own came first. I remembered that it was less than a year between Crete and the first Rhodes trip. Karen also says she didn't have her curly perm on both trips, so all the curly pics are from one vacation, whereas I...

Oh, who knows and who really cares? 

Suffice to say, there were two trips to Rhodes, with not too long between them. On one, we bought a package from Wardair, the late lamented Canadian charter airline, that took us to Athens first for a couple of days, then on to Rhodes by ferry from Piraeus. On that one for sure, Karen sported her curly perm.   

Athens, I have to say, didn't leave a very favourable impression. I thought it was crowded, dirty and lacked charm. Karen and I walked from our hotel into the centre on the first day and looked at the parliament buildings with the guards in their silly uniforms - skirt, tights, tassled fez, tassled boots. That's one of my few memories of the place. 

About the only good thing about Athens was the Acropolis, the rocky promontory above the modern city, with its fabulous ruins of ancient public buildings and temples, including the Parthenon. Our package included a guided tour, given by a very elegant young Athenian history student. 

One thing that strikes me now looking at the pictures I took there is how many tourists were crawling over the rock that day. When I think about how the crowds at some other major European attractions have multiplied exponentially since we first saw them in the 70s -  Notre Dame in Paris is an example - it's hard to imagine what it must be like visiting the Acropolis today. Being in a monkey cage at the zoo, I'm guessing.

The only other thing that sticks in my mind is talking to a young Canadian couple in our tour group as we waited for the coaches to take us to Piraeus and the ferry. He casually mentioned that he'd just completed his rookie season playing for the NHL Edmonton Oilers. Now, you would think that his name and face would be branded in my memory, but no, nothing remains. I've long had it in my head that he might have been a young Paul Coffey, the great defenceman of the Oilers' Gretzky glory years. But the oracle tells me Coffey's rookie year was 1980-81, so it couldn't have been him if I've got the year of our trip right.

View of modern city from Acropolis

It was unusual enough for Karen and I to strike up a conversation with fellow travelers. It was unheard-of to actually make friends with someone we met on a trip. I don't know what happened to Paul Coffey and his wife when we got to Rhodes. They probably went off to a different, more upscale hotel. But there was another young couple we met, Harold and Maria from Toronto. They were younger than us and not very confident travellers. They clung a bit, I think. 

It was especially surprising we let them in since we were already meeting Lesley and Jerry. They were coming in separately, Lesley from visiting family in England, Jerry from Zoest, Germany where he was teaching at a military base school. They stayed in a bed and breakfast in town, while we stayed in a soulless modern hotel just outside town. The six of us ended up chumming around on Rhodes.

There wasn't a heck of a lot to do on the island. The town was moderately interesting. And there was a swimming place on the rocks near the port where we went a couple of times. I lost my second wedding band there when my fingers shrank in the cold water and I didn't notice the ring slipping off. Karen has never let me forget.

Maria - of Harold and Maria - and Karen at our hotel

In Rhodes town. That kaftan, the one the McCanns always found so comical - what? you want to protect your skin from the sun? you weirdo! - is still in my closet.

Rhodes town

Didn't need one - had motorbikes

No idea what Maria is photographing - a famous well maybe?

We spent most of our time far from our hotel and the town. A couple of days into our stay, Harold and I followed Lenton's lead and rented little motor bikes. The first day, we all rode out into the countryside to see what we could see. At one point we randomly chose a side road that headed towards the sea. At the end of it, we found a tiny inlet with a few fishing boats and two postage stamp-size beaches among the rocks. We claimed one for ourselves and went back almost every day. There was a funny little restaurant at the end of the road where we could get simple food - omelets or fish and chips usually, and Greek salads - and eat it on a shaded patio. 

Our beach was surrounded by rocks, so it wasn't visible from the road or the restaurant, or the next beach. We got daring after imbibing enough wine from our wine skins and went skinny at least once. I thought I had a picture somewhere of the ladies topless sun bathing, but haven't found it. I suspect Karen of destroying this precious relic. Karen remembers that she didn't go topless, because she had a one-piece suit, but Lesley did, and that while she was lying there topless, she spotted some young military types on the cliff above looking down at us with binoculars.

Lesley turned up one day with a heavily bandaged foot. She had somehow caught her heel in the spokes of the rear wheel of their bike and cut it badly, had to go to hospital. I think they might have crashed the bike in the confusion too. They were fine, though, and still joined us each day to go to "our" beach. 

I say "somehow" Lesley snagged her foot in the spokes, but I'm pretty sure it would have been down to booze. We drank pretty constantly. On one occasion, we went on our bikes to a wine festival in another town where we drank dreadful local wine from little earthenware cups that were included in the price of admission. (We had one of our cups until only a few years ago.) Then we drove back on the bikes. Yikes!

Sunbathing on our beach - note the smirk on Karen's face

Harold and Maria at our beach

Harold on a photographic mission

Harold shooting boats at our beach

Jerry Lenton seeing us off as we headed for the ferry

So long Rhodes, see you soon. 

We had another day in Athens when we got back. One of the first things we did was seek out a source of "doners." These were the pita wraps we had gorged ourselves on while in Rhodes. We got them from street vendors who had a spit with a leg of pork or lamb roasting over charcoal. The seller would shave bits of the meat off into the pita - which was always very fresh - and then top with tomatoes, onions and a delicious spicy yogurt sauce. We couldn't get enough of them. 

I did finally find a doner stand, in the Plaka, the ancient neighbourhood of maze-like streets near the Acropolis. I couldn't figure out why the seller - whose place was almost literally a hole in the wall - wouldn't take my order and kept waiting on locals who had come along after me. Finally, one of them said, 'No, no, he's next,' and I got my doners. Greeks don't queue. The wraps weren't as good as the ones on Rhodes either.

We did explore the Plaka a bit that day. I have pictures to prove it.

Sunday morning in the Plaka

Fruit sellers in the Plaka

Plaka

Curly Karen in Athens

Headed home: Harold and Maria at Athens airport

And then it was onto the plane and back to Canada. Not long after we got back, we went to visit Harold and Maria in Toronto. We pretty quickly discovered we weren't as sympatico as we'd thought. They were good people, but very conservative, politically and socially - straight-laced, for a young couple - and very immersed in the German-Canadian immigrant community to which both their families belonged. We never saw them again.

A year or two later - I think it was 1981 - we went back to Rhodes. Or less than a year before - take your pick. Whichever year it was, we flew direct to the island, I'm pretty sure by Wardair again. I don't remember as much about that trip. Karen and I were on our own. We were struck by the incredible amount of development that had gone on in the intervening year or two. (Or that impression was one we had on the previously described trip. This is too confusing!) The site of the hotel from our first visit, a sparsely developed suburban strip, was now unrecognizably jammed with new hotels and restaurants and built-up all the way to the edge of town. 

Rhodes: new development

Crap photo of pretty woman

Rhodes town: harbour

We went for a couple of nice country walks. On one, we found a place - or maybe we sought it out - where butterflies came to spawn, or whatever it is the monarchs do in Mexico after they fly all the way there from up here. These were buttery yellow flap-flaps (as my grandson calls them.) There was a rippling drapery of them on the trees and bushes in this little glade. I thought I had a picture but can't find it. I think these shots of Karen and I were taken on the same walk. (But Karen says, no, they had to have been on the same trip we met up with Jerry and Lesley...because she has a curly perm in these pictures.)

Glade of butterflies - or near it

Look at all the hair!

Another day, another walk - with picnic

We did go back to "our" beach, but only once. It wasn't the same without the others. Nothing much had changed there, although I think the next beach to ours was occupied the day we went. 

Our beach

Our beach: occupied

Our beach: occupied

We've never been back to Greece. Shelley Boyes keeps urging us to try it again. She's a great fan of Athens. Meh. It's true there are all sorts of other islands to try, although I suspect most have now been developed for tourism to the point that they wouldn't be anything like what we remember.