a rainbow from our Erlangen deck

There are more Greece posts to come, but in honor of the first day of Bergkirchweih... a rainbow!

First Day on Kos: Kefalos

Our flight from the mainland arrived in Kos at too-early am. The airport was small, but the town surrounding the airport was smaller. Unable to locate rental bikes or the local bus service we had read about, we decided to play the intrepid twenty-somethings and set off on foot to our first hotel on the western most point of the island.

Nearing an hour into our walk, we were still skirting the perimeter of the airport. We had hoped to see the island on our walk and had yet to view much more than road and barbed-wire fence. We did, however, learn that even at 7 am and on a small island, Kos locals like to drive fast. "Where are these people going?" was the question of the morning.

Just as the negativity was about to set in, one of the speeding cars pulled to the side.

"Hotel Fourtounis?" the driver asked in American accented English.

Tentatively Ryan said yes.

"Are you Ryan Buck?" queried the man.

"Are you Mr. Fourtounis?" Ryan called back.

Before we left Germany, Mr. Fourtounis emailed Ryan to find out what time to expect us a the hotel. Ryan replied with our flight time and our plans to either bike or hike from the airport. Foreseeing that the walk was not as nice as we expected, Mr. Fourtounis decided to keep a lookout for us while commuting from his home to the hotel. In retrospect, his gracious lift to the hotel saved us a ton of precious time that we put to use later in the day.

On the ride to the hotel, Mr. Fourtounis explained that he had studied in New York City for sometime when he was younger. Now he lives with his wife elsewhere on the island and commutes to Kefalos where he operates the hotel with his mother. During our stay we discussed on numerous occasions with Mr. Fourtounis the advantages to staying in a family run hotel, a point our time on Kos would go on to prove without a doubt.
















The town of Kefalos is situated up on a hill overlooking the harbor. Meanwhile, the hotels, restaurant and tourist shops are located on the harbor at the base of the mountain. The physical separation of local and tourist was right out of one of my old college texts: Dean McCannell's The Tourist.

When we arrived at the hotel, Mr. Fourtounis offered to to make us breakfast while we settled into our room. As it was early in the season, we had the place to ourselves, literally. After a good breakfast of ham, cheese, toast and hard-boiled eggs (a diet we have retained upon returning to Germany) we set off to do the only logical thing: climb the highest mountain we could see.























Now, before I continue, you have to understand the we were under the impression that the island was much smaller than it turned out to be. That being said, we set out for our hike with a liter and a half of water. Six hours, several Agios (those iconic blue and white temples), and breath-taking views later we found ourselves dry, town-less, and a long way from our hotel. It was at this point that we thankfully stumbled upon our very own white sand beach.

Paradiso is so remote that the dirt road leading to it has almost eroded into the hillside. When we finally made it down the mountain to the sand we quickly realized that it was just us... and the goats. Some welcome swimming and beach-combing under our belts, we decided it best to start the long trek (up the mountain, around the mountain and then back down again) into town.

















The journey back was rough. We were both dehydrated, hungry, and I was sunburned (Ryan's incredible vigilance with the sunscreen kept him unscathed... and white as the fallen snow). Our spirits were lifted, however, by the antics of goats roaming free throughout the hills.























If you've never had the pleasure of getting up close and personal with a goat before, know one thing: goats have a staring problem. They will look into your eyes like they are boring into your very soul. But just when you think they are preparing to either steal your thoughts or charge, they dart off down the mountain. The lesson? Goats are all talk... or eyes I guess.






















On our descent we got to witness the goats being called in for supper. A loan herder called into the hills, and suddenly the clang of bells echoed in the distance. Goats and sheep came running down the mountain in search of dinner, stopping only for a passing car or to stare at two tired hikers and their camera.

















When we finally made it down to the harbor, we stopped in to a tourist shop to buy some much needed water, Gatorade, aloe (for me) and $20 a bottle sunscreen (for Ryan... and my burnt spots). After hydration and showers at the hotel, we headed to the restaurant that Mr. Fourtounis recommended as "it just opened yesterday so you know everything is fresh."

Now it may have been the excessive exercise or the almost 12 hours without food, or both... but the meal we had was heavenly. The house wine, most Greek taverna's have their own, was cold and dry. The calamari was fried in olive oil in a lighter batter than you would think possible. We also discovered an ingenious culinary combination of muscles, tomatoes and feta called Muscle Saganaki. At the end of the night we were full, exhausted, and very happy.

Not bad for our first day on the island.

we're back!

We made it to Greece and back! Lots of photos and tales of our adventures to come so stay tuned!

p.s. That's Athen's Temple of Olympian Zeus in the background.