This wasn’t even five months ago and yet it feels like five years ago. Weird how that works. However long ago it feels. my first Europe trip happened over summer. At 45 years old. I suppose later is better than never. The furthest I’ve flown. St. Croix, has been knocked to second place. That was an experience. I’ll never forget the flight from Puerto Rico to St. Croix. It was 10pm at night, and the plane was one of those small suckers operated by a local airline partnered with American, I think it was. The pilot was the husband of the only flight attendent. It was sketchy. As the plane sped up for take-off, it suddenly slowed down, looped the runway, and the pilot came on the speaker and said, “We’re going to try that again.” No explanation as to why we were tying it again. That wasn’t comforting. I remember sitting in my seat just holding open a magazine with Dr. House on the cover, not reading a single thing. I was nervous but we survived. I think of that flight often.
Now I fly with Xanax. Funny thing is, as much as I don’t love flying, it never really bothered me much before kids. Actually, before Laine. I never loved flying but I could hop on a flight without nerves and accept that if anything were to happen, eh, whatever. When Blaise was a baby, he and I would fly down to California fairly often. And then Laine came along, and I was suddenly majorly afraid of flying. After years of trying to figure out why, I think it’s because I don’t want to go down and leave the kids without a mom. If we all fly together, I’m less nervous. Not that I ever want to go down. But at least we’d all go together, nixing the worry of leaving the kids without a mom. Morbid, I know. I still worry though, because I’m responsible for five lives. Xanax takes away any worry. It’s pretty amazing stuff.
How this trip came about. Two years ago, a friend suggested we go on a yoga retreat. Sold. We went and it was a really great experience. At that retreat, the yoga studio owner mentioned they were planning on a yoga retreat in Greece for 2024. It piqued my interest but I wasn’t sure I’d go. But the more I thought about it afterward—and at Brian’s urging—I decided I’d go. My two friends whom went to the yoga retreat were interested also but in the end, they couldn’t go. One ended up booking a family trip to Japan instead and the other went and got pregnant and couldn’t fly, haha. But before she was pregnant, her family was likely traveling to Armenia around the same time as the Crete retreat. I was still in. At Laine’s birthday party in 2023, I was talking with one of her friend’s moms about her recent trip to Paris. I asked her if she were to go somewhere next, where would she go. She said Greece. I told her about the yoga retreat and she was down. We both paid the deposit and marked our calendars for summer 2024.
Getting to Crete isn’t easy. Of course it’s possible but from Seattle, the options are pretty convoluted. Seattle to Iceland, to Athens, to Crete (the next day). I wasn’t down for two days of only travel. Instead, I found that British Airways flies direct from Seattle to London. And London has a direct flight to Crete. Sold. We decided we’d go to London for a few days first, and then head to Crete. Which is exactly what we did. Getting home from Crete was way easier. We flew from Crete to Helsinki, with a 45-minute layover, and then direct to Seattle.
Apparently I was on the flight, haha. I do know we flew in daytime the entire time.
London
All Xanax’d up, the flight was a piece of cake. We left at 7pm and flew overnight, arriving in London around noon London time. I think I slept a decent amount on the flight because I wasn’t that tired once we arrived. Although, Xanax is so strong for me, that I don’t remember much of the flight; I only remember standing in line for a taxi at Heathrow. Somehow I went through customs and collected my luggage, despite having zero memory doing either. Kind of scary. Also kind of nice.
After catching a taxi to our hotel, we checked in and left to explore a bit. The plan was to stay up as much as possible to adapt to London time. We nosed about the area, and grabbed dinner at a local place that I have no idea the name. We ate and then nosed about some more, before deciding to call it a night. We were tired. I slept amazingly that night. Any night post-Xanax is the best sleep ever.
First London dinner.
For this trip, I took a backseat to planning. I didn’t really have anything I wanted to do in London and she did. We arrived Thursday afternoon and had all day Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, before flying out early Monday morning. Friday we were up and ready to explore more. We left our hotel and found a quaint little breakfast place. We had plans to visit the Tower of London. One of her friends was in town and we met her there. But not before checking out the Tower Bridge and the waterfront area surrounding the bridge.
Too many bridge pictures.
The Tower of London was somewhat interesting from a historical context. I’m the least interested person when it comes to anything monarchy. It’s just a bunch of wealthy people who care about bloodlines, and play dress up with fancy clothes and jewelry. The buildings were impressive, knowing how old they are. I cut away from the tour group to explore on my own. The tour guide was in his costume and was pretty good, but he was a bit too on for my liking.
Old buildings and pretty windows. I personally like the knight art the best and the cute (real and fake) animals the best.
When I caught back up with the group, it was time to stand in the long line to see the crown jewels. I wasn’t going to go inside but decided since I was there, I figured I may as well. I’m dubious of where all the jewels came from, likely from colonization. There was one jewel that had a placard saying a young gal, some princess or something, gifted it to the Queen. Doubtful. I’m not a history buff though. I left the Crown Jewels feeling even more eh about the whole monarchy thing. I did get a wag of the finger for taking a picture of the sign inside.
Crown jewels.
After the Tower of London, we parted ways with her friend and left to explore some more. We had a tea time scheduled for the afternoon at Fortnum & Mason, and we headed that direction. I’m sure we ate some sort of lunch but I don’t remember?! We did stop in a fancy Starbucks, Starbucks Reserve I think? Maybe we grabbed something to hold us over until tea time. I truly can’t remember. Also kind of scary.
We hopped on the London Underground to Piccadilly Circus. After finding Fortnum & Mason, we still had time to kill. We walked around a while, and ended up in a beautiful park. It felt like we were around government buildings. They’re easy to spot; maybe because I grew up in Sacramento. I suppose government areas and people all feel the same, regardless of county. Turns out we were close to Buckingham Palace. Not on either of our lists to visit but hey, since we were close and had time to kill, we went for it because why not?
Eh, I’m even more not impressed with anything monarchy. It just feels… icky maybe? But I did the tourist thing and took pictures, laughing to myself that I was even there.
Icky monarchy things.
It was time for tea. Before going up to the tea time floor, we looked about the store. Beautiful things but so much stuff. It almost felt American how things nobody needs were for sale. Tine for tea. The floor is beautiful. They even have a pianist in the lobby as you exit the elevator. Fancy. We were early for our tea time, having the time wrong but they were able to fit us in anyway. Phew. We were seated at a table by the window, enjoying the view of the busy street below.
Tea isn’t my thing. But I went for it because experience. It wasn’t too bad. I ordered the vegetarian plates, and the scones were amazing. I’m not even a scone person but I ordered seconds. The sandwiches were eh but I’m not a huge sandwich person and therefore, a bad judge of sandwiches.
Tea time.
Tea time was a success! It felt very London but was likely more of a tourist trap if I’m honest with myself. Leaving Fortnum & Mason, we stopped at the bookstore next door, Hatchards. It’s the oldest bookstore in London, established back in 1797. Brian would love this place. It had been a full day and it wasn’t even dinnertime.
Hatchards, old bookstore.
This is where it’s fuzzy. I don’t remember what we did after tea time. We must have had dinner somewhere? I remember walking around our hotel area, and we stopped for Boba. Not me, I’m not a Boba fan. Maybe we just went to bed? I have no clue. I did take these pictures, showing how incredibly populous it is over in London. I was totally overwhelmed. I don’t do crowds. But I managed. Haha.
People. Everywhere.
Saturday is also foggy. I don’t remember the morning but we must have been out and about because I caught a picture of what I think was a Pride parade? It was a week early though? Whatever we did that day, we ended the evening at the Shakespeare’s Globe theater for a showing of Much Ado About Nothing. It was hot. I remember this. And the theater is open air. The sun was shining bright into our seats. We ended up leaving halfway through; she wasn’t feeling well and I wasn’t into the show. Which is weird because I love theater. I’ve never been a big Shakespeare fan though. Unless you count 10 Things I Hate About You, that is based on The Taming of the Shrew.
It’s the next morning from writing above. I remember what we did Saturday. She’s a huge Harry Potter fan. I am not. But I’m down for whatever so she booked a Harry Potter studio tour. We took a tour bus to the studios and spent the day there. I couldn’t care less about anything Harry Potter but it was interesting seeing all the set designs. And the hoards of people obsessed with Harry Potter. Kind of like Disney adults I suppose. We ate lunch there and killed time before we needed to board the bus to head back to London.
Back to Saturday evening.
Back to our neck of the woods, near our hotel, I found a brownie sundae spot. I was in the mood. I needed a sugar fix, haha. It’s an American thing I suppose. Another day down in London.
Saturday outings.
Sunday was the last day we would be in London. I decided to do my own thing. And it was my favorite day in London, even though it started with a migraine. She was up and out early, to meet her friend to hit up the Borough Market. That didn’t interest me, and I’m far from a foodie. I gather she is, based on her food preferences during the trip. Go, her. To me, food is just something I need to survive. Unless it’s a brownie sundae, I’ll seek one out.
It was about 9am when I woke up, with a massive migraine. I get them often. I quickly took my medicine and waited for it to kick in while I stayed in bed. I’m pretty good at catching them before they get worse. They’re never fun but I’ve adapted.By 10am, the migraine was subdued and I was left with just a bad headache. With the entire day ahead of me with no plans, I decided I’d hit the hotel gym. I figured some exercise may help the noggin. I’m not sure if it did or not, but I ran a few miles on the treadmill before returning to the hotel room to ready for the day. It was so nice to not be on a time schedule. And to be able to do whatever the hell I wanted.
The London Zoo. That was my plan. I decided early on that I would hit the zoo for lion stuffies, to bring home to Baby and Maive. I had looked up the national animal of London and it’s the lion. The zoo wasn’t very impressive. Maybe I’m biased because the San Diego Zoo is by far the best zoo, and I love the San Francisco Zoo, and we have the Woodland Park Zoo here in Seattle—those zoos are all pretty damn amazing.
London Zoo.
Leaving the zoo, I walked about The Regent’s Park (no pictures) before deciding to head to Big Ben. I was laughing to myself about the taxi with New Jersey painted on the side. Is New Jersey a destination for London folk? Because it’s not a destination for American folk. Unless it is?! This could be my Best West Coast snobbery though, haha. I do love graffiti. I know I’m not supposed to because it’s vandalism, but it’s so colorful and artistic. Loved seeing some in London.
Sunday Funday.
Not that it’s difficult, but I’m not a public transportation person. It’s not really a thing where we live. Sure, I’ve taken the City busses and the tram to the airport before, but day-to-day living for us requires a car. I was pretty impressed I was able to adapt easily to using the London Underground. It’s so simple and accessible. I quite liked this part of traveling in London. I may of taken the wrong train once, but I figured it our quickly and corrected my route. I made it over to the Big Ben area of town. I’m sure it has an official neighborhood name but I’m calling it the Big Ben area.
My mom used to call me Big Ben. She forgot me on my first day of kindergarten, leaving me to wait outside for a few hours before a teacher found me. This was back in the ’80s when kids were on their own. My mom had fallen asleep on the couch watching General Hospital. I mean, I get it now having kids. I’ve never forgotten a kid so there’s that. But I get the first day both kids were gone to school, a nap was in order. Ever since then, I’ve been a huge time freak. Like if I’m five minutes early, I’m late. Even with five kids in tow. It was important to me to see Big Ben for this reason, haha.
Making my way to see Ben, I found a lovely little park. It was afternoon for me but early morning for Brian. He called me and I found a bench to chat with him while I took in the beautiful park views. After we chatted, I carried on to find Big Ben. Along the way, I found the London Eye and Albert Bridge (I think).
More London.
Big Ben! He wasn’t as impressive as I expected. It’s a clock on a tower. Nothing spectacular. But the history is impressive I suppose. I snapped a few pictures before heading to Westminster Abbey. I really wanted to check out the architecture of the church.
Ben!
Westminster Abbey. This is a fun story. There was a line outside that I stood in, thinking it was a line to tour the building. As the line moved, I made my way to the building. A man, dressed in his religious attire, asked me if I was here for mass. HAHA. I said, sure. He let me inside. The line was for Sunday mass. Hey, I’m all about experiences so I went for it because why not?! We were ushered inside and I managed to get a front row seat. Me, an agnostic atheist, at Sunday mass, in Westminster Abbey, sitting in the front row. I cannot tell you how hilarious this is to me. I grabbed a few pictures and quickly had the wag of a finger. Apparently no pictures until after. This didn’t seem fair but I get it, be respectful and all. (I wasn’t the only one.)
Meant more with curiosity than offence, I have no idea how people buy into religion. I suppose indoctrination is key. Start them young and build a sense of community around a shared idea. To clarify, I get spirituality—although not for me—that everyone needs a way to understand their existance. But the religion part, it clearly screams a form of control to me, as someone who was raised—and still is—non-religious.
The mass experience felt like I was at a play. There were costumes, a supporting cast, musical numbers, scenes where they used fancy props (religious wands are a thing?). Then the main character—who was so very well-spoken—up on his stage reciting a memorized script. And it was so political. He was going on about Jewish folks but tying it into current events between Israel and Palestine, all under the guise of religion. But so very one-sided it was blatantly obvious to me.
There was the standing, then sitting, then standing, then sitting, then praying, then singing. I played along, like a good little pion. All the while, I was taking in the beauty of the building. And trying to wrap my head around how long ago it was built. There was a tile in front on me, dated in the 1600s. I was enamored by this building. The craftsmanship. The sheer amount of hours and brainpower it took to build such an impressive building back in time. Stunning.
The cast eventually closed the show, and we were corralled like livestock to the exit, leaving no time for pictures. But of course, before they finished, they passed around a collection plate. Eh, I don’t mind donating and supporting worthy causes, but not religion. Let alone for this building that is clearly meticulously cared for and likely sitting on hundreds of millions of dollars. Like Mormons, the good little ones tilth 10% of their income to the church. Never mind the church is worth hundreds of billions of dollars. My great uncle—who was a successful attorney in Los Angeles—said if he hadn’t become an attorney, he would have opened a church and probably been wealthier. I digress.
Westminster Abbey. STUNNING.
Leaving mass, I worked my way back to our hotel. I found some government buildings which I think included Great Scotland Yard? Felt police-like. I found a British solider guy guarding something that probably could just use an alarm or locked doors. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Maybe I’m bad for feeling this way but I find it funny, these guards who have obscure rules that are clearly outdated, standing in their little costumes because tradition? I don’t even know why. Not that here in America we don’t have silly traditions also. Humans do weird things.
More London exploring.
Back to the hotel (N2Deep style), I ordered dinner at the restaurant by the lobby and called it a day. The London part of the trip was coming to an end and I was ready to leave. I didn’t like London much. There are so many freaking people everywhere. I realize I say this as a tourist, in a touristy location. But the feeling in the air was just odd to me. Perhaps I missed smiling people. The friendliness. I know it’s a stereotype, that British folks have a stiff upper lip. But it’s a stereotype for a reason. Not all, of course. Did I mention how many people are in London?!
Crete
Monday morning we left for Crete. We arranged a cab to take us to Gatwick Airport to catch an EasyJet flight direct to Crete. I gather EasyJet is the Southwest of Europe. And I love Southwest. All Xanax’d up again, I don’t remember much of the flight. I will say I love the airport experience in Europe. Shoes stay on, laptops stay in bags, and people mind the rules more than Americans. Which is a bad thing if I delve into it much. A positive about being American—the ability to say fuck it, rules are meant to be broken. But not a positive in an airport setting, in America or elsewhere.
After gathering our luggage—which I remember this time—we found yoga people. Everything was arranged for us, which was so nice. There was a shuttle to take us to the retreat center, about 45 minutes from the airport in Chania (pronounced Hein-yah). Other retreat folks arrived around the same time, and our shuttle had six or seven of us. It was smooth.
Arriving at the retreat center made me feel like we were in Greece. At least from all the images I’ve seen of Greece. Light buildings built upon each other, alongside narrow roads. We were located in a small village I suppose? It was really pretty. It was also really hot.
We settled into our house, which we shared with two other yoga retreat folks, a mom and daughter. It was the daughter’s high school graduation gift to go on this retreat. Lucky kiddo! The house was big enough for the four of us, and we rarely saw them inside. They had a bedroom and bathroom, as did we. We really only slept there, not utilizing the kitchen or living area. The view was pretty, a slight sliver of the Mediterranean Sea from out our bedroom window.
Our lodging. That view!
After settling in, it was time for the opening circle. Now this is where I don’t remember much. The Xanax made me incredibly sleepy and I slept on my yoga mat during the meditation part. I do remember though, how I often say dumb stuff. When we had to introduce ourselves and say our favorite and least favorite yoga moves, I said, “Despite having five kids, I don’t like any moves where I’m lying on my back.”
Dinner was next. The retreat center has a personal chef, who makes all the meals. Breakfast and dinner were included, which was on island (Greek?!) time. Breakfast was around 10am, usually around 11am. Dinner was at 7pm, usually around 8pm. The food looked amazing. And I say that as a non-foodie. I’m also a picky eater but I don’t make a fuss, I just deal. I didn’t eat much of the amazing looking food but I survived. The first night dinner was all the standard superficial topics. Then it was bedtime. We had a packed week ahead of us.
Some of the retreat center. Including the yoga studio ceiling, because I’m a counter and I counted the hell out of those beams and wood planks all week.
The surrounding area by the retreat center. A village maybe?!
Each day started with yoga, then breakfast, an excursion, another yoga practice, and then dinner. There was some downtime between each, and you could do everything or nothing, or pick and choose how you wanted to spend your week. The owner of the yoga studio is super chill and the nicest person. She worked her tail off to make sure this retreat was a success, all while making sure things ran smoothly.
Tuesday was yoga, breakfast, and an excursion into a beach town. I didn’t keep track of the details and I probably should have. It was a quaint little beach town, about a half-hour from the retreat center. We had a drink on the beach, nosed about the small town, and grabbed dessert at a local beachfront restaurant before loading back into the shuttle to return to the retreat center.
Tuesday’s beach excursion.
Wednesday was much of the same, with the excursion going into Chania. It’s a further drive and way more populated than the beach town from Tuesday. There are so many fun little shops and people galore. Such a small world also. We were in Starbucks, and a young gal came inside to use the restroom. My friend whom I was with recognized her; she played basketball with her daughter in Woodinville. The young gal and her family were on a Disney cruise that has stoped at the Chania port for the day. Small freaking world.
Wednesday night there was no evening yoga; instead a group dinner at a local restaurant in Chania was arranged. After we were let loose to explore, we met up at the restaurant for dinner. It was a nice place, and dinner was fine. Again, I’m not a foodie. Nor am I much of a drinker. There was wine and gushing over the amazing food. It all looked good, even the seafood that I wouldn’t touch if it were all there was to eat. Haha. Funny how neither Brian or I like seafood, even though we’ve lived near the ocean for nearly 30 years.
Downtown Chania on Wednesday.
Dinner, check. Back to the shuttle to take us to the retreat center. It had been a long day but not long enough to call it a night. Drinks at a local taverna were in order. Rather, ice cream for me. Which was kind of funny. I thought I’d slyly order plain old vanilla ice cream, only for the showman owner to bring it out with sparkler candles stuck inside. Although, that inspired others to get ice cream so he knew what he was doing.
Wednesday night drinks at the local taverna.
Thursday I skipped all the things. I needed a day off. I tend to need alone time, and I had been around people non-stop for a few days. I skipped yoga to sleep in. I skipped breakfast to enjoy some quiet and take time to shower and deal with my ridiculously thick hair. I skipped the afternoon excursion to a ancient site (which I hear had no shade and it was HOT). I skipped evening yoga because I was enjoying the quiet day. I skipped dinner because I went to the taverna next to our retreat center for an early dinner, because even a non-foodie, picky eater needs to eat. I did made an appearance after dinner because I felt like I should.
Thursday at another taverna, since I skipped retreat meals.
Thursday was my favorite day. I mean, I loved the whole retreat, but I really enjoy quiet alone time.
Friday was the same deal. Morning yoga. Breakfast (close to lunch). An excursion, this time to a local olive oil factory. Really, there was no set excursion for Friday but a free day for people to do as they wished. A few people decided to walk about a mile to the olive oil factory so we went with them. It was a nice outing! Hot though. Friday night we did a closing circle before our last dinner together. It was a fabulous week. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, I know I did. Truly. Normally I’m not a group person but this was a wonderful experience.
Olive oil factory on Friday. And local signage to our village area.
We ended Friday night with an other taverna outing. Everyone was chill and enjoying the trip coming to an end. We all said our goodbyes; some of us wouldn’t see others in the morning due to different flight times. We called it a night early, knowing we had to pack and be up and out to the airport first thing.
Friday night sunset and more drinks (or desserts for me).
Saturday we were up early to catch the shuttle to the airport. Our flight was around 10am, about four hours to Helsinki. It was smooth. I think? Xanax’d up again. I do remember the airport in Helsinki. And I remember boarding, being shuffled into a corral before boarding to Seattle. It was a nine-hour flight and again, Xanax did the trick. All I remember is there was a man who sat between us, one flight attendent was strikingly beautiful, and I didn’t get up once (nor did the guy between us). I think it’s fun we flew back in time. We left Helsinki at 2pm-ish on Saturday and arrived in Seattle at 4pm-ish Saturday. Which was nice. I was back on mom duty Monday, and I needed Sunday off.
The BEST part of Crete. The critters! Cats galore! And a few pups.
Critters!
Reflecting back on the trip, I didn’t like London at the time but I think I do now. I’m going back in a few months; I’ll have a final answer then. As for Crete, it was a great time. I loved all the things about the retreat. The people were great, the daily yoga felt amazing, experiencing the surrounding area was fun, no complaints. Like I said above, Thursday was my favorite day in Crete. And Sunday was my favorite day in London. I think my biggest take away is that I highly value alone time, without having to be on any kind of schedule. I also learned that I’m not a fan of the superficial chitchat. It has its place and all, and I get that. But the older I get, the less brain space I want to use on small things—I’d rather go deep from the get go.
For memory’s sake, a long video walking from the retreat center to the local taverna. I made this for Brian and the kiddos to show them where I was staying. I had already FaceTimed the retreat center.
jumpingraccoons.com 