The Island of Crete: Coming to Chania
By: Lexie Clement
Tags: Just For Fun, Greece, Travel

Day 1 — Sunday

I left my friend’s house in the south of Athens, near the port Piraeus in a taxi a bit early, hoping to get to the Ferry port in time to beat the crowds. When the taxi pulled up to the ferry gate I was surprised at how totally empty the ship was.

I mentally congratulated myself on being early for once and for my brilliant planning.

Just as the taxi driver got out of the car to help me with my bags, for some reason, he told me to wait and decided to call over (in Greek) to a man sitting in the mouth of the waiting ship.

The man stood up and asked which boat I was meant to board… As it turns out, my ship was on the other side of the port. The taxi driver explained, I got back in the car and he drove me over to the correct ship, saving me 10 mins of extra walking. He was super kind and I left him with a hefty tip for his quick thinking and empathy.

My ship was packed and I certainly wasn’t as “early” as I thought. I got into the end of the very very long line curving through the entrance of the ship, and turn to the two Kiwis (New Zealanders) — judging by the accent -in front of me to ask if I could skip the queue since I had an e-ticket.

Of course, I couldn’t. As a matter of fact, they pointed out, I might be missing the covid self-declaration form. Damnit.

I left my luggage with the friendly Kiwis and ran like hell to the ticket booth, grabbed a form, scribbled like a doctor to fill it out in 3 seconds and dashed back to the ship just as they were about to close the gate.

The Kiwis waved me over, I grabbed my bag and got into the spot they saved for me just as we got to the security area…where sitting on a table to the left of the check-in clerk was a pile of the same forms I almost missed the boat for. “At least you got free exercise.” Said Kiwi #1 with a chuckle. I nodded, still catching my breath from the run.

In the end, the clerk never even checked the form.

The Ferry was pretty nice and while the ride was smooth, it took a really long time (to be fair, I knew this when I chose to go by ferry instead of plane).

8 restless and internet-deprived hours later, we pulled into the port. At that very moment, I, unfortunately, discovered that the port we were pulling into was NOT Chania Harbour — which is a convenient 6 walking minutes from my guesthouse — but is, instead, Souda port, a very inconvenient 20 minutes by car from my lodging.

Furthermore, the friendly Greek lady next to me informs me, none of the taxi apps work on the island. I’ll need to take the bus or try to find a taxi, which can be hard on busy evenings like these.

I find this out exactly 5 minutes after I texted the host of the guesthouse (who was on her way to the guesthouse to do a late check-in specifically for me), that I’d be arriving in 10 minutes.

I quickly call the host, who is, thankfully, understanding, and she agrees to wait.

As I get off the ferry, I see the bus. Thanking my lucky stars, I quickly ran up to it and, as I was about to put my luggage in the undercarriage, I spot two Americans hurriedly removing their luggage and I overhear them saying “I wonder when the bus to Chania is arriving”.

Thanks to them, I was able to avoid another disaster, as the bus I was about to get on, was going to a city in the opposite direction.

Thirty mins later, after waiting in the sun with zero taxis in sight, I spotted a bus. The title/destination at the top of the bus most certainly did NOT say Chania, but I got a funny little feeling that, given the way things were going all day, this was likely my bus. I told the American next to me that I get the feeling that we should cross the street to double-check, and, as it turns out, it was our bus.

Twenty sweaty standing mins after that, I pulled into Chania, and got a taxi from the city centre, for the final leg to the guesthouse.

Of course, this didn’t go smoothly either.

I had to argue with the taxi driver who was attempting me to drop me off 10 mins walking from my destination.

“This street is closed to cars on Sunday evenings “ he said. “I can go no further.”

Looking at Google maps, I could see that the recommended route actually took a back road, allowing him to drop me off 2 mins from my destination. I showed him the map.

His eyes barely touched my phone. “The road is CLOSED.” He said more firmly and a bit slowly — like he was trying to explain “why vegetables” to a small child.

We went back and forth like this, each getting a bit more frustrated with the other until his eyes finally registered the route highlighted on Google Maps.

“Oh!” he said. “I was looking at the footpath! I see I can just drive around!”

I slumped back into my seat, said “no worries” and sighed long and deep. Crisis averted.

I made it to check-in. Lovely room. Took a quick video of the sea-view from my baloney. Hopped into the shower then headed down to meet up with my friend Daniele.