The Traveling Ridleys: Sunday Journal

I’ve driven in quite a few countries both in North America and Europe (Italy, Spain, France, Portugal, England, Ireland, Wales, Isle of Man, San Marino, Scotland and Northern Ireland) so I think I’m pretty experienced in navigating small roads, tight garages, even driving on a different side of the road with the gear shift happening with my left hand. But Greece… particularly the Greek Islands… makes Italy look like child’s play. I’ve been to India. Not driven there, mind you, but driving on the Greek islands reminds me more of what it looked like it would feel like to drive there.

Cars pass you regardless of passing zone, blind curve or advancing bus coming at you from the opposite direction. The busses always seem to be half in your lane, unrelentingly advancing upon you at high speed. They’re bigger so they must (rightly) assume you’ll move out of the way. Mopeds zip around you and weave through traffic on both sides at roundabouts, traffic lights or stop signs. The stop signs all seem optional. Schizophrenic speed limits change on a dime: 90 to 30, back to 70, down to 40, back up to 70, then 50, 30, 80, 90. (All kilometers per hour in case you’re wondering). This was on one stretch of Cretan highway over the course of about 7 or 8 miles.

In Heraklion, we navigated to a parking lot. Google maps failed me. It was a dead end “street” (more like alley) on the back side of the garage with cars jammed up it. We backed out and drove down a perilously tight road with so many mopeds parked in a line it’s amazing I didn’t take one out or curb a hubcap. At the end of this Mario kart-like experience I was dumped out on to a pedestrian mall. Hmmm. Which way is fastest to escape this particular Heraklion hell on to a proper road. I chose right. Wrong. Soon I had men with canes wagging fingers, women with shopping bags refusing to move to either side and a man pounding on the roof of the car and flipping me the bird. I rolled down the window. “I was just trying to park” I said “and I ended up here. How do I get out of here?” Amazingly, his bird was withdrawn and he helpfully spit (literally) directions to turn around and avoid the police up the block and an inevitable ticket, and where to turn for the nearest proper garage. “Put your hazards on”, he advised, “then everyone will know you made a mistake” (good tip – noted for future such mistakes). That’s the thing about the Greeks, they are always helpful, even if you think they were just about to punch you.

The labyrinth of Naxos’ old town made Heraklion look like child’s play. Question: how do these people get around cars parked in these narrow alleyways (pictured)? Answer: they don’t, and that explains the crush of ATVs added to the increased moped population. Mainland Greece was better (or I’d gotten used to it, I’m not sure which).

It’s chaos and madness and mostly it works, but word to the wise: if you’re not comfortable driving in constant game of chicken with oncoming and traffic behind you (right behind you), then don’t even think about it. It’s a game you’ll lose and maybe lose your deductible with the car rental agency too.