It’s a lot easier to get to France than it is to Australia, so we take advantage of Danica and Family being in Europe and join them in France and Greece. It was a week on the Bordeaux Coast, and a week on the small Greek island of Agistri. And I finally get to Crete, where my grandfather was from.
When you get invited to come spend a couple weeks in France and Greece with the grandkids, you don’t hesitate.
Such was our case when Danica and Fab planned their trip to visit Fab’s family in France. Their own adventure started in late April as they traveled halfway around the world from Australia to Nice with a toddler (Asher) and infant (Mara), which deserves some kind of Parental Medal of Honor. They spent three plus weeks in the South of France before making their way with Fab’s parents to the Bordeaux area, which is where we joined them.
Our overnight travel across the Atlantic was uneventful, the biggest challenge being figuring out how to get between terminals at JFK. One note is that Air France uses facial recognition for boarding — no boarding pass or passport needed. You just walk through the jetway. Fast and efficient, but kinda scary-creepy at the same time. Arriving in the wee hours in Paris, it was fun to sit and watch the sun come up and the airport slowly come alive while waiting for our flight to Bordeaux.
Claouey, France
May 14 – 20, 2026
Danica and Family (DanFam) picked us up at the airport and we went to downtown Bordeaux. Exploring a bit after lunch, we ended up at the Place de la Bourse with its Miroir de Eau (Water Mirror), a very shallow reflecting pool the size of a football field, with cycles of water bubbling up to a depth of a couple inches for splashing alternating with draining and a fine mist spray to run through. Asher did at least a dozen laps, and nothing short of the promise of chocolate ice cream — a recently discovered passion – could coax him out.
It was about an hour drive from downtown Bordeaux to the VRBO Dan had found in Claouey, a small town on a peninsula on the Atlantic coast. The house was bright and roomy — and had a pool! The small town center was a short walk away with all we needed. Every morning started with fresh croissants (always chocolate for Asher) and pastries from the nearby bakery, plus there was a grocery store and open air market for local goods. We felt more like locals than tourists, although there was that part about not speaking the language. But the local shopkeepers and restaurant staff were quick to help us out with their very good English-for-tourists (certainly better than our French-for-nobody). And of course we had Fab for backup if necessary.
From this home base, we took half-day excursions (with midday nap time as our anchor). The area is famous for oysters, and there are little fishing villages all along the Arcachon Bay shore. In these villages, small houses sit close together with narrow walkways in between and weather worn, bright colored walls and shutters. There is a big 6-8’ tide change, and at low tide many of the boats at anchor sit with their hulls in the mud leaning akilter. Small cafes with thatch-covered patios overlook the bay, all featuring huitres (oysters).
Further down the peninsula is Dune du Pilat – the tallest dune in Europe at 300+ feet; I’m sure there’s a geological explanation for its random existence in surrounding forest, but it was in French. From the top there is a fantastic view out to the Atlantic, and then we made our way down through the sand to the beach. Asher walked with Fab all the way to the water on his own; he’s quite the Trooper. Dan did it with 20 lb of Mara strapped to her chest, so she gets a Trooper Merit Badge also. Dave, Dan/Mara and I took the longer but less steep walk winding through the posh neighborhood back to the park, while Fab and Asher hiked back up the dune to where his parents and their shoes were waiting. Fab reported that Asher did most of that on his own also, with the occasional face plant into the sand. We were all good and tired on the drive back, but I did stay awake long enough to admire the masses of roadside wild red poppies.
Another afternoon was spent at nearby Horizon Beach on the Atlantic side of the peninsula. There was a line of German WWII cement bunkers scattered every couple hundred meters along the beach. They were completely intact at 85+ years old but, not like most eighty-something year old humans, had succumbed to gravity and erosion and slid down the bluff over time. Looking down the beach looked very post-apocalyptic and surreal.
With just one ‘event’ planned a day, it was a relaxed and enjoyable week. There was lots of time to just hang out with the kids in comfort at the house, teaching Asher silly songs, watching him indulge his current obsession of cars, enjoying Mara’s smiles and laughs as she was passed from person to person (earning her the nickname Hot Sweet Potato), walks through the neighborhood, and enjoying adult dinners Fab’s mom prepared after the kids were in bed.
Athens, Greece
May 21-22
. On to Greece!
We bid farewell to Fab’s parents at the airport rental car return and somehow got all the luggage and little humans into the terminal, through security, to the gate, and on the plane with only one 45 second episode of toddler drama when Fab had to run to get a jacket left behind and Asher couldn’t go with Papa.
Athens airport is way on the outskirts of the city and is busy and sprawling like JFK but with fewer bathrooms. Dan had prearranged a van to whisk us to our AirBNB, located on the fourth floor of an apartment building downtown with great access to all the tourist areas, but with a very small and sketchy elevator. That meant lots of stairs.
The Acropolis Museum was our first stop on our lone tourist day, which was fascinating but after an hour my head was spinning trying to keep Greeks and Gods and Romans and Ottomans and who conquered and burned and who was benevolent and who was fighting who all straight. So I gave up and admired the artsy part of it all. After lunch Dave and I headed out on our own. We couldn’t get tickets to actually get up to the Acropolis so walked all around it and through downtown. No loss, as it gave us more time to walk through other parts of Athens. Oleander was in full bloom, the jasmine fragrant, and I even spotted some patches of my favorite red poppies. Seville orange trees lined the streets, heavy with fruit (which is apparently inedible). There was lots of graffiti, and motor scooters zipped around us from all directions.
And the food! We traded croissants for baklava, and charcuterie for souvlaki. The restaurant scene didn’t even start until after 7 pm, after which the sidewalk tables were packed and bustling with conversations and life into the late hours. Both nights there Dave and I ate early and then stayed with the kids after they went to bed so Dan and Fab could enjoy the city after dusk themselves.
Megalochori
Island of Agistri, Greece
May 23-27
It was gray and rainy for our ferry ride from the large port of Pireaus outside Athens to the little island of Agistri. Fortunately the sun came out just as we arrived. We had to hoof it up the ¾ mi up the rather steep hill with all our bags. We passed quaint whitewashed hotels with the classic island blue trim and shutters, a couple restaurants, a scooter rental, church, aged homes with sun-bleached wooden doors, and lots of cats. Arriving at the small Nontas market, we were met by Dimitra, who led us through a couple of narrow walkways to our accommodations. A small middle-aged woman, she knew just enough English to give us a rudimentary rundown on the place. I made a rather awkward attempt at introducing ourselves.
“I’m Karen. And the guy over there in the yellow shirt is my husband Dave.”
“Steve?”
“No – Dave. As in David.”
“Steven,” she proclaimed with finality.
I gave up, making a mental note to inform Dan and Fab that apparently ‘Steven’ is Greek for ‘Dave’ – or at least would be for our stay.
The house was actually two separate apartments, and Dave and I had the upstairs rooftop unit with a large open air patio and sunroom overlooking the small harbor and the stunning blue Aegean waters; our idea of perfect living. This became the Family Hang Out when the kids were not sleeping and where we had meals together.
Each day started with a trip to the nearby bakery for Greek donuts, pastries (chocolate for Asher), and/or fresh bread for breakfast. The nearby beach was a popular activity, relaxing under thatched umbrellas while Asher splashed along the shoreline with Papa (Fab) and Mara snoozed in the stroller. We walked a mile to the more touristy town of Skala. One afternoon we rented scooters and rode around the island; the next day we stayed with the kids and Dan & Fab went scootering. Dave and I took the short ferry ride to the nearby island of Aegina, famous for pistachios, for the afternoon. Both island were lush with pomegranate trees with their red buds, oleander, and frequent whiffs of rosemary and lavender and jasmine. And everywhere was the beautiful Aegean; I never knew water could be such brilliant blues and greens, changing with the angle of the sun as the day progressed.
How Dan found this little island I don’t know, but it was the perfect place to just enjoy the Greek lifestyle and relax. Everything shut down from 3-5, and restaurants didn’t open back up for dinner until 7. We watched sunsets and sunrises and boats coming in and out of the little harbor from our rooftop perch. Asher played with his cars, we read books and sang more silly songs, and Mara The Hot Sweet Potato was easily entertained in anyone’s lap with whatever was handy.
We visited the tiny little Nontas grocery daily to gather what we needed for the day, with their stock of fresh produce determined by how close it was to their weekly delivery. One afternoon, Dimitra approached Dave and I as we stood in front of the refrigerated drinks case. She greeted me and then turned to Dave.
“Steven, you get me Hell.’
Dave looked at me, puzzled. “She means you,” I said.
He looked back at Dimitra.
“Two Hells” she said, pointing to the top of the case.
“Oh – Coca Cola?” he asked.
“No no – HELL!” she repeated, pointing up again.
Thus we learned there is an energy drink in Greece named Hell, which at Nontas market was stocked beyond Dimitra’s reach. As Dave grabbed a couple cans, she gave a What-The-Hell shrug and said “Get me three Hell.”
Crete, Greece
May 28-30
It had been almost six weeks of travel for Dan & Family, and time for them to head back to Australia – if for no other reason than Asher was going to need detox at the Willy Wonka Center for Chocolate Rehab if they stayed any longer. Dave and I said reluctant good-byes as they dropped us off at the Athens airport for our flight to Crete. DanFam would start their long trip back to Australia in the wee hours the next morning.
While waiting at our gate, we heard excited shouting and looked up to see two boys running toward a very tall man as he passed by. Turns out it was Milwaukee Bucs player Giannis Antetokounmpo – aka the Greek Freak – who is a hugely popular favorite son. One of the boys was even wearing his #34 Jersey. He paused for pictures with the boys and signed the shirt before disappearing through a side door. A few hours later in the baggage area in Crete, the two boys were still excitedly talking about meeting their hero. It all made us smile.
Crete has long been on my bucket list to visit, as my paternal grandfather had immigrated from there in the 19-teens. Under the Nazi occupation, the last remaining Jews of Crete were wiped out when they were rounded up in 1944 and loaded onto the transport ship Tanais bound for extermination camps. The ship was torpedoed by a British submarine off the coast of Santorini with no survivors among the 262 or so Jewish prisoners trapped in the hold.
An early bus took us along the coast to Chania on the other end of the island. We passed rocky coastline, small towns, old and worn cement structures, modern townhouse developments and resorts, terraced groves of olive trees and vineyards. There was Souda Bay, where Dave had been several times on Navy deployments, and rather surprisingly an IKEA.
Our first stop was Etz Hayyim, the only synagogue remaining on Crete. Following looting and destruction by the Nazis, it was neglected and even used as a rubbish dump for 50 years. Then one man led a 10 year restoration project to honor the Cretan Jewish community that had perished. For the last 25 years it has once again been an active synagogue, as well as a museum and historical association dedicated to telling the story of the once vibrant Jewish community on Crete. We wound through a maze of narrow alleys lined with two and three story small homes and shops, arriving at a wooden door with Hebrew lettering above it and a plaque indicating it was Etz Hayyim. We rang a bell to be let into a small courtyard with a large olive tree. The sanctuary itself was small and felt old in a good way, with colorful fabric seat cushions on the carved wood benches. A few artifacts of Judaica were displayed, almost none of them being original to the synagogue as those had all been lost or destroyed decades ago. In a side foyer was a memorial to the victims of the Tanais, where 23 of the names engraved on the gold plaque were Elhais. Before leaving, we chatted with the executive director of the foundation that manages the site and its archives, who was very familiar with the past and current Elhai family history as several cousins have visited during her time there.
From there we continued through Old Chania, with it’s ancient harbor surrounded by a hundreds of years old wall. We noticerd a surprisingly large police presence, and it turned out the Greek Prime Minister was scheduled to give a speech there that day which prevented us from walking out to the lighthouse. So we enjoyed lunch at one of the many restaurants overlooking the harbor, then wandered through more of the Old City. Local wares spilled onto the walkway from the many shops — leather goods, olive wood everything, textiles, honey, and tourist kitsch being the most common. Then it was time to catch our bus back.
In contrast to Chania’s Old World charm, Heraklion has a more bustling and modern vibe. It has an old walled section as well, but new construction has encroached and blurred the border. It’s very touristy with wide pedestrian malls lined with boutiques, brand name retailers, and restaurants. Roving bands of young people, all noticeably dressed alike in each group, far outnumbered old people like us. Our hotel in the city center was sleek and modern, with an incredible Greek breakfast buffet included.
The Minoan ruins at Knossos Palace were rather disappointing, with much of the ‘ruins’ actaully being ‘recreations’ from theories the lead archeologist Lord Evan’s developed as he excavated 100 years ago. The self-guided tour seemed to spend a lot of time explaining how he was wrong. The Old Port proved more interesting to us with its centuries old Venetian Fortress, the vaulted Venetian shipyard buildings, and the murals along the breakwater. We shared one last Greek dinner and watched the sunset down at the harbor, and then it was time to turn our attention to the return home. We were ready.
The Trip Home
May 31 - Jun 1
But our adventure was not quite over. Flying back to Athens airport from Crete, we needed every bit of our long layover before our flight to get through the two hour line for passport control! Then our flight to JFK had a mechanical issue and we missed our flight to Norfolk. Delta rebooked us on the next flight the following morning, provided car service to and from a hotel on Long Island, and gave us food vouchers for the airport restaurants — though everything was closed at the late hour. Tiredness beat out hunger and we just crashed as soon as we got to the hotel.
We were out front early to meet our ride back to the airport, but there was no car at the curb. Called the car service dispatcher, who said he was there and might be parked nearby – “look for a white Hyundai.” Seriously? I start walking down the row of parked cars and find a guy snoozing in a white HONDA. We get in the back, and GPS says 30 min to the airport.
Longest 30 min of my life.
It started with the car reeking of stale weed and cigarette smoke, and then got worse. He dodged and weaved through traffic, alternating between pedal-to-the-metal and slamming on the brakes, and kept swerving into the Turn Only lane and cutting back in at intersections to pimp the line. At red lights, he put it in park and leaned back with his eyes closed, and once had to be roused by the well-earned blasting of horns behind us. I could see the speedometer hitting 70 on city streets. Our lives flashed before our eyes. Then my past lives started flashing before my eyes. I’m ready to make him pull over and let us out but realize we are entering the loop at the airport terminal area and thought maybe the worst was over. NOPE!
He continued way beyond the 30 mph limit approaching the terminal. After nearly colliding with a car merging into the one-way flow of traffic, he stuck his head out the window as if to bait the other driver into a road rage incident. We finally pull up at the curb and I’m out the door before he comes to a full stop, grabbing my bag and wordlessly heading for the door – furious and relieved at the same time. Dave and I look at each other and both say “Holy [insert bad word here]!” No, we did NOT tip. And Yes, Delta got a letter from me warning them their contractor was dangerous.
We used our $60 of food vouchers for a nice breakfast at the airport and then a bag full of junk food. Because when our lives were flashing before our eyes, we realized there had been a paucity of chocolate. Asher has it right.
Final Thoughts
Travel for us has progressively become more about fully experiencing just being somewhere –fitting in to the everyday lifestyle, seeing how the locals live, finding the rhythm of the town or city over an extended stay. We no longer want – nor can physically do – the packed itinerary and tourist hot spots. There’s no better way to slow down than traveling with kids and family like this trip provided; it was the perfect combination of doing things and just enjoying family time. All the credit goes to Dan in the planning — we just showed up where she told us to be. Now our memories of this trip will be framed by Asher playing against the backdrop of the Aegean, watching him run and walk along ancient paths in Greece and traditional villages in France, Mara smiling or sleeping from her marsupial pack as we walked past oyster farms or old German bunkers, kids songs in French, and the happy messiness of kids eating ice cream or wearing their pureed sweet potatoes. It’s the most basic of every day superimposed on exotic-to-us places that helps us to understand the similarities and differences in foreign histories and cultures.
That’s how our future adventures will be focused. And definitely minus more terrifying car rides to airports.
Great story! Thank you for sharing your adventure and photos.
Very happy to share your adventures again. What a treat to travel with kids and see the world through their eyes. WE REMEMBER THEM the victims of the SS Tanais sinking, and most dearest the 23 Elhai names engraved on the gold plaque
Thank you, Karen, for a great read! I’m looking forward to an entry after our narrow boat trip (although it won’t be neatly as exciting – maybe a good thing!)
You never know what might happen…
How blessed you are to have had this wonderful adventure with your family! Thanks, Karen, for sharing such lovely photos and text with interesting details about your trip. It was a fun for me to live vicariously through your your fabulous memories. Welcome home!
Beautiful!
Thanks for the travelogue of pictures. FYI, Seville oranges are traditionally used to make orange marmalade since they are very bitter (hence inedible). I think all the European Mediterranean border countries make some sort of variation or marmalade. Sounds like there weren’t any medical mishaps either.
Did not know about the Seville orange/marmalade connection. I can tell you there was A LOT of marmalade lying around on the sidewalks.
Apparently the trees in Athens were planted decades ago by the city because they do so well in the climate, provide shade, and give the air a wonderful citrus scent in the spring. We mostly smelled scooter exhaust, so they might have only accomplished two of the three.