The cheap airlines, like Norwegian and Ryan Air, changed the European lifestyle. Lithuanians used to travel to the Baltic Sea, and Swedes went to the Archipelago. Now, even when the summer is warm, and the local water is enticing, planeloads of Europeans fly to the south, opposing the millions of birds flying north.  I flew to Crete, mainly because I had friends to join there, and because of the ease of travel. The weather – perfect, the food – scrumptious, the accommodations and price – so comfortable, the beach – crystalline water with soft waves for body surfing.  A short trip of smiles.

Plakias is on the south side of Crete, and my friends told me repeatedly that that Northern Crete is for tourists, and the south, for locals and adventurists.  This was my first time to Greece ever, so I had no expectations.  I got a nice studio apartment for 35 Euros/night, just meters from the beach. Rather than relaxing in Plakias, we headed to Skinaria beach, which is more isolated.  Few people know of this beach, and the locals are trying to keep it secret.  There are no signs and it is not described in the tour books. To get there, one must have a car, and at times wait for the sheep and goats to cross the windy road.  The goats here are the ones that herd the sheep, replacing the traditional sheepdogs, because they are apparently equally talented at the job.  They all have metal bells that ring while they climb the hills among the olive trees.  We could see goats along the cliffs standing sentinel, overlooking us as we swam in the wavy bay.

Greek beaches have little cots to lie on that cost a few Euros/day; with interspersed umbrellas shading them. They also have small tavernas that serve food from the local gardens.  I ate zucchini flowers stuffed with spiced rice, and artichokes marinated in olive oil. The olive oil flows all over the place.  Each family has their own olive trees and their own perfection of the extra virgins. I bought a lot of olive oil, at a fraction of the California prices.  I let my body create my vitamin D.

The next day was an excursion to Rethimno and a couple delightful villages, Spili and Argyroupolis. The old town of Rethimno showcases its hundreds of cafes in narrow streets lined with bougainvilleas and other blooming flowers.  I don’t know how they can make such delicious vegan chocolate sorbet, and why we don’t get that in the USA or the north. Cats meow and languor among the tourists who inevitably give them tidbits. We buy avocado oil face creams, and light candles in the small Greek orthodox village churches. The views of the valleys and gorges can’t be accurately described by my camera.

In the morning, we hear thunder, a reminder of Zeus, and experience a short unusual burst of rain. But it clears up, and we get another beach day, plus a visit to the Preveli Monastery, where British submarines rescued stranded Allied troupes in WWII.

Where to eat dinner becomes our major problem.  We hike up above Plakias and eat at one taverna, with white bean stew and fantastic salads.  Only to find another taverna with a better view and better white bean stew the next day.  If I were turning 50 again, I would probably organize my birthday here: to invite all my friends and family to experience the friendly Cretans.

The semester has ended and as usual, I will spend a large part of the summer in Europe. WOW airlines dropped me off in Iceland with a stopover to Stockholm.  It was lovely to get off the airplane, hop on a bus, and 30 minutes later be at the Blue Lagoon, to soak in the slippery, salty water.  I think I have been to nicer hot springs elsewhere, and the blue lagoon felt more like a tourist trap than a spiritual getaway, but it was still worth it. The volcanic weather was grey and rainy, but the special blue color and just right temperatures let me relax my muscles after the red-eye flight. I was lucky that I knew to make reservations, because walk-ins are not allowed.  I liked the silica mud mask they give you while you are floating in the warmth. I was going to buy some more at the gift shop, but at about 100 US dollars for a 100-ml tube:  my face isn’t worth it.

I hopped on another bus and headed to Reykjavik. Again, plenty of tourists walked along the main shopping street, buying woolen mittens and “hand knit” blue and red Icelandic sweaters. A restaurant had a sign highlighting their puffin and whale menu.  No wonder Iceland isn’t in the EU.  I somehow thought Reykjavik would be even smaller than it was. There are a lot of cars, and it seems that Polish is the new Icelandic.  But when I heard some young hipster girls speaking their language, it sounded like an ancient version of Swedish, with punctuations and slurs, and here and there a word that I would understand. It seems that Iceland has already won the 2018 World Cup. Soccer memorabilia is everywhere with endless congratulatory flags and football jerseys for sale.   I had dinner at an Indian place with Icelandic friends, and I learned more about how each family can trace their heritage back to the 8^th century.  Iceland’s tourist industry is booming and the recession is definitely over.  An airport hotel reminded me that I was in Northern Europe again, with a puffy comforter, and no darkness.

Ecology and Evolution of Infectious Diseases, 2018

Next, an opportunity to attend the EEID meeting in Glasgow.  The last time I visited Scotland I was 18, for a music festival in Aberdeen. That time I was part of the Palo Alto Chamber Orchestra, and a busload of aspiring high school musicians toured the North of Scotland. Now as a professor, I just go wherever I want. It would be nice to be young again, but I like the freedom I have now, in this same country, more than 30 years later.  The meeting was at the University of Glasgow, at a beautiful church converted to a conference center. The field of Disease Ecology is changing quickly, now with next generation sequencing commonplace, and sophisticated models the norm.  The opening reception was at the botanical gardens, and I had set myself up in an Airbnb across the street.  Just perfect.  I didn’t get to see much of Glasgow, but Paesano restaurant in the West End has vegan pizzas nearly as good as what I found in Naples.  The closing dinner was at the Kelvingrove Museum, and included Scottish dancing and folk music. With perfect weather, a group hike to Loch Lomond topped off a great meeting.

Edinburgh was my last stop. Why are there so many tourists everywhere I go?  The world has begun to travel, and the cheap flights to Edinburgh are boosting the local economies. Long lines wiggled around the courtyard to pay the 18-pound entrance fee, and an even longer line to see the crown jewels. But the views and watching the multi-lingual tour guides give their historical perspectives made it a memorable afternoon. It seems that all castles have some standard attention grabbers: the massive walls, the ceremonial halls, the place of worship, and the ubiquitous dungeons.  Here the dark underground prison was done up with hammocks and made to look (but not smell) like the prisoners could have just been out for a day trip.  The shops along the Royal Mile sells more tartan scarves than any place else on earth.  I of course bought one. I ended the day at Henderson’s restaurant with vegan Haggis, which apparently all locals prefer to the original sheep stomach version.  A taste of the new Scotland, where everyone I spoke with (taxi drivers, museum and restaurant staff…) wants independence from Great Britain, and a continued presence in the EU.  Since I don’t understand the accent – but they understand me perfectly – each conversation happened with a lot of friendly, patient repetitiveness.