A mini-Athens, with a great museum of mostly Minoan treasures. Took the bus to the ruins at Knossos, which are spectacular.

Spent most of my time in this town on the beach. Spent a whole day playing beach volleyball and swimming, and got a little sunburned. Neat town with narrow winding streets, a huge Venetian fort on the harbor, and a neat guy named Zaharias who looks like he might be an ancient Greek. He makes cool stuff right there in his shop out of onyx from the hills of Crete.

Part of my traveling strategy is to blend in as much as possible in the areas I am in. This strategy proved itself to be working in Rethymno when I tried to follow some German and Dutch people I was hanging out with into a bar. I was last in line, and as I tried to enter the big beefy Greek security guard put his arm down in front of me to bar the way. He started talking to me in Greek, and of course I didn't understand him, so I looked at him quizzically and pushed a little against the arm. Big mistake. All of a sudden he grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me down the steps to the street. I started protesting in English that I didn't understand what was going on, and one of the guys in the street asked me where I was from. As I answered "The United States", the beefy security guy grabbed the top of my pants with his other hand in a manner clearly preparing to literally throw me into the street (he appeared more than capable of doing this) when the other guy rattled something to him in Greek ending with the word "American". All of a sudden, everything stopped and the guy let go of me and said "American??"

"Yes," I said, "United States."

"Sorry, sorry," he says, and makes this grand sweeping gesture of entry into the club.

It turns out that they segregate the clubs in the tourist areas into those clubs for Greeks, and those for tourists. Cuba is also like this. After I got inside and found my group, I discovered that the more I thought about the whole experience, the more irritated I was, and so I didn't stay long. I think it's that I hadn't shaven since London, plus I was wearing plain brown pants rather than jeans, shorts, or the generic absurdly tight pants that certain European men seem to fancy.

Another neat town with nice beaches and neat winding streets. Spent an hour and a half watching a guy make carpets in the traditional Cretan style, which is around 6000 years old. Absolutely fascinating to watch. The yarn is made by other members of the family who raise sheep, and he makes all the dyes he uses himself. The only thing that he buys is the feeder string that the yarn is threaded onto. He said if he made that also himself no one would be able to afford a carpet. His work is stunningly beautiful, and when I return someday with a nonzero bank account I will buy lots of his carpets.