Traveling in Greece as a Grandma

There are lots of articles on the internet about grandparents traveling with their grandchildren.  Also grandchildren traveling with their grandparents.  But none that I have found that explore what it is like to travel as a grandparent without grandchildren.

Actually, it is virtually impossible for me to travel without my grandchildren, because even though they aren’t physically in Greece with me, they are very rarely out of my thoughts. I want to tell them about the gorgeous blue water of the Aegean Sea. To describe the vendor stalls  in Athens filled with lobster and other shellfish still in their beautiful shells, and the vendors singing about their wares in a lovely, chantlike chorus.  About the sounds of the birdsong that awakened my writing group each morning at the Minos Eco-Resort in the mountains of Western Crete.

Grandparents Everywhere

Everywhere we travel, I see grandparents with their grandchildren.  One elderly couple was entertaining two children with a meal in a taverna while their parents enjoyed some wine and the sunset just a few yards away.  A much younger, very fit pair of grandparents helped their granddaughter walk over the debris and up the steps to the Acropolis.   Another grey-haired couple walked down to an excursion boat with three very active children while the parents took photos and bought tickets.

Greek grandparents with babies in strollers in a city square; German grandparents pointing out the puppy in the park; Belgian grandparents on holiday with their school-age grandchildren, sunburned and healthy.

The day that we hiked the long vendor-lined path up to the Acropolis I learned about the Evil Eye curse, and saw many charms and talismans that one could buy to protect children from it.  Although I didn’t purchase one that day, I did eventually; when I got to Crete I found some precious bead bracelets with the evil eye charm woven into them. Buying things seems to be how I comfort myself that I am somehow sharing this trip with my absent little girls. Retail therapy, right?

Shopping in Greece as a Grandma

Gift shops associated with ancient archeological sites and museums sell colorful story books and coloring books depicting the lives of Greek gods and goddesses.  Postcards have much better photographs of the local sights than I am able to capture, and I envision myself sitting down with my granddaughters and sharing the story of Grandma’s Trip to Greece with illustrations to make it more real.

But market stalls displaying little girls’ clothes are the worst.  I hold one up to estimate the size of a hand-embroidered organdy dress and suddenly the stall-owner appears with an armload of similar dresses in different colors and sizes and I am thinking of shelling out more money than it will cost me for food for the whole trip on four little dresses that may or may not fit, and that may or may not match four little girls’ (or their parents’) fashion sense.

In desperation, I buy a Greek Anna from the film Frozen with a clip-on dress, thinking at least I can show Bean and her mother that little girls in Greece are just as besotted with the story as our five year olds are.  Regretting it almost immediately, I stop at a jewelry stall to find something that will last, something I can wear and then hand down, something to capture my memories of this amazing trip and this amazing country.

Before I was a grandmother, I was an early childhood educator.  As I reflect on my Greek adventure during the eleven hour flight from Athens to Montreal and then six more hours from Montreal to San Francisco, I look at the last two weeks through that lens.  I realize that the most important gift I bring my grandchildren, even the one who is waiting at home to rifle through my suitcase and see what I have brought her, is their knowledge that at 69 years of age I embarked on this journey with enthusiasm and courage.   Returning now to a home that I love, I also bring wonderful memories, great new recipes, and a few mementos that will trigger stories for years to come.  My Greek experience is inside me, and I will share bits and pieces of it with my grandchildren for the rest of my life.

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