In Alikianos

"Alikianos or Alikianou: small town belonging to the Kidonia eparchy, Prefecture of Chania, in Crete. Capital of the Mousoura municipality, it is situated 12,5 km to the south-west of Chania city, 65 m high above the sea..." This is how the tourist's guides describe the all-green plain with flowing waters and orange trees, the land full of colors and smells, where history is mixed with the legend, the land of passion and hatred, braveness and betrayal, triumph and mourning. An old Da Molin's possession, the land where "drama of the Cretan wedding" took place, but there was another drama too: the Nazi occupants tried to swip from the Earth the very trace of those people fighting weaponless against the best butchers of the Third Reich. They successfully opposed the Nazi, thus dishonoring Hitler all over the world.
I start from the Venetian Port, taking my bike. Car is not the best choice for such a route because this is a disrespect to the beauty of the local nature you'll meet, and because the longest your way will be, so much the better. So you'll walk or ride a bike. After and hour or so among the greenery I meet the Keritis river which washes the plain and welcomes me. After passing the big stone bridge I've reached Alikianos.

Usually I should first be visiting the ruins of the haunted Da Molin tower, the most famous sight of the village. According to the legend, Sofia, daughter of a Venetian feodarch, fell in love with Georgios Contoleon, son of the leader of Cretan revolutionaries. The cunning and villainous feodarch pretended he agreed with the wedding and made peace with the revolutionaries, but during the wedding banquet he drugged the guests, put them to jail, and the next day hung them all. I am really touched by the "drama of the Cretan wedding", but Alikianos is so lively place that I do not want to start our acquintance from some drunk ghosts. 

Alikianos is not a traditional village I expected. Once it was characterized as a protected memorial monument, but today there are modern buildings which are though built with respect to the local history and the beauty of the nature. There can still be found old stone buildings representing the traditional architecture.
People in Alikianos are modern too, without losing, though, their special features given to them  by their Cretan roots. Hospitable, progressive, friendly, easy-going, but most of all, proud of their place. And they have every right to that, because "beauty" is the only word which could describe this place. Beauty coming from  nature, houses (old and new), history and legends, people...
I feel thirsty and order some fresh orange juice in the coffee-shop. The owner is boasting to me that the oranges from his garden are the most tasty on Earth! "Why?" I ask him. He looks at me as if I said something funny. "It's the Keritis water! It maked the oranges tasty, the women gorgeous but modest, and their men, crazy!"

What is chania?

Chania, Creta,Crete,Chania, Crete, Omalos, Elafonisi, Elafonisos, Chania, Crete, Creta, Chania

You will drink raki (a usual treat) in Mournies, Maleme and Alikianos or, again, you may prefer margarita, burbon or "Bloody Mary" in modern city clubs. You will dance pentozali to the sounds of lira and laouto or hip hop with Eminem shouting loudly on stereo. In Kolimbari, Falasarna, Elafonisi, Kissamos, Akrotiri and Kalathas you will swim in waters so clear and so cool that your body will be born again and your soul, baptized again. When passing the Samaria Ravine you will feel how small the human is and when you ascend the Omalos Mountain, perhaps you'll be able to talk to God.
At every step you will meet some hero! Heroes from all times, fearless warriors who for centuries have poured their blood for their love to this land and to freedom. In Frangokastello you will see them early in the morning  re-unioned - even if they once used to slaughter one another - enjoying their eternity, having now the knowledge of the vanity and the transient things.

Your every walk in Chania will be a travel in time - but without any certain time order - because here all the historical periods are present, alive and booming, in each stone, each wall, each tree or peble.
Here is the garden created by Reouf Pasas, over there the Venetian Shipyards, on the other side there is Topanas with Venetian mansions, Firkas Fortress and the Faros (Lighthouse) (so close and yet so far away!), the Dominican monastery turned into mosque by the Ottomans. There are Byzantine churches and ancient ruins, revolutionaries' hideouts and pirates' bases...Everything has a story to tell you or a song to sing to you...hear!
Hear...the smell of the sea...or maybe it is a plain with lemon trees? Maybe it's skaltsounia (traditional tastfull pies) baked by kyra - Lengko or a new barrel of red wine opened by kyr - Themis. This may be frankincense from the church or gunpowder from the gunshots at some celebration. In Chania you will "hear" as many smells as there are stories.
Still, nothing of these is Chania! Nothing that you'll see, hear or touch is Chania. It is not feelings but...illusions! It is something you've been always looking for but never found. It is what you believed. It is something that exists, you know that for sure, it always follows you but once you turn your head, it's gone. It guides your steps but you can never catch it. Your fairytale and your truth. Once you said that there is no such thing. It is your friend who always tells you the truth even if it hurts, but in hard times he'll sing to you. Your unfulfilled love. If you want to come here just for "holidays", or "to relax", or "to have fun", it is not a good idea. Go somewhere else. Here is the place for piligrims only. Because Chania is not what you will live. It is what you would like to live...

("Hear" the smell: local expression that means "feel the smell").

Baptising

I woke up from the smell of the pines which expired the salty breath of the Libyan Sea. The light barely penetrated the walls of my cheap tent, it was  vapor, fresh and cool like the morning service on Good Friday. "What a castle", I thought, "what a palace for me, the prince!"
I put out my sleepy and unkepmt head and looked towards the sea: Zoe was playing in the waves - naked - a happy child! Without shame, as it looked like this land was untrodden for ages. Unapproachable by the wingless creatures. Upwards, the impregnable - almost vertical in the sky - plain, fighting thousands of climber trees attacking it. The attack was vain: the trees could not climb even half of the mountain and were falling, sliding down to the sea. No land on the horizon. How in the world did we get here?
"You're almost thirty and you're still a child", I shouted to her. "Shut up and swim", she answered with her sweet little voice that raised no objections. I did shut up and, riding a passing-by wave, reached the undersea mermaid's hug which absorbed me without any effort. We played all the fishy games we knew, sipped plenty of salty holy water until we got drunk, collected all the pebbles from the sea bed - loot of the historical fall we experienced - but then we threw them back into the sea because who wants to be called a conqueror? I had no idea how much time passed. But it must have been more than a light second because we were on the brink of turning into plankton, food for sea-weeds! "Me love her, she loves me in forgotten Atlantida" I thought and started laughing like a fool. And my little Atlantidian laughed too, though she knew not why. I used to be so lonely, but this little alchemist turned me into the sea lover!
We went out from this font which initiated us into the new religion only when, exhausted from so many childish games and hungry, we remembered the skaltsounia baked by our land-lady kira-Lenio. Poor things, they were so lonely there in the bag, waiting patiently to take part in our celebration. And they had every right for it! We accompanied them with home-made wine, the best thing to become sober from the salt of the holy sea water. Then we laid in the sun to get dry because we had to be back in the village before noon. Why? I tried very hard but could not recall.
Zoe, dressed again in her clothes and her proper ways, was murmuring in some odd language: something about luggage we had to collect, some ship leaving Souda exactly at seven o'clock, some stranger whose vacation was coming to an end. But what did we have to do with all those things? As we were heading back, the stairs dug out in the rock (who knows when and by whom!) reminded me there was no fortress without a backdoor!
The next morning - same time - Piraeus was embracing us, majestic and stinky. The ancient walls, irrefutable witnesses of the most proud decay, reminded of Mayakovsky poems. Were we sad? No! We have been already initiated in the new religion. No-one would dare now to tell us that paradise does not exist!
The ship travelling was called "Aptera".