The Good, Bad and Ugly (Part II: Deep Dive & Secret Sauce)

 The Good, Bad and Ugly 
        (Part II: Deep Dive & Secret Sauce)                                            

Waiting in Line to Descend

      By this point, we’d trod far enough, as recounted in Part I, “Getting There.”  With each footfall, the stone’s contours, rising to meet us, took shape in the soles of our shoes.  Liver spots and calluses aside, they offered no resistance.  Even the white hair on my arms, caught in the rhythm of our lively pace, had streamlined to our momentum.

      Napoli Sotterranea (The Naples Underground) was just ahead, tucked away in an opening along the narrow street of Piazza San Gaetano.  Beneath the city’s surface, a hidden layer of Naples’ rich history quietly waited.  Tours of Napoli Sotterranea lead visitors down below the bustling streets to explore ancient Greek cisterns and Roman marketplaces.

But first, if a personal confession may be allowed, I have something to share.  The hard truth is I could never have been a submariner — I don’t do well in small spaces.  I confirmed this conviction years ago while wading through Hezekiah’s 1,700-foot-long water tunnel in the City David, Jerusalem. That passage had only been two feet wide and at times five feet high.  It felt like an endless eternity.  Our only light came from the faint glow of tiny key-chain penlights, which, thankfully, we’d chanced to buy beforehand.  The saving grace of this wet, cave-like experience was that we couldn’t get lost, the exit was out there, somewhere, straight ahead.

Here in Naples, we joined the line for the English guided tour and soon began a descent 130 feet into an otherworldly space, a hidden world carved out of tufa rock by the Greeks as early as 400 BC, using Samnite workers.  Well-suited for the job (no punintended), these ‘stone moles’ often hailed from 

Dangling Amphora Over One of Many
Underground Cisterns

 the same families, selected for their climbing ability, compact size, strength, and agility.  We had entered part of a vast complex network of underground passageways and cisterns.

The purpose of the system was to provide a source of fresh water for the ever-burgeoning city.  Many of these reservoirs once existed, and everyone relied on them―the Romans drew water using amphoras, centuries later, the Spanish with buckets.    Over the years, as the city grew, the network expanded as rivers were diverted to feed the system.  It was so large, in fact, that people could lose themselves in its labyrinth of corridors. 

In time, these ancient cisterns took on new roles beyond their original purpose.  History records 

Archived Photo of Residents
Taking Shelter

instances when this underground network was used by invaders to make their way undetected into fortified areas.  Centuries later, during World War II, the tunnels were used defensively as air raid shelters.  Their depth made them ideal places for civilians seeking refuge.  Naples, the most heavily Allied-bombed Italian city during the war, endured more than 200 carpet bombings over four years of the war, including 180 air raids in 1943.¹  The most intense attacks came when the Allies landed to the south of Naples, along the beaches at Paestum and Salerno, in 1943.  Our guide described how families huddled in the dark, cavernous spaces during those terrifying times.  By then, the cisterns had dried up, and the old wellheads were being used as dumps for household trash.  Yet, in their desperate search for safety, the people of Naples inadvertently uncovered layers of their city’s past, unearthing 3,000 years of buried history. 

Stone benches, hewned directly into the walls, were relics of another time and a silent reminder of 

the people who once sat there, seeking safety.  For added gravitas, gas masks and defused bombs crowded a corner.  Scattered children’s toys added to the realism and eeriness.  At one point, after a brief explanation of what lay ahead, our group was given the option to sit out the next part of the tour.  Bob and I, for reasons still unclear, decided to forge ahead.  Maria Elena and Adrienne, more sensibly, chose to stay behind and await our return.  That’s when things got dicey—a spelunking expedition ensued reminiscent of the Hezekiah tunnel, a deep dive indeed, though absent the rapid water at our feet.

The Proverbial Light at
Tunnel's End

Not many turns later, the passage narrowed dramatically.  It was like stepping into the trash compactor scene from Star Wars.  The walls closed in, and I mean really closed in.  I had to turn to squeeze through the tightest openings, awkwardly shuffling sideways in a duck-walk style, my feet slanted as best I could because my size 11 shoes were too long to fit while straight.    With my cellphone in hand, thankfully well charged, I used its flashlight to guide me through the dark.  I quickly realized I did not  have the ideal physique of a Samnite tunnel mole!  By then, I’d had enough and needed to surface. 

A few cisterns later and as promised we rendezvoused with the 'stayed behind' group.  Maria Elena and Adrienne were seated and rested.  While I may have looked OK, you couldn't discern that my spelunking days were at an end.  We soon emerged from the deep shadows of the underground to materialize back in Piazza San Gaetano.  

Surfacing from the Depths of Naples

Back in the present, a restaurant was conveniently located in the square.  Hungry, going on weary, we took our seats at an outdoor table.  When the waiter arrived, instead of menus, he handed us small cards containing QR codes.  I’ll be frank: I can’t stand the remote, inhospitable, and impersonal idea of QR codes, an unwelcome cousin of texting!  The waiter, to his credit, kindly offered to help, but I led the charge to leave.  At that moment, what we craved was not QR tech, but warm, authentic local food, hearty portions, a relaxed atmosphere, and affordable prices.  As it turned out, leaving may have been a stroke of luck.  Just across Via dei Tribunali, we spotted Antica Trattoria da Carmine.  Had we stayed put, we might never have discovered this unassuming eatery where we would shortly connect with the traditional food of Naples.

 Antica Trattoria da Carmine was founded in 1967 by Carmine Romano, the patriarch of the family.  His culinary journey began humbly, selling wine from his kitchen in Somma Vesuviana, a town just north of  Mount Vesuvius, where the 

Streetside at Antica Trattoria da Carmine

volcano's slope reaches

La Famiglia Carmine

 level ground.  Today, despite being nestled in a touristy area (but isn’t all of Naples a bit touristy?), it remains a family-run gem. Carmine’s children and grandchildren now carry on his legacy, serving up traditional Neapolitan cuisine with pride and heart.  From the moment we stepped inside, we were welcomed like old friends, not just guests.  Nothing like a typical restaurant experience in the States, we were embraced in the warmth of a large Italian family, sharing in the joy of home-cooked, deeply rooted Neapolitan dishes.

Behind its street-side facade, this charming, restaurant stretches all the way back to the kitchen.  It's simple, shoe box shape is far more spacious than it first appears.  Guests can sit outdoors, soaking in the lively energy of the street, or head inside to a larger, cozier dining space.  Inside, tables line both sides of a central aisle that, following a few stairs, leads to a slightly elevated area with additional seating.  The interior design is warm and rustic, complemented with wooden tables and chairs, colorful tablecloths, and vintage décor with family photos that speak to generations of tradition.  

While exploring the interior, I came upon a long table in a corner by the register filled with family members of all ages: children on mother’s laps, others, big enough for chairs, on their knees forking in mouth loads of pasta, seniors overlooking the brood.  Likely reserved and comped, it was a family anointed area, marked by an overhead photo featuring two of Carmines grandsons, twins, one clearly a mischief-maker from his sign of greeting.

Just Maybe, the Second from the Right Twin Confused His Fingers!

     Our waiter, Maurizio, turned out to be Carmine’s mischief-maker grandson in the photo, a fitting continuation of the family legacy.  The menu he provided featured a variety of genuine Neapolitan dishes, the description of each more tempting than the last.  While the chef's specialty is a fillet of  

Involtino

beef with Parmesan, rocket, and cherry tomatoes, there were plenty of other standout choices: Patate e Provola (pasta with potatoes and smoked provolone), Paccheri ai Carciofi e Polpo (large tube-shaped pasta with artichokes and octopus), Ziti alla Carmine, Zucchine alla Scapece (marinated fried zucchini), and their famous Neapolitan Ragù.  No counterfeits here.  Our favorite, though, was the Parmigiana di Melanzane  (Eggplant Parm), so delicious that we returned the next 

Our Favorite, Eggplant Parmigiana

 day just to enjoy it again.

We found ourselves wondering aloud why everything tasted so unbelievably good.  Maurizio insisted it was the sugo—the rich, slow-cooked sauce (or gravy, if you prefer)—that made all the difference.  This led to an impromptu visit to the kitchen, where vats of sugo bubbled away atop six-burner stoves.  The aroma in that room was intoxicating—honestly, if I could bottle it as an aerosol, I’d be a millionaire.  The truth is, no Italian restaurant in the States can come close to replicating what we tasted there.  Between the food and the wine of Italy, we've officially become Italian food snobs—and unapologetically so.   

Maurizio Shows Me the Secret Sauce!

     On this outing, as Italian composer Ennio Morricone had put it, we’d experienced The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.  But Da Carmine was all good—exceptionally good.  For anyone with an adventurous spirit (and aappetite), the journey is worth it just to eat there.  That said, choose your pamphlets (reference to Part I)—and your underground passageways (Part II)—wisely.  Naples, in all its edgy grit and raw humanity, is a true, never-forgotten discovery. 

To the yonder and what's next.

From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo

1.   The Four Days of Naples,  A Reflection on World War II in Honor of Ukrainians, Danielle Oteri, Mar 06, 2022, https://www.danielleoteri.com/p/the-four-days-of-naples

 The Good, Bad and Ugly
  (Part I: Getting There)

The Earthy Street Scene Vibe of Naples

      Calitri, our home away, sits almost at the center of the Italian peninsula, perched on the eastern edge of Campania, one of Italy’s twenty regions.  And when I say ‘edge,’ I mean it quite literally.  From our windows, I look across to neighboring Basilicata, which lies just a short distance away.  Calitri’s prime location makes it the perfect base for excursions to either coast.  While I’ve previously shared our adventures in Bari on the east coast and beyond to Crete, this post focuses on our recent visit to always exciting Naples, just an hour and a half away to the west. 

Naples is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, with its origin dating back to the 8th century BC.  Though it’s often thought of as quintessentially Italian, its roots are actually Greek.  It was founded by settlers from Cumae, the first Magna Graecia Greek colony, located approximately twelve miles northwest of Naples.  Its settlers named the city Neapolis, meaning “New City.”  With its strategic location on the Bay of Naples it quickly grew into a bustling metropolis.

Over its long history, Naples changed hands many times as the leading powers and empires shifted and vied to become its master.  In the 3rd century BC, Naples became part of the Roman Empire.  With the fall of Rome, the Medieval period saw Naples pass through the hands of various barbarian tribes, including the Ostrogoths and the Lombards.  In the 6th century, it came under Byzantine rule, continuing the tradition of serving the master of the moment.  By the 7th century, control shifted to the

The Royal Palace of Naples

Duchy of Naples (661-1137).  This pattern continued with a period of Norman (Normandy French) and later Angevin (French) rule, but by the 15th century, the Aragonese dynasty took control (1503-1715), marking the beginning of Spanish dominance in Naples.  Under Spanish rule, the city flourished as a center of Renaissance culture.  In the 18th century, the Bourbon (French) dynasty rose to power and established the Kingdom of Naples.  The Bourbon monarchs (1734-1860) embarked on ambitious architectural and infrastructural projects, including the construction of the Royal Palace of Naples and the expansion of the city’s fortifications.  However, political unrest and the upheaval of European wars destabilized the kingdom in the 19th century.

Bombs Drop on Naples in WW II

   The centuries of turmoil that followed a popular uprising led by Giuseppe Garibaldi in 1860 set the stage for the period of Italian unification, known as the Risorgimento.  This era saw Naples become part of the newly unified Kingdom of Italy under the House of Savoy.  Soon after, two world wars, World War II in particular, resulted in significant hardship.  It was a city caught in the midst of global conflict, inflicted with aerial bombing campaigns.  Far removed, we witnessed the lingering effects of this bombing while on an earlier visit to Naples when an unexploded WWII bomb was discovered, forcing us to cancel our plans to reach the port. 

Legend Says Pizzaiolo Raffaele Esposito
Invented This Pizza for the Visit of
Queen Margherita in 1889

Today, Naples thrives as a vibrant cultural hub, underpinned by its rich history, art, music (it’s the birthplace of opera), and cuisine (most famously, Pizza Margherita).  The city remains a vibrant tapestry of historical significance and charm, blending ancient ruins with artistic traditions and a deeply rooted sense of local pride.

Though we’re still getting acquainted with this lively city, one thing is clear: despite the many challenges it has faced throughout history and continues to face today, including the ever-present threat of Mount Vesuvius, its people are known for their warmth, pride, and zest for life.  Naples feels distinctly different, far removed and more earthy than polished Rome or the sophistication of Florence and Milan.  Like a root-bound plant, the people of Naples are deeply embedded in crowded neighborhoods, such as the Spanish Quarter, sometimes described as rough around the edges.  Naples continues to grapple with modern challenges, including economic difficulties, menacing earthquakes, and organized crime.  The city has earned a 'love-it'-or-'hate-it' reputation, polarizing yet enduring.  But through it all, Naples captivates the hearts of those who visit, drawing them in with its unyielding spirit and infectious energy.

Our  View Toward Piazza Bovi 

Along with venturesome friends Adrienne and Bob, we were staying at Palazzo Depretis, a bed and breakfast in the heart of this historic city.  It was an interesting place, located high above Via Agostino in a multi-story building that also housed professional offices and private residences.  Initially, we used a coin-operated elevator to reach the upper floors, but after checking in, we were provided  a telecommando (remote control) for all future trips.  Once inside the Palazzo Depretis, we were greeted by something unexpected.  I’d describe it as a video concierge, basically a live person, although remote from our location.  This was something unexpected, though not surprising.  It was in Italy, after all, that we first saw chips on credit cards well before they were introduced in the US.  This novel concierge, who likely served multiple

sites, proved an innovative touch, allowing guests to remotely coordinate plans, make reservations, or  

Bob Steps into Naples

 even request a taxi.  She may have also triggered the arrival of our friendly hostess, who helped us settle into our rooms, making us feel at home in this fascinating blend of old-world charm and modern convenience.

Relieved of our luggage, we found ourselves on the streets by mid-afternoon.  The energy of this city, fueled by its rich culture and the liveliness of its residents, was palpable.  Only footsteps from the step-through door onto the street (see photo), patrons of coffee bars and streetside restaurants spilled out onto the pavement.  A group of police officers in their finest regalia, adorned with sashes, epaulets, and gleaming hat badges, mingled on the street ahead, leisurely sipping their afternoon espressos.  

Curious, I approached an especially attractive officer and asked her why there were so many of them and what had brought them here, certainly not a crime.  Her questioning look softened into a smile of understanding as she explained that it's common for Italians to take a break during the afternoon to enjoy a strong espresso.  She gestured toward a nearby police administrative center, or Questura, a term I was familiar with from Italian TV shows like Zen, and said that’s where they worked. I couldn’t help but wonder whether it was the need for a jolt of caffeine, the chance to socialize, or both that drew her there.

Tight-knit Neighborhoods Indeed

    Now, I’m no anthropologist or sociologist, but it was clear to me that Neapolitans, like this officer, are cut from a different cloth.  Renowned for their resilience, the people of Naples maintain a deep connection to their cultural heritage and take immense pride in their city, its rich history, and its cherished traditions.  From the famous pizzaiolos (pizza makers) to the musical tradition of Neapolitan songs, to the historical significance of the city itself, these people truly embrace their past.  Their saying: "Vedi Napoli e poi muori" ("See Naples and then die"), is a reflection of that pride. 

Masterful Nativity Scene

Centuries of hardship have forged tightly knit families and neighborhoods, shaping a sense of belonging and mutual support.  They tend to wear their emotions on their sleeves, whether it's joy, frustration, or excitement, and from those sleeves, their hands often speak loudly with hand movements (this Video, post an ad, offers a hint).  In fact, these expressive gestures can sometimes speak as loudly as their words.

Then there is their unique brand of Italian dialect.  We experienced it long before we visited the city, during a play in Calitri featuring Neapolitan actors. Even the local Calitrani sitting with us in the audience couldn’t understand them.  In defense of the actors, the Calitrani dialect is just as incomprehensible.  Still, we all managed to follow along and could sense when to laugh.  Hospitality is a core part of their identity, and they take pride in making visitors feel at home. That may explain why this officer took the time to soothe my curiosity.

Where I Could Have Joined the Party

    I’d have enjoyed staying longer, but soon we were back on our route to the Spaccanapoli area.  Spaccanapoli, meaning "Naples Splitter," refers to the sequence of narrow streets that slice through the historic center of Naples.  It's a vibrant maze of crowded, colorful alleys filled with shops, restaurants, seafood markets, and plenty of tourists.  The area is also home to famous artisan workshops on Via San Gregorio Armeno, known worldwide for their handcrafted presepi (nativity scenes).  These dioramas of the Holy Family have their roots in the first-ever nativity scene staged in a cave by St. Francis of Assisi in 1223 in the nearby town of Greccio.¹   

The 1753 Veiled Christ by
Giuseppe Sanmartino

We passed through Piazza Bovi, then turned up Via Mezzocannone until it merged with Vico San Domenico Maggiore.  As we continued, we passed the L’Università degli Studi di Napoli “L’Orientale”, a school of Sinology and Oriental Studies.  Outside, three young people were handing out flyers, and I took one, only to discover it was an invitation to join the Communist Party.  As someone from a country built on capitalism, I wasn’t interested and quickly returned it.  In hindsight, I should have been forewarned, considering the entire façade of a nearby building was covered in an enormous mural of Che Guevara and Fidel Castro.

Neapolitan Street Art

Arriving at Via Francesco de Sanctis, we turned right and passed the Museo Cappella San Serveno, home to the famous sculpture The Veiled Christ, where a gauze-like marble veil delicately shrouds the figure.  We tried to enter, but its popularity meant that without tickets purchased well in advance, there was no chance to see this masterpiece.  Throughout our entire route, it was evident that artistic expression in Naples continues to thrive.  Though not enshrined in its many museums and churches, and absent any need for a ticket, there were spray-can expressions everywhere

Via Nilo Statue of the Nile God

     This phenomenon appears to have spread throughout Italy, including Rome.  There in Rome’s charming Trastevere neighborhood, buildings have been vandalized by these phantom aerosol sprayers.  These “street artists,” if they deserve such a title, may not realize how their graffiti takes from the artistry of their architectural heritage, where Angevin Gothic coexists with the purest Neapolitan

Baroque, giving the area a rundown feel and putting visitors off from strolling its streets.  But this may only add to the fascinating, gritty vibe of the area, affixing a backdrop to the chaos of scooting Vespas, the melodic appeal of street-side vendors, and dripping overhead laundry you hadn’t imagined.  

After a turn onto Via Nilo, we arrived on Via dei Tribunali, a major east-west thoroughfare in this historic seven-street maze known as Spaccanapoli.  We had limited objectives for this, the trip’s first deep foray into Naples: a visit to Napoli Sotterranea followed by an afternoon lunch at a place that as yet remained: To Be Determined. 

TO BE CONTINUED

From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo

1.                  Greccio: The Italian village that's Home to the World's First Nativity Scene, https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20231219-greccio-the-italian-village-thats-home-to-the-worlds-first-nativity-scene

RELATED VIDEOS:

Palazzo Depretis on You Tube:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHECIP3ONtU

ZEN BBC TV Trailer:   https://youtu.be/YEpuanSa8-I?si=l8-WiEq1lJLER0YG 

Italian Hand Gestures (after ad): https://youtu.be/WwZ6NTV1nRc?si=b14WYm81I7MaYkEs

Graffiti along Via Mezzzocannone: https://youtube.com/shorts/7DhUWB76eyU?si=ooTlVa-WayvOVwx1

Chania Part II (Out and About)

 Chania Part II (Out and About)

Minoos Street Market Spice Vendor

Chania Part I (see previous 28 Feb’25 Blog) saw us arrive in Chania, Crete.  Here, in Part II, our story continues.

The Saturday Market along Minoos Street boasts an impressive array of locally sourced goods: fresh fruits and vegetables, cheeses, herbs, fish, eggs, honey, and, of course, olives and raki.  Raki, was a new discovery for us and quickly became a favorite.  This anise-flavored brandy, reminiscent of Italian Sambuca, was not only delicious but also a symbol of Cretan hospitality.  Often served gratis as a digestif, it is a gesture of thanks for coming.  A separate section of the market offers everything from hats and fanny packs to baby onesies.  Despite signs in Greek leaving us guessing their meanings, we managed to sample a variety of delicious items, including cheeses, before sitting down to enjoy succulent lamb kebabs paired with refreshing Alpha beer, a golden pale lager from Athens.

During this meal, I made a rather comical discovery.  My observation was simple, based on nothing more rigorous than a casual glance at an unused straw lying on our table.  The 21-letter Greek word printed on the straw translates to the eight-letter English word "reusable."  My lighthearted conclusion was that as a child, I would never win a spelling bee with a word like this!  Added to this was the thought that books translated from English to Greek must be significantly thicker than their English counterparts!  My guess is that even Plato might have chuckled.

Though our home-away had a kitchen, we rarely used it to prepare meals.  There were simply too many enticing eateries to sample.  For the few staples we needed, we frequented a nearby market where we got to know the owner, Natashia, a friendly Russian woman.  Talking with her son, Michele, who worked the register, we learned he had no interest in taking over the family business, much like my fictional character, Damien (refer to Chania Part I), who similarly had no desire to lead the life of a baker.   

         Later that day, we wandered along Akti Papanikoli, eventually arriving at a must-visit destination, Nea Chora Beach.  A ribbon of restaurants lines the coastline, and it was here that we

Sunset on Nea Chora Beach from the Volakas Tavern

stumbled upon the Volakas Fish Tavern and Restaurant, where our traditional Greek seafood dinner evolved into something more.  Dining by the sea offered not only a relaxed atmosphere but also warm hospitality, stunning views, and added conveniences, including umbrellas, lounge chairs, and even a shower for a quick rinse before retreating to the tavern. 

We took a table just off the road, and it wasn’t long before we met Manolis, the family patriarch; Giorgos, his son; and Yolanda, wife, mother, waitress, and overall glue of the operation.  Their conversation, hospitality, and outstanding service quickly won us over.  They offered fresh seafood expertly prepared and delicious, so much so that we found ourselves returning often.

A seafood dinner at Volakus Tavern is an experience that combines fresh flavors, coastal charm, and authentic Mediterranean taste, all accompanied by the rhythm of gentle waves.  Time it just right, and be treated to an incredible sunset, completely

A Dish That Had It All

free of charge.  Our meal began with a delicious plate of tzatziki, hummus, and olives, accompanied by warm pita bread, followed by an appetizer of kalamaraki (fried calamari), so large it begs to be shared, served hot and lightly battered.  For the main course, we selected from a variety of freshly caught seafood.  On offer were also grilled fish, such as sea bream and red snapper, perfectly seasoned with olive oil, lemon, and oregano.  Another delight was saganaki — crispy fried cheese paired with tender grilled squid; its natural sweetness only enhanced with a squeeze of lemon. 

 I opted for lobster pasta, a delicious combination of succulent lobster and rich tomato sauce, served

After Dinner Raki

over perfectly cooked spaghetti.  It was a tough choice, though, as I also craved the grilled octopus, tender and charred to perfection, drizzled with extra virgin olive oil and sprinkled with oregano.  I postponed the octopus to another visit.  We paired our dishes with glasses of crisp Vin de Chania white wine, which further complemented the delicate flavors.  To add a perfect sweet finish to the meal, Maria Elena and I shared a refreshing, crispy layered baklava pastry, along with figs and grapes.

At Volakus Tavern, we quickly grew accustomed to a complimentary glass of raki at the end of each meal.  As proof of its authenticity, add ice to raki, and it instantly turns white from the presence of anise.  Unwilling to be fooled, we tested this phenomenon several times to be sure.  By the time we finished, we were full, tired, certainly a bit tipsy, and ready to

10 Minutes of Nibbling - 10 Euros

head back to Lithinon Street.  It was late by then, and being worn out by a day filled with indulgence, we opted for a taxi back.  Our young driver, commenting on our engaging, lively conversation, told us we were his best customers of the year.  I’m sure the Volakus Tavern had something to do with that.  If ever you find yourself strolling the seaside along Akti Papanikoli, be sure to stop by.  

On other occasions, we made the trek back on foot, and one particular journey stood out.  As we made our way along the maze of shorefronts 

Spa Treatment with a Reported Tickle

surrounding the harbor, we passed many shops in this tourist metropolis selling similar products.  However, of all those we explored, only one offered something unusual: water tanks to exfoliate your feet.  Surprisingly, to participate in this unconventional spa treatment, the tanks are augmented in a novel way.  For those bold enough to chance it, small Garra-rufa fish, approximately three inches in length, are used, which nibble away at dead skin cells, essentially cleaning your feet in the process.  While the treatment is reasonably priced at 10€ for 10 minutes, I opted to keep my feet dry.  Fish on my plate, yes, but not at my feet.  

To my surprise, Maria Elena, who is typically cautious and regularly enforces the "15-minute early rule" for doctor’s appointments and insists I not park where I shouldn’t, didn’t hesitate to dip her feet into the tank.  I was flabbergasted when she said she loved it, enjoying

both the sensation of nibbling fish and their results.  Maybe next time I’ll be brave enough to give it a try.

There would be many other discoveries in the days ahead.  Many of them, however, unlike the spa, would be enjoyed by all of us and not require a scintilla of courage.  One occurred while browsing the shops along Theotokopoulou Street.  It was there that we came across an inconspicuous establishment, marked by a dangling shingle, that announced we had arrived at Domenico Gelateria.

Domenico’s featured ice cream but with a novel twist, something different from anything we had previously experienced.  Differing from
mass-produced supermarket brands, often filled with unpronounceable artificial ingredients, Domenico’s creamy creations are hand-crafted fresh, right before your eyes, using only natural ingredients.  What made the

Preparing Another Ice Cream Roll-up

process so fascinating was the way the ice cream is crafted.

We watched as it was prepared on a large, square metal surface, similar to the teppan plates used in Japanese restaurants.  As I
watched my salted caramel treat come together, I was curious about how the ice cream froze so quickly, only to learn that the metal surfaces are cooled to sub-zero temperatures.  The process is fascinating to watch as servings firm up so quickly that they require super-skilled ice cream chefs.  I watched as my salted caramel mélange was tossed and folded with a wide-bladed scraper, forming it into a thin, flat sheet.  Too thin to scoop onto a cone, the ice cream is then rolled with the spatula.  Each delicate roll is then placed vertically into a cup.  The result is a treat that is as pleasing to the eyes as it is to the taste buds. 

Served Rolls of Hand-Made Ice Cream

It was during our trip to the remote Elafonisi Beach, renowned for its pink sand and crystal-clear waters, that we gained a deeper insight into Crete’s history.  Our discovery began as we boarded a bus for a trip along a route that wound through rugged mountainous terrain, only to plunge into constricted gorges or come perilously close to the edges of cliffs, absent any semblance of guardrails.  Our anxious journey was the price we paid for a few hours of relaxation, which included a refreshing plunge in the warm Mediterranean Sea, rather than an unexpected mountaintop free fall.  The twists and turns of the ride were exhilarating, all but for a sobering segment along the coast.  

As we moved along this smooth patch of terrain, we passed a small airport, its grounds showcasing a cluster of retired aircraft now serving as museum pieces, along with a few private aircraft.  It was there that our guide shared a poignant historical tidbit: this location, today the Maleme Airport and home to the Chania Aeroclub, was a key site in the Battle of Crete during World War II.  

On 21 May 1941, a German airborne campaign, codenamed Operation Mercury, began here.  The invasion encountered fierce resistance from the local population and British Allied forces who had

Battle of Crete Paratrooper Assault

advance intelligence of the attack, down to its location and timetable.  The battle was significant in that it was the first battle won exclusively by air forces, though at an extreme cost approaching Pyrrhic dimensions.  Most of the first wave of paratroopers were annihilated within minutes following their drop.  Additionally, a large number of planes were shot down or crash-landed from intense anti-aircraft fire.  The German parachutists suffered a devastating blow to the extent that Hitler resolved never to conduct a major airborne operation again.  Even with advanced warning of the attack, however, the Allies fell back, unable to halt the advance of the reinforced German forces.  Unfortunately, following an ever-expanding 12-day battle, Crete succumbed under the weight of the German war machine.  Crete was finally occupied, and by the end of the operations on 1 June 1941, the swastika waved over the island.

Our bus ride to the beach was our initiation to this WWII event, which, a few years following the battle, resulted in further carnage.  Afterwards, we learned of a massive follow-on atrocity while at dinner several days later at XANI, a traditional

Some Aftermath of the Battle

Cretan restaurant where I enjoyed slow-cooked lamb prepared in parchment paper, and Maria Elena had her new Chania favorite, braised lamb chops with moussaka.  On entering the narrow, table-lined street, I noticed that XANI shared the street with the Etz Hayyim Synagogue, the only synagogue in Crete today. 

Jewish communities in Crete had existed since the 4th and 3rd centuries BCE when Jews first established settlements on the island.  Its long history ended in 1944, during the NAZI occupation when plans called for the island’s Jewish community be rounded up and sent to Europe for extermination.  Arrests began in May 1944 when the imprisonment of the community began.  The days that followed saw

Steamship S.S. Tánaïs

soldiers enter the Etz Hayyim Synagogue and remove all religious artifacts, books, and community archives.  The Jewish cemetery was also destroyed at this time.

In June 1944, the community was taken to Heraklion, where they were imprisoned before boarding the steamship S.S. Tánaïs (Holywood), set to depart for Piraeus, Greece.  On the evening of 8 June 1944, the Tánaïs pulled away from the dock with 265 Jewish captives aboard.  The Tánaïs hadn’t been marked as a prisoner transport, which resulted in a British submarine sinking the ship the next morning.  The entire community perished, effectively marking the annihilation of the Jewish community on Crete, ending almost 2500 years of Jewish history there. 

Since 2010, the synagogue has been revived as a non-profit organization, absent official membership, and used to celebrate various Jewish holidays

Awaiting Our Synagogue Tour

and non-religious cultural events, including lectures, concerts, and exhibitions.  As the sole remaining testament to Jewish presence on the island, it remains a place of prayer, study, recollection, and reconciliation. 

Too soon, the hours and days passed, leading to the inevitable when we said goodbye to this paradise, a place that is much more than these brief glimpses can convey.  Here, at times at a traumatic price, the harmony of its varied cultures, its event-filled history, and natural beauty had become a haven for us, much like the easy-going life of Jürgen and his cluster of cats enjoy (see Chania Part I, Cat-man and the Chain).  We could imagine ourselves as four more cats in this tranquil mix, bringing the total to twelve.  Occasionally, like cats with a burst of morning energy, we’d set off, but even these spurts would be short-lived.  After a swim or a museum visit, our cat-like curiosity would wane as our paws became sore, giving way to a return to the calm of our quiet courtyard on Lithinon Street, where we would relax, just as Jürgen and his cats did.  It is easy to imagine indulging in such a lifestyle, where the quiet, unhurried rhythms of the day unfold at a gentle pace, absent any rush, with no need to do anything unless it suits us.  How simple, how serene, how perfect it would be.  Twelve cats?  It may be just the answer.

From That Rogue Tourist,

Paolo

 1. Hickman, Kennedy. "World War II: Battle of Crete." ThoughtCo, Apr. 5, 2023,                      thoughtco.com/world-war-ii-battle-of-crete-2361468.