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Crete

griffin “Get to some of the smaller villages. If you're lucky you might catch a traditional Cretan dance ceremony.” — Disco76

We spent only four days in Crete — far too short a time to explore Greece's largest island, whose people retain a distinct cultural heritage. We were captivated by the medieval port city of Chania in the northwest, with its postcard-perfect harbor jammed with tavernas, funky cafes and a worldbeat blend of pastel-hued Venetian buildings and Turkish minarets.

Fascinating, too, was the Palace of Knossos at Kournas, an hour's drive to the east, where the Minoan civilization flourished from 2800 to 1100 B.C. Visitors can climb through the extensive excavations, which include the throne of King Minos — the oldest known throne in Europe — as well as 3,800-year-old wine storage jars and the ruins of shrines, royal apartments and the remainder of the 1,400-room palace.

But what stayed with us came were memories of the Cretan people: Agathi, the kindly homeowner in Skalini; and Nick, a gregarious former race-car driver who helped us hike the rough-hewn six-hour trail through the Gorge of Samaria.

Our most lasting impression, though, came on a midnight walk along the waterfront of Rethimnon when we chanced upon the annual St. John Prodromos festival. A circle of 30 women, men, girls and boys danced traditional Cretan dances — the syrto, kastrino, sousta and pentozali — while a trio of men played Cretan songs on lyras and lauto and sang lyrical couplets called mantinathes. Maria-lena Bourbakis, smiling proudly as she grasped the hands of her niece and granddaughter, stepped from the circle after a particularly lively kalamatiano and explained the local tradition to a visitor.

"One month ago the women of the neighborhood made a wreath of clover blossoms for the festival. Tonight, the wreath is burned to ward off bad influences, and the girls go to the well of the village, throw in their wishes — an apple blossom, coin, ring, bay leaves — then draw out a token to foretell who will be their future husbands."

Boubakis' niece, who is perhaps 20, rolled her eyes at this, but she, too, took part in the traditional dances and in the well ceremony.

Bourbakis had the last word as she draped an arm around her niece. "It is our way to pass on the traditions, the dances, so the young people do not forget."

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