Rethymnon/ Rethimno/ Rethymno/ that city between Chania and Heraklion

Last month, I was in Chania with plans to visit nearby Rethymnon and Heraklion. It was the lowest of the low season and I figured it was a good time to take advantage of the sparsely crowded streets before the tourists returned. Sure, the skies were a bit gray and the temperature was hovering in the 40's but the idea of potentially having the ruins at Knossos to myself more than made up for it. And then I woke up. Like literally. I had set an alarm to catch an early bus but as soon as I shut it off, my phone mocked me with the day's weather forecast. All I saw before pulling the blankets over my head and going right back to sleep were the words "snow and sleet".  Forget that noise. I wanted some Greek history, not an Arctic expedition.

Now it was February and I was back in Chania. The sky was blue, the temperature had inched up into the 50's and that highly unwelcome snow (the first since 2004) was a distant memory. I finally hopped on  that bus to Rethymnon. Or Rethimno. Or Rethymno...it all depends on whom you ask. Since there is no direct transliteration of the Greek to Roman alphabet, the phonetic translations are all over the place.

But no matter, my plan was to get there, grab a map from the tourist information office, visit the fort and in staying true to all my prior visits to Crete, probably buy more olive oil than I could ever possibly use.

The getting there part was the easiest. The one hour ride flew by. Finding the tourist office proved a bit more difficult. I'm going to assume that they do have one but that it, along with everything else in the R city, was closed for the winter. So much for my map. No worries, as I walked away from the bus station, I could clearly see the fort perched up on a hill. I'd just start there.

I walked along the water's edge with a rugged, seemingly impenetrable cliff along my right. I felt like a conquerer trying to figure out how to breach a rival city's defenses. Pro tip: I found that in this particular scenario, following the signs for the local art museum worked pretty well.

I got to the ticket booth leading into the fort and found it unmanned.  This invasion was going to be easier (and cheaper) than I'd imagined. I entered past a row of closed souvenir stands and found myself in a larger than expected abandoned complex.

I was free to explore the Venetian fortezza undisturbed and so I did, wandering aimlessly and enjoying this bright sunny day.  While taking photos, I got so caught up in this meandering that I soon lost track of the entrance.  I had no clue how to get back out. It dawned on me that that I would have made a very shitty conquistador, what with the having to stop and ask for directions thing. I wondered how long until the tourists returned and found me living off the land, sleeping next to an empty postcard rack.

Luckily, it did not come to that. I eventually found my way back out and came across the old town section of the city. Lining the picturesque streets were plenty of little artsy-looking shops, all of them very much closed.

I  found a jewelry store that at least had the front door opened. As I walked towards the entrance, the owner whom I had not noticed, screamed his welcome at me.  It sounded a lot like "Freeze!" He was across the lane grouting the cobblestones and in the urgency of the moment had not been able to conjure up "Could you please not step on the wet cement that I have spent all morning laying down", and instead had reverted back to every American cop movie he had ever seen.

At least I had now encountered an actual Rethymnonian. Once I was safely off the danger zone, we chatted for awhile, I bought a cute pair of earrings and he gave me tips on what to see along with a store flyer that doubled as map.

The map showed that midway across town, there was a fountain that looked kind of interesting. I walked for approximately five minutes and was surprised to find myself already face to face with the Rimondi fountain. This was a very small town.

Much like Chania, R boasted a Venetian harbour complete with the one lonely lighthouse. This was also the site of many outdoor cafes- all of them now adorned with heat lamps and enclosed in thick plastic shelters-and actually full of people. There was life in this place after all.

There was even evidence that there was soon going to be a lot more life.  Paper mache statues stood patiently in the town squares awaiting a Carnivale festival that will be taking place later this month. If there is a theme for this year's festivities, it is lost on me but if anyone can figure out what a 70's-looking dude awaiting a gynecological exam, Jeffrey Tambor committing harakiri, a guy shining shoes that- let's be honest- probably are not all that dirty and a New Orleans saxophonist all have in common, be a pal and clue me in please.

I looked into plenty of gallery windows, finding things I would have loved to have taken a closer look at but it appeared I was a couple of months early. This was a funky little city that definitely merited a return visit.

I spent a couple of more hours exploring all of the little alleyways- and buying the requisite olive oil- before returning to the bus station. I'd wanted a day without the usual tourist crowd and that is what I had gotten- and then some.