Milos

That road to the port in Santorini is just as terrifying going down as it is going up.  But, now that I was somewhat familiar with it, the journey didn’t seem to take as long.  The guy dropped me off, I paid him 35 euros, and was left to wait for the ferry.  As much as I wanted to book another ride on a Blue Star ferry, none were heading to Milos, so I was once again bound for a Seajets ferry.

Arriving in the city of Adamas on Milos, I followed the directions on my phone to the hotel.  One of the major perks to the place I’d booked was that it was in walking distance of the port.  I passed by a bunch of cafes, a bank, and a decent sized grocery store before heading down the road/alley leading to the hotel.

First issue:  once the desk clerk showed up, his explanation of the island was cut off by a phone call.  As I waited along with another couple behind me, he spent a good five minutes ignoring the people in front of him to talk on the phone.  

Second: when he showed me to my room, up the narrow, unfamiliar stairs with only a half-wall between me and the ground below, he didn’t offer to help me with my bags, simply waiting at the top for me to catch up with him.  

Third: after he’d shown me the room and departed, I realized just how tiny the bathroom actually is.  

While the style of the décor was pretty, I could touch the walls on either side without stretching.  With my long legs, I couldn’t sit on the toilet without hitting my knees on the wall, so I always had to sit at an angle.  And while I was initially glad to see that the shower was fully enclosed with a ceiling of a decent height (unlike Perissa), I had to slip into it sideways (over a pretty high step) because the toilet is right in front of the entrance.  Oh, yeah.  And I couldn’t put toilet paper into the bowl as I learned from a note on the back of the room’s entrance.  And, yes, I forgot a couple of times and had to fish it out with the toilet brush.  Not my idea of a swell time. 

Fourth: while I’d become used to the lack of or poor placement of the power outlets in Europe, having dodgy wi-fi was more than I was willing to take.  It kept cycling on and off the first couple of days and wouldn’t work at all if I moved my computer away from the desk.  Even the other side of the room was too far to get a signal.

So.  Already I wasn’t feeling the hotel.  And that was before all the noise started.  Music, banging, chairs scrapping, and yet another sexing couple nearby.  Sigh.

No matter.  I wasn’t on the island for the hotel.  Off to explore Milos.

Something I noticed very quickly.  Though the harbor is full of boats and the restaurants around the congested main street are open and busy, this place feels half-dead.  I understand some of the shops and restaurants not being open until high season.  But it’s more than that on Milos.  A bunch of the buildings are in ruins or completely abandoned.  

This has been the case on all the islands I’ve visited, but it’s a lot more noticeable on Milos.  For instance, this hotel looked great.  It’s just off the harbor with views of the water.  Too bad there weren’t any guests.

Half of the island was inaccessible by car, hence the number of day-tripping boat services at the harbor (most of which weren’t running in the off-season).  There was a taxi stand by the harbor, but I wasn’t willing to pay for one on this island when I didn’t see any place as being worth the fee.  There were places to rent cars/ATVs everywhere, but once again, there was no way I was driving the narrow, congested roads of a Greek island.  With the usual restaurants and souvenir shops, there wasn’t anything around in walking distance that I hadn’t seen before. 

So yeah.  In less than 24 hours, I was over Milos.

I missed the black sand of Perissa. Missed sitting at my favorite breakfast place watching the sun glinting off the water.  Missed my conversations with Maria.  I wasn’t going to get that interaction with the clerk in this place as he’d already irritated me.  And I would be on the island for six nights.  Great.

I spent my days sitting on the pier and reading.  Boring island or not, the water of the Mediterranean is still gorgeous and I love looking at it.  Feeling like a grandma, my new favorite activity was watching the ferries come in.  I’d watch the people get off the boat, all happy to be on a new island, and wonder if they knew something about this place that I didn’t.

Despite the abandoned feel to the place, every night the port was crawling with children.  They’d come out just before sunset on their bikes, scooters or rollerblades to race up and down the square around the restaurants.  At least someone was having fun on this island.

Gripes aside, I did get a free glass of Riesling on my second night at dinner.  And despite not feeling Milos much, I had to sit there and be in the moment.  I was on an island in Greece, the sun was setting, I’d just had a nice meal, and was staring at the water while enjoying my gratis glass of deliciously fizzy wine.  Not too shabby. 

Friday morning after breakfast, I noticed that the bus stop was teaming with people.  The hotel clerk had warned me that the buses were not very reliable but, on this day, a cruise ship had docked, sending a bunch of tourists ashore.  To accommodate them, the bus company had added some more buses to the route.  I figured it was as good a time as any to hop a bus.  Didn’t care where it was going as long as it was out of Adamas.  After maybe ten minutes of driving around windy roads, we turned off on the road to Sarakiniko.  I thought it would be a town.  Turns out it’s more like Milos’ version of the Grand Canyon.  

Great views of the water, a tiny beach, and some cool caves.  It made for a nice couple of hours exploring.

Trash is a serious issue in Greece and, after Athens, Milos seemed particularly bad. There was one area right in front of the water with a couple of benches beside a tree.  It would be a nice sitting area if not for all the trash everywhere.  I tried to sit there to read one day, but the amount of refuse everywhere was irritating me.  I finally had enough and went to a nearby restaurant to ask for a trash bag.  I then spent the next 30 minutes climbing rocks and ducking under branches to collect as much trash as I could.  It wasn’t a very large area, but at least it looked better once I was done.  My own little bit of volunteer work for the country of Greece.

Travel day couldn’t come fast enough.

Santorini -- Fira and Oia

With the Easter holiday over, I took a chance that the buses were running again and went to the bus stop after breakfast on Monday.  After a long wait, a bus finally arrived.  A guy inside issued tickets after the bus starting moving and we were on our way.  The buses may not be that reliable on Santorini, but at least the price was right.  Round trip from Perissa to Oia cost about 10 euros.

Fira (also called Thira) is deceptive.  After maybe twenty minutes, with a few stops along the way, the bus lets you out at a big bus park on a busy street.  There are the usual hotels, souvenir shops and cafes that you would expect, but not much else.  

I thought that was all there was to it until I ventured up a hill and past a hotel.  Suddenly the real attraction of the place was spread out in front of me.  The stacked white structures, the labyrinth streets, and killer views of the water were soon revealed.

Way too many tourists were walking along the windy and sometimes narrow streets in search of bargains in still more souvenir shops and restaurants.  There were several of these doorways along the coast; they didn't lead anywhere. They just looked pretty. 

I had lunch at a restaurant on one of the higher tiers, giving me a great view with my meal.  I had something called a sfanikis cake (I hope I spelled that correctly) that was insanely good.  It’s feta cheese wrapped in phyllo dough, deep fried and covered in honey and sesame seeds.  I had it two more times in Greece, but that first one was the best.  Also had moussaka for the first time which is a casserole (?) of lamb and vegetable in a tomato sauce covered with cheese.  Very tasty. 

I knew nothing about Fira when I arrived.  Didn’t know that a big draw of the place is walking all the way down to the shore and taking the cable cars back up.  So I was very surprised to turn a corner and see these donkeys all along the steps.  There was a guy at the top asking everyone “You want donkey?”  Um, no.  I was several feet away and could smell the stink off the creatures.  

Then I looked down over the railing and there were a bunch of people going down the steps on foot – and almost stepping in the copious amounts of donkey crap. I decided right then that I was just fine where I was and didn’t need to go to the shore, thank you very much.

I turned around to go back up the stairs and realized that they had numbers painted on them.  I was somewhere in the mid 500’s.  Yeesh.  With the wear and tear I’d been putting on my poor ankles, first with the hills in Portugal and now with the steps in Greece (more on that later), I figured I needed to take it a little easy on the walking.

Back to the bus and it was on to Oia.  As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve bought a lot of calendars featuring the Greek Isles.  Most of those pictures are shots of the city of Oia and for good reason.  

The place is a very tightly packed town with – you guessed it – a lot of souvenir shops and restaurants.  Also, the blue domed churches and the white stone houses on a series of hills.  The sunsets here are legendary and there are a few points where you can get the best view. 

And a lot of people were there just for that.  After a bunch were tired of walking around the streets, they just gathered in this one huge courtyard and waited for the sunset.  I just felt bad for the residents.  The tourists come in like vultures, take their pictures and then just head out after sunset.  Despite the signage asking them not to litter, or climb on certain things like religious monuments, the tourists do it anyway because “I’m entitled and when am I ever gonna be here again?”  This happens every day, even, I’m sure, in the off-season.  The price you pay for living somewhere beautiful. 

Trying to get my own pictures as a smelly tourist, I was reminded of a waiter in Fira saying that the sunsets were better there because you had a full view of the caldera. I’m also pretty sure it isn’t as crowded there as well.  Made me really appreciate the sunset I caught in Naxos.  I had it practically all to myself.

Randomness on the Road

 This post is dedicated to pointing out some of the little incidents I’ve witnessed in my almost two months of travel that didn’t make it into any of the other posts. In no particular order …

In Ponta do Pongo, I was at a restaurant and this woman and her child walked by my table.  The little girl looked at me then lowered her head.  The mom explained that she wanted to wave, but was too shy.  That was adorable.  I don’t even like kids, but that got to me and made my day.  I waved to the kid and she just shyly walked away.  So cute.

These are the bathroom stalls at Schiphol airport in Amsterdam.  I’ve never seen stalls like this, but the Dutch are known for being way ahead of the curve in practical (and private) design.  This was also the first time I saw these Dyson hand dryers.  Now, why doesn’t America have these?  They’re more sanitary and save on paper waste.

Waiting in line for the bathroom at Barcelona Airport, I overheard two black women mentioning that Hartsfield has more stalls.  I asked if they were from Atlanta.  Turns out they were and were coming back from a cruise.  I do love seeing other black women on the road.

I was sitting in a restaurant on Naxos and a couple of ladies came in with gift bags.  They approached one of the waiters saying that they had these three eggs and didn’t know what to do with them.  I have no idea where they got the eggs but … Dude looked a little confused as well but took the eggs in the back.  I wonder if he put them to use.

Speaking of restaurants, a couple of observations.  Both Greece and Portugal are fond of the small, handheld machines for taking payments by card.  They punch in the amount and then you, the customer, just tap your card to the top or middle of the machine until it beeps.  The machine prints out a receipt and you are on your way.  In Portugal, these machines didn’t have a tipping option.  I was not happy to see that form of extortion reappear in parts of Greece.  The employee is holding the machine and can clearly see whether you opt to tip 0, 10 or 20 percent – no pressure there at all.  Still, even when paying cash, I usually leave a couple of bucks out of habit. I like that to be my choice, though, not establishments capitalizing on the American tipping habit just looking to suck out as much cash as they can get.

Technology has also advanced in how the waitstaff take orders.  Everything is on the phone now.  Most people are staring at their phones 24/7 anyway; might as well incorporate them into their work.

Two sounds have been consistent in both countries; church bells and owls.  The bells can be kind of annoying.  A bell for every new hour is one thing, but some of them will play entire tunes in the morning.  Most of the hotels I’ve stayed in have serious noise issues, so I really don’t need the bells on top of that.  The owls, however, have been a strange yet welcome sound.  I thought it unusual that there was an owl in Woodstock, but now it seems they are everywhere.  Or maybe that owl from Georgia is just following me around Europe.  A sweet, yet creepy thought.

I’ve been through 4 countries since March; The Netherlands, Portugal, Spain, and Greece.  Yet I have only one stamp in my passport from The Netherlands.  Schiphol was the first airport I hit after coming from the U.S. and the only place that had passport control.  Now, I certainly don’t want to stand in anymore lines than I have to, but I would still like some more stamps in my book.

Spot anything weird in this picture?  This random Micky Mouse was wandering around taking pictures with kids in the touristy part of Athens.

The music has been interesting.  Most of the restaurants in both Portugal and Greece will play modern remakes of American music.  The remakes are usually more mellow than the established version, giving every song a dreamy, café feel to them.  It sometimes takes me a minute to identify that song by The Weeknd or this other Ed Sheeran number since it’s being sung at a different speed by a female voice.  It’s been odd but I like it.  When I do hear music by the original artists, though, the songs are uncensored.  It was a real surprise to hear musical f-bombs while eating dinner.

I’ve mentioned how big coffee culture is in both Portugal and Greece.  Something interesting I’ve noticed, though.  After a cup, in either country, I don’t have raging coffee breath.  It was standard practice for me to pop some gum after a cup of coffee in the states to get rid of the aftertaste.  Here in Europe (so far) that aftertaste or foul breath have not been problems.

Santorini -- Perissa

 

One of my goals on this trip was to do it big for my 52^nd birthday.  I wanted to be on Santorini for the day – nothing else really.  Just get myself to the Greek island I’ve wanted to visit for decades.  I didn’t plan on the 13^th to be a travel day and the mishigas that goes with that, but that’s just how it landed. At the very least I got to go by ferry and not have to endure the airport.

I love being on the water.  The Blue Star Ferry was set up like a cruise ship in that it had multiple seating areas/lounges and cafes.  It was nice to be able to sit with my luggage in front of a table so that I could write.  The two hours flew by and, after a stop at the island of Ios, we reached Santorini.

The first thing you see when you reach the port is this huge wall of rock.  Not the most welcoming sight which only got worse when I realized that there is a road winding up the mountain.  I gawked.  Is that the only way to get out of the port?  Unless I were to get back on the boat, yes, I would have to go up that thing.  Now how would I do it?

At the base of the mountain are all the stalls full of people trying to take your money.  I stood there with my bags just a bit overwhelmed.  There were buses and taxis everywhere, transfer services with people out front hawking their prices, and plenty of cars on offer for rental.  I already knew I had no interest in driving anywhere in Greece (and certainly not up that beast) so I would have to hire someone. But who?

A gentleman had noticed my confused tourist vibe and crossed the street to get my attention.  He was with a transfer service and said that he’d have no problem getting me to my hotel. I followed him, paid him 30 euros and then waited.  We went back across the street to the buses, but there was some confusion among the drivers.  I just stood there for 5 minutes until they figured out who was driving which bus.  Turns out none of the buses were going.  Instead, this darkly handsome dude (think Oded Fehr from the Mummy movies) took me to a car and we were on our way.

The road out of Santorini port is just awful.  Both Portugal and Greece have their share of scary roads but this one takes the cake.  We’re in bumper-to-bumper traffic, including some buses, along this narrow, windy, barely paved road that’s way too close to the edge of a cliff.  The curves are particularly ugly as they are even more narrow and a hazard if someone was coming from the opposite direction.  I gritted my teeth and wondered at just how often I’ve put my life in the hands of complete strangers on this trip.

After a silent 20-minute journey, we miraculously made it to the hotel.  I gotta admit The Best!!! hotel looked kinda dodgy from the outside.  Kitschy and weird and not in a good way.  The reception office was empty of people, but full of stuff.  The area behind the desk was shrewn with mismatched furniture while the tiny area in front of it had shelves on my right crammed with books in multiple languages. A bell went off as soon as I entered and continued to sound until a friendly man showed up and turned it off.  He introduced himself as Mr. Vassilis, the owner, then quickly handed me off to a woman named Maria.  I got the impression that this is the person who really runs the place and I’d find out later that I was right.

Maria processed my paperwork and explained how the island worked.  She grabbed one of my bags and showed me to my room.  She let me know that while it was okay to put toilet paper in the toilet (yay) the water was undrinkable from the tap.  I learned that the hard way when I went to brush my teeth that night and, out of habit, ran the toothbrush under the tap.  Yeah.  Never did that again.  That water may look clear, but the taste is beyond foul.

One of the reasons I chose this place was its proximity to the beach.  Upon first sight of the black sand beach, I was a little … disappointed is not the word.  It was simply that I missed Naxos and its golden beach.  I was a little upset that I hadn’t given myself more time to really explore the island.  It was only on my last day that I discovered my new favorite café.  It was only as I was boarding the ferry that I saw the arch of Aphrodite’s temple for which the island is famous.  I didn’t even get a chance to go up there.  I thought, as I laid eyes on Perissa’s dark sands, that the beach was nicer on Naxos.

                            (I do love this shot.  There's a whole man-against-the-world vibe to it.)

It took a few days, but I came to love that beach.  The sand wasn’t as fine as on Naxos, being made of volcanic rocks, which meant that you could easily brush off the sand when getting up.  No finding silt on you for the rest of the day.  There weren’t too many tourists around (the water was still cold), so there were times where it felt like the entire beach was mine.  My favorite restaurant on the island had killer views of the ocean.  Watching the sun glint off the water in the morning while feeling the sea breeze was the best way to start the day. 

There isn’t much to the city of Perissa.  A bunch of white houses scattered among the restaurants, hotels, and souvenir shops.  Still being the off-season, a lot of places were closed or preparing for the summer.  I saw a lot of construction and painting of the buildings along the strip that borders the beach. 

Leaving my room one day, I ran into Maria.  She was cleaning the room next to mine and mentioned that there was going to be a ceremony that night and to not be alarmed if I heard a lot of noise.  The day was Good Friday and locals would walk through the streets, banging drums and letting off firecrackers.  The local establishments would set out a table of small treats and shots of booze for the participants.  I was initially confused as Easter had already passed in the states.  But in Greece, a very religious country, 4/16/23 is Orthodox Easter and a big deal for everyone.  I was glad for the heads-up otherwise I would have been really confused.

I’d planned to take the bus into Oia after breakfast on Sunday, but then remembered that it was Easter.  A pit had been dug in the sand in front of one of the restaurants and there were 3 lambs grilling on it.  The smoke smelled delicious as I enjoyed my breakfast.  Then, in walking back along the beach, I saw two more grills.  It wasn’t just the restaurants, but private homes had grills on their patios as well.  The air is filled with the smells of roasted lamb while Greek music plays from the centers of family gatherings.  Realizing just how seriously folks take this holiday, I figured it would be a very different day in Greece.

I ran into Maria cleaning my room and asked her if the busses were even running today.  She said it was something like Russian Roulette – the bus might make a stop, it might not.  We got to chatting and she told me that she’d been a teacher in Bulgaria.  When new policies made teaching unappealing to her, she packed a backpack and, like me, set off by herself to Greece.  She quickly found a job and had been living on the island since 2009.  She said it was very easy back then but new government regulations were making it ever more difficult to just pick up and move to another country.  When she first arrived, there were people from all over the world working in Santorini.  Over the years, most of those people had to leave because the laws changed.  The required permits and bureaucracy were just getting worse every year.  That news just made me more anxious about relocating to Portugal.  I might be cutting my year of travel down somewhat just to get the paperwork in motion.

Packing up to leave made me a little sad.  My time in Perissa wasn’t exactly action packed – usually just me on the beach with a book – but I really enjoyed my time there. I had scheduled another ferry trip for the 19^th and needed to find Maria to make the transfer.  Check out was at 11 so I cleared the room and went to wait outside reception.  It took a while for Maria to show up and when she did, she was still wet from the shower.  After arranging for my pick-up, she told me I could leave my luggage in the office and go enjoy the day instead of waiting at the port for the next couple of hours.  Have I mentioned that I freaking love Maria? I went to do just that until my pick-up at 2.

After saying my last goodbyes to the beach, I met Maria again at reception to get my bags.  She helped me to the curb to wait for the driver.  As she sank into a chair, she mentioned that she had been assisting her boss in painting the place and was tired.  I commented that that she really does do everything around here.  Did she ever get any time to just relax and enjoy her gorgeous surroundings?  She said she took her time when she needed it.  Her boss was pretty laid back (he was also grilling on the property on Sunday) so they had developed a good relationship over the last 15 years. 

The driver showed up and she handed me off.  She gave me a hug and wished me the best.  And, yeah, I have to say that The Best !!! hotel really was the best.

The Pleasant Surprise of Naxos

 

After another restless night in the noisy Hotel Victory, I woke up around 6.  I packed up as quickly as I could and got downstairs to checkout.  I had the desk clerk call me a cab and was thrilled when it arrived.  “How are you?” he asked.  “Happy to get out of here.”  That was the end of the conversation.

I can’t explain the relief I felt once we got out of that city.  At one point of the cabbie weaving in and out of the alleys/streets, he veered into oncoming traffic in order to make a left turn.  I just closed my eyes and prayed for a safe trip.  Besides, closing my eyes meant I didn’t have to look out the window.

At the airport, I continued to look for a flight to Santorini.  The only things I could find were either leaving at 11 at night or were outrageously priced ‘business class’ tickets.  Three hundred euros for a 1 -hour flight on a little pond-jumper.  You must be mad.  I wandered over to a help desk and explained my plight.  The dude couldn’t get me on anything either.  “Just get me out of Athens,” I said, “any island will do”.  After several minutes of waiting, he said he could get me on a flight to Naxos (pronounced like nachos) in a couple of hours for 150 euros.  From there I could catch the ferry to Santorini.  Book it.

I know nothing about Naxos, don’t even know what’s around.  While I waited for the flight, I decided to stay at least one night.  This might not be on the list of islands I wanted to visit, but since I’m going there anyway, might as well take a look around.  Booking.com to the rescue again and I found a place near the beach for 36 euros a night.  I just hoped it wasn’t a dump.

Thirty minutes after boarding should have started, we were herded onto a bus that took us to the tarmac.  The plane was indeed tiny and we climbed the narrow staircase through a door in the back.  It wasn’t the most comfortable flight (does anyone who designs plane seats have a height of more than five feet two?) but at least I had the two-seat row to myself.  Thank goodness it was only a 30-minute flight.

Caught a cab and was deposited outside a pretty, white stone building in sight of the beach, the Infinity Apartments.  My arrival was set at 2 p.m., but since I was a couple of hours early, I sat on the porch and waited.  Eventually, an older blonde lady in a quilted black jacket wandered by.  Her name was Maria.  She and her husband, Mike, ran the place.  She led me around to the stairs in the back, and showed me to lucky number room 13.  The place was small and clean (with a functioning toilet) and had a decent feel to it.  I immediately asked if I could extend my stay a couple of days.  She said they might have to move me the next morning, but otherwise it wouldn’t be a problem.

These rooms are advertised as ‘apartments’ but I find that hard to believe.  The shoebox I had in Funchal still had a fully functional kitchen with an oven, a microwave, and a washing machine.  This is more of a glorified dorm room with some cookware on the wall, a mini-fridge, a kitchen sink, and a portable stovetop.  Call me a spoiled American, but I can’t imagine anyone living here long term.  Fortunately, I was only staying for a few days.  I had no intention of cooking, so the place was good enough for me.

There were a few issues.  It took me a while to get used to the room's door which was horizontally cut into two pieces.  The bottom half scraped the floor, making a terrible noise unless I lifted it up to close it (for my third and final night, I stayed in room 14 across the hall where the door was much quieter).  The showers (always a sticky point with me) while pretty, had no curtains.  Once again, I was wrestling with the showerhead while trying not to spray water over the entire bathroom.

Once I’d gotten settled that first day, it was off to explore. I sighed in relief.  Now this is more like it.  Clean air, space to move, no one trying to rob me, and a laid-back vibe.  There’s a reason all those calendars I bought featured the islands of Greece and not Athens.  The white buildings near the water with the sun shining down really gives you a sense of summer.  But, since it is April, the beach isn’t very crowded and a bit windy.  I’m walking around fully clothed with socks, sneakers, long pants, a long sleeve shirt, and a hoody on and I’m chilly.  I have no idea how there were people in the water.  Yes, it looks inviting, but it can’t be very warm.

The first place I hit on my exploration tour is a beach-side restaurant called Ippokampos.  I ate outside then continued to explore the town of Chora.  I love the mosaic tiling on the sidewalks and the pops of color provided by flowers near the white buildings.  As has been a theme on this trip, the narrow streets are clogged with too many cars.  Every other shop seems to rent cars, motorcycles, ATVs, and even rickshaws.  I pass by Mike’s Bikes looking for the owner, but he isn’t around.  Okay.  I don’t know how to pay him or what the wifi password is but whatever.

That first night in Naxos was the best sleep I’d had in weeks.  I woke up amazed and raring to start the day.  But, remembering that Maria was coming to move me to a new place, I packed up and waited.  And waited.  It was almost noon when I decided I was too hungry to wait around any longer.  So, of course, that’s when Maria showed up only to tell me that the room was free for the day so I wouldn’t have to move until the next day.  Cool.  Off for a meal and some more exploration.

Unfortunately, the weather decided to mess with me.  It kept switching from sunny to rainy and windy then back to sunny multiple times.  I’d done some laundry in the morning with the intent of putting it outside to dry, but that wasn’t gonna happen. Another 6 euros for a dryer and I wandered around some more.  I’d run into Mike riding on a bike with another guy and he filled me in on all the questions I’d had.  He still wasn’t in any rush to charge me, saying he’d find me at the dock if it came to that.  That was very trusting of him.

There was no plan for my visit to the island.  I still had no interest in renting a car or hiking.  Athens had been stressful and I just wanted to relax.  I wandered around enjoying what good weather there was to be had and read a lot.  At one point, I had wandered far from the hotel and encountered an Irish man on an electric bike.  He and his companion were looking for flamingoes but hadn’t found them yet so he asked me if I knew where they were.  I told him I was as new to the place as he was and wished him luck.  I wonder if he ever found the birds because I sure didn’t.

While there were no bird-sightings, the place is crawling with cats.  These aren’t feral or malnourished creatures; on the contrary, they look well-fed, healthy, and have no fear of humans.  They just wander around like they own the joint, even crawling among the legs of patrons seated at cafes.  This one just sat and stared at me a while during dinner one evening.

Every time I thought I’d seen everything in the small town, I kept discovering more shops and restaurants.  Every narrow street near the water seemed to offer something new.  A bookshop sold some books in English as well as German and French.  There was a cyber café as well as an arcade among the numerous jewelry and clothing stores. I found my instant favorite café on my last day.  The smiling waitress automatically poured some free water without my asking and gave me a sliver of delicious marble cake.  Not really one to eat sweets in the morning, but that cake was tasty.

As I was packing up, there was a knock on the door.  I opened the top half to reveal Mike.  I was glad I didn’t have to track him down.  He seemed upset that I already had a cab coming as he offers transfers to the dock.  No worries, though.  He charged me the agreed 36 euros for the first night, but discounted me for the other two, charging 30 a night since I’d called a cab.  I had to smile.  Not only was it a nice surprise, but a relief not to be gouged (Athens has really left a bad taste in my mouth).  He charged my card and said he hoped to see me again.

I wrestled my bags downstairs to wait for the cab.  At some point, Maria poked her head around the corner and wished me a good day.  I don’t know if I’m ever coming back to Greece, but if I do, I’m definitely headed back to Naxos.  Hospitality like this can’t be beat.  And for so cheap!

I write this while on the ferry to Santorini.  The movie The Mask is playing on a screen to my right while I sit with my headphones on to drown out the snoring of the huge guy sitting behind me.  It is April 13, 2023, my 52^nd birthday.  I didn’t understand until days later that the free marble cake I’d received earlier was my birthday cake.

Athens Part 2

On to the next temporary home, the Hotel Victory.  I picked the place because it was cheap and nearby.  I didn’t want to stay in Athens any longer than I had to but there were still things in the area I wanted to see.

Located in another bombed out looking alley fronted by trashcans, the hotel didn’t make the best first impression.  But it looked to be clean and serviceable enough for two nights stay.  That would give me enough time to figure out my next move.

But first, more sightseeing.  The location of the hotel also left me in a good position to get back to the subway station I’d seen the day before.  I found my way there again and figured out the route to the Acropolis.  It was its own station so that helped a lot.  What wasn’t helpful was being crammed in an overcrowded car.  After covid.  Without my mask.   I tried to breathe as little as possible as I was being completely crushed while clutching my purse to my side.

I did find my way to the Acropolis, the center point of the only clean and well-maintained area I’d discovered so far.  Of course, this was the main touristy area.  The long walkway was dotted with cafes, vendors, and, I was soon to find out, scam artists. I’m walking along and this woman appears in front of me offering me a free rose.  I take the rose and suddenly it’s not free and she’s pregnant and could I help her out.  Like an idiot, I reached for my purse to give her a few coins.  That turned into folding money that I exchanged for 3 lousy roses.  Feeling dumb, I kept going to the line for tickets to the Acropolis.

The line took entirely too long.  I was already annoyed and stuck behind two guys discussing the crappy state of the world.  Really not helping my mood. Finally got to the head of the line, handed over 20 euros and got my ticket.  Why the hell did it take so long to get to that point?

I ascended the steep hill to the entry point of the ruins.  There are staff waiting to screen everyone’s bags.  Since I only had a small purse and my water carrier, I tried to slip by.  “No roses,” said the woman.  Seriously?  I just overpaid for these things and for some reason they’re not allowed?  I chucked them aside in annoyance and kept going.

I will say this much; the Acropolis does offer some great views of the city.  Athens doesn’t look nearly as dirty or congested from up high.  Along with the throngs of tourists, there were groups of people being led by a tour guide offering tidbits about the history and renovations. 

After a couple of hours, I was getting hungry so back down the hill I went.  I stumbled upon a sign so unique that I just had to get a picture of it. 

The lady standing in front of the place asked, “Are you Daphne?” “How could you tell?” I don’t think I’m the first Daphne to take a picture of the place.  I had to eat there, of course, and had a lovely meal.  And ouzo. Never had it before and can safely say I’ll never have it again.  If you want the experience, just shoot some Robitussin, same thing.

The area beyond the restaurant was absolutely packed with people, eating at the many cafes, taking pictures, and milling around the shops.  This appeared to be the commercial center of the city with big name stores like H&M and Zara right next to the small souvenir shops and food vendors.  And again, the place was nice and clean.  I know this is mainly for the tourists but why shouldn’t everyone have the chance to live somewhere clean?  As Madeira proved, a clean, pretty environment makes for happier people.  This is not a difficult process to figure out.

The crush of people in this area was getting on my nerves.  One of my goals in Athens was to visit the Hard Rock and get my mandatory souvenir.  I figured it had to be located somewhere nearby, so I used Google Maps to lead me there.  Worked like a charm and with t-shirt in hand, I quickly made my way back to the subway station as it was getting dark.  I was tired and my guard was already up, I didn’t want to risk being out after dark for too long.

Despite my fatigue, I did not get much sleep.  The hotel was incredibly noisy both inside and out.  There were people yelling, cars blaring music as they passed, and, of course, the banging.  My next door neighbors had sex twice – hey, good for them, but I don’t want to hear it.  I’m not having any kind of sex, I don’t need to be reminded that other people are.

I got to sleep briefly before the voices started again, waking me up at 3:45.  I guess it woke my neighbors as well, because – you guessed it.  They had round three of the evening.  Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I had a better night’s sleep in the dump.

Awake in the morning, I heard the sex neighbors check out.  Again, I know this because of the loud turning of the key and moving suitcases around.  Soon after, I heard the maid coming to turn over the room.  Clock says 9:30 a.m.  but with the blackout shade in place, it’s still dark in the room.  I only got minutes of sleep at a time, so I really don’t care that I should be up.  But, since I don’t plan on being here long … I guess I’ll reenter the world.

I headed back on the subway to the area around the Acropolis.  I had a lovely meal of Greek French toast (sounds weird, but was excellent), then wandered around for the rest of the afternoon. There was much I hadn’t seen before, lots of shops and a nice park area not far from the first Olympic stadium.

Again, the crush of tourists was getting to me.  I figured to get something to eat before heading back on the subway.  I chose a spot for dinner and sat down.  I’m looking at the menu when a woman appears offering me a free rose.  And yes, I’m in idiot.  Thinking back to the actual free rose I got at a restaurant in Lisbon, I didn’t think anything of this one.  Until the woman gives me the same lines about her non-existent baby …

I won’t tell you how much I gave her.  It’s too embarrassing. I still can’t believe it happened again.  Having to be on your guard 24/7 is not fun.  It is exhausting.  But not so exhausting that I got any sleep that night.  I spent the whole night contemplating my stupidity while being forced to listen to the honking cars, the loudly arguing Greeks, some idiot on a bullhorn …

I spent three nights in Athens and that was four nights too many.  Screw Athens.