Transcending Borders With Seeds in Our Hands

You all know that I have all the luck when it comes to getting myself into awkward situations with some of the most odd-ball people on the face of the earth–exhibit A: My flight home from New Zealand where the guy turned to me and asked me if we were going to die that night and told me that I look like Stuart Delgado (still no clue who he was talking about) or Exhibit B: The African guy with blood-shot eyes on my train to Riva Del Garda who got up from his seat EVERYTIME the train stopped and tapped me on the shoulder and asked, “We at Trento?!?!”. Anyway, I got on a bus from Rijeka, Croatia to Split, an 8 hour trip. I had two seats all to myself until Zadar when a woman got on and asked if the seat was free in Croatian. I reluctantly said yes, hiding my mild contempt with a smile and a nod. We pulled out of the station and not ten minutes later my neighbor’s head was bobbing and jolting with the movements of the bus. Then her shoulder dug into my arm, her head tilted down to awkwardly rest on my shoulder, and light snoring sounds began drifting into my left ear. No matter how abruptly the bus driver applied the breaks or turned the corner in a favorable direction, so that her head might jerk the other way and wake her so that she could realize our intimate proximity and mutter, “Oh, excuse me!” in Croatian. I didn’t know whether to hold my ground and protect my personal space from further intrustion with a hard nudge or to retreat towards the window. But with the latter, she might have come further in my direction and have left me a pancake against the window. I thought, “Great…we’re only halfway through the trip and I’m going to have to deal with this all the way to Split.” I attempted to keep reading my book but, of course, kept having my concentration broken. What was strange about the whole situation was that everytime the bus stopped to pick up more passengers she instinctively woke up and turned and asked them if she was at such-and-such a stop. They would reply, “No, not yet,” and my personal war with the obviously seriously sleep-deprived woman would begin again. Luckily, she got off at the second stop after awakening through what I perceived as habit, leaving me to wonder how often she unabashedly relies on a stranger’s shoulder to carry her between stops.

I ended my travels in Italy in Venice. The city itself was indeed smelly and dirty and overcrowded as everyone will tell you, but it did have its charms as well. My time in Venice ended up being the most lucky coincidence because I was walking around at dusk and tried to walk through the many archways into San Marco Piazza but they were all blocked by policemen! I would walk through an alley, over another bridge and again, there was another policeman blocking the entrance. I had no idea what was going on. I eventually came to the part of the piazza right by San Marco’s Basilica and I could make it into the square but most of it was blocked off for some kind of concert. I looked around to see if I could find out who was performing and then I saw a sign saying “Bocelli tickets.” I couldn’t believe it! And the concert started not half and hour after I got there. I got to hear Andrea Bocelli perform live in Venice’s San Marco Square. Since we had the free tickets (standing outside the dividers that blocked off the concert) we couldn’t really see anything. I could see Bocelli and the conductor just barely through a crack in the barracades. There was a full choir and orchestra and a lead soprano whose name I still cannot find. She had a fantastic voice though…probably the best I’ve heard in a live performance. At several points the clock tower in the square began chiming and everyone turned to look at it in disgust, like, “How dare you attempt to make the singers go out of tune!” Bocelli ended with a beautiful duet which must have been his signature song because my fellow listeners were ooohing and ahhing the whole time. After it ended, since we were already in a standing ovation-of-sorts, all we could do was clap all the louder and yell “Bravi!”

There’s not much to say about the Italian Lakes that hasn’t already been said. They are gorgeous and that is pretty much I did; admire them. I didn’t allow myself enough time to really enjoy Como. I only stayed one night but I got there at about 2 pm and check-in at the hostel was 5 pm and later, so I had to lug around my backpack until that time. I hung out in the park in Menaggio, one of the main resort towns on Como. I checked into the hostel and then went to check out the ferry schedule but it didn’t work out to take any ferries over to the nearby towns of Varenna and Bellagio. I hung out at the hostel and met some of my roomates and then went to bed early…only to wake up to gunshots…or at least what I thought were gunshots in my half-awake state. I walked over to the window and they were shooting off a massive fireworks display over the lake! So I stayed up and watched the show, feeling pretty lucky to be there for such an event and obviously not being able to sleep until after they were over anyway. The next day I had to rush over to Lake Maggiore because I had reservations for two nights there in Stresa. Again, it was a hike over there by train. I arrived in the afternoon and checked into a private single which was a little pricey at 40 euro per night but the hostel was fully booked. I ate dinner at La Botte, a place recommended by the lady at the hotel and it was one of the best Italian dinners I had. I ordered tagliatella pasta with boar ragout, homemade sausages, and local beer.
The next day I took a ferry to the neighboring towns and islands of the lake. I started out at Isola Superiore dei Pescatori (Island of fishermen), a beautiful quaint little town that takes up all the space on this little island. Then I stopped off at some of the other picturesque towns. The whole day ended up being a photo-taking session, but I found the area to be interesting and pretty. Maybe not as much as Como but still nice. I hopped on yet another train the next day and took the longest journey of all the train journeys to Lake Garda. I had to get all the way up to the northern tip of the lake because I had made reservations at Riva Del Garda. I got up there and immediately concluded that Garda was my favorite of the lakes. The water and scenery were better than the previous two. And a nice steady wind whipped through the valley, cooling it down a little so that it was not sweltering the whole time like the other two.

I got bored with Milan pretty quickly after seeing the Duomo, which was incredible, but that was pretty much the only sight I’ll remember fondly. I walked to La Scala, the opera house where Verdi and other major operatic composers premiered their works, was not impressive or as glitzy on the outside as I expected. It was quite plain and I almost didn’t even bother taking a photo of it. I continued up the street a ways to the main shopping area, supposedly the center of fashion, and was so disappointed by how boring the displays were and the streets were dingy and close together. I compared it to Rodeo Drive and considered the latter to be much, much more impressive. Other than that, I DID find a GROM Gelato right up the street from my hostel in Milan, which, if you’ve been looking at my pictures much, you will notice I am obsessed with. But you would be as obsessed if you could taste the stuff they scoop out. It is made from all organic ingredients and, having tried WAY too much gelato–I mean replacing whole meals with gelato–I can tell you that the organic ingredients and whatever else they put in make it the best. I tried quite a few of the flavors, even going for ones I normally steer away from like lemon and pistachio. The best ones however, are the ones that are chocolate-based, like the bacio (hazelnut and chocolate), Cioccolato Fondente (dark chocolate), and straciatella (vanilla gelato with streaks of chocolate fudge). Anyway, I’ll stop with the gelato because there is no sense going on and making you crave it so badly.
As I was saying, I got a little bored with Milan and so I decided to take a “little” daytrip up into Switzerland since it was so close and I figured I probably wouldn’t be close enough to go there in the future. I got up really early and 3 hours later I was in Lugano, a town in Italian Switzerland. I walked around the park which had beautiful landscaping and lake views. I found an ATM and took out some Swiss Francs which were at about the same exchange rate as the dollar. I only took out 100, thinking that would be plenty for the day. I continued walking around the lake and then after about two hours I hiked it all the way back to the train station, which conveniently (NOT) was located up on top of a hill that looks over the city. I went to the ticket machine and bought a half-price ticket because I had seen something on the rail website about getting a half-day pass and only paying 55CHF. I bought the ticket to Luzern and hopped on and began to enjoy the beautiful Alps and the little mountain towns nestled in the valleys. After about a half hour, the ticket checker came through and I handed him my ticket and he started saying something in German. I thought he was asking for ID or something, so I took out my passport and handed it to him. Then, seeing the ‘UNITED STATES OF AMERICA’, he said, “This is a half-price ticket…only for under 16.” I did not know what to do. I was like, “So do I pay the difference at the next train station?” He didn’t respond but typed on this little computer thing for what seemed like ages. Then he produced a figure, 60 francs, and I reached in my pocket and had only 40 francs left and a bunch of euros. So I paid in a mixture of the two, thereby screwing me over immensely with the exchange rate, and he printed off a ticket right there and stapled it to mine. He simply said, “Okay, there you go,” and moved on. In the end, I felt that I could have done without the sidetrip to Switzerland because it was SO ridiculously expensive. The train ticket alone ended up being almost 90 dollars…and that’s just to the middle of the country! I got back into Italy at 10:30 that night. I went to bed and early the next morning I headed up to Lake Como.

I took the train from Sorrento to Napoli, a surprisingly short trip, and met quite the old Italian character on the way. He sat down right next to me and started pestering this group of older French ladies who were sharing the cabin with me. One of them spoke some Italian so he would say things to her and she would translate them to the rest of the group. He turned to me and started jabbering in Italian and I made the “I don’t know what on earth you are saying” look and he asked me where I was from (only in Italian…I don’t think he spoke a scrap of English the whole trip, which is just fine since I am IN Italy). I said “Americani” and he exclaimed, “AH! Belissimo!! Si, si.” He asked me if I was traveling by myself and what I did back home and all kinds of things which I somehow understood and answered, although it’s all a blur now. He kept turning back and forth between me and the French ladies and kept cracking all kinds of jokes and laughing up a storm. He had those older French ladies cackling away too. It made the ride to Naples both interesting and short.
I got to the main train station, Girabaldi Piazza, and started the search for my hostel, which went much better since there is a Naples map in my book. It is central to all the main sights and eats the city has to offer annnnnd free internet…which is how I can update my blog so much! I had an awesome beyond awesome pizza for a late lunch/dinner. It was at a place called Gino Sorbelli’s and I had the margherita style, the traditional Neopolitan one with just tomato sauce, mozzarella, and basil. Naples is the birthplace of pizza and man do they know how to do it right. I ate the entire pizza in one sitting. It was so nice and thin and crispy in the right parts. I might go back for another round tomorrow. Who am I kidding? I’m absolutely going back tomorrow!

I got into Sorrento and COULD NOT find my hostel. Even with looking it up on Google maps and asking a few people I could not find it. I walked and walked. I think I saw all of Sorrento. That’s the good news, but my legs were getting so sore from supporting the weight of the backpack. I’ve also been having problems with my right knee, especially going down stairs. Hopefully it straightens out eventually. Anyway, I happened to see a sign for Ostello Le Sirene after about an hour and a half of searching. Normally I would have just given up after 20 minutes but I had made a reservation and I didn’t want to be rude by not showing up. But guess what!? After all that work of trying to find the place, I get there and tell the woman my name and they lost the reservation! She asked, “You’re sure you called today? Who did you talk to?” I was a little irritated but mostly just tired and in need of a bed. I said it’s fine as long as she can help me get a bed. She told me that they have a sister hostel and they had room for me. She told me that it was on the opposite side of town but that one of the guys who works at the hostel would take me. I thought I was going to load my stuff into the trunk of a car but I ended up just slinging my leg over the back of a scooter. Now, you remember me telling you about the scooters on the Amalfi coast–they drive these things like maniacs! You have to be fearless to do it. I wanted to take video of the ride on my camera but we were already off in a few seconds and I didn’t want to risk dropping it! We weaved in and out of cars, passing over the middle line, and playing mini games of chicken with the other scooters. We would go to pass a car and there would already be a scooter, coming towards us, passing traffic in the on-coming lane. You had to be there to understand the madness. I arrived at the hostel in one piece and thanked the guy for a fun ride. It was just another day driving in Sorrento for him, but for me, it was a thrill ride. I went in to reception and the guy from the scooter blurted lots of Italian and then the guy at reception immediately picked up the phone, calling the first hostel I assume, and seemed to be getting into an argument with the lady at their reception. Looking back on it, I think that was just my impression though…maybe that’s how Italians always talk, with intensity and passion…and lots of hand motions. He hung up the phone and said rather placidly, “Welcome to Sorrento.”

Okay, I know I’m cheating by skipping way, way ahead, but I think that I will be more likely to keep up with my blog each day if I don’t have a month’s worth of writing looming over my head. And writing frequently would be much better for you, right? I might add some stories of the Greek islands, but most of the stuff I would be writing would be of where I went, like “I went here and it was nice, then here and it was beautiful,” and I’m sure that will annoy you and I will get bored writing about it! And you don’t want to hear me whine about how many times I got cheated by the Greeks and got frustrated with their general disinterest.
SO! I left Patra, a very ugly, but I suppose necessary, Greek port city and went on a 14 hour ferry to Brindisi, Italy. It left at 5:30 pm and got in to Brindisi at 7:40 ish the next morning. I didn’t get much sleep since I had an economy ticket, which entitled me to all the comforts a stiff, partially-reclining chair can offer. But I was relieved to be in a new country. I passed through security, only having to say, “Americani,” and took the free shuttle bus into the city. I thought that would put me close to the train station but I had to walk about half an hour to get there. I had to split up the train trip because of the schedules, so I went from Brindisi to Taranto then Taranto to Salerno then caught a bus to Amalfi and walked to Atrani. Needless to say, it was a long day of traveling. And I accidentally got to see the heel of the boot of Italy (took a train to Lecce before I realized that it would return and pick me up in Brindisi if I had just waited). The scenery was beautiful–mountains in the distance and plenty of vineyards and olive trees. I sat near a nice, very old, Italian couple and we communicated as much as we could. I found that I can understand bits of Italian because of my years learning Spanish, but I can’t fool myself too much: they’re quite a bit different.
I arrived in Salerno and tried calling home, but forgot about the hour time change, so I caught Jordan instead of mom and dad, which is just fine haha. I boarded the bus to Amalfi and I took a seat on the left side because I knew that would provide the best views of the coastline. Man, what a hair-raising experience the trip would be! The road was TINY and the bus was HUGE. The driver would honk this ridiculous-sounding horn, which sounded like an ice cream truck or maybe a clown’s squeaky nose being pinched two or three times, everytime we came up on a curve. The bus had to come over practically all the way into the other lane so that the back of the bus wouldn’t scrape the cliffside. The cars that was were passing were literally 6 or less inches from the bus and, to make matters even more intense, there were people on scooters and motorcycles whipping in between the bus and the cars, passing the bus on curves, passing each other. It was insane. And it was that way for the whole hour-long trip. I got to Amalfi and started looking for my hostel using my trusty guidebook…NOT. I’m about ready to throw it in the Mediterranean because it has been so bad at giving directions. I called the hostel because I could not find it after about half an hour of lugging my bag around in the heat. Turns out my book left out the little detail that it is in the next town up from Amalfi. So I had to walk about 800 m to the town of Atrani. It was literally like a maze getting to the hostel. I had to follow the road around a curve, through a tunnel, down a huge flight of stairs that hugged a cliff, through a few archways then through a few back streets.
I arrived at last and received an extremely warm greeting from the hostel owner and was shown to my room by Filippo. I asked where I should eat dinner and he suggested a pizza place nearby. Nearby means different things to different people. That’s one of the most important things I’ve learned on this trip! haha. I enjoyed the quieter feel of Atrani and it was nice to be close enough to get to the more popular town of Amalfi. Later that night, I met my roomate who was from Taiwan. He had been studying Spanish in Spain for a few weeks. Through him I met an Australian girl, Leah, and we made plans to hike up to the town of Ravello early in the morning. Some locals, both named Luigi, told Leah that if you go early the mist creates a neat effect called the Dragon’s Valley. Apparently the mist curves along the winding valley and culminates at the end, looking like rising smoke. We didn’t see any of that, but the walk was still very pleasant. We reached Ravello after an hour of walking and it provided amazing vistas of the coastline and nearby villages. We saw the town church where there was a vat of blood from this guy who was beheaded by the Moors in the 1100s. They beheaded him because he helped women in childbirth and he saw things that were “inapproriate” for an unmarried man, in the Moor’s opinion. Some villagers collected the blood and it is on display in a specially constructed room of the church. On July 27th of every year, the priest of Amalfi takes out the vial (which is never actually touched) and holds it up to the light and the people gather around and watch as the top part of the blood becomes almost transluscent in the sunlight. We overheard an English woman giving a guide to a bunch of tourists and she said that she had been there several times to try to see the miracle and it does actually happen everytime. You can sort of see it any other day of the year although not to the fullest extent as you can on that day apparently. I lined up the light to the surface and the top portion of the blood looks like a lighter orange color, fading after about a half inch down into deep red. I would like to be there on the right day to try to see what actually happens. It fascinates me that Italy and other countries here in Europe keep such gross human artifacts, like the lungs of popes and the fingers of saints. Apparently, there is a church in Rome that has cherubs made from the bones of dead monks. I’m definitely going to try to see that when I’m there this week.
We started the hike back down to Atrani amid lemon groves and blooming jasmine. The scents were heavenly and the sunshine and view made the walk spectacular. We got lost a couple of times but we eventually made it. I caught a bus to Positano from Amalfi, reliving the wild bus ride one last time, and was in awe of the town that jumbled down a cliff to the sea. It was by far the prettiest town in Amalfitano. The bushes were all blooming and the sun was shining. I was with my friend from the hostel, Frost, and we walked down the biiiig hill into the town center and we got some Amalfitano limone slush. It was so delicious I had to have another two of them! There wasn’t much to actually see or do once we were IN Positano so I caught a bus after about an hour to Sorrento, where I would stay the night.

While in Crete, I had an okay time…the people were not much more friendly and the main sights I wanted to see–the Minoan Palace, Knossos and the Venetian Harbor of Chania–were both very disappointing. They both had a Disneyland-type feel and it was very hard to enjoy them because there were SO many tourists snapping TONS of pictures. On top of that, there were lots of stands selling all kinds of crap, little trinkets that I still don’t know who buys them, and postcards and jewelry. Anyway, it was awful just on that front, on top of that however, there were restaurant ‘touts’ along the waterfront in Chania and as you walked around trying to enjoy the old buildings they would hound you with menus and ask you where you’re from to try to get you to sit down and eat. I knew to duck into the back streets and find a place there, and I did, and it ended up being probably the best meal experience I had while in Greece. I had Cretan rabbit stew, called Stifado, which was cooked in a tomato and pearl onion sauce. While I ate, Cretan men played guitars and sang traditional songs. After I finished eating, they brought out complimentary yogurt cake and raki–strong local liquer–and the cake was fantastic. I could have done without the raki, but it was free, so…

The next day I took off for Kissamos, on the northwestern point of the island. The island is huge, so it took a long time to get there on the bus. Once in Kissamos, there was NOTHING to do except soak up the view. I had planned to go to Balos beach, a perfect lagoon on the other side of the peninsula, on the same day I arrived in Kissamos. Bad idea, as I would soon find out. I walked to the ferry port ‘only 3 km away,’ as a local lightly put it. Well, I hadn’t checked into a hotel yet so I had my backpack on and my small bag that carries the essentials like my camera and iTouch around my neck. It took probably 40 minutes to walk to the port along a very busy and dangerous road that had barely any shoulder on which for me to walk. I finally got there, and ticket in hand, I watched as the boat pulled away from the dock. I had missed the last boat there. Fortunately there were very friendly Greeks in the info booth and they made my ticket an open-date so that I could go the next day. Minus the lonnng walk back to town, it worked out well because I was better-prepared the next day anyway, having applied a good amount of sunscreen and having just my little day-bag. I had a great time, although I was on a boat crammed with tourists, but the scenery is what made it fantastic and worthwhile. The first stop was a fortress called Gramvousa. It was a LONG hike up the stairs to that baby but the views were incredible from the top. Then we took off for the Balos Lagoon. The water was so gorgeous and it was really shallow, so it was nice and warm. Usually I don’t like warm water in tropical places because the last thing I want is to be warmer, but the views made it nice. We stayed in the lagoon for about 3 hours and I hiked up the hill at one point to get a panorama of the beach and it was worth the very hot, sandy hike. We headed back into Kissamos and I grabbed a gyro and went to bed shortly after.
The next day I caught a ferry to the mainland, well, the Peloponnese penisula at least, and the ferry didn’t leave till about 5:30 and we got in at midnight! How they come up with the screwy and inconvenient ferry schedules is beyond comprehension. My first thought upon getting into Gythio was, ‘Great…I have no place to stay and all the hotels and booking companies are going to be closed’. But then I spotted a fellow backpacker and, as I learned from my mistake of NOT following the backpackers to the nearest accomodation in Heraklion, I tailed him closely…probably stalker close…because I could see that on his bag it said ‘Adirondacks’. We walked to the nearest accomodation place and he told us it was 45 Euro each and we both looked at each other in shock. We walked back out onto the street and I introduced myself and he suggested we split a room so it would be cheap. We walked around in the upper streets and found a place and after saying ‘Hello? Hello!?’ a few times an old woman appeared and told us she had no room, but directed us up to another old lady and they whispered and gesticulated to each other in the dark street and we followed the second lady to what must have been her personal home. She made the bed and couch up for us and showed us how the shower and coffee maker worked. She didn’t speak a lick of English, but she was cute and very pleasant. She left us the keys and took our passports. I talked with Alex, who turned out to be from Utica, and learned that he was on his way to Slovenia to study the language and possibly live there. We went to bed at about 2 and woke up the next day to retrieve our passports and pay the woman. We walked around the town a little, which was very beautiful by daylight, and ate breakfast at a bakery on the waterfront. I had a delicious cherry tort and Greek coffee. We said goodbye soon after and I headed out to Monemvasia by bus.

It was getting toward evening when I flew into Athens. There was just enough light to make the city sparkle–one of it’s unique traits that I noticed–meaning that the satellites/antennaes on the roofs of the buildings reflect the lights and make it look like there are white lights all over the city. It’s hard to explain, but when I post the picture from the plane you’ll be able to see it. I got in and took a two hour bus ride into the city. They dropped me off in Syntagma Square, the main transportation hub of downtown Athens. I happened to overhear a couple near me trying to get to Athens Backpackers, just like me. I struck up a conversation and we headed off to find the hostel in the winding streets of Plaka, old-town Athens. They were from Singapore and we had a great time getting lost, then getting on track, then getting back off track. We found the hostel at last and then we checked into our rooms and I headed out to get a gyro because I was starving: I only had breakfast in London that day. I ate somewhere in Chelsea and I got lost and ended up being way late to London Luton airport than I wanted to be because I had to figure out the bus ordeal and the airport was at least an hour’s bus ride from London Victoria. I was literally checking in for my flight as they were closing check-in.
The next day I took the €5 walking tour with the hostel which wasn’t really worth that much because our guide didn’t tell us much that was actually useful or memorable, but it did help me better understand the layout of the city. I spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Plaka and Monastiraki, the old, old parts of the city. I had a frappe which was pretty good but the sweet and bitter combination was a little too much for me. It was almost intensely sweet and bitter at the same time. It was like heavily sweetened strong espresso mixed with a little milk, poured over ice and then topped with sweetened condensed milk. Some places stirred it until it became frothy.
That evening I went up to the rooftop bar of the hostel to check out the Acropolis view and the owner talked me into trying Mythos, a Greek lager beer. It was light and really refreshing considering it was a very balmy evening. I met some Australians, Canadians, and Germans and we later decided to grab something to eat at around 10:30, normal dinner time in Greece. I think it must be heartburn city for older Greeks, but I suppose they manage somehow. The hostel owner recommended a taverna called “God’s Restaurant” that was nearby. He noted that they wouldn’t try to rip us off, which was a relief since a €17 ripoff at the airport bus terminal was still fresh in my mind (don’t ask).
We ordered the house wine, both red and white, and I had lamb kleftiko, which was lamb baked in foil with feta, potatoes, and onion. They brought us complimentary dessert–panna cotta–and we asked our waiter, Niko, where to go next. He told us to go up the street to see his sister who was running the family’s gelato/coffee/liqeur store. What a combo, huh? All the essentials! She insisted we try Raki, the local moonshine, which is flavored with anise. Usually I hate anything that is liquorice-flavored but it wasn’t super-intense in flavor. She gave us some other stuff called Rakomelo which is a specialty of the island of Amorgos. It is raki but it is flavored with cinnamon and honey. It takes like apple crisp. After that we said goodbye, before she poured any more stuff and we all said goodbye and parted ways.
The next day I headed to Exharia, a neighboorhood in the north of Athens, to go to the Archaeological Museum. I had to see the statue of Zeus and the mask of Agammemnon. Turns out, those were the only real show-stopping exhibits. Everything else was just okay–lots and lots of statues of Greeks. There was an interesting exhibit of Egyptian artifacts that had been found in Greece. Oh! And the other thing I really liked was this very large bronze statue of a boy riding a horse. The expression on his face was so vivid and realistic. You could tell he was either being chased or he was in a race.
I left the museum and wandered around until I came upon the Saturday farmer’s market. It was amazing to see how they heaped up all the produce in giant pyramids. All the stands were so appealing to the eye that I don’t know how you could find a bad farmer in the mix! I had my mind set on getting an orange so I looked for the friendliest-looking vendor, a woman who was selling only two things, citrus and artichokes. I motioned for one orange and she motioned for me to just take it and said “next time” (as if I’d be there next week). It was so cute and the first real demonstration of hospitality I encountered. Little did I know that it would be one of only a few demonstrations on my trip!!! : P I walked down a side street, peeled it, and devoured it. It was probably the best orange I’ve ever eaten and the fact that it was free made it taste that much better.
I decided to have a late lunch so I went to a place recommended by my guidebook called “O Barba Giannis” and it was very, very authentic. I know because I felt completely out of place. I didn’t yet know the etiquette of eating in a taverna. One of the guys came over and I said “menu?” and then he said, “No. Follow me.” I followed him into the kitchen and he explained what was stewing in one pot, opened the oven and showed me the fish, and pointed to several other dishes as well. I could have just taken a fork to everything right there and then but it wouldn’t have made a good impression. I ended up having the oven-baked chicken with roasted zucchini in a tomato sauce. It came out very quickly because, after all, they only had to plop it on the plate! And it only cost 6 euros! I learned a few things from that first experience even if it was painfully awkward and embarrassing: when you are hungry find the taverna you want and just walk right in and sit down at a table, and have a general idea of what you want to eat…like “chicken,” “fish,” “lamb.” And when you’re done, try to have the exact change (Greeks HATE making change) and leave it on the table. Don’t know how much, or where for that matter, the bill is? Act like you’re getting up to leave and the waiter will know you are ready to pay. Most importantly, don’t go to a taverna when you’re in a hurry. That’s why they invented souvlaki stands.
I went up to Kolonaki, the posh Athenian neighboorhood just to see what was going on there. And I walked right into the middle of some big kind of rally. All I know is that a van was pulled up on the sidewalk and a huge crowd was gathered around it, causing a major traffic jam. There were policemen trying to keep these men from opening the back doors of the van for some reason. All of a sudden, they backed off and let this guy who was wearing a big, heavy black shepherd’s cloak let out a flock of sheep and stareted parading them through the street. The crowd cheered and broke out in song. Things got a little rowdy so I decided to split before I got injured by a wayward shepherd’s hook or lamb hoof. The good news is that I recorded video of the lambs jumping out of the van!
I climbed nearby Lycavittos Hill (no small task despite the simple-sounding “hill” designation) to get a good view of Athens and the Parthenon. The view was worth the climb and the city sprawled out as far as you could see. And all the buildings were the same off-white color and all about the same height. I climbed down and headed back to the hostel. Before I could get back though, an old man who was sitting on a bench motioned to his wrist, asking for the time. I said, “I don’t have a watch” and to my surprise he said, “You speak English!?! Sit down, sit down!” He studied me and asked “Where you from?” and I answered “New York.” He told me that he had been there (the city of course) and that he loved it. He asked me all kinds of questions and I found out that he was from Santorini and he was on a sort of Las-Vegas-type weekend, “gamble, meet ladies.” He was in his 80s at least. Eventually the conversation dropped off a little, perhaps because it showed that I was startled that he was still on the dating scene, and I took my cue to leave.
I dedicated the next day to exploring all of the monuments. I climbed up to the Acropolis early in the morning to beat the heat and crowds. It was amazing! And the surrounding views of the sea and city were also very nice. I climbed down and went to the ancient Agora (marketplace) and was blown away by how quiet and verdant it was. I felt like I was the first one discovering it after thousands of years. Some of the stonework and statues were a little overgrown with flowers and vines. The temple of Hephaeston, the best-preserved Greek temple because of its still-intact roof, was absolutely astounding. The friezes depicted the stories of Theseus’ adventures. I was pleasantly surprised by Athens and I say that because everyone had told me that it was a dirty city and there wasn’t much to do, but I thought it was great. I was nevertheless excited to get to the islands. I happened to meet two fellow New Yorkers at the hostel and we decided to split the cab fare to the port city of Piraeus the next morning. I woke up at 5:00 and met them in the lobby to catch the cab. After several tries to flag them down–they didn’t seem too keen on picking up three people with big backpacks–we caught one and I bought my ticket to Mykonos and sailed away.

And so it begins again! I flew into London around 7:30a.m. on Virgin Atlantic, which was a fantastic airline. I highly recommend it. We flew right along the Thames so I could see all the famous sights of London. You could see the crowd already gathering at Buckingham Palace to watch the changing of the guard. That is where I intended to rush to as soon as I cleared customs. It took until about 8:30 to clear customs and then I had to figure out how to use the Underground. By the time I waited in line to get my ticket it was 9:15 and then I got off a stop too soon, so I had to wait in line to get another ticket to go to the next stop. Finally, I reached the Hyde Park area and walked down the long road to Buckingham Palace. The palace was nice, but the gold-detailed gates were the most impressive to me. I crossed the street, remembering to look right (!), and then smushed myself in with the crowd. I went to cross in front of one of the gates but one of the policemen motioned for me to wait, and I kid you not, the palace gates opened and a procession of cars began to come out and in one of the cars, in the back seat, I saw someone who was either the queen herself or her sister!!! She was wearing one of the hats that they always wear and everyone yanked out their cameras and waved. I only saw her, but wasn’t able to get a picture because who would think that you would ever happen to see that? I decided to go up the Victoria monument and sit on the stairs to watch so that I could have some personal space. I didn’t realize that the changing of the guard was like a parade. The new guard came in, led by a full band, who played some kind of theme that I’m sure must have had the words “God Save the Queen” in it. I watched and listened for a few minutes, but honestly, I got a little bored with it, so I decided to leave early and head for a walk along the Thames. I dropped off my backpack at the hostel, which took me forever to find because the one street it was on changed names three times. I walked to the Parliament building first and there was a little park near it where I watched some school kids play cricket for a while. I crossed the river and took in the full view of Parliament. I wandered the path and took pictures of the Tower Bridge and then went to the Tate Modern museum for a few hours. There were definitely some very strange and wonderful works but my favorite was the exhibit where there was just a white room with a GIANT table and four chairs in the center. I walked under the table and felt like I was in the Jack and the Beanstalk tale. After the museum I took a little nap in the park and then walked over to Westminster Abbey, saw the 12 euro entrance fee and then left for the hostel. On the way, I had some bangers and mash for dinner (English sausages of sorts with mashed potatoes and gravy) and a lager. I went back to the hostel and met my roomates who, of course, were from Buffalo and Syracuse : P Small world. The next morning I was up at 5, no problem since I went to bed early due to jetlag, and walked to Hyde Park. I saw the beautiful rose gardens and then decided to go to breakfast in the nearby neighborhood of Chelsea. Only, it wasn’t as nearby as I thought. I walked for about 45 minutes to get there and, in the usual fashion, I couldn’t find the exact place my guidebook suggested, so I settled for a little French bakery. It began to rain lightly so I waited it out and then headed back to Knightsbridge, where all the high-end shopping is. I explored Harrod’s for a while and a few other stores and then headed back towards Victoria station to catch the bus to the airport. All in all I had a good enough time in London, but I’m glad I only stayed one day. I think that it would be MUCH better to go with someone to London. It’s sort of lack-luster when you’re by yourself. I was thrilled to be heading to Greece anyway, and as an added “bonus” I could see the Dalmation Islands of Croatia from the plane window!