I think it is funny that, after being here for almost four months, I will have less than ten blog posts to show for it. How sad!! I know it’s been a while, but, with my 15 page paper safely turned in, I can finally blog about my Fall Break.
On October 31st, my good friend Patricia and I began our fall break journey to Greece. We left that Friday evening by bus that got us into Milan centrale around midnight. Although we had planned to take another bus from Milan centrale to the Milanese airport, our first bus was late and we missed it. So, instead of paying 10 Euro each and taking a bus for an hour, we had to catch a taxi. At midnight. In the pouring rain. Oh, but it gets better! We finally hailed a taxi and found out that it would cost us 80 Euro to get to the airport. Without any other options and a 5:00 a.m. flight to catch, we reluctantly agreed to the ridiculous price.
We later regretted that decision. Our taxi driver was a middle-aged Italian named Marco. He decided that it was his duty to drive as slowly as possible while telling us all sorts of inappropriate things that occur on in 3rd world countries and his risqué adventures therein. When we finally got to the airport, we practically leapt out of the taxi, faces bright red with embarrassment. It wasn’t completely awful, since I only understood two thirds of what he said, but I had understood enough to find it uncomfortable. However, Marco never seemed to notice our repeated topic changes, so perhaps he was just trying to be informative. Haha.
We spent the wee hours of the night in the Milan airport attempting to sleep (in shifts, of course). Unfortunately, Patricia can’t sleep sitting up and I had a terrible allergy attack and couldn’t breathe so we mainly sat there watching the hours go by. For a big city like Milan, I was surprised at how small the airport seemed. Or maybe that’s just because it was more or less empty when we were there. When 4:00 a.m. rolled around I could not have been happier – the only café’ in the terminal had opened!!! We had gone through our supplies of tangerines and snacks and I was finally able to breathe, so a little food seemed in order. After refueling my tank, Patricia and I headed through security and toward our gate.
As we made our way through the terminal I suddenly heard a voice behind me yell, “Senora!! Senora!” Being the nice person that I am, I turned around and came face to face with the person to whom the voice belonged. She was an old woman dressed entirely in black, with a black head scarf and a lazy eye. Her face was frantic as she waved her boarding pass in front of me, speaking something similar to Italian. I discovered that she was on our flight and explained this to her as I led her to the correct gate. From then on, she barely left my side. On escalators she would grab my arm with surprising strength, and I ended up having to walk her to the bathroom. It is what I would want someone to do for my grandmother, so I didn’t mind too much. I helped her onto the plane and, when we finally said goodbye in Athens, Greece I helped her to the baggage claim. Thus, I had adopted a little old Italian lady.
Upon arriving in Greece at 10 a.m., Patricia and I were exhausted. We briefly met up with my friend Bri (from CMC) who is studying in Athens this semester and caught a ferry to our final destination: the island of Paros. The ferry was much more amazing than expected and we made the most of it by sleeping, playing games, and ordering different things to eat…then dropping some on the ground…then eating them anyways. Hey! We were tired and it was expensive. The five-second rule definitely counts. When we arrived that night into Parikia, the city on Paros in which we were to spend 6 days, we could not have been happier – beds were only moments away! Our hotel manager, George, picked us up from the docks and we were asleep before hitting the pillows. We slept like the dead.
The next day we awoke nice and late and decided to go to the beach. After getting directions from the hotel receptionist on the best beach only 30 minutes away, we set off. An hour and a half later, our feet blistered and bleeding, we finally arrived at the beach. We should have learned then not the believe Greeks when they tell you how far something is. But we didn’t. Anyway, we lounged on the beach and took the quickest of dips into the cold Mediterranean. I had expected much warmer…but we were California-strong and went in the water anyway!!! With our feet in such bad shape, we called a taxi to pick us up and take us back to the hotel. While we received a few furtive glances of surprise at our towel-clad disarray, the driver politely said nothing.
The funniest thing about the Greek language is that there seems to be no set translation for names. We saw signs for cities spelled in at least 4 different ways – and these were highway signs. Drios, for example, was also Drio, Dryos, Dryo, and Drioss. It was an adventure to figure out if you were where you were supposed to be or not.
Anyway, that first night on the island was our 44 year old hotel manager’s birthday and he invited us to come celebrate with him. When we ask what we would be doing he replied, “What you want?” and when we asked what time, he replied, “When you want?” which got us nowhere. We ended up going out to his favorite local haunt and trying Ouzo for the first and, for me, last time. It was an adventure that we learned from due to the headaches Patricia and I were stuck with the next day.
The next day was Monday. Patricia and I had wanted to rent bikes and peddle around the island, so George had promised the night before that he would help find a bike rental shop that was open. This was a bit difficult as we were visiting in the off-season. However, he was able to find us two sturdy bikes with which Patricia and I set off to ridethe 8 miles to Naoussa, the next largest town. The receptionist claimed that it was about an hour and a half ride. It turned out that we overestimated our athletic ability; an 8 mile ride up and down rolling hills was much more difficult than we imagined and took us almost 4 hours. After that, we didn’t believe anyone’s estimations of time and distance. By the time we arrived in Naoussa, we were sweaty, sore, and regretting our decision since the town was almost entirely empty. Luckily, we were able to call the same cab driver as the day before to pick us, and our bikes, up and take us back to Parikia. We tipped him well.
That night, we walked around Parikia and stumbled across the best dinner of the trip at a little tavern near the wharf. I had the most delicious rabbit and Patricia was able to find some good vegetarian options. As soon as we arrived, the cook took us into the kitchen to show us what was available for dinner. Turns out that this is common practice for small towns – menus are there for reference, but not used to order from. You eat from what is already cooked in the kitchen or you go somewhere else.
The next day we relaxed, our bottoms sore from the bikes. We went again to a beach, but a closer one this time. Again, we got into the cold water which received the praise of an equally brave Greek woman who must have been in her 60’s out for a morning dip. That evening, we met an American boy who was studying abroad at an art school on the island and we had dinner. I fell in love after the first bite of tzatziki – a dip made of feta and cucumber.
On the following day, we rented a car to more efficiently explore Paros. We drove all over, and man, it felt GOOD! It had been months since Patricia or I had driven a car and we definitely missed it. We drove along the perimeter of the island, stopping at a bar/restaurant called “Malibu” for lunch. After we had eaten, two Greek men in their late 20’s bought us each a shot of tequila. Which we politely refused repeatedly. We left as soon as we could, but ended up being followed by the aforementioned men. After some 007-esque maneuverings, we thought we had lost them and so went one our way to a famous beach nearby. As we got out of our car, the men drove up from the opposite direction and asked us, in very broken English, if we would have coffee with them that night. After turning them down on no uncertain terms they left with incredible speed. While we acted unmoved, we had been rather concerned since we left the restaurant. Whenever we saw a car like theirs for the rest of the day, our hearts started racing a bit.
However, the beach we discovered was famous for good reason: the sand was the softest we had ever felt. So, since we arrived while the sun was setting, be decided to come back during the day the following morning. We rented the car for a second day and had a wonderful time. That afternoon, we had scheduled a horseback tour of the coast near Naoussa. I had taken horseback riding lessons for some time as a child, but Patricia, a sympathetic vegetarian, had not. It was the most fun I had had the whole trip!!! I loved every minute – we even rode along the seaside. It was amazing. And Patricia might have even had a little fun, too. That night was our last on Paros and we celebrated by going to a bar that we’d visited before and playing videogames with the 60something female bartender and her friend. It was the best day ever.
The next morning we took the ferry back to Athens and spent the afternoon wandering around the Syntagma area until Bri got back from a class trip. Then she, and some of her study-abroad friends, took us out to a fun dinner in Bri’s part of town. That night, Patricia and I slept on chair cushions on Bri’s floor. It was like a sleepover! Hanging out with Bri again was a lot of fun and makes me excited for CMC.
Another funny thing about Greece is that the sewage system is so old that you are not allowed to flush your toilet paper. You must throw it away instead. Which can be awkward if your hotel’s cleaning staff forget to empty your trash for several days. Not that I’m speaking from experience, mind you!
The following morning we awoke bright and early to catch our plane back to Milan. Bri saw us to the bus stop and we hugged goodbye. After taking public transportation to the airport – and not getting lost once, I might add – we were on our way back “home”. By this time we were excited to get back to Siena and our homes away from home. However, we had planned to spend a night in Milan and so we did. We spent the night in a hostel after seeing Milan’s fabulous duomo and slept, yet again, like the dead. Traveling takes it out of you!
The next day we looked around Milan some more before my camera finally died. Luckily, we got on the bus that would take us back to Siena shortly thereafter. However, during the trip the bus somehow became later and later, causing us to get in to Siena and hour and a half later than planned and me to be very grumpy. From the bus station in Siena it is necessary to take a bus to the town itself and then, for me, to walk about 20 minutes to my apartment. By the time I actually got back to my little abode, I was so happy to be home I forgot my grumpiness. And went to sleep.
