The past week has been the most memorable in many ways. The moment I was no longer with any friends or people I knew, that was when there was a notable change. Beginning to walk away from a karaoke bar, knowing that it would be more than twelve hours before I would again have a secure place to be, safely on a train. And then arriving at the train station, only to find that it was not open in the middle of the night, most likely because of people like me who wanted to sleep there. And then, of course, the train to northern Italy, with the connecting train never coming because of a strike. And meeting three guys from Wisconsin who were backpacking for a month after studying abroad in London. And then taking the first train out of there to the next stop just out of the mountain ranges, where I caught such a memorable train to Rome where I had no reserved seat due to the strike, and was forced to sit on a fold-out seat all night in the very very very cold. And then connecting from Rome to Bari, where I had my first real meal (#prizza and wine #duh) in a great long while and met two French-Canadian girls from Montreal.
We got along so well right off the bat that we pooled our resources to make dinner and bedding on the comfortably-carpeted floor of the ferry. I snuggled closely with one of the girls because of the cold, but I suspected ulterior motives on her part because, well I am a perfect specimen, only slightly less so after having such arduous travels.
The next day when we arrived in Patras, Greece, the girls offered for me to stay at their hostel in Athens, at which they had booked a double private room. My sleeping bag and I were delighted. This invitation was partly because I convinced them to join me in a trip to Santorini, Greece, which was reportedly quite possibly the most beautiful island in the world. With Blue Star Ferry, it is also discounted 30% for Eurail pass holders, which made it affordable. In Patras, we opted for the 2 euro taxi rather than the 1 euro bus ride to the station because one was immediate and the other was an hour wait, and the suspiciously (but apparently genuine) kind taxi driver informed us that free Eurail pass bus to Kiato, Italy (where the train to Athens was) actually was located at the train station, rather than the bus station. We arrived just in time for the bus, and were awed at the scenery for a little over two hours as we traversed the terrain to Kiato. Upon reaching this destination, we boarded the train to Athens airport on accident. The port of Piraeus, where the hostel was located and where the ferry would depart from, was on a different track that would become more apparent when the rail split. Confused at this, we got out of the train to reassess the situation and wait for the right train. The conductor asked out of his window where we were headed, and we told him, and he told us to get back in until a certain stop that I cannot recall now (it was two words though). We obeyed and got off at the correct stop, and the conductor this time got out of his train and pointed at the track we would be taking to get to Piraeus. The Greek have been ever so helpful and kind.
So, to clarify, both the bus and train to get from Patras to Athens were free and took 4-5 hours total.
The Athens metro system was different from those I had seen in London and Paris. The tickets we bought were good for an hour and a half and cost under 2 euro. The downside was that we didn’t get to see much of Athens because of how long it took us to find our hostel and purchase ferry tickets with the Eurail pass discount, which you must do in person.
Traveling with the Canadians was a welcome relief from the forlorn traveling I had done for the days previous. I had prayed to God for American friends that day and He delivered, just with people from a little further north than I had expected. In the hostel that night, we celebrated with what the souvlaki (gyro) chef told us was a great local drink, called ouza. I was the only one who remotely enjoyed it because it tastes like absinthe, but without being green. I had already acquired a taste for it, but it’s still illegal in Canada. Since then, I have learned that it is indeed a local drink that is made cheaply and easily, to the point that in stores here, you can go to the alcohol section and know that the big unlabeled bottles are not water. I repeat, they are not water. They are ouza.
We camped on the Santorini boat (leaving at 7:30 in the morning requires some sleep time on the ferry) and passed island after magnificent island. Santorini was the last stop, and the gorgeous view gave us assurance that we had made the right choice in our destination.
We were greeted at the port by our villa’s bartender (who doesn’t like to drink) who drove us to the villa. Villa Manos was very much like a hotel, a 15-minute walk from Fira/Thira, the picturesque city you see when you think about Santorini.
Being thrifty travelers, we enjoyed walking around and browsing restaurants until we realized we couldn’t afford anything. So we bought souvlaki with pita and a beer and sat on a bench overlooking the gorgeous sunset. We finished the night off by looking at more bars and restaurants we couldn’t afford to visit, and went back to the villa.
The next day, we were determined to have a donkey ride from Fira proper down to the Old Port, which was apparently an important part of anyone’s stay in Santorini. It was 5 euros for the donkey ride, and we made the mistake of riding the donkey down and walking back up instead of the other way around. This method is exhausting.
Following this, we visited Oía/Ia, the northernmost portion of the island. There is an old fort thing there that gives a great view of the island.
We went back to our villa from there and worked on a bottle of wine, then went out looking for some place we could afford. We bought souvlaki with pita and a beer apiece, and, after eating, found that we could finish our drinks inside one of the bars. We also visited a club that looked as if it’d be really cool if it had more than five people in it already.
The next day, the Canadians left, but not before the villa owners gave us a bottle of wine (I let the Canadians have it) and took a picture with us. I appreciated how tricksy they were in ending it on such a high note. (They normally charged 10 euros for that wine).
I made my way to Perissa, the most popular beach town on Santorini. The black sand apparently comes from the island resting right next to an active volcano. The rooms are cheaper on this part of the island (I’m in present tense now because I’m writing in my hostel room). Of course, I’m paying for a 6-person hostel bunk room, but because it’s the low season, they upgraded me to a 2-person bedroom. They told me I would likely get a roommate, but it’s my third day here and there’s no sign of one. Outside I have a poolside (though the pool is empty) balcony with a pull-out laundry hanging thing, which I really do appreciate since it costs me nothing to do laundry as long as I can easily dry it.
It is Easter today. I tried going to church, but I think I was late and also don’t speak/read Greek, which can prevent a human from navigating these parts very effectively. So I instead read my Bible and went to the beach. The unhappy loneliness has set in against the introversion that had taken over after so much time with the Canadians. I don’t know how I’m going to find a balance for this, but I need to. Hopefully I’ll be smart about making time to be introverts when my sister comes to Europe.
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