Several Days in the Life of Chris' Greek Journal

I must have been pretty naive to believe that going to Greece, 1/2 way around the world wasn't going to be at least interesting. It's as if I was put in a slingshot and flung here without hardly any knowledge of the fact that a place such as this would exist. Actually, I didn't come here by slingshot. I got here well on my own. A hard-won journey made by a plane.

I spent about 24 hours traveling from my beautiful home to the next time I rested my head—in my almost destination of Athens. I flew from Portland, Oregon to Cincinnati, Ohio with very little excitement. I was on the plane for several hours and besides the fact that I was supposed to be at a window seat and landed the worst aisle seat in history. Thing were fine.

Well other than the fact that the fever I was running for the previous 5 days had not yet decided to break! It continued on. I have a tough body, and my body had a very tough time fighting it off!

During my barely 45 minute stay in Cincinnati, I found a little coffee shop and asked for a hot water. When I pulled my money out to pay, this nice lady waved me off. In fact, she looked at me like I was crazy for wanting to pay. I brewed me up some Good Earth tea while I waited for my first European adventure—a flight to Paris.

While I sat there listening to the stewardess translate everything into French, I thought "how many of these people around me could possible actually BE French." I found out that it was quite a few, as I turned out to be the only one of two Americans on the plane. If they weren't from France or England, they were actually making a connecting flight to Bombay—go figure. I adored listening to the French men speak in their accents.

I was on that plane to France for 7 hours, and I managed to sleep most of the way. My fever continued on. It's a good thing that the flight wasn't fully full, and the seat next to me was open. Less germs to spread on! I made it through being sick AND air sick with the wonderful invention of 7-UP. I would recommend flying Delta. We all had personal TV's with many channels. The food was actually edible, and I ate my chicken breast while flipping between Friends, Finding Nemo and Jerry Maguire.

My flight to Paris got in 45 minutes late. I missed my layover, which I can understand. There was ice and snow surrounding the Paris landscape and we had a hard time landing. I ended up waiting in a very long line to get myself on another plane. I prayed that one would leave the same day, and I got my wish, it was 3 hours off. I got my ticket and walked toward the terminal.

The Paris airport is very confusing. Whole walls open up, but you have to know where to ask! When I asked if they could hand inspect my film at security, no one understood me, and I wasn't going to try my French. They ended up calling the police to deal with me. The officer that came told me to open up my film canister, and I had the hardest time communicating that it was film. They still didn't get it, so I told them to send it through the x-ray machine. It's dark in there was the response I got. I let it slide, and went on.

When I went to wait for my plane, I was very tired, and I fell asleep. They kept making announcements about delays, but they were all in French, and I had to learn how to hear the language that I only know how to read. I was able to do that very quickly. And of course my flight was delayed due to ice and snow in Paris. I was cold, and I was tired. I fell asleep on the plane for 3.5 hours while they took me to Athens.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do when I got to Athens with all of the ferries on strike and all. I found a travel agency. The woman there told me that yes; the ferries were on strike until Saturday at least! She was very nice, and gave me the way to a cheap hotel and some maps. I bought a bus ticket for bus E95 to take me to Syntagma Square. Not everything is written in Latin. They have it all in Greek. Don't believe the travel books. They are wrong. I missed my stop on the bust because I had no idea where I was.

When I asked someone where to go, he grabbed my bags and hauled them and I off the bus. He told me to follow him while he left my bags on the side of the road with a friend, and he took me to get directions. I was told to walk 200 meters that way (and points) to get to the metro. So I walk 200 meters in indicated direction and, "Do you speak English, Please? Where is the metro?" "Lady, it's 200 meters that way (points in indicated direction, same as before)." So I walk 200 meters in indicated direction and, "Do you speak English, Yes? Where is the metro?" "The WHAT?" "Umm metro, underground, train, the L the T the…." "Underground,… OH Miss, it's 200 meters that way (points in indicated direction, same as before)." GRRR. So I walk 200 meters again, and it IS there this time. Athens has a very nice metro that was just completed for the Olympics not months before. It's designed the exact same way as in DC, so I'm sure that it is American crafted because the more I learn about Greece, the more Xeno (non Greek) it seems.

I took the easy-to-use metro to my stop OMONIA Square and then got off. I was looking for my place to stay, the Alma Hotel. I had become so exhausted from carrying around my 56-pound suitcase, so I stopped many times and asked for directions. Everyone was very nice. Especially because I was asking other hotel owners how to get to their competitions.

After a long walk and a great workout, I finally made it. I got my key and checked out my small, two bed room. Very 70's like room that was clearly practical. I fell asleep and slept for 13 hours waking up in a bed of sweat. I think the fever finally broke. I was glad because I wasn't sure if I was going to have it forever or not.

I checked out at 11:00 after exploring the Greek traditions of not flushing toilet paper and checking out (by actual use) the Greek version of a shower. It's just a hand held head with water coming out. Nothing too incredibly fancy, and quite odd to a spoiled American. And so, me and my 56-pound suitcase set off on a new journey. Only I was smart this time, I had two backpacks before, and I consolidated it to being just a big bag and a backpack. I knew this travel was going to be easier than before. We set out to find Syntagma square, and using the metro, I had to problems doing just that.

However, after I got off the metro, I spent no less than 2 hours trying to find my next hotel, and after walking half way to the Parthenon and back many times (literally) I hailed a taxi. He charged me 5 Euro to go the 1 block away from my hotel that I was, but I may never have found it without him.

The second room was no more promising than the first. However I got to put my things down, so I had the day to explore. My hotelkeeper gave me a map of Athens and sent me on my way around. I talked to no less than 15 travel agencies inquiring on how to get to Paros. All reactions were the same.

"The ferry is on strike."
"I know, but I NEED to get to Paros, I can't stay in Athens."
"Oh… Hire a room, stay for a while, drink some wine, have some dinner, all the same. No worries."

And of course I was worried, and so I went to the next travel agency trying to find a flight or a fisherman who was willing to take me to a small island in the middle of the Aegean.

I did, however, manage to get someone to take pity on me and get me booked on standby for a flight to the island. If that failed, I'd no idea what lengths I would go to get to the island. I also went to visit the Acropolis. It was just incredible, and I can't write too much here about it because it just took my breath away. The people that made the place over hundreds of years had such care of what went on, and even small things like the place where the bronze sculptures were forged were all carefully planned out. It was in incredible experience I would never forget, and of course I took photos. Definitely worth the 12 Euro to get in. Also, it was simply incredible to see the writing that had been put on stones in 600 BC in actual ancient Greek. The Acropolis had all the makings of ancient perfections.

Socrates, Plato and all other incredible Greeks walked on that hill as well. I was with greatness. The sculptures that have survived to today are simply amazing. Many of them were broken down, and it just reminds you how much time can change things, even stone!

It's not how I thought it would be at all. However, it's humbling to understand that some communication, some sculpture that was made in ancient times still exists today, and I saw the originals. That is so priceless. The preservationists are incredible and I'm so honored that I chose to work with a profession/major that is so competent and beautiful. The lengths they go to to preserve our history is just simply amazing. I was in my place on that little hill—for sure.

After the Acropolis, I went to Piraeus, the port city, to see if I could get any data or see anything that had to do with the ferry strike. I saw it for myself, docked boats, it really wasn't exciting. Docked boats and empty ticket booths. I then went back to Athens for the most incredible thing. I had a Greek meal. It would have been much better I'm sure if I had done it in the traditional Greek way with people all around and a family, but I did it in my own unique style as the girl traveling alone.

I asked the waiter what it was that I should eat, and he took me into the kitchen and recommended that if I liked cooked onions that I have this. I told him to serve it up. It ended up being veal and onions. Neither of which I eat, but when I go into it with my large brick of feta cheese I learned to enjoy it very much. I ate quite a bit of the meal, and then I was brought Crème du la crème ON THE HOUSE. The people were so nice, and the food was so good. I was well taken care of.

One interesting fact is that I had dinner next to and practically ate with an actor from the play Cats. He was from Sydney, but he brought his wife and child to Athens to practice the play he is doing on tour around the world!

I finally figured out the Greek phone as well, and I was able to call Jared.

3.4.05 I couldn't sleep at all because I was so bloody worried about the stupid ferry strike, and I wondered if I was going to be able to get myself out of Athens or not. Also, the Greeks must have a theory about using clocks because the only inkling I could get of the time was the fact that the news was talking about the close of the New York Stock Exchange, which didn't really help, as I didn't really know the time difference or if the news was old or breaking! I woke up, watched the same newsreel I had watched all night and took a shower.

I must say that showers are much more tricky in Greece. I may come home with only half of my head clean, as I challenge you to hold something while trying to shampoo your long, blonde hair. Getting the soap out of the bottle, scrubbing your head and making a lather are all tricky with only one hand.

After my shower, I went out in search of a travel agency who could get me to Paros by any means. I had my fingers crossed that the standby flight was going to work out for me. When I made it to the front desk, the man that was there saw me and joyously announced that the ferry strike had ended.

Incredibly happy, I went out in search of an agent that would be able to get me on the first boat. The sun had just come up and it was beautiful to see all of the Greek people on their way to work. The fresh bread smelled excellent. I did manage to find a travel agency that was open. I walked in and asked about the "boat ticket" and the lady said, "not today." I held back my tears as I left to go back to the hotel.

Sad, broken-hearted and confused, I went back to the hotel where the man insisted that he was going to get me to Paros that day. He got on the phone and in rapid and loud Greek he managed to get me at least a reserved ticket on a ferry! I called another travel agency and asked them to get me a ticket printed right now. They accommodated me, and it as incredible! I had then in my possession a ticket for the 3:00 (15:00) ferry that was going to take me at last to my final destination. I grabbed my bag and checked out.

Though I was again stuck with a 56-pound bag and nothing to do. I made my way to Syntagma Square and looked at the short, ripe orange trees while I felt the breeze go across my face. There I sat in Syntagma Square. It means "constitution" and was good news for me. The square is a nice little plaza where people get off the metro and talk and smoke (as all Greeks do). There are fountains and orange trees and birds and everything. It is such a nice, quaint little place.

Here are some comments I have about the Greek lifestyle.
• I say, "I need to get to Paros." They say, "No worries, go in three days when the strike ends. Rent a room, drink some wine, talk to people and get something to eat."
• People here are very laid back.
• Everyone you see is either smilish or stylish.
• There are no people trying to force you to buy their goods in the square. You can sit just peacefully!
• They are VERY open to helping and talking to foreign people.
• I was lugging my overstuffed and over heavy luggage up the staircase because the dumb American inside of me didn't see the bloody elevator right there. A man walked over, grabbed my bag and hauled it up the stairs without saying a word. After hearing my large and prolonged thank you, he turned to me, said, "There is nothing to thank," in his wonderful Greek accent and walked away.
• And I've come to the conclusion that the only way to not be a Xeno (non-Greek) is to not be a Xeno. I'm going to try it out, but it's very hard to speak a language you know little of to a pro.