Inside the ferry, things were nicer. The seats were nicer than those on an airline and reclined for sleeping. Unlike the airline seats that recline an inch, these seats actually reclined similar to a normal recliner. There were open spaces all throughout the seated section so I slept on a row of four vacant chairs. This was preferable to sleeping on the deck, but the ferry leaves the light on with no dimmer, making it hard to sleep. It is best to keep a little packet they give you on most night trains through Europe that contains earplugs and a handy night mask. Food on the ferry was really expensive so we opted for a Greek salad and a plate of rice and pork. We didn’t get any drinks because they cost several euro. For example, one small 8 ounce orange juice was almost four euro ($5.60 US). They even charged .40 cents for a small butter tab for your morning toast. We will be hitting a grocery store before we ever board a ferry again.
Just before getting off the ferry I met a nice couple from Argentina who were coming to see family in Athens they hadn’t seen for seven years. Because the ferry had a private line that charged 20 euro for their bus fare into the city, I asked her to ask her family if they knew of a cheaper way. They pointed us to a free bus that took us downtown. Once away from the port we exited the bus with several other backpackers in tow and wound our way down the streets looking for the bus station. After about 20 minutes of walking in the extreme summer heat of Greece we found the station called “Katol.” Dee and Dave were with us as well as two other travelers from England named George and Ella. We worked out our bus tickets to get into the heart of Athens and to our hostel. Gypsy children walked along our line with their hand out begging for money. I offered an adult some food I had in my bag and she only scowled at me and jerked her hand away.
The bus ride into the heart of Athens took three hours. I used this time to familiarize myself with some phrases from a book I borrowed from Dee. Because I was unable to read the alphabet or pronounce any of the sounds adequately, I spoke to a couple sitting across the aisle on the bus to ask them for some help with my pronunciation. Nicolas and Semina were their names and they both spoke English very well although Semina was a little more shy than her boyfriend. Nicolas was from Cypruss and Semina from Patras. They helped me with pronunciation for the length of the trip. By the time we arrived in Athens I could say, hello “yassas”, goodbye “andio”, thank you “efcharisto’” and you’re welcome “parakalo’”. Greek is extremely hard, and it’s even harder when you’re trying to understand the construction of the language from phrases found in a travel book. There is no grammar like the gender of articles and how verbs are conjugated. In terms of grammar, the only trick I learned was that I could put “poli” on the end of some phrases to mean “very.” For example, “efcharisto’ poli” meant thank you very much. The language barrier here is very frustrating. I’ve found that I’ve resorted to gestures for much of my communication. These gestures have been quite primitive. In fact I feel as though I’ve been caught in a never-ending game of charades and pictionary. I’ve resorted to drawing on pieces of paper (like playing pictionary) or holding a postcard and then mimicking licking a stamp and placing it on the postcard (much like charades).
Thanks to Nicolas and Semina we were able to negotiate the metro and exit at the Victoria station. Once we climbed the stairs and exited the station we entered a park. There was not a single Greek-looking person around. The park was filled to capacity with middle eastern men and some women wearing berkas. Middle eastern music was playing and some small children were watching a puppet show. As we walked through the square and down the main street we realized that this was not a very Greek section of Athens (we learned later that this section was called “little Afghanistan). Asking directions from several people (who happened to give very opposite directions) caused us to walk back and forth in front of the same groups of dark individuals. We finally arrived at the hostel and checked ourselves in. Our rooms were on the third floor but there was an elevator, which we used to haul all our bags up to our room.
We had made tentative plans to meet Nicolas and Semina in a busy square at the center of Athens but had a hard time using the hostel’s internet and their wifi was down. After some messages back and forth using FaceBook we managed to meet up at a very busy square called Monastiraki. The square was alive with young Greeks and there were many restaurants and bars. Nicolas chose a restaurant and negotiated pricing with the waiter. At first the host didn’t seem entirely pleased to have six tourists at his table with a savvy local from Cyprus but when he returned with the food and we feasted. The plates consisted of two kabobs each on a pita with potatoes and stewed tomatoes on top. A large Greek salad, a large bowl of saziki and bread sat in the center for all to share. The meal was delicious and we ate until we were full. For the six of us the tab was only 40 euro and would have been much more had it not been for Nicolas. Above us the Acropolis was illuminated and made for an amazing atmosphere. It’s no wonder the restaurants in that area are busy.
After dinner we walked up to the square just below the Parliament building. There were many protestors and activists in the square but they were all peaceful and were singing some song with English lyrics that I didn’t recognize. There were two guards outside the parliament building who were going through a military ritual when we arrived. They wore, what appeared to be, traditional military garb, including high hats, tights and shoes with large leather adornments on them. They were high stepping and all their movements were in unison, in slow motion and very exaggerated. The “dance” took about 20 minutes and when they were finished a soldier dressed in a contemporary uniform announced in English that pictures could be taken in front of the soldiers.
Because the metros had all closed, we had to take a taxi back to the hostel. The driver told us that a Greek man had been heading to take his wife to the hospital and a Palestinian had knifed him and killed him for his camera. This happened about five blocks from our hostel. That evening, using maps, we decided that a safer route home would be from the Larissa metro station instead of the Victoria one.
The next full day was spent walking around Athens with Dee, Dave and a new friend named “Poncho.” Poncho is from Mazatlan and is backpacking through Europe as well. We all climbed to the top of the Acropolis. The weather has been so hot here that even the Greeks are complaining. I’ve decided that while I’m in Greece I’m just going to have to settle on being wet constantly. From the second we step out of the hostel to the moment we come back to our air-conditioned room we are soaked. The keys we were given upon check in at the hostel have a little plastic card attached to them. Upon entering the room there is a card slot what enables you to turn the air conditioning on. This is designed so that when you leave the hostel you don’t leave your air conditioning on all day while you’re gone. The front desk controls this by having you leave your key while you go out for the day. I took a business card I’d been given on the street and put it into the slot and the air conditioner still worked. I passed this information on to Poncho and Dee and Dave as well. During our stay, whenever we’d go out, we’d always come back to cool rooms instead of having to wait about an hour for the air to cool the room.
On our last full day in Greece, Carolyn and I went to the post office to get stamps and mail postcards home. We were invited to eat with Dee, Dave and Poncho but we had to buy our tickets and prepare our bags for tomorrow so we ended up going to the market near the Larissa station. We bought pita bread, kalamata olives, cucumber, tomato, feta, tsaziki (sp), waters and a fanta all for under 5 euro. We sat in a small park near the station and (with a knife/spoon/fork kit we bought at the store) prepared our meal. We ended up making 5 pitas filled with the fresh local ingredients. We have found that in the delis the ingredients are much more fresh, one just has to be brave enough to try to communicate with the people who work in the deli. Using my clenched fist, I managed to convey the quantity of all of our orders. I just pointed, then showed them my hand and they understood that the quantity I desired was about the size of my fist.
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