An Eventful start to Athens
Of course, you plan something, and most of Europe has a way of laughing in your face. I’ve gotten relatively good at planning for the unplanned, so this day really turned out to be nothing short of normal. Our train route was under construction which sent us on a mad dash of busses and connecting trains through tiny Italian hills and valleys. Scenic would be an underscore, but anxiety loomed as no one spoke English and we just followed the masses. There were no explanations, assistants, and or helpful fellows to say ‘Indeed you are on your way to Bari’. As a matter of fact we probably were a coin flip from ending up in the Alps. Luckily our dense herding instincts worked out, and we arrived in Bari within a few hours of our original scheduled hour. As time is but a suggestion and not a measurement, your bus may or may not come. And in the case it doesn’t come, you get angry. While I was busy trying my best not to get angry I watched all the bus drivers, a whopping 13, who should’ve been on their routes, all sitting around enjoying a few Winston’s and each other’s conversation. While as a normal on looker I would make a mental note of how charmingly laid back these transactions seem, but because I was getting a first hand detailed account of exactly why my bus was nowhere to be found and 23 minutes late, I was more or less extremely irritated. Luckily for Erik and I we’d met some really great guys from Toronto who’d been keeping us busy telling tales from across the border.
I was doing my best to listen, but also doing something that I HATE HATE (HATE!) when other people do amidst a conversation. I was checking my watch. Under any other circumstance I’d hope that I’d be stricken down for my horrible manners and social indecencies, but this was a different matter. I was three miles from a 15 hour ferry that had my name on it. Later over sooner, our bus arrived. After a tense couple of miles we arrived at the port and rushed through the miles of terminal options to arrive at the end of the gated area which housed the ticket office of our ferry.
We went through the 30 minute process of getting our tickets and boaridng passes sorted out, and were on our way to Patras. A sigh of relief and dread at the night to come. Our ferry from Croatia had been a glorified tin can with 1973 air plane seats littered in cigarette holes. I don’t know if we hit the lottery or were just all but blind for the last one, but we scored the mother load. We had comfy, cushy reclining seats with a dimly lit room, televisions, a common area, a café, and an area to walk outside. This ferry was a day and night difference!! And a small yet important tid bit- we were traveling on good Friday, and thank the lord for Catholicism’s hub being in Italy and not in Greece because everyone was coming into the great land as we were going out. I had a poor to decent night sleep, yet ten fold from what I expected. An overall win by all comparisons.
They must’ve caught wind of Italy’s time as a suggestion way of being, because as the ferry pulled in 45 minutes late, all the Grecians were not the least surprised. They cram us as tight as sardines in the de-embarkment area, and we wait patiently. I’ve become a good waiter on almost all accounts. One of these exceptions is unreasonable special exclusions. For instance, being Greek. Did you know that is an automatic pass to get you off a ferry first? Well, to be fair- it wasn’t us just Erik and I that were waiting, it was everyone that wasn’t from Greece. This tacked an additional 30 minutes on, which left me.. well, pissed. We said good bye to our easily catchable transfer to Athens, and hello to a new departure with a 2 hour waiting gap.
I haven’t mentioned that on travel days I assume the shape of a 6 legged turtle. My pack protrudes a good 4 feet out from behind me and I’m sprouting appendages all over the place. A purse here, tennis shoes there, groceries on the side, and my sanity trailing behind.
So you can imagine that when I FELL DOWN THE STAIRS OF THE SHIP, it was like an oversized turtle smashing slowly and curtly against every edge and banister available. It looks like I broke my pride in over 13 places. While I wasn’t hurt, I was highly irritated, and even more embarrassed. I was wedged in between the steps, and for the life of me, couldn’t manage to get it all together. People laughed, and with good reason. How could I care??!! I was on the ground and knew what I must look like. The only thing that left me like a flailing turtle on my back was that a majority of the laughers were the first place V.I.P. Grecians already down the stair case (mind you ones I waited a LOOOOONG time more than).
Our trip still has a good four to five hours left and we’re on hour thirty. I thought I’d write this down while I had a crisp and concise sense of humor about it all. Plus, I know that all of these details will fade within moments, because let me tell you- Greece is BEAUTIFUL. So what if I slide into the country like a greased up manatee? I’m here, it’s beautiful, and the fun starts NOW, one bruise at a time.
Update-
Just got in. 36 hours in total. Good night.
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