Greece I

Me, Anna, Grant on the Ferry before it embarked. That is Athens behind (in front?) of us.

The wonderful Grecian sunset from a very windy pinnacle.

Anna, Kristin, Grant at our favorite Greek restaurant. Grant looks so surprised because I was able to identify the 'power' button apart from the 'take picture' button.

After checking into our Paradise, we got some tasteful Greek food at the al fresco patio across the semi-paved road separting our nudist colony from the other thirteen residents of Mykonos. Situated on the patio, thankfully, was a restaurant serving traditional Greek dishes and a menu written in Greek, English, and a third language that could only be identified as Elfish. We had such a good experience at the restaurant that we returned for dinner, and then for dinner the next day too. Between those meals we rested on the sands of the Mediterranean in a tranquil and bronzing state. At one point we heard some blistering club music coming from the bar area, and we sent Grant to go check it out. He came back with only the phrase, "We'd better put on our blindfolds if we are going to go over there." I'm not sure how that differed from any other part of our beach, but nonetheless we did not venture to the barscene in order to find out.

The smooth and dulcet ripples of the Mediterranean were as gallant as the bar wasn't, and the chaisse lounges were longitudinally sufficient and stretched to hammock-perfection. I was quite surprised at how cold the water was, but on a 34~ centigrade day it was still preferred over the vertiginous sunshine baking its unworthy bathers. The climate of Greece is very arid. It is dry like a cell phone should be-but isn't always-such as when you drop it in the toilet while you are texting or you forget to take it out of your pocket when you put your jeans in the washer or when you get thrown into a pool (while it's still in your pocket) by your best friend on April Fool's Day. When those don't happen, your phone is pretty dry- like Greece! We, The Greece Crew, (as we called ourselves) watched the sunset from a hilltop after dinner and the beach. It provided a great homily to the day, not unlike an Even Song at Westminster Cathedral. From the beach to the sea to the cordial crest we reverenced the day and repented of all the nudity. The first day in Greece was adventurous and classically fecund.

An Introduction to the Paradise Hostel

Thank goodness for chaste women protecting their menfolk! What a great place!

There was copious amounts of space in our barrack! We just didn't even know what to do with all our stuff! The white walls were really well done, too.

Does this help you see what type of caliber our hostel was?

The adventuresome thing about hostels is that they run the whole gamut and you can never be sure what your accommodations are going to be when you reserve a living quarter (notice my careful choice of words there. See below). When we made the reservation for Mykonos we figured a hostel named "Paradise" must be an Elysium. What we learned, however, was that paradisiacal preferences are as varied as the hues of white available from Benjamin Moore. For instance, had we been gay nudists, the Paradise resort truly would have been idyllic! But, being straight raiment-ers, the setting was less than perfect. That is correct, our beach was a gay nude beach. How did we overlook that when we made our reservations? Alternatively, it's possible that the Grinch was just on Mykonos and stole all the clothes, so the naked men held hands to cope and to sing? I wouldn't rule it out, anyway. Well, when in Rome do as the Romans... so...
The theme of the trip was A-D-V-E-N-T-U-R-E and that's what we got. We got so much of it you'd think we were at an all-you-can-eat buffet serving adventure, adventuresome, adventurous and adventured. (That was a David original and it might get deleted before final publication.) When we saw our living quarter we were less than impressed. It wasn't much of a room, or anything for that matter. I think my window frame is bigger and less revealing than our room was. I'm impressed that they even fit two beds in there. I would describe our "twin bedroom" as a a bunker/barrack/Scout camp/trench/rabbit hole. It was in the beach camping division of the Paradise Hostel, and indeed our neighbors slept in roomy tents. Our campsite mates were the Senegalese beach vendors. It was ironic to get hawked a pair of sunglasses at 14:00 and then sleep next to the same guy at 20:00. The windows had some really fancy wooden slabs over them, and there was blood on the wall. The girls' one light didn't work, and amazingly we got the internet! It's funny to be offered the internet but not room for your suitcase.

The Grecian Aeroport

The Mediterranean Sea! If you look really closely you can see another island. I think maybe its Australia.

The Greece Crew: Anna, Kristin, Grant. Unfortunately I had just falled off the ledge right when the friendly Thai man took this picture for us.

Kristin's legs and me watching the Grecian sunset on our first evening.

After our Eiffel-tastic time in France, we ventured to Greece.

Our Aegean Flight #617 (Boston What What) was splendid and more than I ever imagined. A very attractive stewardess brought us delectable mints before we even took off, and the flight was so sparce you'd have thought the Swine Flu was onboard. We moved to an exit row and indulged in copious legroom. During the flight we (er, rather I think I was the only one on the whole plane) watched Pink Panther II. The flick made me laugh so hard I almost needed my oxygen mask released just to get enough inhlation. The dinner was a great Greek pasta dish with a buttered roll, some crackers and cheese, chocolate cake, and my favorite- a simple Greek salad. It was so simple it didn't even have lettuce- just a tomato, feta cheese, and a tomato.
Because our plane was landing at 23.50 and we were to report at the port with port at 6.35 -after taking an hour long dark, public bus ride, the X96, departing at 5.00- we really didn't see much use in reserving a hostel room. Luckily, it is the off sesason so we were able to get a nice room ensuite at the aeroport. We scoped out the entire aeroport and debated between sleeping on padded chairs, the couches at McDonald's, or the carpeted floor of a little nook next to the complimentary Chapel. The aeroport museum entrance was also enticing due to the classical music being played, but some other vagabonds beat us to it. There were people-not a few- sleeping all over the place all night. We decided we live by the Church, so we might as well live by it as well. (That was a Shakespearean play on words, thanks to Twelfth Night.) We found a little enclosed room next to Chapel that looked the most appropriate for our mixed gender accommodations. We had our own bathrooms, altars, and four walls with great windows viewing the security checkpoint and the duty free shop. Unfortunately, despite our lethargic conditions, the floor of the cranny was reminiscent of sleeping on a stale piece of moldy bread; the mold being compared with the carpet, including color, scent, and comfort level. The ground was unbecoming and crumbly. In addition, the temperature of the room began warm and Athenian, but quickly turned cool, then even quicker to ice chest levels. I have never wished for 4.35 to come so quickly in my entire life. I think I got .5 hours of restless sleep in three hours of attempts. One of my travel companions decided to wrap herself in scarves like a mummy in order to avoid any skin contact with the carpet. She was the only one who woke up without Leprosy. The last fantastic experience of the evening/morning was the matudinal Christians who had to step over us to pray, as if Beelzebub himself were throwing dead bodies in front of them in an attempt to stop their worship. At least we didn't have to worry about our baggage being stolen.
When the alarm clock finally clanged 4.35 we were all already awake and thrilled to have an excuse to release ourselves from the buttery moss of the carpet. As we changed clothes and burned our soiled pajamas, my brother made the optimistic comment that made the whole night worth it: “Well, I sure am impressed with the Christian worshipers between 1.00 and 3.00 AM at the Athens Aeroport Church!” How true it was- there were several people that stepped on us to get to their Church during those brief, wee morning hours. Between sticky carpet, stiff beds, pedestrian traffic, and no sleep, our first night in Athens was certainly an adventure.