Greeced up, wine downed, olived out and NZ bound

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Leaving behind beautiful Perissa, the lovely hosts, and animals that kept sounding like they were in their death throes, being forced to mate, or birthing 24/7, wasn’t hard when I knew another paradise came next.







And animal noises I found at Naxos too, the isle of agriculture, nude bathing and Greek god of inebriation, Dionysus.







Allowing 2.5 hours to get to Fira Port was only just adequate, as being shoulder-season the buses go only once a millennia, if that. Kids start and end school early on weekdays as in most hot countries, so timing any trip with that is meant to work best. Island logic reigns also I think!







A minimal 40 minute wait later and a bus arrived – but it seemed I had caused a commotion with my backpack, and initially thinking I was to wait for the next bus ‘there’, they implied with loud and wild Mediterranean gesturing I put it in the baggage hold, also over there. The angry bus boy turned all charming when I counted out $2.20 euros and paid my ticket, suggesting I had missed 10 cents, by saying I am from NZ. Phew, I thought he was about to murder me with his ticket book!!







Agio Anna in Naxos is 7km from Naxos’ port and rated as a ‘best beach’ in this area of Greece. Totally based on internet searching, I found Orama studios here to be very suitable, and a bargain given the time of year. Nikos met me at Naxos port, and some French ladies I got chatting to came along for the ride and also pulled up there for several nights. Beach here, restaurant there, bus here, nude beach over there (Plaka), supermarket down there…it was just perfect. I christened my arrival by diving into an impromptu motorbike ride…a ride on Nikos’ motorbike to the beach that found me holding him tight for dear life, as visions of carting my huge pack on one in Turkey came flooding back!







Nikos, a dab hand at welding tractors, hoeing his patch of dirt and keeping the place in order, trusted his other ‘motorbike’ to me for exploring. It was actually a push bike, and I made good use of it the next day. The wheels were all funky, having a plastic seat, rusted gears, cracking pedals and deflated tyres, so I was not going to win any speed records or for that matter pass my bike-light warrant of fitness with the bike police. The single speed mean machine got me to Dionysus’ sanctuary about 5km away, to acknowledge the god of inebriation, and onwards to the hub of Naxos via smelly and narrow country lanes, friendly shepherds and suspension testing pot holes.







The rear well and truly feeling the effects of a plastic seat (my knees were the suspension!), I coasted back to Agio Anna, taking in photos of the Apollo temple and Georges bay ruins on my way. Having swum the length of Prokopis that morning and been startled by a nudist on the main strip (sic), I veered back to the clothed section, where I’d have another, and another and another dip…..and contemplated if it is possible to have too much of a good thing!







The following day was equally relaxed – and being a Saturday there were no buses, or taxis for all I could spot. Nikos offered kindly to take me, thankfully in a car, to the ferry and extend my stay in the unit at no extra charge, and I slipped him one if my special Kiwi souvenirs for his efforts. Soon enough I was waiting with another Mama Greecia swapping terrible photos at the windy dock and onto the express boat to Athens. It was a double decker, and my seat 32A came complete with foggy window view and an accompaniment of Spanish speakers to get the brain ticking over in yet another language. And just when I had mastered ‘parakalo’ (please/ sorry), Yiasu (hello), efkharista (thank you!), and the entire Greek alphabet. Lucky that old maths calculus finally is of use!







We had a great ol’ yarn over the coming 3 hours, in Italio-Spanglish, amongst other things it was about the earthquakes, economic crisis, Greece’ crisis, unemployment rates, goods and service tax rates, average salary, housing prices….the newlyweds of the 4 Spanish speakers were a teacher and an economist so I found out, hence the direction of the conversation. Lovely Maria from Galicia then conspired a match make between me and her brother in law or various eligible male friends… hmmm, a Latino on the other side of the world I cannot communicate in same language well with, a recipe for success.







Overnighting outside Athens proved a good call, and at 27 euros a night was another great bargain. Though I do tire of the shower cubicles without a curtain and watering everything in the vicinity, the location 5 minutes walk from Voula beach and directly opposite the trams/ buses to airport was fantastic.







I had a swim the next day at clear watered Voula beach – imagine this scene…. homeless man cuddled up in blanket, solitary man in tight white shorts tinkering with his little ‘home’ (trinkets and rubbish), a lone coffee swilling lady, some people milling in the water and not actually swimming, packs of cyclists and runners….what, people EXERCISING!!!…what is wrong with this picture. Shedding some girth couldn’t go amiss with all that feta, but I was told by a friendly check-in man it is only 0.000000001% recurring of Greece that does so. Sadly, a shed load of rubbish lay about, the recycling efforts being limited, yet they seem streets ahead of neighbouring Albania.







I wonder if Greece could put any of the 25% unemployed on collection duty, but probably not as the country has no money to pay them! No wonder they are rioting.







Boat yards and highway separated Voula from the airport, and in ample time I got there, onto my flight to Rome and eventually getting into Fiumicino airport. I waited the usual extended spell here to collect my luggage, in fact I could have manufactured my pack and entire contents from scratch in the time it took. A direct bus into central Rome, some questions when at Termini to find my accommodation (where’s a GPS when you need it to locate south east!), and finally I got to my 1 square metre room a 7 minute walk away several hours later.







Having made contact with my Roman friend, we met up for some tasty wining and dining that night in one of those narrow cobbled alleyways, with insistent flower sellers and musicians. This made a fabulous and fantastic end to my Italian leg of the holiday and I am grateful Roberta made time for my visit. We talked and ate…. Home-made mushroom ravioli, swordfish smoked with tuna, drank Chiati vino rosso, got educated on Sangiovese and other grape varieties by Roberta…oh god the food was divine! Dad, you’d be proud…. I ate steak cooked medium rare (not charred to smithereens), and we sat next to some lovely people from Annapolis (USA), swapping emails and discussing the tricky side of work-life balance.







Impressions of Rome second time around were tainted better, with more friendly encounters, and familiar sights, so I had only scratched the surface.







Departure day from Italy was exciting….oh how I looked forward to a lying supine and good quality food! I only managed a quick visit toVilla Borghese, a green oasis in the centre and a great city tonic. Taking a train to the airport, and ensuring I validated my ticket beforehand, the train conductor came around with his ticket checking procedure. I saw a couple before me get a friendly talking to, a swift marking on their non-validated ticket and avoid any fine – they spoke English and I could not help think I got Francesco the lemon conductor, several times over, in my Eurail debacles!







Arriving in Tokyo was typically Japanese – efficient customs, excessive politeness and highly automated, right down to the warm toilet seats. With some time to spare before meeting Chihiro late morning, I spent a delicious hour in the pool at the Hilton, then made my way to Ueno station where we rendezvoused. The Keisei skyliner halves the time it takes to reach the centre. So soon enough the 2 of us were planning a like-day based around getting the best view, some cheap Japanese food and the mandatory omiyage shopping imposed on me by the kitsche Japanese approach.







We wandered into one lunch spot with a fabulous view, that was near the Tokyo Skytree (tallest tower in the world). However when the staff came dressed as Bavarian beer maids and there was not one Japanese item on the menu, we ditched it for an authentic queue-to-eat udon bar. Yummy!







Skytree has to be in to believe. Built of reinforced and flexible everything, it stands tall in the smoggy skyline. And here is me thinking the old school Tokyo tower would cut it…not now. It is 634 metres tall and opened on May 22^nd 2012 , but if I got my translation right, Chihiro we happened to visit it on the hottest and busiest day..…so crowds! And queues! Japans love queuing as much as the Italians did! We made friendly with the camera and had a great time going to 451.2m, in a mirrored elevator, freaking ourselves out on the glass floor looking below, and Chihiro overcoming a fear of heights.







In usual Japanese fashion, we ran out of time and in asking every single attendant in the station and traveling on all possible manners of transport as they do (Chihiro moves fast, and Tokyo is busy!!) I actually got to the airport in the nick of time, not my preferred option when I felt like a worn out rag – tired and 24 hours without decent sleep.







So now…. the end is near, it is time to face…the final curtain…there’s been some doubts, yes I have had a few, but for certain ones, I know I am certain……oh dear, quality of writing deteriorating. Sp, I’ll end it this way….







My Balkan sojourn



Has come to a close



No longer there’ll be stories



And photo opportunities to pose







If you’ve got this far, congrats!



I appreciate you following the blog



Reading of my ups and downs



A humerous monologue







Italy was the start of it



My contact Roberta gave tips



I was hoping all went smooth



Without the Eurail blips







Tuscany then Lombardy



Up to Venice and down



Bus and train conductors



They then made my face frown







Transport crises over



To Montenegro I went



Got a fantastic apartment



Not as many Euros spent







Albania came after, crossing borders



By taxi we did not crash



A prayer traveling by road is needed



To avoid motorists and all that trash







Archeology and sights



Were untouched and overgrown



With shepherds moving their flocks



Down motorways well known







Tirana to Athens ensued



I tried to develop a Greek coffee diet



Coughed at the bitterness



Missed a flight and was affected by riots







Wound down the pace in the Cyclades



I needed this final tonic



Rest and relaxation, no training



As calf pain getting chronic







And now it’s nearly over



Where a wonderful break must end



Again, I’m glad to be a Kiwi



And see soon my family and friends!

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Photos

Greek coffee, leaving Santorini
rated 1/10, 10/10 if you like it bitter and lumpy!

Dionysus sanctuary
Where the god of inebriation and frivolous dancing attracted worship..an ancient pub perhaps?