Friday, May 23, 2008

The Hobbler

Sorry its taken me so long to write! Right now I'm back in Vienna hanging out in an internet cafe and catching up on emails and blogging. So we started off in Budapest and then went to Vienna and spent a few days wandering the city. It was such a stark contrast to Budapest, which doesn't seem to have the money to keep up the same perfect facade as Vienna does. We wandered around in and out of museums and shops and just when we felt like we were getting to know our way around, as it always seems to go, it was time to leave. So we flew to Athens last Saturday, I think it was Saturday it`s easy to lose track of time, and visited the acropolis. After we had seen that we immediately left Athens, because while it has its more pretty historical neighborhoods, on the whole its a bit dirty and has a lot of pollution. So we took the ferry to Santorini on Sunday afternoon. Once aboard, Jessica realized that her wallet was missing, someone had stolen it in the crowd outside of the ferry. As it turns out, ferries don't seem to be our thing on this trip! Once we arrived at our hotel we cancelled both of her cards and now we are just sharing funds, so it worked out ok!

The hotel, Villa Reina, was absolutely gorgeous, and our first splurge of the trip. It was our first time not in a hostel and we relished our private bathroom and comfortable bed with sheets that didn't leave you feeling like you'd slept on sandpaper. The best part of all was the pool, which it turned out later I spent quite a lot of time by it. Santorini is so gorgeous, but not in the way that the landscape is beautiful at home. As one young Greek guy asked me, "Why do you think the island is so beautiful, it is not even green?" Its true, the land is mostly dry and brown, but the dusty ground in contrast to the clean white homes is striking. The huge dropping cliffs with their shades of orange, red, and green make driving difficult as it`s hard to watch the road. The people though are what truly set both Santorini and Greece apart. My nationality and fair skin don't immediately render frustration towards my country, as it does in many of the places I visit. The owners of Villa Reina are an adorable gorgeous Greek couple who inherited the hotel from their mother. They immediately made us feel special, as if they really were happy to have us there. Little did they know that we would turn out to be a lot more work than any of their guests in quite sometime.

The trip had been going a little too easy, so the travel gods decided to shake things up a little our first morning in Santorini. Jessica and I were running to breakfast because we had woken up late, and we never pass up the chance for free food. With my far from perfect eyes I didn't see the step by the pool and I came down wrong on my right ankle and sprained it. I also succeeded in scrapping off the skin on the tops of my feet and put two gruesome gashes on both knees. Needless to say, it hurt, a lot! The owner, who Jessica and I affectionately refer to as our Greek Crush, or GC for short, drove us to the Emergency Room/local clinic. The doctors were a bit heavy handed with the iodine and left me near tears. While I sat a crumbled mess on the gurney the ER doctor asked me out for a drink. Well, at least I can get one funny story out of this I thought, so I accepted on the condition that Jessica would come as well, my chaperon. So after that I spent the afternoon by the pool at the hotel, and our splurge hotel became well worth the extra euros. Later, Jess and I went back to the room and tried to wash away the scrounginess of the backpacker lifestyle in our coveted private bathroom. We ate dinner in a traditional Greek restaurant, filled with happy loud Greek families, always a good sign that you've picked a nice local restaurant. I ordered sausages, which at first sound boring, but they were amazing!! Afterwards Jess and I went up to the town center where we met Antonio, the doctor. We walked with him through the labyrinth of streets in Fira to a cute bar that overlooks the water. Jess reluctantly became the new best friend of an American who has a house in Santorini.

I talked with Antonio and learned that he grew up in northern Greece, then moved to Athens for college and med school. After med school he did his required one year in the military, as all Greek men do. He then moved to Santorini to work in the clinic for a year. I asked him about some of his recent cases and he said there were two teenagers who were driving a 130km and crashed. The driver, who had his seat belt on, survived while the passenger didn't have one on and suffered severe internal injuries and later died at the hospital. The clinic on the island is not equipped to perform more than minor surgery, but Antonio said had the boy been at the hospital in Athens he might have survived. He said the locals are always really nervous about their not being able to perform surgery on the island should anything serious occur. It doesn't take much searching to find that even an idyllic place like Santorini has its troubles. That point was driven home when we walked back to Antonio's car, parked at the hospital, and there was a large crowd of people quietly sitting outside. Antonio went inside to see if they needed help and returned two minutes later. He said a a 26 year old woman had killed herself. Tourist pass through gorgeous vacation spots like this one and enjoy seeing everyone as quaint happy locals riding donkeys and having big fat Greek weddings. There's really not anything wrong with this ignorance, but the reality of the difficulty of life always lies just below the surface.

The next day Jessica and I rented a smart car, the two person car that looks like a roller skate. We cruised around blasting Greek music from the radio and began to think we were pretty cool. Then we would remember that peoples heads weren't turning to look at us because we were cool, but because we were driving a roller skate. Smart Car did us well though and we went to two different breathtaking beaches, both with a huge mountain on one side and dark black sand. In the evening we took the back road and drove to the other side of the island to Oia. We walked into the village, perched a top a rock wall that drops in to the sea. For a 5 euro cappuccino we were able to sit at a cafe and watch the sun set over the ocean. Afterwards we went back to fira and decided to try and use my hobble, as we affectionately refer to it, to get us some free drinks. It worked at the second bar and we met two nice guys that work on a private yacht that sails around the Mediterranean. What a life. They said its hard work and they often put in 14 hour days. I still would prefer their job to any 9 to 5.

The next afternoon Jessica and I took a ferry to Paros, on my cousin Joe's suggestion, and we loved it. We stayed in the main town of Parikia and again rented a car to cruise around the island. We visited several small sea side towns and ended up spending most of the day at a quiet secluded beach we stumbled upon overlooking mountains and aqua blue ocean. We reluctantly bought our tickets back to Athens last night and I hobbled with our bags to the ferry. When we reached the ticket collector it seemed that we were short one ticket, which we still have no idea whether is fell out or was not given to us in the first place, I suspect the latter. Jessica did a mad sprint back to town and purchased a ticket. I saw they were close to closing up the platform, and with that we would not make our flight back to Vienna. So I grabbed our backpacks and purses and hobbled to the platform and deposited our stuff. I was told to move in a mixture of Greek, English, and I think some German. I held off long enough and tried to work the hobble, and Jessica made it back and we hurried aboard. Like I said earlier, ferries don't seem to be our thing.

When we arrived in Athens it was 1:00am so we figured it was not worth paying for a taxi and a hostel when our flight left at 10:00am. So instead we took the bus to the airport. We hobbled around for a while finding that all the good sleeping spots were taken, until we spotted the nice handicap alcove. Figuring I qualified us for this spot, we quickly made camp. I pulled out my sleep sheet, pillow, and earplugs and was asleep within five minutes. Unfortunately, making camp on the airport floor isn't allowed so around 4:00am we were forced back into the hard chairs with dividers between each seat. We got very little sleep as we tried to contort our bodies around the chairs in search of a comfortable position. In the morning though we had a good laugh as I got my own personal wheel chair ride right to our gate. When we got off of the plane I got another ride to baggage claim! We took the bus back to the hostel in Vienna that we stayed in one week ago, and now we are spending the afternoon figuring out what we are going to do next. A lot of our plans for Jessica's last 2 weeks involved hiking and walks, so our plan is going to have to be altered. But, since we only had a rough itinerary in the first place, it shouldn't be too hard! Ill blog again when we figure out where we'll be going next! yassou

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hi Laura, The two of you sure are flexible if nothing else. I really enjoyed your blog and as you know I'm living vicariously through the both of you. I hope that you've found some crutches to make things easier. Greece sounded wondeful and I'm sure that you'll come up with a new plan (I'm afraid to ask what that might entail) Love you much. mom

10:06 PM  
Blogger Mike said...

I had to check to see where Santorini is. Thank God for Wikipedia. I consider it an adjunct to my age besieged memory. It seems Santorini is one small island having a total population a few thousand less than West Chester.

Tell Jessica she shouldn’t feel bad about having her wallet stolen. It happens to even the most experienced travelers. Hemingway got tired of having his lifted so he designed and had sewn into one of his jackets what he called his “pickpocket proof pocket.” But according to his friend and biographer A.E. Hotchner, one afternoon at a bullfight both jumped to their feet and cheered while raising their arms in the air in admiration of a move the matador had just made. Unfortunately this left Hemmingway momentarily vulnerable and when he sat down he realized a “cutpurse”, as they used to be called, had penetrated his “pickpocket proof pocket” and his was wallet gone. All you can say is “C’est la vie.” Although being a man of considerable bluntness Hemmingway probably just said, “Shit.”

I’m so sorry to hear you got hurt. Your Aunt Jean got hurt years ago in Greece and was taken aback, to put it mildly, by the conditions in the hospital she was taken to. It sounds like things haven’t gotten too much better. When you get back to western Europe you might consider having your ankle and knees checked again and if they didn’t give you any antibiotics in Greece, getting them. Abrasions, inflammation and stiffness are one thing. An infection in a foreign country is quite another.

With regard to the 26 year old woman killing herself you wrote: “Tourist pass through gorgeous vacation spots like this one and enjoy seeing everyone as quaint happy locals riding donkeys and having big fat Greek weddings. There's really not anything wrong with this ignorance, but the reality of the difficulty of life always lies just below the surface.” I think that’s true not just in Greece but in life in general.

Using your hobble and youth to “get some free drinks.” Well not only do you now have a college degree, you are obviously educated in the ways of the world as well. Lol.

It’s Memorial Day weekend, one of the better weekends for cabbies, so I’ve got to get off to work. Also, last night when I got home I found I had a message from my cousin Jeannie Hutton, your Grandmom’s niece. (That is her sister’s not her brother’s daughter. I believe it was against her brother’s union contract to have children.) She invited me out to dinner but I got the message too late so I’m going to call her around noon today to see where she, her husband Tad and her son Mathew (who lives here in San Francisco) are going to have lunch and try to join them. Yassou.

Uncle Michael

10:49 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

Laure - you are spectacular! I could vividly picture all you saw and did. You're a wonderful story teller. I hope your ankle is healing and that you keep on blogging! Can't wait to see your actual photos!

Lots of love,

Aunt Bobbi

1:49 AM  

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