Crete (so far)

Well, setting out from Santorini was not difficult. There is a ferry everyday at 5:40, a highspeed catamaran. Man, these boats are big (no cars, only people), but they fly. The seas were rough ("that day my friends, like an old man trying to return soup at a deli"), and the boat felt more like a roller coaster at times. I am sure that we were airborn on more than one occasion. You could also feel the sea drop away from the craft, giving you that weird feeling in your gut you get on rides. At other times, one side of the cat would lunge down into the sea, and the whole boat would lurch to the side, sea spray hitting the windows (windows that are a good 25+ feet off the water in harbour). Thank god for my Sea Bands (wristbands that use accupressure to ward off sea sickness). It was all they could do to hold that Gyro on a pita down. People all around me were tossing their cookies, and I had a close call myself when i bent down and "swooned" as the ship lurched to the side. Luckily, I was able to listen to my Ipod and sit with my seat back and snooze a bit. I can't believe I made it, actually, without barfing...
We got into Heraklion (Iraklion, depending on the translation). It is a large, bustling port, Greece's 5th largest city. We got there at 9ish, and had no idea where to go. Ports are intimidating places at night. We asked a few cabbies where our hostel was, but they were all looking to rip us off, so we had no luck there. After wandering around for a while, we made it to the city centre, and found another hotel Lonely Planet recommended. Not as cheap as the one we were trying to find (it was 55 euros for the 2 of us), but it was clean, safe, and available to a couple of worn out travellers. Besides, it included a buffet breaky, so it was not too bad off a price.
In the morning, after stuffing ourselves on hardboiled eggs, luncheon meat, toast, and plain yogurt (mixed with raisins and fresh honey, it is awesome), we hit the road. Originally, we had thought to stay 2 nights in Heraklion, and see the famous site of Knossos, home to the Minoan civilization (although its reconstruction has been criticized by the archaology world as gaudy and innaccurate), but decided to push on to the much smaller Sitia, on the East coast, where the boats to Rhodes depart from. Heraklion had a pop. of 150 000, while Sitia has 8500. Besides, Sitia was a beach town, and we still felt a little tired of all the ruins. They are dead places where memory dominates. We felt the urge to go to a place that was "living".
The bus ride was unremarkable, as Crete appears to be the same as the rest of Greece: dry, barren, rocky slopes covered in coarse, thorny plant life. (Of course, there are also places that are overrun with Oleander, or bougainvillia, or hibiscus, and such locales are without equal in beauty. Like the rest of Greece, it creates quite a paradox.)
Sitia, like many other towns, is a collection of poured concrete buildings, all stacked up on top of each other. The slopes around town are bare and dry, making it not the prettiest town I have seen. It does have an amazing deep water harbour, however, easily over 20 feet close to the pier, deeper a short ways out, which makes it a great place to swim. Today, we found a great cove, where the prisitne aqua sea washes up onto these great boulders. The water is deep and crisp, and endlessly clear.
Another treat is the variety of Cretean food. In Greece, there is very little in the way of regiuonal diversity (I had Mousaka 5 times, in 5 different regions). Yesterday, however, I had chicken and mushrooms, cooked in a creamy mustard sauce. It was good, but so rich I had trouble finishing it. Too rich. I think that I will try the fish, instead next time. They are all locally caught.
There is a large fishing fleet here, but unlike home, they still use small 17ft boats, and haul nets by hand. This might explain why the Med. has been so heavily fished for so many eons, and yet still has so many fish. It would take these boats 6 months to equal the haul of a huge commercial boat takes in 1 day, and the fishing industry is run in this manner all over the Med.
We are now in a forced exile here, as the next boat does not leave till Saturday for Rhodes. It is a pleasant place, with a great beach, good restaurants on the water, and we have a nice pension (run by Miguel, a 62 yr old former math professor, and his wife maria, who is 55, and their daughter, miguella, who is 6...I can't figure it out, and their English is not good, so it is a mystery), but there is not a lot to do other than the beach. I guess we will have to make the most of it (darn, stuck at a beautiful beach). Actually, today we are going to be so far under budget, that we may try a beach side bar for a drink or two, the "Paradise Beach Bar", which is 50m up the road on the water. Maybe we can meet some other travellers, who knows?

Wine Tasting (by a semi-pro)

Well, my dad asked that I begin to fill people in on the foods I am eating, and so on...feels that would make a good interest point for readers. I suppose I agree, if you are a food lover like myself, you will appreciate it. More important to the whole European experience however, is the consumption of tasty, (sometimes) frothy, always refreshing bevvies, that after a few, make the legs wobble and the mind foggy. I relish sitting out for a late dinner, enjoying the view available, and getting slightly drunk. Much like with Schwy 3 years ago, we are consuming a lot of the local delicacies, in particular, that wonderful juice of the grape, wine.
First off, let me say that Greek wine is VERY underappreciated internationally. For whatever reason, France and Italy dominate the Euro wine culture, and do not make wines any better than the Greeks. The region by region wine tasting breaks down like this:

Corfu: Despite having had the best wine I have ever tasted there 3 years ago, this time around I was left wanting more. Last time, we bought homemade wine in a small village, and it was so good. This time, we bought "local" wine at the store, and it was sickeningly sweet. I need wine to be bold and dry, not cloying.

Athens: Crappy and cheap, it came in a plastic 1.5 litre bottle, and really helped in our drunken revelry. Not a good wine, but servicable for the cause

Kardamyli: Excellent. Very simple in flavour, not at all complex. Dry, bold in flavour, but not in your face or over the top. Went great with a meal of stuffed tomato and peppers, but would suit any dish. Despite the lack of complex flkavour or aroma, this was probably the best, although the setting looking out over the Messinian Gulf was most likely a factor.

Nafplio: Had a variety of local wines, a red, a rose, and a white. All of them were good. The red was dry, with a tinge of sweet in the aftertaste. I had it with a meal of roast pork stuffed with goat cheese and peppers. It set off the flavour of the pork nicely. Highly recommended. The rose was simply ok. Had a bit of an afterbite, which I did not care for, but the initial flavour was fine. No real aroma to it. The white was surprising. I normally dislike whites, but this one took me by surprise. It was nice and sharp, but did not have the bitter aftertaste that dominates most whites. The meal was roasted turkey served in a light tomato sauce, with feta, mushrooms, peppers, and olives.

Santorini: Watching the sunset with two lovely ladies in Oia helped the wines cause, I am sure. All the same, it was very good. It had a strong, fruit aroma, but did not have a sweet fruit flavour. Instead, it had a very intersting "smoky" or "dusky" flavour, that set it off in the mouth to great affect. Very pleasing to the taste buds.

Sorry lads, but the beer choices here are somewhat poor. You can get Mythos (a lager), or Alpha (a lager), which are made in Greece, and taste OK, but do not hold a candle to the fine beers of home (no, not blue or coors - I am talking real beer, like keiths). Or, you can get Amstel or Heineken, but I am not a big fan of either...of course, the price is right at about 0.80 to 1.20 a tallboy, and you can drink them on the streets.

Ouzo, the traditional Greek liqeuor, can strip the paint off a barn (much like a bitchy otterman can). It tastes of black liquorice, but is not very good, unless its free, like at the Pink Palace Toga Party.

Greece is no longer the cheap drinkers paradise it once was. Wine in the store costs about 1.90-3.90 per bottle, a lot more than it is in other, generally more expensive (otherwise) countries. In France or Italy, a good bottle of vino is .80-1.20. Very odd that it is more here. Oh well, it is still a lot less than home.

Other than in Athens, we have not had a lot of chances to really party it up. Our budget does restrict us at times, as drinking out at a bar is 4x's more than drinking store bought bevvies. Once we hit Turkey, however, the cost will drop drastically, which will be nice. I just hope that there are still some travellers left, as the season is winding down now. The whole region is starting to slow up for the year. We will see.

Can't we all just get along?

Hello again. First off, thanks to everyone who has either left a comment, or who has emailed me to fill me in on whats up with them, or to comment on what I have been writing here.
Let me just clear the air, before people get carried away. There are those who like the "nitty gritty" tales of my interactions with the female gender - don't worry, this is not a PG 13 site...when I have something to report, my boys at home will be the first to know. Others feel that that would hinder this blog - the blog is set up to be an honest, true to self account of what I am doing over here (literally, by word by thought and by deed), and so whatever I am doing thinking and so on, goes into the blog. Is my trip all about sex? No, but it would be nice! You see, people are now refering to me as if I am two seperate entities - there is the thoughful, reflective Geoff, and the beer swilling, sex talk with buddies Geoff...People, these two personalities are the same person...honest. I can be both at the same time, as I always have been. I never hide one or the other, as some suggest, or wear a "mask" with certain people. I keeps it real, and have a personality that enables me to do so in a variety of different ways; it allows me to move in different circles very easily...I mean, Kuhn and Kitzy discovered my book of poetry I wrote in Uni...made fun of me of course, but it was not an issue (beside the poetry, they also found other "night time" reading). That sums it up well...
And so, please, post comments, and write whatever you feel like...I take no criticism from you guys. I can take the jokes, and the rebuffs...Kitzy, yours was a classic! Laughed my ass off, and fell out of my seat (and of course, you hit the nail on the head...I am introverted with the opposite sex...need a firm push from time to time...mangina syndrome)! And ladies, no worries, the blog will not change...it will stay an honest account of my trip for all to read...Otter, you lazy bitch, what has the bank got you working all of a sudden that you can't read the blog? "Not smart enough"...HA...
Anyway, I am OUT. Please continue to post...but, please, add a name or two so I know who is writing...it can't be that hard!

Stunning Santorini

Well, the trip the islands began in the most auspicious way possible: a sea voyage by night. Is there any better way to travel than by boat? We boarded the ferry at 10:30, after waiting in Piraeus for most of the day. That was one shit heel town, a true port, filled with the low life riffraff you expect to find in such a place. We stuck close by the harbour, but the one time we went to get groceries, we saw large groups of unemployed youth, junkies, theives; all sorts of colourful characters.
The boat was (obviously) a night ferry. After hustling on board (a typical European free for all, as lines, or the vague concept of order, do not exist), we set up on the very top deck. After a meal of salami, edam cheese, and fresh bread, we lay out for the night one plastic benches near the prow. The sea breeze was gorgeous, and it was actually a very pleasant sleep, moreso than I had anticipated! Sadly, the boat was well lit, so the stars were not out in abundance, but you could see a few if you really strained. In order to keep my gear safe, I slept on my pack as a pillow, and tied my carry on (which has all my important things) to my chest. As I said, I slept well, which when looking back, was strange.
I cannot stress enough, just how thrilling it is to be abroad, sailing the Aegean at night. The air is filled with the tang of salt, the breeze is refreshing, but temperate, the boat lists gently under foot. Truly wonderful.
We called into Paros, Naxos, and Ios, before arriving at Santorini at 9:30 ish. As we saild into the Caldera (the massive mouth of the old volcano), we could not see the tops of the cliffs, as they were shrouded in cloud. As we ascended the slopes on a bus, it was like driving into the sky, as we entered the clouds, and the view of the port was lost below us in a sea of mist. We located our campground (about 500m from the bus station), the clouds lifted, driven off by the heat of the day. We set up, and noticed that the large group beside us that was sleeping out under the stars, was comprised of many attractive French teens, who had no trouble wandering the camp in their underwear...awe, what a way to begin your day. Sadly, they did not speak English, as we found out. Oh well.
Later in the day, we headed up into Fira, the main town on the Isle. Our camping is in Fira, but on the side facing away from the Caldera. The streets are packed with little shops, tavernas, pubs, you name it. It is a commercial trap that clings to the very edge of its 1000 ft cliff. We stooped and had lunch at a promising looking Taverna. My meal was the best I had yet had. Large chunks of pork that had been slow roasted in the oven in lemon sauce, until they were literally falling apart they were so tender. They were served on rice, and covered in gravy. I am hungry again just talking about them! Of course, the taverna was a rip off, though as they charged us over 7 euros just as a "sitting" fee, so they meal cost almost 30 euros! That, if you don't know, is a lot of money...at least the food was good.
We wandered the town for most of the day, and then returned at night just to stroll its winding streets. Many cruise ships call in for the day, and then leave again at night, creating a lot of hustle and bustle all through the day. Fira is a very hectic place. Earlier in the day, we had descended to the base of the cliffs to the port of Fira Skala. There were 3 cruise liners in port, as well as 3 luxury yauchts (one of which had 5 decks, was 100 ft long, etc, easily 50+ million dollars).
Santorini is a geological wonder. Thousands of years ago, there was a large civilization based on the isle, the Cycladaeic civilization. Then, the island, which was really a massive (and I mean MASSIVE) volcano blew, utterly distoying the Cyclaedic civ., as well as the Minoan civ on Crete. Many scholars now believe that the Cycladaeic civ was the famous Atlantis, but too little remains to confirm that. The result of that eruption is striking. The mouth of the volcano is now several km wide, and filled with water (the Caldera). The sea in it is deep, hundreds of feet, in fact. Swimming in it is otherworldly. If you swim out 5 feet from shore, the water is 15 ft., 10 ft. from shore, it is 40 ft., and then, it just drops off, straight as a begger can spit, down into the depths. The colour of the water as you swim is like nowhere else. Take a brilliant noon time sky, and make it bluer, deeper, more intense, and yet, softer, muted, and that is the colour of the Caldera water. The cliffs jut straight out of the Caldera, rising for over 1000 ft, straight up, and all along the cliff tops towns cling to the edges. It is an amazing place to see...very pretty. Interestingly, the two small isles in the centre of the Caldera are still active volcanos. Nea Kameni, the larger of the two, last blew lava into the sky 50 years ago.
The following day we hiked along the edge of the cliff tops around from Fira to Oia, a less commercial town, but infinitely more pretty. The walk was stunning, as you were on a trail literally at the edge of the cliff face. Along the way we met these two girls, Mandy and Erin, who had just finished law school in LA. Erin was from Orange County, and Mandy was from Toronto. We hiked with them until Oia, then we went to swim in the Caldera, and they went their own way. Later, we saw them again, and the 4 of us weatched the sun set from a bar right on the cliff face. (Oia is famous for its sunsets). That was a nice treat, since Mandy was gorgeous...she used to be an actress, and moved to LA to act, which she did for 3 years, then she went back to school to take law. I have spent worse evenings, with lesser company. Later we had dinner at camp, and I chatted with our waitress, an interesting girl from Poland, who is working on Santorini for her summer break from university. She had some interesting views on Poland joining the EU - it is a good thing, so long as Poiland does not adopt the euro, as it would create a big gap in society, as it has done in Greece - the euro is worth 4 Polish dollars(?), and would bring prices up, but not wages. It also helped that she was an eastern European goddess...all told, a great day.
Today, we are taking the boat to Crete, and have a lot of time to kill.

The Mani, and beyond

Well, the train out of Olympia was long, and as you could see yesterday, full of reflection. We arrived in Kalamata in the afternoon to discover a large Greek port that was largly closed (it was Sunday). After our usual walk around until we get lost in a place where no one speaks english routine, we eventually found the bus station. Naturally, all of the buses to Sparta were already gone, so we were left with a choice: stay the night in a large, dirty port town, or take the only available bus out, to the small coastal town of Kardamyli, which sits on the Mani Penninsula. It was not a tough call.
The Mani is a truly interseting part of the country. If Greece ever had a "wild west", it was the Mani. The Penninsula is divided into 3 parts, the North-West (outer Mani), the South-West (inner Mani), and the South-East (Lower Mani). The terrain is very rugged, dry (even by Greek standards - in Inner and Lower Mani, there are no rivers, lakes, ponds, no water at all except when it rains), and as a result the area was quite isolated. The Manites did not give up the pagan worship of the ancient pantheon until the 9th century - amazingly late by comparison to the rest of the Med. world. After that, due to its isolation, a strong clan culture developed, focussing on family ties, as oppossed to national ones. Various empires waged war all over the Greek world, but left the Mani untouched, thanks to its innaccessibility. Indeed, even the Turks only ever sent the tax man, whereas they sent armies everwhere else. During the 19th century, it was on the Mani where the idea for Greek liberation was born, and the war for independence was started there, a war that ended with the creation of the modern Greek state. Even after the state was born, the Manites were a thorn in the Gov't side, and they assassinated the first Greek president for not ruling as they thought he should.
Since those wild days, however, the roads have been built, and the Penninsula is no longer backward, or even clan driven...it is a fully functioning part of the Greek state, one of the largest olive producing regions in the land.
The village of Kardamyli is also remarkable for its more recent inhabitants. A British traveller/explorer, Patrick Leigh Fermor, who also moonlights as a war hero, made the town his home in the late 1940's. Fermor, as a young man, walked from the Hook of Holland to the Gates Of Constantinople. When the War began, he was very sympathetic to the Greek cause, and was a leader in the resistance. In events made famous by the book and movie "Ill Met By Moonlight", Fermor and his compatriots succeeded in kidnapping a German General on the Isle of Crete, and took him to Cairo. After the War was over, Capt. Fermor again took up his rucksack, and wandered about the Carribean, and then conquered the whole of Greece by foot. When he had crossed the mountains from Sparta and saw Kardamyli below him, he knew he had found his paradise. He bought some land (very cheap in those days), and built a seaside villa, complete with massive library, study, and terrace with a unimpeded view of the sea.
Of course, the town has an "end of the road" feel to it, and when the bus let us off in the late afternoon, we eagerly set off to find a pension for the night. We were rejected many times by owners, often if they had rooms, but did not care for the look of a couple of backpackers, all sweaty and dusty from walking all over hell's half acre looking for a bed. We were seriously considering the beach as our last resort, when we asked one last time about a room. The old lady looked us over, then reluctantly agreed to rent us for the night a two bed room with AC for 35 euros. We had been looking for over 2 1/2 hours, so this was like a dream come true. By that time, we HATED the town and were cursing one another for deciding to come down there. (It was really Jer's idea, but he would not own up to it during our search...he just called me many four letter names, while I did likewise). Yes, it was a bitch, but we had a place at last. We were planning on busing out the next day, but decided to give the town a chance, so we signed up for 2 nights. That made the old lady very happy.
The next day we went walking to find the home of Fermor. We had found out that the man himself was not there. At the age of 91, he had fallen ill and was in England for medical reasons. (The night before, a Greek-American, who originally came from the area had told us the news - by the way, his wife was a spectacle, you have to love fake breasts - but gave us vague directions to his house). The once private bay where he had made his home half a century before was now a busy little place of construction, hotels and tavernas popping up. After a long search, we found the only old looking home in the area, and using the description from another travel book (Kaplan's "Mediterranean Winter") we knew it was Fermors. The ancient olive and cyprus trees hid his house from view and hid his view of everything but the sea. It was truly an amazing home, the abode of a remarkable man...too bad he was not home, he would have been an intersting person to talk to. To think what he would have seen!
The town itself was beautiful, sun soaked beaches (rock, like Georgian bay), and crisp, aqua marine waters. Our attitude, so hostile the night before, was changed rapidly. Amazing what a simple thing like shelter for the night (or lack thereof) will do to the mind. We stayed for an extra day again, just wandering about, swimming, relaxing, like the many other tourists in the region.

After those 2 peaceful days by the sea, we headed for Sparta. The town was very prosperous, so unlike other Greek cities, clean and polished in appearance. Sparta sits in a fertile bowl surrounded by mountains, and the farmland, which appears to be the regions only industry, looks like it does very well...no ramshackle farms here. Sadly, there is nothing left from the ancient Spartans, but there is a HUGE Byzantine ruin 7km from town at a place called Mystras. We had gotten up so early, and were in Sparta in such good time that we took in the extensive ruins (palaces, churches, massive walls, all clinging to the cliffside) and then moved on again for Nafplio further north.

Things did not run as smoothly as hoped. When we got to Tripoli to change buses, the last bus for Nafplio had left 10 min. before...they do no believe in bus schedules that coordonate in Greece, which makes travel at times hard. A friendly taxi driver corraled us, though, along with a Japanese PHD (in classics) student, and drove us for 45 euros (a lot of $, but what else could we do?) It was fast, and we were in town in a little under an hour.

Greece has all of the sights of Europe, only on a smaller scale. Litohoro was like its version of the Swiss alps, only in one small town. The French Riviera is contained to a single town in a likewise manner, and that town is Nafplio. It is a very pretty Venetian town. The old town looks like Venice (as did Kerkyra, Corfu), without the canals. We arrived late again, but knew that accomodation was plentiful, so we were not worried. We got a room after an hour of looking, and agreed to the 28 euro price. Little did we know that our $ was buying us a night in Purgatory. When we at last crashed for the night, the room was a little over 35 degrees...it stayed that temp all night. All we did was toss and turn, sweat, pray, curse, sweat, drink water to replace our diminishing reserves, and continue to sweat. It was the worst night of my life. The only air flow fthrough our window (which opened onto a small enclosed court) was the hot air from another rooms AC. Needless to say, we upgraded to an AC room the next morning...it was literally cooler outside at 11 am than it was in our room the night before...hell.
We took in the sites here in town. I have been here before, but had not taken such an in depth look at the castle before. The town is dominated by its medieval fortifications, which rendered it at the time unattackable. There are 3 forts guarding the harbour, the largest of which is the Castle. It sits at the top of a mountain that overlooks the bay, giving it a clear shot at any ships that would have come towards town. The Castle is over 1 km in length, and is made up of 7 bastions that were defensible autonomous. It took us several hours. Having Jer with me was nice (no offence schwy) because he knows so much about medieval forts that he was able to show me things and tell me about them, even though I was the one who had been here before. The castle was literally inaccessible to any foe. You can see why the Greeks made it their first capital in 1831 when they were still wary of Turkish invasion.

The town itself is a very popular vacation destination for Europeans (not the 'Backpacker' crowd so much), and is filled with couples and families on vacation. It goes without saying of course, that the women about town are stunning, totally gorgeous. I wish my head were on a swivel, and my tongue had a winch to wind it back up...they are everywhere..."Hey man I really like your daughter, when I'm horny like thirsty shes a bottle of water..." That song is VERY appropriate here. As many of you already realize, no doubt, I have had no luck, and towns like this only make things worse. I feel that I am very close to commiting an act of Carnal (thats for you Bigs)...I am looking forward to the Islands, as they are on the "backpacker circuit". Hopefully I will be able to meet some pretty young thing (who speaks English - that would be a nice first!) and then, yada yada yada, who knows, wink wink, nudge nudge, SAY NO MORE! (

"Your wife, is she a goer?" "She does go, yes." "I'll bet she does, I'll bet she does! Whooaa, eh!"

We have changed our plans for the Islands. We are going to Piraeus tomorrow, and then catch a ferry to Santorini (every postcard shot seems to be from there), a place I have visited before, but a place Jer really wants to see. From there we go to Crete, and then boat over to Rhodes, and then Kos (don't worry fellas, these Islands are big party spots as well, I am sure that I will have a tale or two to tell you...Brent, I don't want to hear your shit!). I am really stoked, as I have not been to any of them before, and they will all be fresh. We are feeling a little "ruined" out, and I think a little party on the Aegean sea will be good for our souls (or something very close to MY soul). To travel to strange new horizons, what a thrill. Still loving life over here, how could you not?

Thoughts from a train

The trains on the Pelopennesse are the perfect places to think. Unlike the trains elswhere in Europe, they are old, slow, and dilapitated. You bounce and sway your way down the tracks, windows open to the breeze, and just watch the countryside roll by.
The first thing that I really focussed on is the European women. They radiate this effortless sexuality. At home, there are a lot of good looking women, no question, but they do not have that same appeal that ladies do here, It is difficult to explain. European women are always dressed to the nines, as are women at home, so their sense of fashion is not the difference. I think it has more to do with attitude. They know they are sexy, and just ooze their appeal as a result of that mentality. They are not obsessed with their appearance in a negative sense. No matter what they look like, there is no feeling from them of poor self regard.They are confident in their appearnce, no matter what, and that confidence transforms them. A girl who would be considered good looking at home is suddenly gorgeous; a girl who would be considered not very attractive is still capable of looking sexy, instead of looking like a kicked dog who feels nothing but self loathing. It is a very curios thing...they are not nearly as self critical and self conscious (even though they are clearly VERY aware of their looks in a fashion sense), and that confidence makes almost everyone instantly sexual. Its a good thing. Now, if they weren't all on the arms of some gino douchebag, the world would be in perfect working order!!

Capitalism is an economic system that is doomed ultimately to eventual collapse. It is the economic system of democracy, and is based on the simple principle that a man should be able to improve his economic situation and rise up as far as possible. That certainly sounds wonderful, on the surface, but that other side of capitalism is less golden; for one person to "have", the system needs to have many "have nots" - that is the basic premise. It is like a pyramid, where we all aspire to be at the pinnacle. Like a pyramid, however, the support of that pinnacle requires a huge base, a base that is far larger than the peak. That base, of course, is constructed of the world's poor.
We all want the fast car, the big house, the plasma tv, the swimming pool, whatever, and in order to get them, the vast majority of the world's population lives in squalor and filth. There is no sharing of wealth, or more importantly, resources, because the very notion of sharing acts as the opposite of capitalism.
Capitalism nurtures the individual at the cost of the whole. The natural divide that the capitalist market creates between the haves abd have nots is never far away. In the 1st world it is easy to ignore the masses of people in the 3rd world - they exist on the periphery of our understanding, somewhere "out there", in the global hinterland, far from our suburban paradise; it is harder to ignore the subject masses in our own backyards, and yet somehow, we manage that as well.
The gap between rich and poor is widening rapidly, even at home. In the USA, the gov't just admitted a few days ago that the divide was widening, but also said that there was nothing to be done about it. It is interesting that in the world's greatest "democracy", the working classes have seen actual earnings go down by 1% between 1980-present, while the wealthiest 1% of the population has seen earning increase by 135% during that same time. Whole communities are now on the verge of collapse, as their traditional industries that once nurtured them have pulled stakes and left (a very capitalist necessity, to seek a cheaper deal elsewhere). You see it in the industrial towns in Michigan, Penn., New York, and so on. Cities with noone but the urban poor.
When lookied at in that way, capitalism hardly looks sustainable - eventually the hoarding of resources and wealth must reach a point where so few people hold the powerthat they will be overwhelmed by the masses of poor. 2 decades ago, in 1982, Paul Theroux painted a grim picture of the future, stating "Someday all cities would look like this, I had thought in Belfast...The centre of these places was a 'control zone' with an entrance and exit. All cars and people were examined for weapons or bombs, and that tight securtiy meant that inside the control zone life was fairly peaceful and the buildings generally undamaged. It was possible to control the flow of traffic and even to prevent too many people from entering." Now, he was talking about a city state type system - enlarge that idea to nation states, and that is the exact wolrd we live in today, where all the 1st world nations are security zones, where the dangerous riffraff are kept away (and in effect, keeping the control of resources to the small, select populations in those countries).
Theroux expands on this description, saying "[the world will become] a wilderness in which most people live hand to mouth, and the rich would live like princes - better than the rich had ever lived, excep that their lives would constantly be in danger from the hungry, predatory poor. All the technology would serve the rich, but they would need it for their own protection and to ensure their continued prosperity. The poor would live like dogs". Sound at all familiar? Even though it was written in 1982, it describes the current state of the globe to a tee.
Take the current Israeli - Lebanon conflict. You have a 1st world power seeking to harness all of the local resources, to wrest them away from the "predatory poor" who exist alongside them. In a desert nation, one would think that the most important resource is water. Israel gets most of its from the Jordan River, a river whose headwaters begin in Southern Lebanon, the very area that they have seized under the pretext of "security". To drive their message of dominance home, they have employed all their militry might to perform an economically driven genocide against the poor of Lebanon, literally eliminating whole neighbourhoods, communities that held the poorest citizens (South Beirut, Tyre, Sidon, all areas of huge poor populations; they did not hit the financial area of Beirut once...) Everytime a Lebanese person dies in that conflict, you can go to bed satisfied, knowing that capitalism is working perfectly, and all is in order.
The rich will take what they need in order to ensure their wealth, while the poorwill grow in number, and suffer, until, finally, despite the security zones and the technology, the poor (under the guises of religion, politics, etc.) will begin to break through and start the process of rebellion. Has that already started?
The prime example of that rebellion would have to be the attacks on the WTT on 9/11, and yet, was that attack orchesrtated by the poor? The second key component to capitalism, after resource hoarding, is consumption, and as Micheal Moore pointed out, after 9/11, America consumed an amazing amount of goods. Corporations (read here, the true political powers of the West) need people to consume products, in order to provide wealth to reward its resource monopoly. That is the capitalist cycle: 1) gain access to resource, 2) harvest it into marketable product, 3) sell product on the open market, 4) use wealth to gain even more resources - a very constricting cycle, that will eventually result in a select group holding all the world's wealth.
Back to 9/11, however. Jet fuel burns to a temp. of 1400 degrees. The steel girders that made up the core of the towers melts at a temp between 2200-3000 degrees. How then did the core give way and collapse?
Also, certain American institutions are protected by an automated air defence system (the White house, the CIA headquarters, the Pentagon), and yet the Pentagon was suppossedly struck by an aeroplane as well. On 9/11 itself the press asked a distraught DC firechief what size the aircraft was. He replied "We don't know, there is no remains of a fuselage." That is too say, a plane just crashed, but left behind no remains. Added to that addmission, is the fact that all the debris was blown outwards, as if the explosionjs had been internal.
Of course, the crime scene evidence was studied in great detail...oh, no, thats right, it was immediatley shipped to China to be melted down into scrap. How odd. Usually crime scenes are studied at depth, and this surely cnstituted the greatest crime of the new millenia.
But of course, the attack on America gave the corporations the moral authority to conduct illegal, shadow wars all across the globe. increasing the size of their security zones by ensuring that the fighting would be "out there" and not at home (see Iraq and Afganistan, and coming soon to a war theatre near you, Iran and Syria!). Huge populations of poor have been illiminated under the pretext of "national security".
Lets not forget the poor at home, though. They are just as dangerous, if not more so. That is why, when a hurricane devastates the poorest American urban centre, nothing is done for over a week, also ensuring that the poor population at home is dealt a viscious blow.
"The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; the pessimist fears this is true"

To all who have emailed, thanks, I love it, just do not have time to reply! I will try soon, I swear! Tomorrow, trip updates instead of a rambling tirade!

Well, its been a busy time for us over here. After we left Mt. Olympus, we took the train toAthens. That was good times...the train was over sold, so we were not assigned seats, instead, they gave us blank tickets, which let us sit in the no mans land by the WC between cars where everyone comes to smoke on the non-smoking train. I mean, jesus, putting a bylaw officer on a train to issue tickets would solve things nicely. After a few hours, this girl who got on in Lamia offered me the seat beside her. I had a great talk with her for the next 2 hours. She is Greek, but is a PHD student in England. It was interesting getting a Greek opinion on what the state of the nation is. She lamented the lack of drive in Greece, how plans go slowly, and nothing is ever done on time, etc., but she loves it all the same, and would not live anywhere else (after school, obviously). She was also critical of the growing divide between the rich and poor-since the adoption of the euro, prices have soared, but saleries have not risen to match them, so there is a great deal of poverty, which we had seen already.
Anyhow, after we arrived in Athens, she was off to meet her boyfriend for a vacation on the Ionian Islands, and we had to find a hostel that actually had bed space. Hostels in Athens are in 2 main areas of the city, the Plaka (the old, pituresque original town) and Omonia, a central sector with lots of junkies and whores. We chose the Plaka, the area of Athens it is easy to fall in love with...you can pretend that the sprawl, the stink, the poverty, the filth, does not exist. Of course, Plaka has its own indesirable side in all the rampent tourism, but at least it is pleasing to the eye, the only part of town where that can be said and meant!
We lucked out, and the Student Traveller Inn had 2 beds left (the last 2). It was the same place Brad and I stayed 3 years ago. It is expensive (all hostels in Plaka are), but it is very clean, and is very popular with backpackers. After cleaning up, we went down to the central courtyard (a really cool little feature where all the people congregate) and met 3 Canucks (Jeff and Nick From Van., and Kristin from TO) and an Aussie girl named Shelly. We swapped tales and advise for hours, all the while drinking cheap Greek wine. At midnight, the courtyard closed, and we walked around Plaka in search of a bar with cheap drinks. We found one, and the party continued. Finally, at 4 am, our way lit by the Acropolis (one of lifes more stirring sights at night), we made it back to the hostel.
The next day, Jer had a head full of beer, so we took it easy until 1 pm, when he felt he could take on the city. All that history, really very surreal (refer to last post).

That night we met a whole new group, as Nick and Geoff were off to Ios, and Shelly and Jristin were going to Santorini. Cory, an Aussie, and Greg, another from down under, two English sisters named Alana and Emma, and a Frenchman named Francois. We went for food to a very good Taverna, and then beers at the same cheap bar. Another great time with like minded travellers! It was refreshing being there. Backpackers form their own little community, and Athens is one of the Nerve centres for them, a cross roads. I love that atmosphere, all that optimism. After all, just as Paul Theroux said, travel itself is really the physical enactment of optimism...you just assume that it will be worthwhile, that it will go well, that memories will be made forever. That is the unspoken (unrealized?) attitude that pervades the backpacking community.

The next day, we bused up to Delphi. On route, we met an American named Mike. He was an intersting guy, very left wing, anti-American policy. He had hippie parents who raised him to disagree with American Imperialism, and we had a great talk for the 3 hour ride. The 3 of us stayed in the same campground, and later that day, climbed up the ridge beside the camp (a beautiful camp, perched on the slopes of Mt. Parnassus). We could see a cave from the camp and were eager to climb up to investigate. The slope was steep, and covered with thorns. Quite the climb ensued, one of the more difficult I have ever done, only to discover that the cave must shelter sheep, as there was an eons worth of dried out shit up there. That was how, 3 foreigners conquered the imposing shit mountain in Delphi!
The next day, we went to the ruins. They are beyond description. They are the very first UNESCO World Heritage Site, and deservingly so. They cling to the slope, and like Athens, give you a subtle hint of the majesty they one day held when they were the most important religious site in the world. No matter what race or nationality, they sent offering to the shrine (Egyptian, Assyrian, Hittite, Phoenician, etc). Much of the grandeur is faded, but the ruins hold you spell bound. The complex was huge, with many treasuries from all of the Greek City states, as well as a theatre, a massive temple to Apollo (to whom the shrine had been built), and a stadium which hosted the Pythian Games (one of the Ancient worlds big 4 games, Pythian, Olympics, Nemean, and Isthmian, all of equal religious importance). The most impressive thing is that the stone of the Sybil is still there. The Sybil was a preistess who gave propechy on any matter a pilgrim wished to hear, and she was the reason that the temple was erected there. She would be gased, and then speak in tongues as she tripped out, and a priest would interprite the words of Apollo, the god of prophecy. That was very surreal, especially since the rock of the Sybil was uncut, unworked stone sitting in the midst of all that manmade grandeur. Mike and I then sprinted on the stade, just as they had done in ancient times. The museum was small by British museum standards, but was filled with important pieces from the site. There was a lot of information packed into it.
Anyhow, after that very stirring cultural/religious experience (and yes, there are places in the world that still bear the presence of the old gods, where you can feel their presence unlike you could ever feel the presence of the stern Hebrew god, a god who does not celebrate life and beauty as the ancients did) we returned to camp to drink some very good wine, just as we had the night before. Mike proved to be excellent company for it, and is now my New York City connection...a very good guy.
The next day we parted ways, and Jer and I made our way to Olympia. We arrived late and went to bed hungry...ahh life on the road.
Today we went into Olympia to see the site. It was in much better shape than it was 3 years ago when Schwy and I saw it. Then they were working around the clock to ready it for the 2004 games (they held discus, javelin and shotput here), but now all the work is done, and the site is amazing. Wondering amongst the ruins thinking of Milo of Kroton, the greatest athlete of all time, undefeated in 6 Olympics in wrestling. The story even has it that he fought and killed a lion with his hands...who knows if its true. Anyway, the ruins are filled with the memory of men just like him, the athletes who were the pride of their world. The games were intense, and the winners were immortalized in statuary, poems, given wealth, etc. Really not at all the "ideal" they think it was, really, but a great tradition that brought the entire Greek worled togther for a massive festival to celebrate the beauty of the human form, an athlete the ultimate expression of the human body (witch to the ancients was beautiful and without shame).

I think our next step will take us to Sparta, the home of warriors that shook the Hellenistic world to its core at one time! (Although not during the sacred 3 month truce in an Olympic year)
Thinking of you all!!!

August 16th/'06: Ghosts of Ancient Greatness

As you walk the streets of Athens, the real Athens, the old storied streets of one of the world's greatest centres, not the sprawl that lies beyond, like a hideous, ravenous beast, the feeling of age and history washes over you. It is impossible to escape it. The Ancient Agora, once the throbbing heart of the Classical world, now in ruin, a skeletal reminder of mortality. As you ascend the Panathanian Way, the street that was the central thoroughfare to the Acropolis, you wonder who may have passed over those very same stones. What feet, what kings, what conquerors, what poets, philosophers, thieves, and condemned men? For as surely as the sun rose, those stones could relay a tale if they could but speak it out loud. Now, of course, little of the greatness remains in the city; it is a sprawl of dirty humanity. But once, when it was 1/20th the size, it was a capital of mankind. Those days of grandeur are far removed, but the stones of the Agora remember it, whisper it to ears that can listen, like a sigh in the breeze. "Socrates", it says, "Plato, Philip, Alexander, Hadrian". There, amongst the ruins, greatness is recalled, and the imagination can reform the fallen temples, rebuild the gymnasium, and clear the dust from the columns. I believe that the "Speech of a Dying Philosopher" captures the essence of Greece:

"I strove with none, for none was worth the strife.
Art I loved, and after art, beauty.
I have warmed both hands before the fire of life,
It dims, and I am ready to depart."

Geoff

This and That

Greek washrooms are an experience. When you go into one, you just never know what you are going to find. In the brand new terminal in Igoumenitsa, the stalls were something out of horror films: piss everywhere (literally, on the rim, the seat, the top of the tank), no TP, no soap, so bad that you were afraid to go in. The washrooms at Vrachos Camping in Kastraki (Meteora) were pristine, you could even flush your TP (very rare, most often have to wipe and discard in a small bin for just that purpose), but there was no soap provided (I saw people leave a toilet stall and walk out sans washing quite regularly). Now, in Camping Olympius Zeus, TP and soap are provided, but they use the infamous "Turkish Toilets" - if you have never used one, let me indulge you. Essentially, they are pits in the ground made of porcelain. There are two pedastals for your feet, and you squat like a backcatcher and deliver the turd directly into the pipe. I have yet to figure out how its done with pants on, so I have to remove all my clothes from the waist down to crap. It is also very uncomfortable, my knees lock up, so I have to grip the water pipe behind me and get creative; honestly, I have had more comfortable shits in the woods! I have no idea why these toilets are popular through out the Mediterranean, but they are (Southern France, Spain, Greece, Italy, Morrocco, and I am sure in many other nations).

I am not sure that my last post was quite specific enough on just how contrasting Greece is. It would be nothing for one of the (many) buses we rode to drop some gorgeous Greek girl off, dressed to the nines in the latest Euro fashions in some tiny mountain village where she lived, only to see her stop and chat with an old shepherd, who wore an old sweater, long dark pants, carrying a crook (the image of a Grecian in the 1950's, say). It was a very odd scene, very juxtaposed. In that respect, the urbane, modernizing youth, and the older, traditional generation seem to coexist quite well together, even though they appear to be worlds apart.
In other areas, this conflicted image plays itself out. Greece, behind the modern "core" nations of the Union environmentally, have kicked off a recycling program, and are trying to establish an environmental consciousness (Northern Europe, of course, being on the cutting edge, along with Canada). Yet despite these efforts, there is filth everywhere. Garbage lines the roads, and so forth. Even in an area of great natural beauty, you see a disproportionate amount of rubbish (Jer and I crossed a bridge over this stunning canyon, and there 100 feet down was a huge pile of trash that stank to high heaven!).
The divide between rich anbd poor is curious as well. It is clear that many people are improving their quality of living, but unlike at home, or in other modern nations, these rich people do not flock together and build prestigious communities. It is nothing to see two gorgeous brand new homes, just beautiful, to be side by side with the most run down, dilapitated farm you have seen. Walls falling in on the chicken coop, the house, the stink of garbage and waste, both animal and human, right there beside this expensive new home...very odd to see it.
In work ethic, and workmanship, the Greeks seem to have declined as well. Many jobs are only half done, or done half assed. The workers seem lazy and lack pride in their work. New construction jobs look poor, and there is always a lot of excess waste. For example, as we waited for the bus today, we sat by this job site, and there was spilled cement all over the gound, where the workers had spilled and not bothered to clean up; or we saw these guys painting a ceiling of a balcony, and they were spilling paint all over the Terra Cota roff below them, but they did nothing to stop it. At one time the Greek civilization was the very pinnacle of human achievement in areas of art and architecture, often fusing the two disciplines. I wonder what happened to that ability, where or how it was lost. This type of malaise seems very standard of Mediterranean nations today, when once they were so great.
Don't worry, I am still loving Greece, but these are some casual observations that I have made as I have trekked about the Northern part of the country.

Today, Jer and I hiked up into Mt. Olympus. I think we flatter ourselves when we say we went 1/3 of the way, but I will stick to it. The walk was very rugged and strenuous. I do not think I could bear it with a pack on, especially in the heat! We made it up to a fairly large outcrop of rock that jutted into the canyon. From there we could see the summit for the first time without the shroud of cloud cover that hovers over it perpetually. It was scenic, but it did not stir my blood as I thought it might. No doubt that was due to the fact that we were at least 2000 metres below the summit that was the home to gods.

This area of Greece is curious. Mt. Olympus sits 5 km inland from the Aegean, where our campground is. The white sand beaches are known as the "Olympus Riviera", and it would seem that this is the place that many Greeks come to holiday, as it is not overrun by tourists from other nations. The whole region is not "touristy", at least not for out of country travellers. For Greeks, it is a tourist haven. All the signs are in Greek almost exclusivley (elsewhere, they are in Greek and English) which is hard, as they use their own alphabet. We have gotten good, actually, at working out place names in Greek at least. I am surprised that the home of the ancient gods is not a bigger drawing card, but there it is. At least at the Taverna on the beach we have become known (as the only "Anglika", I am sure), and there are two servers there who speak good english, so eating out is easy.

The moon rise last night was spectacular! A blood red moon, just past full, rose over the Aegean. It made the imagination stir, indeed. Small fishing boats plied the water, the moon rose slowly, with great majesty,the Mythos was cold, and the food delicious. I truly do love the habit of eating late here (dinner begins anywhere between 8-11). It lets you sit back, relax, and enjoy the evening as it descends.

Igoumenitsa-Olympus

Well, leaving Corfu was hard. The Isle really is gorgeous. The only problem was the number of Italian tourists who infect the island like locusts. They were so thick you could smell the slime they ooze from their pores in place of sweat!! Kidding, of course...

Greece continues to stagger me. It is truly a land of contrasts. The younger generation is so "hip" and modern, pulling off that classic chic European style with ease, while right beside them are the aged traditional Greeks, who look as if they are a part of the landscape; weathered, jagged features, battered by time and the elements. During the many hours of busing between Igoumenitsa (the port closest to Corfu) and Meteora, you see so much of the wild northwest of the nation, and are able to see first hand that Greece is a nation in the grip of sweeping change.
Money from the EU pours in, and massive infrastructure programs are in progress. The roads we took clung to the mountains, following the sweep of the land, while below us in the valley was a mega highway that ran straight as an arrow through all obstacles (mountains, mainly). That is but one example of the work...all over the nation, improvements are underway as Greece modernizes.
As we rode along, however, I was struck not only by the push to modernize, but also by the huge sections of society being left behind. Improvements are occuring, but right beside them are ramshackle homes, poor people scratching a living from an unforgiving soil. As you can imagine, the push to level themeselves with the rest of modern Europe has begun, it has created social divisions, as some people become prosperous, and yet, others do not. It is a curious situation. Initially, of course, Greece was deemed to backwards to join the EU, but was ushered in during the second entry process due to a "nostalgia" vote, Greece being the craddle of Western civilization. As a result, The EU has been forced to pump money into the country in an attempt to even the tables as it were. No matter where you go, there is evidence of that money.
I wonder, though, having just seen the movie Cars, if the super highways are truly a good thing; don't get the wrong idea, sitting on those buses and literally being able to look down out the window and see the valley floor thousands of feet below was a little intense (the roads are 1.5 lanes wide by our standards, and sit right at the edge of the presipice, no lie). But after a few close calls with oncoming transports forcing you even closer to that edge (about 2-3 feet past the edge of the road), you appreciate the scenery, the way the road seems almost a part of the landscape. Even if the new highway wll be faster, and it will be a lot faster without all the switchbacks, and slow ascents/descents, I am not sure it will be better. What about the little Taverna that sits on the roadside of the old road? When the new road opens, the traffic will die out, and that prosperous Taverna that overlooks the mountain pass will cease to be...a casualty of progress.
The sites at Meteora were spectacular. They are these massive rock formations that rise out of the valley floor and jut upwards towards the sky. I do not know for sure, but they seem to be formed from the glaciers. The rock is not a solid hunk, like granite, but rather billions and billions of small stones that have been forced together by a great weight (a glacier). We took a day and wandered on foot up through them on "footpaths" that had not been walked by a human being in a long while, but I am sure plenty of goats! Up and down, through the gorges, across saddles, down ravines. It was a great day of rugged exploration. Intersetingly, there are monasteries built on the tops of some of these peaks, like massive stone eyries. I am not sure what the monks do with all that time, but I imagine that they must spend a lot of time "curing" their flesh after watching the female (or male, it is the new millenia) tourists wander through their abodes. We did not enter one, as you needed pants, and we were in shorts (only a fool, a monk, or a tourist with a car would wear pants in this heat!). Of course, I do not think Jesus would support such discrimination, but hey, thats just my interpritation.
When on the road, the travel itself does not tend to wear on you; it is the waiting. We sat in the train station in Larisa (a town of no real interest) for 6 hours waiting for a train that lasted 50 minutes. It is a torturous experience. The boredom becomes all pervasive, and actually starts to exhaust you even though you do nothing.
When the train eventually came, we took it to the Litohoro station. The station is down near the water, and through the rain (yes, rain in Greece in August!) could see the great sweep of Mountain that is the throne of the gods. Of course, the top could not be seen. Even on clear days, Olympus is "Cloud Shouldered". The station itself, despite looking new was utterly deserted, and looked ominous. You can only get off there, not board, and as such, there was very little life to be seen, only garbage and animal (i hope) feces.
According to Lonely Planet, the campgound we wanted was in Litohoro, 6 km away uphill (steadily for hundreds of feet). there were no taxi's at such a desolate station, so we hoofed it all the way and spent the next 2 + hours searching for the campground, only to discover that it was in Plaka, down on the Aegean coast, near the station. Oh, how ironic. We decided to cab it, as it was after 8:30, and we were dog tired by then, not to mention wet. When we arrived, the camp proved to be very nice, and the sky cleared. We ate at the camps Taverna, on a patio 50 m from the Aegean, and watched a full moon rise. It was wonderful, and made the walk seem all that much better!
Today we woke to sunny skies (except around Olympus, who stayed shrouded in cloud). After lunch we again walked up to town. Today, instead of rain, we were soaked by sweat. God, it was hot. However, we did discover a path that followedthe towns working Aquaduct onto the mountain. The path did not ascend very far, but ended at a small dam that held back the spring water that fed the aquaduct. In the little bit of water that was allowed to flow down the canyon, there were these stunning crystal clear pools, the "springs of the gods", it would seem. Naturally, I could not resist, and dove in for a swim. Althought the water was brisk, it was very refreshing. Splendid, in fact. To my mind, it was quite a thing to do, take a dip in a mountain spring on the very slopes of Olympus, the throne of Zeus. Jer even convinced me to dive down to the various pool bottoms to pilfer the coins I found. After getting 42 cents, I gave up. Beside, it would not due to anger the guardians of the mountain by stealing their offerings.
Evenb though Greece officially made it legal last year to worship the old Pantheon of gods, I have yet to see any eveidence of worship to them. It may be legal at long last, but still frowned upon it would seem.
Well, tomorrow, we attempt to climb some more of the Mount. I am not sure how much we will achieve (it is 2917 metres), but whatever we do get in will be spectacular, I am sure!!
Cheers all, Lots of love

Corfu again

Corfu has had a wild history.
It first belonged to the Byzantines, who built a fortress, then fell to Venice, then fell to the Angovins, then Venice again, who built another fort, then the turks assaulted it endlessly until the late 1800's, no matter who owned it. After the 2nd Venicetian conquest it fell to the French, then the English, until Greece itself took ownership in the late 1800's.
All of this is reflected in the pure overwhelming might of the 2 fortresses. They are massive, and would have been almost impossible to seige. I think the pics will do them justice.
The old city itself is just like Venice, without the canals. The homes all look Venetian. It is a very intense hodge podge of cultural forces. Well worth a day's exploration!
Tomorrow we head for the Mainland and say goodbye to Corfu. It feels just like I was here one year ago, and not 3. It was as if the years slipped away from my shoulders. I feel wonderful. I have not felt so alive and aware of the moment in years!!!

The Pink Palace and Corfu

Well, we made it to the Ionian Sea. The first day of travel was less than auspicious! We arrived in Athens International airport at roughly 10:45 I think. Now, the airport is in the middle of nowhere, so we really could not leave, and we had 7 hours of waiting for our flight to Corfu. It is painful to spend time in such a fashion, but it was unavoidable. We people watched, we snoozed against our packs, we read...time really does stand still when there is nothing to do but wait. The worst part about it was that it did not seem like we were away yet! Any international air port is much like another, they have the same feel, and the same varieties of people (not exactly, but close enough).
After the eternity of waiting, we touched down in yet another airport (much smaller, less active). Ahh, Corfu at last! Travel from the terminal to the Pink Palace was expensive by cab (30 euros, 80 cents by bus we later learned, but no buses ran at 8:30). Checking in was hectic, as the palace was so busy, and we just crashed without doing much of anything other than eating. We had, after all, just spent 28 hours in transit, in the same clothes, no showers, etc.
On Saturday, we got up in good time, and decided to explore the Agios Gordios area. It was simply stunning, as we made our way along tiny mountain roads along the coast until we arrived aT the town of Pentati (about 3 km as the crow flies, 7 by the winding roads). It was extremely pleasant, and not at all tourist driven like Agios Gordios. We explored there for a while, attempting to locate a suppossed foot path back to town, but we kept running into dead ends. It was tiring going up and down the mountain side in the 40+ degree heat, and damned if we ever found the path. Instead, we climbed back up to the road, and made our way back. I am happy to say that for lunch, I am back on my travel rations of Tuna, bread, and cheese...oh, the luxury
Now, I had been praying that the fabled Pink Palce Toga parties were the same as before, and they were! Oddly, this turned out to be disappointing...for a few reasons, but mainly, I think it had to do with the fact that 3 years ago, the crazy, wild hedonism was so manic, so insane, so intense, and so UNEXPECTED. We had no idea what we were heading into. This time, we knew exactly what to expect, and so the crazy, wild hedonism seemed worn out, tired, blase, and in truth boringly like a marketing ploy. Don't get me wrong, I still cherish my initial toga party memories, but now, I have moved past that stage of my life. I thought when I was at home, it was simply that the bars there were tired and worn out, but now I know that it is me that has evolved past them, and now I am OK with that fact. I may not know yet what I am here looking for, but for now it is enough to have discovered what I am NOT looking for. That is just as important, I think.
The next day we explored the other side of Agios G. It was even more spectacular, and as we hiked back along the beach, we discovered a phenomenal swimming area, where the waves swept in and smashed these huge boulders. It was wild swimming there. amongst the rocks and waves, being buffeted about, and lacerated by massive spray off the rocks. The whole area is so stunning, it really is paradise.
Later that same night we ate dinner with a group of girls...3 were nothing special (2 from Halifax, and one from Devon England), but the 4th, my god in heaven, she was stunning. Katie, who was from Queensland was an angel. Lucky for me we hit it off, and talked about travels we have been on, and so on, for an 2 hours. By then, however, it was clear that nothing more exciting was going to happen, so after some shots and some mixed drinks, we parted ways (oh so sad...truly a goddess!!). I went back down to the Ionian sea and swam under the light of the half moon, watching the lighting dance off over the Adriatic and Italy beyond that. The stars were in full bloom as well. It was gorgeous.
Today, we went into Kerkyra (Corfu Town) and explored the ruins of the 2 forts that dominate the town. They are stunning, but a full description will have to wait, as I run out of net time. Needless to say, they are colossal, and took us the whole afternoon to go through them both. They were in use up until the end of the 2nd world war!. tonight we bid farewell to Agios Gordios and the Palace. It will be bittersweet, as I look forward to leaving, but also wish to stay and soak up the beauty that this Isle offers up, endless olive groves and Cypress trees sweeping down jagged slopes to the blue, blue sea. Paradise....

Make Much Of Time

So many Farewells.
As I prepare to depart, I know in my core that this will be one of the most taxing and difficult endeavours of my life. The physical survival will be easy, but the seperation from my friends and family will test the limits of my mental endurance.
We just finished hosting a dinner at my house, a goodbye dinner with family. For those of you who know my granfather, you know how gruff he can be (on the outside at times), and it will not come as any surprise that the thought of me going away for so long did not sit well with him. He sat me down and demanded answers. Why was I going away? What good could possibly come from it? Who in their right mind goes away for a whole year?
The questions were simple, and yet complex; the answers to them no less so. And yet the questions are worthy of a well thought out response, not only for my Papa's sake, but also for myself. As he asked, I realised that these questions NEEDED to be answered, as simply complex as they were.
As I have said, the answers were not easy, and they took some searching to find them during a lonely drive on a Haldimand night.
Recently, when I was cleaning my room, I pulled out my highschool yearbooks and spent several pleasant hours thumbing through the pages. Waves of nostalgia washed over me, and I was swept away down "memory lane".
Yearbooks are stunning items, especially if they have not been viewed in some time. In my mind they might as well be entitled "When We Were Kings" (or queens, depending). For those brief moments, captured forever, you were truly golden. You are struck by everyone's youth, so young and beautiful (truly beautiful, not in some shallow, ascetic way, but deeply, as only the young can be), by their triumphs, by their hopes. Their faces shine; your face shines.
So there we were, beautiful, young, golden gods, living, without really being consciously aware of it, possibly the greatest times of our lives.
No matter where one chose to spend their time during those 5 years, they strove mightily, be it on the playing field, in the student council, on academic challenge, or on the stage. Oh youth, enjoy those happy hours for they shall not endure; the glory fades, future generations forget, the legacy is gone. Except, of course, in the yearbooks, testaments that confirm "yes, once I was great".
Beyond the sports, the clubs, and whatever else there may be, I love looking through the pictures of the graduating classes, seeing their faces and reading their parting quotes. There is a group of people who absolutley glow, radiating optimism and hope. Picture after picture, quote after quote, they are people at their very peak, with the world sitting just beyond their grasp, waiting to be seized. You can almost see their yearning finger tips stretching out to catch the world up, as if it was made just for them. It is uplifting, remembering that sensation.
And therin lies the trouble. How many of us actually succeed in seizing it? You see it in their eyes; they know they have the world at their finger tips. The real tragedy of youth is in the pride, the belief that such will always be the case. And so, slowly, imperceptibly, the world that lay ever so slightly out of reach drifts away. I wonder, how many of the dreams and goals spoken of with such hope and determination actually lived on to bear fruit? And how many quietly died with the turning of the years?
I can honestly say that I have no real recollection of what exactly my dreams and hopes were at that time, but I can remember the feeking of invincibility, the confidence that I would achieve them. How terribly odd, to recollect the sensation, but not the actuality. Then again, maybe not at all surprising, as I let my dreams slip away.
This upcoming school year will mark the 8th year that I have been out of highschool. In those 8 years, I can only point to one thing that truly gives me satisfaction, and that was travelling the world, when I dared to strap on a backpack, and go roam The Continent. Much of the rest was squandered time. 5 months out of 8 years, not exactly the stuff dreams are made of.
Now that I am 26, I feel old, as if life is starting to pass me by. An African proverb reads "The world is like a dancing girl; it dances to everyone for a little while". I am terrified that I have already seen her dance, and she has now moved on, leaving me alone and aging. I am consumed at times by a fear that the best times of my life are behind me. I have been assured many times by my eldersthat such thoughts are ridiculous, that I am still young (I have even tried to convince myself using the same mantra); but the truth is, I am no longer golden. I am not as fast, nor as fit, my hairline is higher, my waistline broader, my youth receding rapidly. Rather than accept such a circumstance, a disagreeable solution (which would only serve to create depression), I am attempting to fight against the onset of time, to rage, to live, knowing that some of my best times are still before me, and not only to my rear.

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old time is still a-flying:

And this same flower that smiles today

Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

The higher he's a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run,

And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,

And while ye go, go merry;

For, having lost but once your prime,

You may forever tarry."

- To the Virgins to Make Much Of Time

Robert Herrick

And that is but one reason, and there are so many more, so many more...