Rachel and Jackie's Great Greek Adventure I

Okay, take a deep breath, becaues this is gonna be a long one.

Jackie came to visit me for my spring break. Everyone was out of Florence on their respective trips by the time she came to visit so we had the apt to ourselves. When she got in, we ran around and climbed up to San Minato, the beautiful 12th century chruch that overlooks all of Florence. We ended the day with a very delicious but salty dinner at Quattro Leoni - one of our local faves. (Anthony Hopkins, Dustin Hoffman and Athony Kiedus, among lots of others, have all eaten there!) We ended up rebooking a hotel in Mykonos, as I got an email saying it was closed for the season. So we took care of that and hit the hay.

Day 1

Then the next day, Sunday: El Grecco Trip commenced. We got up before dawn, while the preivous' nights festivities were slowly dying away. Our taxi ride there was with a cute, old italian (shocker) man driver. I said I spoke a little Italian, and he responded, in italian of course, that there was no need to learn the language -- just find a native Florentine boyfriend to become your translator! Before we left for the airport, Jackie had gotten a leg squeeze and me cheek pinch.

In the airport, we decided to get breakfast. I ordered a cappucino and croissant (cornetto in italian) and Jackie opted for a true Jackie breakfast: chocolate coated and filled croissant, and um... one of those pretty drinks on that poster on the wall. She asked for one of these crazy looking coffee conconctions, and the cashier looked at her dubiously. She then shrugged and had the barista brew up whatever the hell she ordered. When it came, it looked fab - all chocolately, coffee, and whip cream. Turns out it was filled with strong liquor, hence the reason why the cashier looked so befuddled at Jackie's order. She was ordering a super strong alcoholic bev at like 6 in the morning. What a wake up call.

Our flights went well, despite the fact that Alitalia women flight attendents are absolute meanies, and decided to ignore us when they were handing out little baked cakes as snacks. We were both very upset about this. We had a layover in Rome, and finally, around 1 arrived in Athens. We goofed around for awhile, found our luggage, and found the kiosk to ask how the hell we got into downtown athens. The lady there looked at the address of our hotel, and told us it was so far away, it was off the Athens map. We had to take the 95 bus to Syntagma Square, then take some trolly or whatever or get a cab. Fabo.

So we climbed on the shuttle and got to Syntagma Square. I swear, all those Greek letters threw me off. I don't know what I expected, but that I then understood the expression "it's all greek to me!" As soon as we deboarded the shuttle, we were harassed by some cabbie. He said he'd give us a deal - Acropolis, Angora, other sites, and a ride to the hotel for 50 euro total. We felt we were getting scammed, so we opted just for a ride to the Acropolis. He didn't have a meter in his car, and we thusly then learned, if you don't wanna get ripped off in Athens, get in a car with a meter. At some point in our trip, Jackie and I concured that it was Mercedes Taxis that always ripped you off and didn't have meters, and the non Mercedes taxis were safe ones. We spent our last day in Athens scouring for non-Mercedes taxis. In retrospect, this seems ridiculous.

The Acroplis was mighty cool. I stole a rock to give to Bryan, and I got yelled at for taking off my shoes. It was very warm and the sun was exceptionally bright. We hung out here for an hour or so, and then decided to find our hotel. We talked to this bus driver, he told us his bus, the 230, went to Syntagma Square -- where we needed to take the trolley to our hotel. He was really nice, and let us ride for free. Well, Jackie and I climbed aboard. The bus left, and after about an hour, we got nervous. Did we miss our stop? Where the hell were we? The bus was too crowded to ask the driver where the hell we were. Finally, about an hour and a half later, the bus stopped. The bus driver came back, and said "Ladies, you missed your stop! This is the end of the line. Oh, ladies ladies..." He then told us he would let us know, on the return trip, when we would exactly get off. So we rode the 230 bus route once more. When we got to Syntagma Square, our driver stood up, (mind you the bus was packed) and yelled in English "This is your stop girls! Make sure you go other side street! Other side!" It was slightly embarassing, but Jackie and I thanked him profusely, and got off, and crossed the street to the trolley ticket kiosk.

An old man saw us looking at a map. He asked if he could help in English, and we of course shouted "Yes! Thanks!" We started babling, and he got all confused and said "Err... I no know!" So we asked the kiosk dude. While we were buying our tickets, that old Greek guy said "American? I went to Texas once!"

With two trolley tickets, we were on our way. Or so we thought. Flash forward to an hour later. We are on the number three trolley, but something doesn't look right. It looks like we're going back towards the airpot, away from Athens. I ask the driver, and low and behold, we're going the oppostite direction. We get off at the next stop, and feel utterly stranded with our huge backpacks. We finally decided to call a cab. Turns out the cab ride to our hotel was a measly 3 euro. All that effort just to save a few bucks, which we didn't even end up really saving.

Our hotel was nice. Jackie and I complained how the lights didn't work though -- we took showers in the dark. We marched right downstairs and exclaimed to the greek boy working that our lights were out! We had no electricity! Perplexed, he climbed the two flights of stairs to our room, then just plugged our hotel card key into this slot on the wall. Turns out, in Greece, you have to plug in your card to get the lights on. We felt like idiots, but learned something that would be valuable in every other hostel/hotel on the trip.

Dinner was stinky. We could only find coffebars. Coffeebars on the left, coffebars on the right. People sipping fancy frozen cocktails and coffees. It was around 8, and we wanted some grub! We found a place that looked restauranty, and discovered we were the only ones eating dinner in the entire place. I orderd "lightly fried little fish" for dinner. Turns out, it was a heaping, (And I mean heaping) plate of fried sardines. MMMMMMMMM! I can handle a few of those little guys, but like, 2 dozen! The salad was good though - Greeks make a mean Greek salad. The old people in the restuarant kept glaring at us. I heard mutters of "Americani." Do they think we can't understand that? Honestly. We decided upon a crepe for dessert, because I was def not satisfied. We split the crepe, then rolled into bed.

Day 2

We took a cab to Syntagma Sq., and boarded the 95 shuttle to the airport without a hiccup. We made our flight to Santorini, and all was well. We got there, unboarded, and stepped onto the beautiful island. The waters were this deep azzure blue, the land super hilly, craggy, dry and green, and the wind was whipping everywhere. We again were harassed by a taxi driver, (in yet another Mercedes taxi!) gave him the address of our hostel, Casa Fracesca, located in Oia, the smaller town in Santorini, and headed off. The roads to this tiny town were so windy and frightening. One side: craggy mountain. The other side, sheer drop off into the sea. Lots of blind turns, no guardrails, and torrential wind. We made it though. Our cabbie dropped us off on this desolate road, said, walk 30 meters that way, and there you'll be. He left.

Well, let me tell you, we couldn't find this Casa Francesca. No one was around... it was like a ghostown. No signs, no people, nothing. I then realized I left our conformation sheet in the cab. But I did remember that on the sheet it said "To get the key to Casa Francesca, go to the Oia bus terminal and ask for the key." Yea - a little bizzare, very strange. I was shocked little Oia would even have a bus terminal. So Jackie and I hitched up our backpacks, and walked down the little road. We finally found the 'terminal'. It consisted of a small convenince store, a gyro shop, a closed tourist office/internet cafe, some benches and about 8 dogs. We asked eveyone we could if they had the key to Casa Francesca, and you can immagine how strange this sounded. No one had any idea. Jackie and I, of course, bickered, and slumped on the benches in exasperation. Where would we stay? We were a good 12 km from the main port of Fira, where would be our best shot at finding a place to crash. I pet one of the dogs, and then the whole fleet of them came over to us. All eight dogs just laid at our feet, and lounged about.

Just then, this couple walks by. Oh my, people! The woman looks at us, smiles, and says "Looks like you have quite a bit of dogs around you!" in this great Austrailian accent. We were so relieved they spoke fluent English - we hadn't really met many Santorinians who did. We explained our situation, and they offered us a ride in the rental car back to Fira. We took up the offer, and they gave us a ride back to Fira. Bruce and his wife were awful nice -- they were from the outback in Australia, and they were vactioning here in Greece, and in Spain. They left us at the Donna Villas, where they had stayed. Bruce gave us there card to show to the guy at the villas, and told us to ask him if they had any reduced price rooms, or if they could recoomend any. We thanked them, and they drove off to return their car and catch their flight home. Jackie and I set off to find Donna Villas, and low and behold.... we couldn't find them! Are you surprised?

So Jackie and I continued our trudging. We trudged down the hill into Fira, looking quite dejected. It was getting dusky now. After about ten minutes or so, this guy jumps out from this rent-a-car joint and shouts, "Ladies, what can I do for you?" We looked at each other - are you kidding? Just what we need, some creepy Greek guy. Turns out he was just trying to help. His name was George -- he looked like an older, not as attractive Johnny Depp, with long, brownish hair. We explained our situation, he made a call, and a hotel shuttle came to pick us up. Hotel Magharitta was wicked cheap, (30 euro for a double per night) clean (even if the hallway smelt like stale cigarettes and the door got stuck), with a gorgeous view and free breakfast.

That evening, we walked to a local restaurant, and enjoyed a delicious meal. Greek salad with fabulous feta, mousakka ( a greek specialty of baked lamb, potato, eggplant and cheese dish) wine, bread and fried zuchinnis. Apostolis, our waiter, liked that we tried to speak Greek (Thank you, etc.). He brought us out complimentary shots of this Greek Poison at the end of the meal that apparently 'aids in digestion'. It tasted like licorice fire, and we were supposed to sip it. To be polite, Jackie and I drank it, and kept washing it down with the dregs of our wine. Everytime I took a sip I shook. The little cat in the restaurant offered some distraction from the Greek Poison, however. She lived there and just mewed for pieces of our food. She had some problem with her head, the waiter said. It was permanently cocked to one side. Anyway, just when we finished our drinks, Apostolis asked if we'd like another. We, politely, declined. Just our luck, he came up with another round of the so dubbed 'Greek Poison.' Some how we got that down, paid our bill, bid goodbye to Apostolis, and called it a night.

Day 3

Jackie and I awoke to a wonderfully clear, bright, day in Fira. We decided to go down and ret a car from George. Bruce and his wife mentioned a car rental is only 25 euros - you get to see the whole island with it too. So we did just this, and we got hooked up with a lime green Fiat. The engine must have been the size of a thimbul. I drove, and Jackie didn't do stick, and we headed off for some gas. We rolled down the windowns, and crusied around the windy turns, looking for the beaches that George had suggested. For some reason, I thought we should go up this ridiculous hill (remember, when I say hill, I mean mountain. Santorini used to be made of active volcanoes, so the 'hills' are just ancient voclano cones. ) . Half-way up the hill we realized our little Fix-It-Again-Tony Fiat just wouldn't make it. I popped it in neutrual and backed down the hill. No matter, we got down safe and cruised off.

Sooner or later we found ourselves on that previously described windy road from Fira to Oia. Riding on it was an experience. Driving on it was something totally different. I would curse at each blind turn, having no idea what was beyond the blind turn ... would there be a car hugging the middle of the road that would turn me off, and down the cliff into the ocean? It was stressful, but we made it Oia, couldn't find anything, and headed back.

Finally, we found our little beach. I desperately had to pee, so I found this old snack shack and went behind it to pee. As I'm squatting, I peer around the corner, and see this white truck approaching. I freaked and pulled up my pants really quick, and got myself together just beofre the truck passed. Apparently I decided to pee right along this dirt road. The driver of the truck passed, looking at me very strangely.

After this, Jack and I laid in the sun for awhile, and took some naps. It was super sunny and nice. The sand was black, and little pumice stones were scattered all along the beach. It was a very peaceful spot. Turns out, we became very burned by the sun - our faces looked like tomatoes.

We then continued on in the Fiat, crusing around, stopping for delcious baklava, and seeing some more beaches. Those kind of beaches where incredibly huge cliffs just crash right down into the sea. Spectactular. Later that afternoon, I decided to tackle another hill.

Rachel: Okay, it says Fira this way, to our right, up this hill.
Jackie: No it doesn't, go straight, it says Fira that way!
Rachel: No, look at it! Too late, we're passed it. I'm going right.

Well, to the right ment a massive hill that we obviously didn't make it up. But this time, there was this little white tinbox behind us yelling at us because I had stalled on the hill. I was juggling the e-brake, trying to stay where we were. The white tinbox got around us, and I attempted to use the same maunver in hill descent we had used earlier. It appeared to be working, until I came really close to this wall, and the back tire got stuck on a step that came into the street from this house that boarded the road. So now we were stuck. I couldn't pull the car up off the step, because the hill was too steap. Jackie got out of the car to inspect the situation.

Jackie: Well, I mean, everytime you start it up and get off the step, you just roll back onto it again.
Rachel: We need to flag someone down.
Jackie: What if I tried to push it off and up the hill?
Rachel: Absolutely not. What if you fell and the car fell back and rolled over you? That would definitely not improve our situation.
Jackie: Everyone that's passing us just stares and looks really weird.
Rachel: Well, I guess you could try pushing. Just shout if something goes wrong. I'll pull the e-brake.
Jackie: Not after what you just told me could happen!

So eventually, we flagged someone down and in one-two-three seconds, he got us unstuck. I guess what it boiled down to what that I am not such a prowess and driving a teensy engine-standard car. We rode back to town to book our ferry passage to Mykonos for the next day. It was the 6th, and our flight back to Athens left from Mykonos on the 8th. Where, in Athens that same day, we'd get the flight back to Florence. Turns out, there were no ferries to Mykonos the next day at all! None! We could leave the next morning, take a 9 HOUR ferry ride to Siros, this island, then leave the next day for Mykonos. Which of course, wouldn't even get us to the island in time for our flight.

Jackie and I, of course, freaked, and went to the airport to see if we could change flights. Turns out we could. We got there too early - the airpot wasn't open yet because it had a 8' o'clock flight, and we were there at 5. It's strange to think of an airport as not being open. Anyway, Jackie and I killed time in the Fiat. We'd have strange contests where we would wait and see whos stomach grumbled first. Sometimes the person who's stomach made noise first would win, sometimes they would lose. It was a very strange game only hungry girls could invent.

We waited till they opened, and switched our flight to leave from Santorini to Athens for the next morning, with no charge. We would just spend another day in Athens. Phew! We returned the car, and tried to find a place George had recommended: El Greco. Turns out they were closed. We walked all around looking for some place to eat. We were in heels, and I don't know if this is rude in Greece or whatever, but some old man spit at us after passed him, and a group of Greek boys shouted "Questo!" (Translation: How much. Yeah, enough said.) We were feeling edgy and hungry, went back to George, and he brought us - himself- to the next door taverna. He was our guardian angel, and the people at this place really took care of us because George gave us the intro. We again had a delcious dinner, and a free extra half caraf of the house barrel wine. I hope the folks at this place didn't think we were tipsy or anything - we were laughing as we always do, and our faces were violently red from our Santorinian sunburn. Hopefully they just looked the other way. Santorini had the nicest people you could meet, even if it was so quiet due to it being it's offseason.

Day 4

The next morning, we caught a 7 am flight back to Athens. By now, we could navigate Athens like a pros (well...er... sort of.) We took a taxi to this local that we had read about in our Greek book, which listed two hotels in the area. They were listed as 1 euro ratings, which meant cheap, and were right near the Acropolis, which is a good area to be in. We found the first hotel and... it was a 4 star get up! All shiny marlble and glass, with men in suits, would cost us 88 euro a night... no way! We packed up, and headed to our next destination. This place was smaller, closer to the Acropolis, and a much nicer price. It was sheer luxury next to Hotel Magharita. That day we relaxed, enjoyed a 'cappucino freddo' like the greeks do at an outdoor coffeebar, saw the Ancient Angora, and did some gift shopping at the nearby markets. We found some funky shops, cool leather sandals, and really great jewelry. This place was much cheaper than Florence. We even found a place for dinner - some old guy gave us the restaurants card.

At dinner, I ordered the 'ocotopus with olive oil and lemon' and Jackie got what was described as "like de meeetbaaalllz" The prices seemed closer too - but more than -- those in Santorini. Turns out they appetizers - the Athens appetizers were more than the price of a Santorini main course. My octopus was squishy and slimy - I thought it may be like calamari. Jackie's 'meatballs' were just like eggplant jalepeno poppers. The salad was fine, but the feta was crumbled, not in a thick square slab on top of the salad like in every other place. Anyway, we were bummed, and decided to hit up a crepe place to make up for it. How can you go wrong with a crepe? Honestly?

We went to bed, watched some CNN in English (quite the treat, I assure you). The next day, we had our flights back home. It went well, but we were zonked when we got back.

Stay tuned for details of the last two nights of Jackie's stay in Florence... to be continued.