Greek Odyssey

So where to start? I’m conscious that I haven't blogged for a while. The mojo had swiftly departed and took a fair bit of battling to return. Doesn't mean I haven't been travelling, but these things weren't delivering the usual joy. But suffice to say mojo has returned and so has Faye.

So whilst no substantive plans had been made for the period of time when August was going to be with his daddy for the first week of the summer holidays, and nor is there any reason why they should be , this is me we're talking about and an opportunity to engage in a slightly more prolonged or intricate voyage arose.

Opportunities are endless , well not endless constrained by a fairly limited budget, in fact non-existent budget, more like God's good grace. But as the brain starts whirring with the possibilities that inevitably come out, it couldn't just be to go to one place and stay there for the duration.

Luckily this decision making process was simplified by the antics of July the 5th that took me and a friend to see Keinemusik live for the first time at DC10 in Ibiza. I'd become hooked but became even more hooked on this occasion. obsession had found us monitoring, like a pair of stalkers, the social media feeds of Adam Port, Rampa and &me to see which of the amazing locations they would next be playing and whether that happened to coincide with any availability on our part. so it was a bit of a tennis match back and forth over who could do what when and I won this one with the potential for a gig at the Pathos Club on the Greek island of Ios which happened to conveniently coincide with my available week.

So the destination was set, but I didn't have a great desire to stay on a very small island for a whole week. Of course we had to make this more complicated. I toyed with the idea of flying into Santorini, because you couldn't fly directly into Ios; the closest airport was Santorini and then a ferry on to Ios. Conveniently there was an East Midland's flight to Santorini on the first day that I had free, but this wasn't until the afternoon and it was far more valuable to me to hotfoot it up to Manchester on the train the night before and take the 7 am flight out from Manchester to Santorini thus maximising any available time.

So where to fly out of at the end of the trip? I've been keen to meet up with a friend who I met at Unum in Albania, who lives in Prishtina Kosovo and wondered if I could make this work. Sadly it just wasn't to be and on reflection it was the right decision not to overstretch myself too much, but stretch a little was totally appropriate so instead of flying back out of Santorini, I booked a flight very cheaply out of Preveza back to Stansted.

So the route was set. So, now for getting up to Manchester. As I was flying back from Stansted driving wasn't an option, and recently have begun to favour train travel a lot more if you can get a decently priced ticket because then this is productive working time, provided the rail provider has any form of decent Wi-Fi which inevitably they don't and it's a very frustrating affair indeed.

Again because of the general shitness of the UK Transport infrastructure and service it wasn't going to be possible for me to travel up by train to Manchester that morning for the 7am flight so a night before on the airport floor it was then. A word about airport floor sleeping. I’m accrueing a good bit of experience of sleeping on airport floors, and believe me there are vast differences in the airport floor experience. An issue I will explore a little later.

I had the comparative luxury of flying with TUI this time and consequently the enjoyment of the spanking Manch new terminal 2 refurbed. As I entered the terminal from the rail station you start to scan possible overnight stops. My backpack would be my pillow and I had a snuggly jumper which would suffice as a blanket. Rows of seats but none that were without armrests which would make for an uncomfortable night sleep indeed.

So the floor it was and at that time of night the terminal was pretty deserted. Lots of choice and nice clean floor this was a luxurious night sleep and I managed to get about four to five hours undisturbed. So top marks for the Manchester terminal 2 airport floor sleeping experience. An experience not mirrored outside Timson’s shoe repairs at Birmingham to note.

Manchester terminal 2 for reference is comparatively more lovely and luxurious and Terminal 3. The flight out to Santorini was fairly quick and enjoyable and I managed to get a good bit of work done. The extent of my accommodation rested on what booking.com had to offer and what was the cheapest possible option on Santorini. The answer to that question is limited.

The Cyclades islands attract a much higher price tag it would appear. Nonetheless, I was able to find a hostel at cost of 20 pounds and night and so booked there for the first night. I needed to keep things as cheap as possible and so opted for public transport from the airport to the resort. In such a small island that was approximately five kilometres from one side to the other, one would have thought the bus service to be a little bit more frequent and it was a good hours waiting the blazing sun but luckily for me there was a bar serving ice cold beer it was an appropriate spot to mark the start of the trip and await the impending slowest bus journey in the entire world.

Many arriving passengers came and went opting for taxis because the arrival of the bus was ambiguous. But eventually it came and proceeded to stop at every single stop until it was packed up to the rafters. It took about an hour and a half to get a couple of kilometres down the road. The Hostal Anna was well positioned on the main road in. The dorm rooms were clean and spacious and I was given a top. I set out to explore. As of that moment Santorini wasn't really winning me over, it seemed barren and lacking of character.

I intended to get some work done, but it proved a little difficult to find anywhere with a decent Wi-Fi connection. So I sat down and enjoyed a few beverages and the appealing scenery. It was growing on me. There were lots of bars and restaurants to enjoy and a very busy quite bustling atmosphere. After much deliberation I've selected a taverna overlooking the sea and ordered what became my staple favourites of the trip hoummus, tzatziki, pitta and Greek salad, yummy. The beers were flowing nicely and I was feeling relaxed until the announcement of traditional Greek music and plate smashing as the staff proceeded to furnish their guests with plates ready to join the parade and smash them. Enforced fun and dancing, one of my biggest fears. Two women sat at the table across from me, beckoned me over.

I had assumed that they were together but it appeared that there were both individual travellers from the US and one from Ukraine but currently living in Sweden who had met there. The blonde American was getting rather a lot of attention from the waiters and I was definitely the ugly sister, of which I didn't actually give a s*** I was too pints of mythos deep at that point. Much to my displeasure, I was dragged in to the dining room where people were cheering dancing and at the crescendo of the music preceded to smash their plates. One motherfucker smashed theirs a little bit too close to my foot and a shard of cheap Ikea ceramic stuck into my toe. Precisely why I don't enjoy these sort of affairs. I quickly scuffled back to my seat. The girls spoke about going for further drinks and we walked, and walked, and listened to one of them recount tales and exploits without any apparent care or interest in us (backpacker bullshit I hate). Within recent months I'd given up devoting my time to this sort of individual and therefore unusually and uncharacteristically for me I made my excuses and headed to bed. After all I had a webinar to deliver as well in the morning. So I stayed there as there was a good working space shaded from the sun, with decent enough Wi-Fi to deliver the webinar.

After that I would make tracks for the main town Fira, again by bus which I was partially dreading because I wouldn't have much of the day left to enjoy. I'd booked and bitten the bullet on a more expensive place in Fira, to be able to see the main town and be closer to the ferry port for my 7 am ferry onto Ios.

The webinar came and went I waited and waited and waited for another massively overly packed bus and eventually arrived in Fira. My first impressions of this place the day before had been wrong. As you explore the Old Town and the winding alleyways the place was truly intriguing. The place I had booked was quite a walk but out of the hustle and bustle and I had the most beautiful Terrace with 360 views and a pool in which to have a quick dip and cool off.

I set off for a walk into town and found the most stunning rooftop terrace to watch the sun go down. As a massive sunset and sunrise fan, I can confirm that sunsets on Santorini and in the Cyclades in general are amongst the most stunning I have seen. I enjoyed the evening and indulged a little more than I had intended, but hey ho the relaxation was welcome. I hardly slept fretting about not having sussed how to get to the ferry port from the bus station the day previous because I'd got carried away and had too many beers. I was worried I wouldn't find a taxi rank so that didn't seem an option so I had a look on uber and the one taxi on the island operating under uber said that they could be with me in 4 minutes. That soon changed and I was getting a little anxious as to whether I would make that ferry. Being the sole reason that I had gone there I needed to get to Ios on the Saturday. But I got the ferry and an hour and a half later I arrived in Ios.

A much smaller and less commercialized Island but still seemingly lacking the character and the scenery of the Ionian. My host in Ios had been particularly accommodating and said I could check in early. I'd arrived about eight o'clock in the morning and so headed to the beach which was just outside the studio I was staying in to wait there until I heard from him. It was only just over an hour before I got a message saying that I could check in early and was welcomed warmly by Dimitrios who I assume was the owner of the place and presented me with cold water to drink and fresh figs from the garden for breakfast (hurrah for loose bowels!). I sat on the terrace and got cracking with some work as it was time to play later. I've been so looking forward to this event; Keinemusik at the Pathos Club, my desire to see these DJs heightened and energized from seeing them on the 5th of July at Circlo loco in Ibiza. I'm smitten, and have joined their mass following in travel to see them play in various stunning locations. According to the tickets the event started at six and I wanted to be there to get every bit of goodness I possibly could out of it.

There were buses from the harbour but not as many people on them as I expected and as I arrived at the Pathos club there was no queue and in fact quite a number of people, mainly Australians to my surprise were going out, getting wristbands and making noises about coming back later. This was six o'clock I was advised by one of the staff that they wouldn't start playing until sunset so that was a good three hours to wait! what an absolutely spectacular setting of an open air club with pool overlooking the sea on a cliff top. I'd wait and enjoy the scenery and the music was sounding good. The place gradually filled and I secured myself a nice balcony spot overlooking the DJ Booth so I could watch the masters at work.

Rampa and &me started their set as the sun touched the horizon. Another major moment of musical euphoria as I listened to their set unfold and danced away happily. Naturally, as you do you find yourself with companions all appreciating the same thing and sharing empathy when you're pushed out of the way by some poser who doesn't really appreciate the music just trying to get a decent selfie. So I danced alongside a couple from Cyprus and Germany who had a shared love for the music. We noticed Rampa leaving the DJ Booth, obviously heading to the toilet accompanied by security. We planned our attack and uncharacteristically for me I asserted myself enough to ask for a photo whilst simultaneously throwing my phone on the ground and tripping up. With a look of who is this crazy b**** on his face Rampa graciously conceded and allowed the photo. I couldn't have been happier in that precise moment. The sets and the evening came to an end sooner than I had anticipated and I beat the crowds to get back on the bus and by a bed by midnight just like Cinderella. Ha!.

I had seen what I came to see on Ios and there seemed no further reason for me to hang around on my short trip so I also thought about saving the pennies and book the cheapest possible ferry to Athens. Although some of the islands that we stopped off at on the way to Athens looked a little more appealing, the Cyclades hadn't spoken to me enough to make me want to see more of them and I was keen to experience a different sort of environment, a more scenic one. My reference point for Greece is always the beauty of Kefalonia, Corfu, Paxos and Anti-paxos, particularly Lakka in Paxos.

Even though the ferries were generally expensive there were still cheap deals to be had comma for 30 euros I got the night ferry, 13 hours of it with a seat on the deck, which was actually a plastic garden chair. I didn't view this as a ball ache, the journey for me is just as important as the destination, and this was an opportunity to experience something new. Not airport floor sleeping but boat floor sleeping. However I got fairly decent sleep on this boat and also got lots of work done so was a pretty productive time spent without the expenditure of a night's accommodation. Arriving into Athens at 2 a.m. meant that there was no public transport options but the taxis were readily available and fairly cheap. My very good humored taxi driver even roamed the streets trying to help me find an ATM as they did not accept card. Note to self ATMs are generally closed for maintenance on Saturday night in Athens, not particularly helpful.

I'd booked the cheapest possible accommodation I could find, the Sparta Inn hotel at the princely sum of 11 pounds per night. I wasn't actually getting a full night there as I was arriving at three o'clock four o'clock in the morning and would be leaving on a bus to Lefkas at 7 pm but I took advantage of the bargain to make sure I'd have somewhere to store my bag. Being mindful of the horrendous booking.com reviews, frequently citing bed bugs I tried to put this at the back of my mind and just think about how cheap it was and hope that I would get lucky. The area was pretty spiky, but the welcome warm.

I think I've reached the conclusion that people in Europe perceive the name Faye to be that of a male, and I always seem to get placed in a male dorm. Maybe I need to look into electrolysis. The dorm was stinky because you could either smoke in there or someone was smoking outside and it was somehow getting into the room. It made me feel sick I tried to check the bed out and the sheets as best I could in the darkness without pissing off my roommates from having my phone on. However it was clear that I was not the latest up that night and there were some pretty strange sounds coming from beyond the room in the hostel as I woke and scanned the bed for signs of bed bugs. I found one. This looked promising I got showered and changed and headed off to explore Athens for the limited time I had there. Again no further sign of bed bugs. Note to self, sat here writing this a week later, I am covered from Top To Toe in little red dots. Bed bug bites clearly take a little time to show themselves. Ewwww.

As I walked out onto the street outside the hostel, there was an assault on my senses similar to that that I experience in Asian cities such as Bangkok. The heat, the pungent aroma of rotting garbage, the background smell of herbs and spices. This area where the hostel was located was Middle Eastern in orientation and the place gave a feel of what I imagined Beirut to be like. I loved it. But walking up the hill I saw one of the many illustrations of things that made me feel really sad in Athens. Every city and town increasingly seems to have a growing population of homeless people but Athens was different. I'd gone through a phase of being obsessed with Vice documentaries particularly those that centered on homelessness in cities. One in particular stuck in my consciousness. It was one about the drug ‘Krocodil’ that many people on the streets in Ukraine take. Essentially at rots you from the inside. As I walked up the road there was a guy, looking very poorly indeed seemingly trying to get his sandals on but he was stuck in that repetitive cycle for what seemed and age as I looked at his legs and his arms he had skin like a crocodile. It was a humbling and saddening experience it has stayed with me. The level of poverty and illness of people on the streets in Athens seem to be higher than that I'd experienced elsewhere.

I'd heard mixed reviews about Athens and the thoughts of my parents when they'd visited a long time ago stuck with me as a dusty dirty city that didn't seem to have many redeeming features. But I totally disagreed with this and Athens for me is one of the most fulfilling places that I've visited in recent times. I was sad to leave but onto the next place. I booked a bus directly to Lefkada which should take approximately six hours to get there. I would arrive at midnight. Again doing things on the hoof without much pre-planning I was driven by the cheapest possible accommodation I could find on Lefkas. I didn't really think about accessibility and getting to that accommodation at that time of night assuming that as it was a tourist Island and not particularly large things would be fairly straightforward. The accommodation I found was in my Mikros Gialos and the southern tip of the island. On schedule the bus arrived in in the main town of Lefkada.

My host, the lovely Georgia had predicted there would be one taxi, and one taxi there was who proceeded to sting me for 40 euros. But when the journey was underway I didn't feel quite so stung. Mikro Gialos was incredibly isolated, perfect as far as I was concerned, but not perfect for accessibility, ATM, transport etc. Hey ho I'd worry about it in the morning. Georgia seemed a little puzzled when I had arrived that I hadn't seemingly thought about how I would get around. I’m very casual about these things nowadays and it's all just part of the adventure so I hadn't stressed about it. I'm sure it would all work out in the end.

The next morning my lovely host kindly offered to take me into the town of Nidri where I'd find local amenities including a motorbike rental place. I love renting a motorbike and it always takes me back to adventures in Thailand and Vietnam. I just hope that my motorbike driving skills had improved since then. I find the acceleration sometimes like tapping your head and rubbing your belly and in the past this is caused a few mishaps. So I took my time and drove very carefully. I saw some waterfalls signposted off the main route. Generally, I found the couple of hour rrek to said advertised waterfalls to be generally disappointing and resulting in nothing more than a trickle of water into a stagnant pool. In this case however there was no such disappointment and some beautiful blue pools were there to enjoy along with hundreds of other people or vying for that perfect profile picture. I dive bombed in and soaked the lot of them. I love the freedom of being on a motorbike. I loved the island I was already in love with it. There was so many things about Lefkas that bring back such pleasant memories of my time in Thailand, the heat, the smells, the vegetation and the scenery and in fact some houses were still built out of corrugated iron and wood and there was a similar architectural style, so naturally I drew parallels and this heightened my enjoyment.

My parents had spent a lot of time in and around Lefkas and Ithaca in their sailing days and so there were places that I wanted to see that I knew they'd spent time in; Vasssiliki was one of them. You know those surreal moments where you double take if something has actually happened. Well there was one of those in Vassiliki. They catapulted into my life riding a quad bike toting a Nokia 1210 and just as swiftly catapulted back out again not before enabling me to enjoy a local perspective on this beautiful island. How very Shirley!

On the Wednesday I didn't have any meetings and it was the end of teaching so I took the opportunity to get out and explore as much as I possibly could, for me this meant circumnavigating the entire Island and almost running out of petrol, saved by the fact that the return journey down to Vassiliki was entirely downhill and I could free wheel. I really need to pay a little bit more attention and have a very casual attitude to fuel supply in my vehicles.

Again my love for this island grew and grew; spectacular beaches rugged landscape, crystal clear turquoise seas that rivaled anything Ibiza had to offer and green pine forests that were pungent with aroma. I've taught tourism theory for many years and one of the particular areas that I enjoy teaching and find fascinating is that of tourist behavior and tourist typology. Many years later I was delighted to meet the wonderful and very lovely Eugenia Wickens the founder of the Greek island tourist typology, and we remain friends now. Reflecting on this trip I can confirm that I'm well and truly a Heliolaterous tourist.

I headed back to Mikros Yialos, a little haven of tranquility, so peaceful and calm and beautiful. I'd been thoroughly enjoying my sunrise swims across the bay with nobody else around and crystal clear turquoise waters. The perfect way to start a day and I had already started planning how I could go home, kidnapp August, and come back here to never return. I say this in jest, partially.

The next day was the start of the journey home and I was desperate as always to see my boy. Moped to Nidri. A frustrating day of attempted Teams meetings with poor WiFi connection with my students then two buses took me back to Preveza for my flight back to Stansted. Again great flight. Unfortunately though no onward trains that evening back to Nottingham and so it was another night on the airport floor. This time, Stansted, null points. So the arrivals hall is your only option. Find a quieter corner and within seconds there'll be some cockney barking orders to get out the way. Welcome to Great Britain. Such a lovely warm welcome to the UK. It seems that the only place the weary traveller is allowed to lie at Stansted is in the middle of the concourse, next to entire strangers. “Against the yellow fence!!!” As a result, not the best night’s sleep in the world. The next morning again low and behold train cancellations and strikes meant that the onward journey to Nottingham was cancelled and quick thinking and an alternative route though saw me getting home five minutes later the my intended arrival time. It was good to be back. But as I finally get round to finishing this post, I am sat on a flight back out there :-)