Athens was fun, but quite frankly, it was a hub to paradise. Three friends I met in Athens and I all wanted to pay a visit to the Island of Santorini, so we decided to make the trip together. Trevor and Rachel are cousins from Seattle and Clint happens to come from the America's Finest City (for any of you not up on the lingo, I'm referring to San Diego). The overnight ferry left the dock at 8pm and didn't arrive until shortly after 6 the next morning. The trip was most certainly long, but considering that the 30 euro ride doubled as transportation and accommodation for the night, we were defintely not complaining.
As it turned out, it could not have worked any more smoothly. When we cruised into the island, the owner of our villa was waiting for us. Yes, villa. Yes, he was waiting for us. He grabbed our bags, threw them in his van and we headed up the mountain to Villa Manos. Yes, Villa Manos. The drive up was picture perfect. We went around the mountain and took in the beautiful scene of a gorgeous island accompanied by a sunrise in the backdrop. We arrived about 10 minutes later and were greeted by the sweetest woman in the world. Her name happens to be Mrs. Poppy. Or just Poppy. She apologetically informed us that we couldn't yet check in because they were fully booked and no one had yet checked out. Realizing we would have to wait a few hours, we threw our luggage in the lobby and inquired about breakfast. Again, she sincerly apologized that breakfast was not served until 8am. After about 3 seconds of silence, she blurted out that she could have her husband (The same guy who shuttled us from the port and the same guy we later learned hates to be referred to as "Mr. Poppy") pick us up some breakfast from a nearby store. Feeling guilty and dumbfounded at the same time, we turned down the request. Instead, we walked about 10 minutes to the edge of town to local bakery for some Greek deliciousness.
It was still too early to check-in when we returned to our villa, so we had to go through the agony of waiting around....POOLSIDE. None of us had gotten more than an hour of sleep on the ferry, so it wasn't long before we were all getting some sun and some shuteye. At around 10:30 came by inform us that a room was ready. But it wasn't our room. It was a nicer room than the one requested, but she felt so bad that we had to wait, she upgraded us for no charge.
NOTE: This is when I realized I was on a different planet.
After sleeping a little more and getting a little more sunshine, we decided to rent ATVs for the day. I had actually never ridden one, so this was especially exciting for me. Each 4-wheeler was only 15 for the day, so for 7.5 euro each, we drove all over the island going upwards of 60km an hour. It was freaking amazing. We rode around, grabbed some lunch and headed for the beach. After taking in some more sun for a few hours, we ventured towards the top of the island. After a while of aimless, exhilirating driving, we stumbled upon one of the most gorgeous views I had ever seen. We hopped off our vehicles, walked down a bit, hopped over a fence and were greeted to this...
After eventually breaking ourselves away from our little jewel, we hopped back on and rode back toward town for dinner and drinks. As we were getting ready to head out for the night, we realized we had 2 ATVs, which meant 2 drivers, which meant 2 designated drivers. Damnit. There was only one way to settle this: Rock-Paper-Scissors. The cousins had been sharing a bike, so they squared off, while I was pitted against Clint. I took a minute (literally) to craft my strategy for the match-up. My experience has shown that few people start off with scissors, so I figured it was best go with paper. I thought about it a bit more, and realized Clint is a pretty smart man. I could tell he was giving this some thought as well. I anticipated he would go with scissors, so I switched the gameplan to rock.
About 6 seconds later, I took a swig of my drink in celebration. It was going to be a good night.
We went out on the town and had a great time. Too good, in fact. After hopping from bar to bar, to club, the cousins had not lived up to their end of the bargain (I don't even remember who had to be DD) and were hammered. Clint was the only sober person. As a result, Clint became Mr. Poppy and shuttled us. One. At. A. Time. Fortunately, I was the first make the 7 minute drive back with him, while Rachel and Trevor had to wait around for our makeshift taxi service to return.
The next day can only be described in so many words. We woke up early for a boat tour we had signed up for the day before. A bus picked us up and headed towards the port, where we set foot on our gorgeous boat.
I felt good. I was excited for our tour of the island. I was in love with our boat. The others...well, not so much.
We all had partied pretty hard the night before, but apparently it was hurting them more than it was hurting me. They were all hungover. Especially Rachel. She wasn't even aware this picture was being taken. Sorry, Rach, I had to. (For explanation, see below.)
We stepped off the boat when we got to the volcano, at which point Rachel realized she was in no state to climb up a volcano. And then there were 3.
It was hot. And steep. About a third of the way up, Trevor realized he was in no state to climb up a volcano. And then there were 2.
Before I go on, let me give you a little background. Clint had just come from Egypt with his two buddies from home. While there, Clint decided to eat some raw vegetables that had not been properly cleaned. Needless to say, Clint was not the happiest of campers...multiple times a day.
About two-thirds a way to the top, Clint felt "a brew" coming on. He debated with himself whether to suck it up and keep going to the top, or to throw in the towel (and later the bathing suit) and run down to a bathroom. Being the tough San Diegan that he is, he ventured onward.
In the meantime, I was really enjoying the mountain. The scene was not what I imagined a volcano to look like, though. It was more of a dirt mountain with a number of craters where the volcano erupted. It wasn't like a tall strucure that we all envision from pictures. Regardless, it was really pretty and had a great backdrop to it. Our tour guide was extremely informative, and suggested that there was quite the developed civilization here way back in the day. When we got to the top, he dug up some of the soil to show us how how it was. It remarkable how the dirt, which looked so peaceful, scorched my fingers at the touch.
Then came the walk down.
I was walking at my own pace, enjoying the scenery and taking pictures. Clint was not up for such activities, and hightailed back to our boat. From afar, I saw him virtually sprint down the mountain, bouncing around in his flip-flops. I was about 100 yards behind him when I saw scurrying around, desperately looking around for our boat, which blended in quite well with the others around it.
When I get to the bottom, I find Rachel still curled up in fetal position where we left an hour an half earlier, with Trevor right beside her. After talking to them for a few minutes, I head back towards our boat.
I had only been sitting for a few minutes when Clint comes walking up. He has a guilty smile on his face and informs me that he just had the worst experience of his life. As he begins to tell me, I see that his face is fairly wet. I chalk it up to his sweating in the heat and pain endured until I look down and realize his entire body is soaked.
"Why are you wet?"
"Oh man, you don't want to know."
"You know I do."
NOTE: THE FOLLOWING SHOULD NOT BE READ BY MINORS, PREGNANT WOMEN, THOSE WITH BACK TROUBLES OR PEOPLE WITH QUEASY STOMACHS
Apparently, Clint had to go. Real. Bad. He was vehemently searching for our boat, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't quite find it. Out of options, he did the unthinkable. He jumped into the Mediterranean.
Yikes.
Moving along....
The next stop on our tour were the hot springs. They were in an area that was inaccessible via our boat, so we had to jump (see below) into chilly waters and swim to the springs. The water was refreshing and the swim over felt great, but the hot springs were barely lukewarm. Fun, nonetheless.
After lunch on shore (and more bent over heaving from Rachel and Trevor), we waited for our boat to take off again. As we sat, we discussed how much of a mess the 3 of us were. Except for me. I had felt a little sluggish in the morning, but I was just fine after returning the ATVs. I had actually felt pretty good. Trevor felt like crap and left a part of himself on shore. Rachel was a walking debacle at every stop of the way. And Clint, well, he made my trip. I was next. I had to be. I felt a sense of impending doom come over me, and became leery of everything around me. I even found what appeared to be plastic in the calamari I was eating. After some investigation though, I learned the object was harmless membrane. Still, I was petrified.
Back on the boat, we headed towards Oia, a quaint town at the top of Santorini. While Oia is really cute, there is nothing especially exciting to do there (more on this later). We were dropped off by the boat at the dock and had to get allllll the way to the top of the steep mountain to get to Oia. We two options: 1) Pay 5 euro for a donkey ride to the top or 2) Hike and hike for 0 euro. After we realized we had plenty of time to kill and no money to waste, we decided to trek onward (and very upward). During the march, we had to walk behind and then beyond a number of donkeys. This is when I learned you never want to walk behind donkeys because they like to buck people with their hind legs. "This is how my life is going to end," I thought to myself. As I walked to the right of the donkeys, I closed my eyes, swallowed hard and assumed the worst. I opened my eyes and all way okay. Phew, that was close.
After much hiking, we finally made it to the top only to discover most of the shops and restaurants closed. This was in late April, and the Greek tourist season doesn't begin to take off until Greek Easter, which is in the first week of May. With few tourists roaming the streets, most of what there was to do was closed down. The boat had dropped us off at 4pm for an 8pm sunset and after some aimless walking, we now had 3 hours to kill. Debating whether it was worth the wait, I informed the group that it was Ios, and not Santorini that is known for its unparalleled sunsets. Considering the fact that we were to be in Ios the next night, we decided to take an early bus back to our villa.
After dinner (best greek salad of my life) we decided to make it a mellow night and stay in. I picked up my Let's Go to see how much of the island we had covered, and read that the top of Oia has "the best sunsets in all of Greece". Oops.
Still unscathed the next morning, we packed up our bags, gave Ms. Poppy hugs and kisses (we all agreed I was her favorite of the group, and she later told us we were her favorite people..."in days"...) and headed towards the port. Still feeling like a shmuck about Oia's sunset, we ran into a number of people from our tour who decided not to screw and actually stay for the sunset. Fearing the worst, I asked them how it was.
"Eh, it was really cloudy. You didn't miss much."
It was then I pulled a Johnny Drama and with fists pumping, bellowed a long, loud , "VICTORY!"
Santorini, baby, Santorini!
1 comment:
I hate you.
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