I did it! I’m less than 45 minutes from touchdown in Vancouver and I’m so many emotions right now. I’m beyond excited to see my dad who’s picking me up, I’m anxious to get through baggage collection and customs because they never go speedily enough, and I’m so ready to be home.
What home will bring is a little uncertain, so I’m approaching that with a touch of trepidation. I’m gearing up for what is hopefully a very temporary stint in unemployment and being incomeless, and as soon as new work is found my next up task is to (finally) move out of mom and dad’s. Big changes ahead!
The biggest thing this journey has taught me is that in the grand scheme of life, I’ve won the fucking lottery. To be born Canadian, to speak English, to be upper middle class with a million opportunities at my feet, to be able to quit my job to go travel with parents who are beyond supportive, to have an education, to be what we take for granted as completely average in North America is the 99th percentile to the rest of the planet.
And I hope that when I’m home, that is the lesson that stays with me most. I hope I’m as kind to people as possible, to reflect the kindness that’s been displayed to me for the past 80 days. I hope that I complain less, because I’ve seen what real poverty looks like, what real problems are. I hope that I continue to be able to travel, and that I capitalize on those opportunities. I definitely didn’t earn this trip – it fell in my lap like everything else I’ve been given, like every other trip I’ve been on – but I am still so grateful. The next trip will be one that I scrimp and save for, and earn the hard way.
This planet is so amazing. How incredible is it that we can hurl ourselves through the air in a metal tube going 900km an hour and end up on the other side of the world in less than half a day. We owe the Wright brothers big time.
Time to prep for landing, which means this is cut short. Probably a good thing, because I’m getting teary on a plane. Never a good thing.
I wish I could tell Dan about my trip. He’d be so stoked.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
100 things I learned on my trip
1. Smiling will get you everywhere.
2. I am worth 4,000,000 camels, 100 pashminas and a shop, or two blocks of the pyramids.
3. India is insane.
4. The Eiffel Tower really is all it's cracked up to be.
5. A good book means you never eat dinner alone.
6. Expect to pay as much for tea in Europe as you would for a sandwich in Canada.
7. The best samosas in the world are halfway between Varanasi and the Nepal border, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and cost Rs 2 (approximately 5¢ CDN).
8. The Greek islands are best visited in the summer.
9. The Champs-Elysees is everything that's wrong with humanity.
10. Water purifcation tablets, drops and your own water bottle are completely unnecessary.
11. Going by the meter in a taxi in India means the driver will circle the city repeatedly to make more money.
12. It is fiscally irresponsible not to attend happy hour.
13. Canadians go travelling for a gap year, or take time off work. Americans study abroad for a semester.
14. Europe treats the Euro exactly like the dollar. $3.75 for a hot chocolate at home, €3.75 for a hot chocolate in Amsterdam.
15. France needs a lesson or two in silver quality and pricing from Egypt and India.
16. Dutch is the most hilariously ridiculous language, both on paper and when spoken.
17. Top Deck is a terrible tour company.
18. Gap Adventures is an awesome tour company.
19. India: just as stinky as you'd expect.
20. Never backpack without a sleeping bag.
21. The French love English accents.
22. Blonde hair equals celebrity status in India.
23. Athens' stray dogs are collectively cared for by everyone, and even get regular vet checkups.
24. 9/10 Americans don't deserve their reputation as rude, arrogant, ignorant travellers. But that 1/10, they couldn't deserve it more.
25. 9/10 Canadians do deserve our reputation as kind, grateful, polite travellers. The 1/10 should be exiled to America.
26. Missing your best friend's wedding sucks. It sucks really, really bad.
27. Greece is hoarding the world's supply of tall, dark and handsome.
28. Watching a cremation on the banks of the Ganges isn't creepy at all. In fact, it's beautiful.
29. The French call the Netherlands "Pays-Bas."
30. In the Cairo airport, smiling nicely means they'll let you board a plane with contraband.
31. When presented with a squatter toilet and a western toilet, the squatter will be less disgusting.
32. Every single dog, no matter its breed, colour, size or disposition, reminds me of Jack and how much I miss him.
33. It's not if you'll get sick, it's when, and for how long, and how badly.
34. Scarves make excellent packing material. That's how I justify purchasing more than a dozen.
35. In India, you can spend as much time haggling the price as the actual taxi ride takes.
36. The pyramids really are all they're cracked up to be.
37. Check your tickets. You may have already paid for a ferry ticket when you bought your bus ticket, and don't need to buy another.
38. It is easier to read Greek than to speak it.
39. If you're confused, and someone else also looks confused, they speak English.
40. Apparently "Je ne parle Francais" is code for "I speak French."
41. Losing your camera makes an expensive night out drastically more expensive.
42. Cameras are cheaper at home than abroad. By about $250.
43. The security at the Kathmandu airport is both the most stringent and the most lax on the planet.
44. In some countries, staring isn't considered rude. That doesn't make it any less creepy though.
45. No matter how little English someone speaks, they'll still know how to ask "Boyfriend? Husband?"
46. A leader can make or break a tour.
47. Elephants love love love oranges and bananas.
48. The French actually dress like their stereotype: navy and white stripes and berets abound.
49. Greeks don't understand lineups.
50. A load of laundry costs more than dinner in a nice restaurant.
51. The Mona Lisa is way smaller than you'd expect it to be.
52. Paris' free wifi doesn't work for non-locals.
53. A $300 netbook more than pays for itself in internet café savings.
54. That same netbook proves priceless when it houses a backup of all your photos and you've lost your camera.
55. The Acropolis really is all it's cracked up to be.
56. Haggling something down to one-sixth of its original price isn't unheard of.
57. Canada has the best tasting vegetables.
58. Athens has more history than they know what to do with. Case in point: H&M has a glass floor so you can see the ruins below.
59. The air pollution in New Delhi is equivalent to smoking 20 cigarettes a day.
60. Starbucks tastes exactly the same everywhere.
61. The Euromullet: not just for dudes anymore.
62. A $10 tube of mascara at home is €15 in France.
63. If North America is a year behind European fashion, 2011 will be the year of the really ugly jean.
64. Flea markets at home: great deals abound. Flea markets in Paris: €575 for two chairs, €190 for a non-precious metal necklace, €80 for an ad from an old magazine.
65. The Red Light District in Amsterdam isn't as seedy, dirty, disgusting, dangerous or immoral as some say. In fact, it's none of those things. It's just business.
66. In the Catacombes, being nice to the security guard means he'll take pictures of you with flash.
67. Ferries in Greece are on time about a third of the time.
68. Bollywood films are fantastic.
69. Getting sprayed by an elephant's trunk is the coolest waterfight ever.
70. Six days worth of clean clothes can easily last you two weeks.
71. India is the only country whose airports have reasonable prices for food.
72. Accordions will drown out your headphones, no matter how loud you turn up your music. So will clarinets.
73. 50ml of astringent will last you exactly 80 days!
74. The Taj Mahal really is all it's cracked up to be.
75. Cows causing traffic jams in India is not a myth.
76. Paris has a miniature version of the Statue of Liberty.
77. People are entirely too generous to me.
78. NOFX didn't write Aux Champs-Elysees.
79. Buses in India have air conditioners, but no heaters.
80. Egyptians are crazy for blue eyes.
81. YVR is the nicest airport.
82. A seven hour bus ride is half the price of a three hour train ride.
83. I am incapable of travelling without a purse, and should never again attempt such a feat.
84. Outside of North America, I am taller than many men. In India, I am taller than most men.
85. It is possible to mispronounce "Sam."
86. Being in Greece while your parents are in Chile after a massive earthquake is the lonliest feeling in the world.
87. Woolly mammoth skeletons are just as cool as dinosaur skeletons. Possibly moreso.
88. The Pink Palace is not all it's cracked up to be.
89. Daylight savings time does not happen on the same day in every country.
90. Many of the oil paintings available in touristy areas are actually made in China.
91. Rhinos snort with displeasure when you wake them up.
92. Dining in restaurants for every meal sounds glamorous until you try it. Eating out loses its appeal when it's a necessity, not a luxury.
93. The best tasting meals are the ones put together out of €20 worth of groceries. Saving money is delicious.
94. Lonely Planet books are worth their weight in gold.
95. Paris is home to both the best and worst French fries on the planet.
96. I am incapable of not buying additional luggage to cart around my souvenirs.
97. People really are generally good, and really want to help you.
98. The more you travel, the more you realize you haven't seen even a shred of what there is to see.
99. The world is unbelievably amazing.
100. There really is no place like home.
2. I am worth 4,000,000 camels, 100 pashminas and a shop, or two blocks of the pyramids.
3. India is insane.
4. The Eiffel Tower really is all it's cracked up to be.
5. A good book means you never eat dinner alone.
6. Expect to pay as much for tea in Europe as you would for a sandwich in Canada.
7. The best samosas in the world are halfway between Varanasi and the Nepal border, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and cost Rs 2 (approximately 5¢ CDN).
8. The Greek islands are best visited in the summer.
9. The Champs-Elysees is everything that's wrong with humanity.
10. Water purifcation tablets, drops and your own water bottle are completely unnecessary.
11. Going by the meter in a taxi in India means the driver will circle the city repeatedly to make more money.
12. It is fiscally irresponsible not to attend happy hour.
13. Canadians go travelling for a gap year, or take time off work. Americans study abroad for a semester.
14. Europe treats the Euro exactly like the dollar. $3.75 for a hot chocolate at home, €3.75 for a hot chocolate in Amsterdam.
15. France needs a lesson or two in silver quality and pricing from Egypt and India.
16. Dutch is the most hilariously ridiculous language, both on paper and when spoken.
17. Top Deck is a terrible tour company.
18. Gap Adventures is an awesome tour company.
19. India: just as stinky as you'd expect.
20. Never backpack without a sleeping bag.
21. The French love English accents.
22. Blonde hair equals celebrity status in India.
23. Athens' stray dogs are collectively cared for by everyone, and even get regular vet checkups.
24. 9/10 Americans don't deserve their reputation as rude, arrogant, ignorant travellers. But that 1/10, they couldn't deserve it more.
25. 9/10 Canadians do deserve our reputation as kind, grateful, polite travellers. The 1/10 should be exiled to America.
26. Missing your best friend's wedding sucks. It sucks really, really bad.
27. Greece is hoarding the world's supply of tall, dark and handsome.
28. Watching a cremation on the banks of the Ganges isn't creepy at all. In fact, it's beautiful.
29. The French call the Netherlands "Pays-Bas."
30. In the Cairo airport, smiling nicely means they'll let you board a plane with contraband.
31. When presented with a squatter toilet and a western toilet, the squatter will be less disgusting.
32. Every single dog, no matter its breed, colour, size or disposition, reminds me of Jack and how much I miss him.
33. It's not if you'll get sick, it's when, and for how long, and how badly.
34. Scarves make excellent packing material. That's how I justify purchasing more than a dozen.
35. In India, you can spend as much time haggling the price as the actual taxi ride takes.
36. The pyramids really are all they're cracked up to be.
37. Check your tickets. You may have already paid for a ferry ticket when you bought your bus ticket, and don't need to buy another.
38. It is easier to read Greek than to speak it.
39. If you're confused, and someone else also looks confused, they speak English.
40. Apparently "Je ne parle Francais" is code for "I speak French."
41. Losing your camera makes an expensive night out drastically more expensive.
42. Cameras are cheaper at home than abroad. By about $250.
43. The security at the Kathmandu airport is both the most stringent and the most lax on the planet.
44. In some countries, staring isn't considered rude. That doesn't make it any less creepy though.
45. No matter how little English someone speaks, they'll still know how to ask "Boyfriend? Husband?"
46. A leader can make or break a tour.
47. Elephants love love love oranges and bananas.
48. The French actually dress like their stereotype: navy and white stripes and berets abound.
49. Greeks don't understand lineups.
50. A load of laundry costs more than dinner in a nice restaurant.
51. The Mona Lisa is way smaller than you'd expect it to be.
52. Paris' free wifi doesn't work for non-locals.
53. A $300 netbook more than pays for itself in internet café savings.
54. That same netbook proves priceless when it houses a backup of all your photos and you've lost your camera.
55. The Acropolis really is all it's cracked up to be.
56. Haggling something down to one-sixth of its original price isn't unheard of.
57. Canada has the best tasting vegetables.
58. Athens has more history than they know what to do with. Case in point: H&M has a glass floor so you can see the ruins below.
59. The air pollution in New Delhi is equivalent to smoking 20 cigarettes a day.
60. Starbucks tastes exactly the same everywhere.
61. The Euromullet: not just for dudes anymore.
62. A $10 tube of mascara at home is €15 in France.
63. If North America is a year behind European fashion, 2011 will be the year of the really ugly jean.
64. Flea markets at home: great deals abound. Flea markets in Paris: €575 for two chairs, €190 for a non-precious metal necklace, €80 for an ad from an old magazine.
65. The Red Light District in Amsterdam isn't as seedy, dirty, disgusting, dangerous or immoral as some say. In fact, it's none of those things. It's just business.
66. In the Catacombes, being nice to the security guard means he'll take pictures of you with flash.
67. Ferries in Greece are on time about a third of the time.
68. Bollywood films are fantastic.
69. Getting sprayed by an elephant's trunk is the coolest waterfight ever.
70. Six days worth of clean clothes can easily last you two weeks.
71. India is the only country whose airports have reasonable prices for food.
72. Accordions will drown out your headphones, no matter how loud you turn up your music. So will clarinets.
73. 50ml of astringent will last you exactly 80 days!
74. The Taj Mahal really is all it's cracked up to be.
75. Cows causing traffic jams in India is not a myth.
76. Paris has a miniature version of the Statue of Liberty.
77. People are entirely too generous to me.
78. NOFX didn't write Aux Champs-Elysees.
79. Buses in India have air conditioners, but no heaters.
80. Egyptians are crazy for blue eyes.
81. YVR is the nicest airport.
82. A seven hour bus ride is half the price of a three hour train ride.
83. I am incapable of travelling without a purse, and should never again attempt such a feat.
84. Outside of North America, I am taller than many men. In India, I am taller than most men.
85. It is possible to mispronounce "Sam."
86. Being in Greece while your parents are in Chile after a massive earthquake is the lonliest feeling in the world.
87. Woolly mammoth skeletons are just as cool as dinosaur skeletons. Possibly moreso.
88. The Pink Palace is not all it's cracked up to be.
89. Daylight savings time does not happen on the same day in every country.
90. Many of the oil paintings available in touristy areas are actually made in China.
91. Rhinos snort with displeasure when you wake them up.
92. Dining in restaurants for every meal sounds glamorous until you try it. Eating out loses its appeal when it's a necessity, not a luxury.
93. The best tasting meals are the ones put together out of €20 worth of groceries. Saving money is delicious.
94. Lonely Planet books are worth their weight in gold.
95. Paris is home to both the best and worst French fries on the planet.
96. I am incapable of not buying additional luggage to cart around my souvenirs.
97. People really are generally good, and really want to help you.
98. The more you travel, the more you realize you haven't seen even a shred of what there is to see.
99. The world is unbelievably amazing.
100. There really is no place like home.
Friday, March 26, 2010
J'adore Paris!
It has been a crazy busy few days, so I'll just hammer out the Cliffsnotes version, as the days are beginning to blur.
On Tuesday, Sandy and I set out to explore Paris. We walked along the Seine, and then went into Notre Dame. Later, he headed to the gym and I headed back to Montmarte, as the book I bought from the Dali museum giftshop was French, and I needed to exchange it for the English version. The return trip worked out well because I really like the Montmarte area, despite its hustle and bustle of tourists, and I found a beautiful little original painting. A lot of the cheap art for sale is actually produced in China (The painting I bought in Greece is probably not made in Greece. So sad.), so I was happy to find something original and authentically French. I also got to see more of the breakdancers that make the steps their stage, and I stayed to watch a couple of their shows. If ever in Paris, go to Montmarte!
Later, I met up again with Sandy for dinner. We walked to the Moulin Rouge, and as we couldn't possibly afford to go in (apparently entry fees are around $150), we did the next best thing: ate dinner right across the street with the Moulin Rouge in sight!
On Wednesday we went to the amazing Chateau de Versailles, home of a dozen or so Louis-es, and their wives, including Marie Antionette. It is ridiculous! The level of luxury that they lived in was unbelievable, and to think that this massive palace was constructed without the use of cranes or modern tools, or that its ceilings were painstakingly painted without the use of scissor lifts (and sometimes entire ceilings were painting by only one person), is amazing. The building itself is a work of art, and its interior is a museum in itself. Dozens upon dozens of massive eerily-lifelike portraits hang throughout its rooms and halls, and many of its rooms are still fully furnished.
My favourite room is the hall of mirrors. 17 huge windows facing the garden on one wall are matched with 17 giant mirrors on the opposite wall. About a hundred million massive chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I can only imagine what the room would have been like when set with gargantuan dining tables to receive loads of guests. (I think it was a banquet room, but I may be wrong. Regardless, it would be quite the setting for a party.)
Afterwards, Sandy and I split up as he needed to head back to Paris sooner than expected, and I wanted to further explore the gardens. My knee's been bugging me, and as it was a 2km+ walk to Marie Antionette's estate, I opted for the little train that tours the grounds.
Marie Antionette's estate was a little less than thrilling, as the opulence and decadence that she's so widely known for didn't come through in its buildings or furnishings. She was one of the few wives that abandoned the common rules and insisted things be done her way (it was usually the king's job to decide how things should look), so her influence is widely seen throughout the main palace. Plus her over-the-top costumes aren't displayed anywhere in Versailles. I was expecting to see more from her, but that's ok; I certainly wasn't disappointed.
I took the train back to Paris, and then the metro back to Sandy's, and soon was fast asleep as the day had tuckered me right out.
Yesterday I got up with the intentions of seeing the Eiffel Tower at 12:30pm, with time afterwards for the Catacombes. As nice as it's been having Sandy as a tour guide, I was happy to venture off on my own. I like going at my own pace without worrying about what others want to see or do, and it gives me time to soak in everything Paris.
Despite having a reservation for 12:30, I didn't actually reach the summit until 1:30. The lines and rain and wait were so so worth it though, as the view from the top is beyond amazing. Even the views from the lower floors are astounding, and there's a good reason hundreds (if not thousands) of people stand in hours-long lineups to ascend it.
While at the top, the rain subsided and glimpses of blue sky began to peek through the clouds. After wandering its perimeter several times, I descended to the second level. Paris has done a good job in including lots of information and displays throughout all the tower's levels, so if you get tired of seeing the view (yeah right), you can get your education on instead.
After two hours or so on the tower (I'm not going to be back anytime soon, may as well get my money's worth!), I finally descended back to ground level. It was too late to hit up the Catacombes as I had originally planned, so I set off to find Paris' Statue of Liberty, three bridges away.
France gave the US a giant Statue of Liberty to commemorate the States' 100 year anniversary of its declaration of independence. Three years later, as a thank-you, the US gives France a miniature bronze version of the same statue.
Way to be generous and original, America.
The Parisian statue is facing west, towards her American sister, and while it certainly can't compare to the Staten Island version, it was still pretty neat to see a Statue of Liberty in person. No lines or crowds either! But that's probably just because it's too tiny to even consider climbing.
Post-faux New Yorkness I headed to the Champs-Elysees to Fnac, as I wanted to find a copy of the cookbook that was for sale in the Eiffel Tower giftshop, but hopefully at a non-giftshop price. The book is called a Little Taste of France, and it was French recipes in English. If I can't find it in Paris I'll have to look for it at home, because its recipes looked deeeelicious! The first Fnac proved bookless, so I was sent to a different location, this time with books, but still no luck. After admitting defeat (for now), I metro-ed back to Sandy's for the night.
If anyone's looking for a birthday gift for me (because I know my birthday is the most important day of your collective lives), get me this! I promise I won't cook you frogs legs.
On Tuesday, Sandy and I set out to explore Paris. We walked along the Seine, and then went into Notre Dame. Later, he headed to the gym and I headed back to Montmarte, as the book I bought from the Dali museum giftshop was French, and I needed to exchange it for the English version. The return trip worked out well because I really like the Montmarte area, despite its hustle and bustle of tourists, and I found a beautiful little original painting. A lot of the cheap art for sale is actually produced in China (The painting I bought in Greece is probably not made in Greece. So sad.), so I was happy to find something original and authentically French. I also got to see more of the breakdancers that make the steps their stage, and I stayed to watch a couple of their shows. If ever in Paris, go to Montmarte!
Later, I met up again with Sandy for dinner. We walked to the Moulin Rouge, and as we couldn't possibly afford to go in (apparently entry fees are around $150), we did the next best thing: ate dinner right across the street with the Moulin Rouge in sight!
On Wednesday we went to the amazing Chateau de Versailles, home of a dozen or so Louis-es, and their wives, including Marie Antionette. It is ridiculous! The level of luxury that they lived in was unbelievable, and to think that this massive palace was constructed without the use of cranes or modern tools, or that its ceilings were painstakingly painted without the use of scissor lifts (and sometimes entire ceilings were painting by only one person), is amazing. The building itself is a work of art, and its interior is a museum in itself. Dozens upon dozens of massive eerily-lifelike portraits hang throughout its rooms and halls, and many of its rooms are still fully furnished.
My favourite room is the hall of mirrors. 17 huge windows facing the garden on one wall are matched with 17 giant mirrors on the opposite wall. About a hundred million massive chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and I can only imagine what the room would have been like when set with gargantuan dining tables to receive loads of guests. (I think it was a banquet room, but I may be wrong. Regardless, it would be quite the setting for a party.)
Afterwards, Sandy and I split up as he needed to head back to Paris sooner than expected, and I wanted to further explore the gardens. My knee's been bugging me, and as it was a 2km+ walk to Marie Antionette's estate, I opted for the little train that tours the grounds.
Marie Antionette's estate was a little less than thrilling, as the opulence and decadence that she's so widely known for didn't come through in its buildings or furnishings. She was one of the few wives that abandoned the common rules and insisted things be done her way (it was usually the king's job to decide how things should look), so her influence is widely seen throughout the main palace. Plus her over-the-top costumes aren't displayed anywhere in Versailles. I was expecting to see more from her, but that's ok; I certainly wasn't disappointed.
I took the train back to Paris, and then the metro back to Sandy's, and soon was fast asleep as the day had tuckered me right out.
Yesterday I got up with the intentions of seeing the Eiffel Tower at 12:30pm, with time afterwards for the Catacombes. As nice as it's been having Sandy as a tour guide, I was happy to venture off on my own. I like going at my own pace without worrying about what others want to see or do, and it gives me time to soak in everything Paris.
Despite having a reservation for 12:30, I didn't actually reach the summit until 1:30. The lines and rain and wait were so so worth it though, as the view from the top is beyond amazing. Even the views from the lower floors are astounding, and there's a good reason hundreds (if not thousands) of people stand in hours-long lineups to ascend it.
While at the top, the rain subsided and glimpses of blue sky began to peek through the clouds. After wandering its perimeter several times, I descended to the second level. Paris has done a good job in including lots of information and displays throughout all the tower's levels, so if you get tired of seeing the view (yeah right), you can get your education on instead.
After two hours or so on the tower (I'm not going to be back anytime soon, may as well get my money's worth!), I finally descended back to ground level. It was too late to hit up the Catacombes as I had originally planned, so I set off to find Paris' Statue of Liberty, three bridges away.
France gave the US a giant Statue of Liberty to commemorate the States' 100 year anniversary of its declaration of independence. Three years later, as a thank-you, the US gives France a miniature bronze version of the same statue.
Way to be generous and original, America.
The Parisian statue is facing west, towards her American sister, and while it certainly can't compare to the Staten Island version, it was still pretty neat to see a Statue of Liberty in person. No lines or crowds either! But that's probably just because it's too tiny to even consider climbing.
Post-faux New Yorkness I headed to the Champs-Elysees to Fnac, as I wanted to find a copy of the cookbook that was for sale in the Eiffel Tower giftshop, but hopefully at a non-giftshop price. The book is called a Little Taste of France, and it was French recipes in English. If I can't find it in Paris I'll have to look for it at home, because its recipes looked deeeelicious! The first Fnac proved bookless, so I was sent to a different location, this time with books, but still no luck. After admitting defeat (for now), I metro-ed back to Sandy's for the night.
If anyone's looking for a birthday gift for me (because I know my birthday is the most important day of your collective lives), get me this! I promise I won't cook you frogs legs.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Paris! And a whole lotta awesome!
For some reason I always use the phrase "With my luck..." and go on to forecast some unfortunate result, but I really should stop, because I seem to have amazing luck. (Anyone who knows my history with radio contests can attest to this.)
I am in Paris! And what was shaping to be a week of disaster (travel tip: do not save the most expensive part of your trip until the very end) has ended up being absolutely fantastic. So far anyway, and we'll cross our fingers it stays that way.
As I've been travelling in the off-season, I've had the luxury of leaving bookings til the last minute, sometimes booking stuff the day-of and still having all options available to me. But as it's now spring break season, which marks the beginning of high-season, things have changed.
Cue knight in shining armour to rescue damsel in distress! (Minus the romance.)
On Wednesday, back in Athens ("Back in Athens." How often do you get to say that?!), I met Sandy, who lives in Paris and was visiting Athens just for a handful of days during his holidays. On Thursday morning we went exploring around Athens before he had to leave for his plane, and he mentioned that if I had an trouble finding a hostel in Paris that I could crash at his place if need be. I thanked him for the offer, but didn't plan on taking him up on it as I didn't want to impose.
Later that afternoon I started planning my week in Paris, and was horrified to see that all of my top choices, and all of my second choices, and all of my last resorts were booked for Saturday night. Basically nothing near anything was available, and the hostels far away from everything with horrible ratings were still at least €25. After paying only €20/night for my super lovely, super equipped, super central hostel in Athens for which there was loads of availability, this made my heart sink.
I picked two nights in one room at St Christopher's Inn for Sunday and Monday, then a different room for Tuesday and Wednesday (I had to pick and choose to get the best rates. Not fun.), and made my reservation.
Then I fired off a Facebook message to Sandy asking him if I could take him up on his offer to crash at his apartment, as there wasn't anything reasonable available for Saturday night.
I posted my frustration on Facebook. Cue more heroes!
Mom says that she'll spring for a nice hotel for me for the weekend (Thanks mom!), Nicole finds a far-from-terrible offering on Hostelworld (when I looked they were full, so there must have been a cancellation), and Michael offers me a place to stay if I don't mind sharing a bed with him at Franck & Martine's place. (More about that later!)
If you want to feel loved, just make your status update that you're possibly homeless for a night.
Sandy gets back to me and tells me that I'm more than welcome. He even offers to meet me at the airport, which I assure him he doesn't need to do. He gives me directions to his place and I breathe a massive sigh of relief. I was joking that the worst case scenario* was me in my sleeping bag under the Eiffel Tower, and for a moment it seemed like that might actually be a reality.
*If the worst case scenario my life presents me is sleeping beneath the Eiffel Tower, I'll take it!
My last day in Athens was great. Mandy, who is from North Carolina but studying in Prague, and I spent the day touring the National Archaeological Museum, eating gelato, shopping for souvenirs and having an amazing Greek dinner. Then I was up dark and early at 5am on Saturday morning to head out for the airport, and Paris!
Michael, whom I met on the India/Nepal tour, and whom I spent the first two days of my trip travelling with as we were the first to arrive at the hotel in New Delhi, lives in Denmark. He was in Paris this weekend for a semi-business visit, and our timing just happened to work out perfectly that we could meet! He invited me to lunch at the apartment of his friends' on Sunday, with a plan to do a little exploring before and after.
The flight was fine, I slept much of the way as I was so tired from getting less than four hours of sleep. (Pesky takeoff interrupted my nap. Life is hard.) Then I collected my bags and set off for Sandy's.
The Paris metro system is INSANE! 14 lines, crisscrossing all over the city. Athens had three lines, and I thought it was huge. From Charles de Gaulle airport to Sandy's is a shuttle, a train, and then two metro lines. But I made it, and with no problems!
Sandy's best friend Emilie (who I might add is the most adorable thing ever) was over, and Sandy had cooked up some super delicious chicken and coconut rice. (Note to self: learn how to make coconut rice.) Later, Sandy and I are talking about my reservations for the week and he says that I'm more than welcome to stay the entire week, and that he likes having company.
So I can a) move my super heavy bags (you'd think I bought a chunk of marble column or something) to St Christopher's on Sunday night, sleep in one room for two nights, then switch rooms for another two nights, then move to wherever there's availability after that which might not even be in the same hostel, and be cranky every time I have to repack my bags.
Or I can b) cancel my reservations and stay at Sandy's all week, saving me at least €200 on accommodation, plus extra savings in not having to eat out every meal.
B it is! So now I've got the keys to an apartment in Paris for the week. Sandy also insisted I take his bedroom (I put up a big fight over this one but he's more stubborn than I am so he won) and he'd take the pullout couch in the living room so that he can stay up and watch TV or whatever, and he claims he sleeps in the living room all the time anyway. I feel like a jerk about it, but the last few nights have been the best sleep I've had this whole trip, so I won't complain too much.
Later on Saturday afternoon, Sandy, Emilie and I ventured out to meet up with their friend Sebastian, and we ran errands. I was careening my head every which way whenever we came out of the metro, because I had yet to see the Eiffel Tower or l'Arc de Triomphe, and I was hoping to spot them. (No dice.) Sandy and I parted ways with them later to meet up with Rashid and his super adorable four-year-old daughter Aida for Indian food. Then back to the apartment and I hit the hay.
Sunday morning I headed out to meet Michael. We'd planned to meet at Rue Mac Mahon, which is one of the streets branching out from the roundabout at l'Arc de Triomphe. As I came up the escalator out of the metro, there it was! I actually got a little teary when I saw it; all I could think was, "NOW I'm in Paris!"
Michael's been to Paris a handful of times before, but had never been to the top. We bought our tickets and began the 284 spiral steps to the top. The view was gorgeous! Despite it being overcast, it was an amazing view of the city. Then I turned around and saw...
the Eiffel Tower!!
Pretty cool that the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower was from atop l'Arc de Triomphe.
It is even more stunning in person. It's rivalled in height only by a couple of office towers, none of which are even in the same direction, so it stands tall and proud in the middle of Paris. I can't believe that it was originally only a temporary installation, but I can understand why its popularity made it a permanent fixture on the Paris horizon.
When we were done arcing, Micheal and I walked to the Eiffel Tower. He's been up it several times already and didn't want to go around, so we just wandered its vicinity before heading to Franck and Martine's.
Franck has been a business partner / friend of Michael's for seven or so years now, despite Franck being enough Michael's senior that he could have been his father. Franck and Martine live in the most beautiful apartment I've ever been in. The building was built around 1890, and the apartment has wood floors, a marble fireplace, and the most gorgeous mouldings I've ever seen. It's on the sixth floor of the building, which is the top floor, so the huge windows let in tonnes of light. They've kept much of the paint and furniture light or white, so the place feels airy. I loved it! Unfortunately, it's probably a few million out of my price range. Apartments like that don't come cheap.
They were the sweetest couple and made me feel so welcome. It's not often that you get to go to a city and see what a typical (well, this apartment probably isn't typical for the average Parisian, but you know what I mean) home is like. We had a very Parisian lunch, that began with pate, baguette and sausage in at the coffee table, and then we sat down for the main meal.
The main was roast chicken and the best French fries I've had in my life (or frites, if I want to be French about it). Martine is an excellent cook! Apparently, good fries are cooked more than once, with "rest" periods in between to let the oil drain off the fries. She used sea salt on them and they were delicious.
The second course is typically a salad or cheese, but we were spoiled with both. The man is supposed to turn the salad (the dressing sits in the bottom of the bowl), but Franck was spilling lettuce everywhere so Martine did it for him. The cheese was amazing; a super creamy brie that spilled out onto your plate as soon as you cut it, and a hard chevre (I thought chevre was only ever creamy, but I was wrong!). Then for dessert we had Martine's marvelous apple tart. I think I should pick up a French cookbook while I'm here, because the food was to die for.
Michael and I got to the apartment a little before 2, and lunch wasn't done until 3:40. They definitely take their time eating!
While Franck and Martine were incredibly lovely, I have to say my favourite character at their place was their dog Cookie, a Griffon. I fell in love with her (and she with me too, dare I say), and I had this cute brown head on my lap for much of my visit. She reminded me so much of Jack in appearance, but she didn't have any terrier in her. If all Griffons are as sweet and as cute as Cookie then I'd definitely consider adopting one one day. Love love love Cookie!
After our lovely lunch, Michael and I set off for the afternoon. We went to Montmarte and the Salvador Dali museum. Espace de Salvador Dali is pretty tiny by typical museum standards (and absolutely miniature compared to the Louvre), but it was still pretty interesting. The melting clocks are hands-down his most famous works, but I didn't know that he carried that and other themes into different styles of art, including lost-was sculptures. My favourite two pieces are ones that look like one thing on paper, but when viewed on a mirrored column they are something completely different. The first looked like abstract rocks on paper, but in the mirror it was s skull, and the second transformed from cute butterfly to creepy face.
Other recurring themes are women with drawers all over their bodies, and elephants with long spindly spider-esque legs. One things for sure: Dali was absolutely insane.
As infamous as his melting clocks is Dali's moustache, and I couldn't help but buy a book aptly titled Dali's Mustache from the giftshop. As the back of the book reads WARNING! This book is preposterous! there wasn't any way I couldn't bring it home with me.
I also discovered that a photograph that I've always really liked was by Dali, as I had no idea who the person responsible was previously.
Then we took the metro to the Latin Quarter, and saw the gorgeous Notre Dame at night. Then we found a little Spanish-ish (Maybe it was Colombian?) restaurant for dinner, and wrapped up our visit with crepes and hot chocolate.
I didn't think I'd ever see Michael again unless I went to Copenhagen, or unless he came to Vancouver, so it's awesome that our paths crossed in Paris. He's a sweetheart and it was nice to have someone to explore the city with.
Yesterday I set off with the intentions of going up the Eiffel Tower. When I got to the tower, I was awestruck. It seems the closer you get to it, the more amazing it becomes. It's no surprise that it's huge, but after only ever seeing it on TV or in miniature form, seeing its actual size is incredible.
Also incredible? The lines. To buy tickets, to get to the stairs, to get to the elevator. They were insane. I was out of cash, and the ATMs under the tower didn't accept my card, so I admitted defeat for the day and set off for the Champs-Elysees instead. I checked online, and you can buy tickets to the tower for a specific time and day, so I'm definitely going to do that instead later this week.
The Champs-Elysees is a sight to see. It's loaded with flagship stores of the most expensive brands (Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Hermes, etc) and department-sized versions of stores we even have at home, like Sephora. (Interestingly, the Sephora store had a Mac counter within it. I previously thought they were competitors, but I guess not!). The stores are more like museums, with giant light displays, items hanging from the ceilings as though they are art and not for sale, and security guards everywhere ensuring you don't touch their precious goods.
I indulged in the only two things I could afford on Champs-Elysees: McDonalds and its free wifi. Post-Big Mac, I headed back to Sandy's for the night, as I was spent.
I am in Paris! And what was shaping to be a week of disaster (travel tip: do not save the most expensive part of your trip until the very end) has ended up being absolutely fantastic. So far anyway, and we'll cross our fingers it stays that way.
As I've been travelling in the off-season, I've had the luxury of leaving bookings til the last minute, sometimes booking stuff the day-of and still having all options available to me. But as it's now spring break season, which marks the beginning of high-season, things have changed.
Cue knight in shining armour to rescue damsel in distress! (Minus the romance.)
On Wednesday, back in Athens ("Back in Athens." How often do you get to say that?!), I met Sandy, who lives in Paris and was visiting Athens just for a handful of days during his holidays. On Thursday morning we went exploring around Athens before he had to leave for his plane, and he mentioned that if I had an trouble finding a hostel in Paris that I could crash at his place if need be. I thanked him for the offer, but didn't plan on taking him up on it as I didn't want to impose.
Later that afternoon I started planning my week in Paris, and was horrified to see that all of my top choices, and all of my second choices, and all of my last resorts were booked for Saturday night. Basically nothing near anything was available, and the hostels far away from everything with horrible ratings were still at least €25. After paying only €20/night for my super lovely, super equipped, super central hostel in Athens for which there was loads of availability, this made my heart sink.
I picked two nights in one room at St Christopher's Inn for Sunday and Monday, then a different room for Tuesday and Wednesday (I had to pick and choose to get the best rates. Not fun.), and made my reservation.
Then I fired off a Facebook message to Sandy asking him if I could take him up on his offer to crash at his apartment, as there wasn't anything reasonable available for Saturday night.
I posted my frustration on Facebook. Cue more heroes!
Mom says that she'll spring for a nice hotel for me for the weekend (Thanks mom!), Nicole finds a far-from-terrible offering on Hostelworld (when I looked they were full, so there must have been a cancellation), and Michael offers me a place to stay if I don't mind sharing a bed with him at Franck & Martine's place. (More about that later!)
If you want to feel loved, just make your status update that you're possibly homeless for a night.
Sandy gets back to me and tells me that I'm more than welcome. He even offers to meet me at the airport, which I assure him he doesn't need to do. He gives me directions to his place and I breathe a massive sigh of relief. I was joking that the worst case scenario* was me in my sleeping bag under the Eiffel Tower, and for a moment it seemed like that might actually be a reality.
*If the worst case scenario my life presents me is sleeping beneath the Eiffel Tower, I'll take it!
My last day in Athens was great. Mandy, who is from North Carolina but studying in Prague, and I spent the day touring the National Archaeological Museum, eating gelato, shopping for souvenirs and having an amazing Greek dinner. Then I was up dark and early at 5am on Saturday morning to head out for the airport, and Paris!
Michael, whom I met on the India/Nepal tour, and whom I spent the first two days of my trip travelling with as we were the first to arrive at the hotel in New Delhi, lives in Denmark. He was in Paris this weekend for a semi-business visit, and our timing just happened to work out perfectly that we could meet! He invited me to lunch at the apartment of his friends' on Sunday, with a plan to do a little exploring before and after.
The flight was fine, I slept much of the way as I was so tired from getting less than four hours of sleep. (Pesky takeoff interrupted my nap. Life is hard.) Then I collected my bags and set off for Sandy's.
The Paris metro system is INSANE! 14 lines, crisscrossing all over the city. Athens had three lines, and I thought it was huge. From Charles de Gaulle airport to Sandy's is a shuttle, a train, and then two metro lines. But I made it, and with no problems!
Sandy's best friend Emilie (who I might add is the most adorable thing ever) was over, and Sandy had cooked up some super delicious chicken and coconut rice. (Note to self: learn how to make coconut rice.) Later, Sandy and I are talking about my reservations for the week and he says that I'm more than welcome to stay the entire week, and that he likes having company.
So I can a) move my super heavy bags (you'd think I bought a chunk of marble column or something) to St Christopher's on Sunday night, sleep in one room for two nights, then switch rooms for another two nights, then move to wherever there's availability after that which might not even be in the same hostel, and be cranky every time I have to repack my bags.
Or I can b) cancel my reservations and stay at Sandy's all week, saving me at least €200 on accommodation, plus extra savings in not having to eat out every meal.
B it is! So now I've got the keys to an apartment in Paris for the week. Sandy also insisted I take his bedroom (I put up a big fight over this one but he's more stubborn than I am so he won) and he'd take the pullout couch in the living room so that he can stay up and watch TV or whatever, and he claims he sleeps in the living room all the time anyway. I feel like a jerk about it, but the last few nights have been the best sleep I've had this whole trip, so I won't complain too much.
Later on Saturday afternoon, Sandy, Emilie and I ventured out to meet up with their friend Sebastian, and we ran errands. I was careening my head every which way whenever we came out of the metro, because I had yet to see the Eiffel Tower or l'Arc de Triomphe, and I was hoping to spot them. (No dice.) Sandy and I parted ways with them later to meet up with Rashid and his super adorable four-year-old daughter Aida for Indian food. Then back to the apartment and I hit the hay.
Sunday morning I headed out to meet Michael. We'd planned to meet at Rue Mac Mahon, which is one of the streets branching out from the roundabout at l'Arc de Triomphe. As I came up the escalator out of the metro, there it was! I actually got a little teary when I saw it; all I could think was, "NOW I'm in Paris!"
Michael's been to Paris a handful of times before, but had never been to the top. We bought our tickets and began the 284 spiral steps to the top. The view was gorgeous! Despite it being overcast, it was an amazing view of the city. Then I turned around and saw...
the Eiffel Tower!!
Pretty cool that the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower was from atop l'Arc de Triomphe.
It is even more stunning in person. It's rivalled in height only by a couple of office towers, none of which are even in the same direction, so it stands tall and proud in the middle of Paris. I can't believe that it was originally only a temporary installation, but I can understand why its popularity made it a permanent fixture on the Paris horizon.
When we were done arcing, Micheal and I walked to the Eiffel Tower. He's been up it several times already and didn't want to go around, so we just wandered its vicinity before heading to Franck and Martine's.
Franck has been a business partner / friend of Michael's for seven or so years now, despite Franck being enough Michael's senior that he could have been his father. Franck and Martine live in the most beautiful apartment I've ever been in. The building was built around 1890, and the apartment has wood floors, a marble fireplace, and the most gorgeous mouldings I've ever seen. It's on the sixth floor of the building, which is the top floor, so the huge windows let in tonnes of light. They've kept much of the paint and furniture light or white, so the place feels airy. I loved it! Unfortunately, it's probably a few million out of my price range. Apartments like that don't come cheap.
They were the sweetest couple and made me feel so welcome. It's not often that you get to go to a city and see what a typical (well, this apartment probably isn't typical for the average Parisian, but you know what I mean) home is like. We had a very Parisian lunch, that began with pate, baguette and sausage in at the coffee table, and then we sat down for the main meal.
The main was roast chicken and the best French fries I've had in my life (or frites, if I want to be French about it). Martine is an excellent cook! Apparently, good fries are cooked more than once, with "rest" periods in between to let the oil drain off the fries. She used sea salt on them and they were delicious.
The second course is typically a salad or cheese, but we were spoiled with both. The man is supposed to turn the salad (the dressing sits in the bottom of the bowl), but Franck was spilling lettuce everywhere so Martine did it for him. The cheese was amazing; a super creamy brie that spilled out onto your plate as soon as you cut it, and a hard chevre (I thought chevre was only ever creamy, but I was wrong!). Then for dessert we had Martine's marvelous apple tart. I think I should pick up a French cookbook while I'm here, because the food was to die for.
Michael and I got to the apartment a little before 2, and lunch wasn't done until 3:40. They definitely take their time eating!
While Franck and Martine were incredibly lovely, I have to say my favourite character at their place was their dog Cookie, a Griffon. I fell in love with her (and she with me too, dare I say), and I had this cute brown head on my lap for much of my visit. She reminded me so much of Jack in appearance, but she didn't have any terrier in her. If all Griffons are as sweet and as cute as Cookie then I'd definitely consider adopting one one day. Love love love Cookie!
After our lovely lunch, Michael and I set off for the afternoon. We went to Montmarte and the Salvador Dali museum. Espace de Salvador Dali is pretty tiny by typical museum standards (and absolutely miniature compared to the Louvre), but it was still pretty interesting. The melting clocks are hands-down his most famous works, but I didn't know that he carried that and other themes into different styles of art, including lost-was sculptures. My favourite two pieces are ones that look like one thing on paper, but when viewed on a mirrored column they are something completely different. The first looked like abstract rocks on paper, but in the mirror it was s skull, and the second transformed from cute butterfly to creepy face.
Other recurring themes are women with drawers all over their bodies, and elephants with long spindly spider-esque legs. One things for sure: Dali was absolutely insane.
As infamous as his melting clocks is Dali's moustache, and I couldn't help but buy a book aptly titled Dali's Mustache from the giftshop. As the back of the book reads WARNING! This book is preposterous! there wasn't any way I couldn't bring it home with me.
I also discovered that a photograph that I've always really liked was by Dali, as I had no idea who the person responsible was previously.
Then we took the metro to the Latin Quarter, and saw the gorgeous Notre Dame at night. Then we found a little Spanish-ish (Maybe it was Colombian?) restaurant for dinner, and wrapped up our visit with crepes and hot chocolate.I didn't think I'd ever see Michael again unless I went to Copenhagen, or unless he came to Vancouver, so it's awesome that our paths crossed in Paris. He's a sweetheart and it was nice to have someone to explore the city with.
Yesterday I set off with the intentions of going up the Eiffel Tower. When I got to the tower, I was awestruck. It seems the closer you get to it, the more amazing it becomes. It's no surprise that it's huge, but after only ever seeing it on TV or in miniature form, seeing its actual size is incredible.
Also incredible? The lines. To buy tickets, to get to the stairs, to get to the elevator. They were insane. I was out of cash, and the ATMs under the tower didn't accept my card, so I admitted defeat for the day and set off for the Champs-Elysees instead. I checked online, and you can buy tickets to the tower for a specific time and day, so I'm definitely going to do that instead later this week.
The Champs-Elysees is a sight to see. It's loaded with flagship stores of the most expensive brands (Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Hermes, etc) and department-sized versions of stores we even have at home, like Sephora. (Interestingly, the Sephora store had a Mac counter within it. I previously thought they were competitors, but I guess not!). The stores are more like museums, with giant light displays, items hanging from the ceilings as though they are art and not for sale, and security guards everywhere ensuring you don't touch their precious goods.
I indulged in the only two things I could afford on Champs-Elysees: McDonalds and its free wifi. Post-Big Mac, I headed back to Sandy's for the night, as I was spent.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
I keep getting the insatiable urge to write, to pour my thoughts out into written form. I’ve been thinking lately that if you were to write the same story a hundred times, you’d have a hundred different stories. So in many ways, a story is like a photograph. You can go back to that exact same place, but you can never take the same photo.
Which I guess is why we’re encouraged to write soon, to write fast, to write it all. Because in a matter of hours, that story changes, and that photograph is a little bit different.
Which I guess is why we’re encouraged to write soon, to write fast, to write it all. Because in a matter of hours, that story changes, and that photograph is a little bit different.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Back to Athens... again!
I'm killing time before getting shuttled out to the local bus station, to catch a bus from Sinarades to Corfu Town, so I can catch the overnight bus to Athens. It'll be another long night, as I did the same trek last Wednesday and I know just how exhausting it is, and I'm already regretting the four cups of black tea I downed at breakfast, as they're sure to keep me up all night. It's been an interesting few days, but nothing worth writing tonnes about. (Cliff's notes: lots of drinking.)
The Pink Palace has been an utter disappointment. I knew this would be a slower time of year than the summer, but I didn't think that when I checked in that I'd be the only guest in the entire hotel. They have beds for over 800, and in the summer it gets full. Athens had been quiet up until the last week, as spring breaks have begun to kick in, and the US students doing their years abroad in Italy have come to Greece for a week.
Few guests is fine, but there is basically nothing to do here. It's too cold to swim or tan (that didn't stop us from trying anyway though!), and none of the activities (quad safaris, cliff jumping, booze cruise, toga parties, island bus tours, etc) are running. They've even closed the Jacuzzi down for the winter, which is utter bullshit. If you're going to advertise it on Hostelworld, then leave it open all year round. Especially in the winter, when the only warm place to be is indoors.
Oh, and said Jacuzzi? Opens TOMORROW. Not impressed.
We made the best of it though, and for two nights the six of us still had a good time. V (short for Visilika), Sam and Meg from the US but studying in Florence were here for their vacation. They were trying to get to Albania, but crappy weather and a government strike kept them here an extra two nights. While it thwarted their vacation plans, it worked in my favour. There was also Meghan and Melissa, studying in Florence and Dublin respectively, and the six of us were a perfect match for the six stools at the bar.
And then, when the girls finally got to Albania, there were three. Half the hotel's guests gone, in just one ferry departure.
Megan and Melissa and I ventured into Corfu Town and explored one of two two fortresses (or fortri, as we deemed them), and again made the most of an otherwise less-than-stellar situation.
I've been here five nights now though, and I'm eager to get away from it. While I think that the Palace could be an amazing time in the summer, when they're rocking a full house, it's a waste of time in the winter. And what's worse is that the staff and owners don't seem to care that the guests are bored out of their minds.
I'll probably never be back to the Pink Palace, as I doubt I'll be returning to Greece anytime soon, and by the time I do I'll have outgrown the raucous partying phase of my life (that I can already feel myself growing out of).
I feel like this is my last chance to really be irresponsible, to blame my youth for my indiscretions, to get drunk and dance on a table and yell Woooo!! without having others (or myself) think that I'm too old for it. It's sad, because it was one of the things I was most looking forward to this trip, or at least in Greece anyway. And Greece in general has been a bit of a disappointment, primarily because of my timing, and I was hoping this would be a slice of redemption.
I'm going home to a daunting list of tasks: looking for employment, (finally) moving out of mom and dad's, and starting to think about scary long-term things, like figuring out where I want to live and buying a house there. I turn 25 in only a few months, and 25 seems so... adult. Halfway to thirty means I actually have to get my shit together. I was hoping the Palace would act as a farewell of sorts to the youthful freedom that I have to reluctantly say goodbye to too soon.
I still have a few good memories coming out of here though, so it's not a complete bust, but it's not at all what I expected. I guess I just need to lower my expectations here on out!
The Pink Palace has been an utter disappointment. I knew this would be a slower time of year than the summer, but I didn't think that when I checked in that I'd be the only guest in the entire hotel. They have beds for over 800, and in the summer it gets full. Athens had been quiet up until the last week, as spring breaks have begun to kick in, and the US students doing their years abroad in Italy have come to Greece for a week.
Few guests is fine, but there is basically nothing to do here. It's too cold to swim or tan (that didn't stop us from trying anyway though!), and none of the activities (quad safaris, cliff jumping, booze cruise, toga parties, island bus tours, etc) are running. They've even closed the Jacuzzi down for the winter, which is utter bullshit. If you're going to advertise it on Hostelworld, then leave it open all year round. Especially in the winter, when the only warm place to be is indoors.
Oh, and said Jacuzzi? Opens TOMORROW. Not impressed.
We made the best of it though, and for two nights the six of us still had a good time. V (short for Visilika), Sam and Meg from the US but studying in Florence were here for their vacation. They were trying to get to Albania, but crappy weather and a government strike kept them here an extra two nights. While it thwarted their vacation plans, it worked in my favour. There was also Meghan and Melissa, studying in Florence and Dublin respectively, and the six of us were a perfect match for the six stools at the bar.
And then, when the girls finally got to Albania, there were three. Half the hotel's guests gone, in just one ferry departure.
Megan and Melissa and I ventured into Corfu Town and explored one of two two fortresses (or fortri, as we deemed them), and again made the most of an otherwise less-than-stellar situation.
I've been here five nights now though, and I'm eager to get away from it. While I think that the Palace could be an amazing time in the summer, when they're rocking a full house, it's a waste of time in the winter. And what's worse is that the staff and owners don't seem to care that the guests are bored out of their minds.
I'll probably never be back to the Pink Palace, as I doubt I'll be returning to Greece anytime soon, and by the time I do I'll have outgrown the raucous partying phase of my life (that I can already feel myself growing out of).
I feel like this is my last chance to really be irresponsible, to blame my youth for my indiscretions, to get drunk and dance on a table and yell Woooo!! without having others (or myself) think that I'm too old for it. It's sad, because it was one of the things I was most looking forward to this trip, or at least in Greece anyway. And Greece in general has been a bit of a disappointment, primarily because of my timing, and I was hoping this would be a slice of redemption.
I'm going home to a daunting list of tasks: looking for employment, (finally) moving out of mom and dad's, and starting to think about scary long-term things, like figuring out where I want to live and buying a house there. I turn 25 in only a few months, and 25 seems so... adult. Halfway to thirty means I actually have to get my shit together. I was hoping the Palace would act as a farewell of sorts to the youthful freedom that I have to reluctantly say goodbye to too soon.
I still have a few good memories coming out of here though, so it's not a complete bust, but it's not at all what I expected. I guess I just need to lower my expectations here on out!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Back in Athens!
And I couldn't be happier about it. I was so done with Santorini a few days ago, but due to ridiculous ferry scheduling I wasn't able to escape until last night. Athens definitely feels like my home base for this trip, or at least the Greece part, and it's nice to know that as soon as I get back here there's an awesome place to stay (Athens Backpackers - highly recommend!).
Despite Santorini being home to 13,000+ people, I managed to get a clinger that would not leave me alone. He was harmless enough, but wouldn't get the hint until I snapped at him last night, telling him to stop following me around. It was frustrating because he was preventing me from striking up conversation with any of the other locals, and I'm sad to say that a good chunk of the last couple of days was spent being a recluse. Between Santorini's cold, windy weather, and the stupid desperate clinger that wouldn't take a hint even when I was blatantly ignoring him, I had few reasons to venture out. Factor in how expensive everything was (€3.50 for tea. TEA!) and I was perfectly content with laying low and eating cheap food.
This won't come as news to anyone, but holy wow Greece is expensive. €20/night for a hostel seems like a perfectly good deal, except that my budget is only about €65/day, and I'd like it to be even lower than that. Groceries for lunch, dinner out, and a drink during the evening add up quickly. Toss in a metro fare, a load of laundry and a bottle of water and that €65 is all but maxed out. I wish more of the hostels had kitchen facilities, because paying €11 for a chicken souvlaki dinner gets tiring. I miss cooking for myself!
I've managed to save on accommodation by taking ferries at night twice so far, and I plan to do the same with the bus to/from Corfu, if everything works out. At €46 for the bus and ferry to get there, I definitely do not want to add a stay in a hostel on top.
And that's the end of me ranting about how expensive everything is!
In other news, it sounds like the package I mailed home from Athens made it in its entirety to home! This is exciting for several reasons, the first being that the two bottles of amazing perfume oil that I picked up in Egypt have not broken! They were packed up pretty snuggly but still, I was concerned.
It also means that I've successfully imported contraband into Canada! In the package were two camel puffs (Coley will know exactly what I'm talking about), and when I mailed it off the woman at the post office looked up what Canada allows and doesn't allow, and for some reason leather was on the not allowed list. I figured I had no choice but to try my luck, as the worst case scenario was they'd confiscate it. I was not about to continue packing them around.
I also mailed home a bag of coral. Coral is so confusing; it's supposedly not allowed, as it's protected and yadda yadda yadda, but it washes up on shores everywhere. I can understand not allowing people to go and harvest it, but if dead coral shows up on a beach? I don't see the harm in taking it home.
When I went to board the plane from Cairo to Athens, I had the coral in my carry-on. When my bag when through the scanner, the security guard flagged it and tried telling me, in very broken English, that it wasn't allowed. It seemed as though he was pointing to one specific colour of coral too. Then? He waved me through with it anyway.
It's not the first time I've been allowed on a plane with contraband.
I'm happy to say that's the last package I'll be mailing home this trip. Mainly because I have very little money to spend on souvenirs here on out (which I'm fine with; it was India that I primarily wanted to stock up on treasures from), and because I can manage carrying an extra bag if it comes down to it. There were so many things I wish I could have bought, as they were dirt cheap, but they were heavy and wouldn't have been worth it to ship home. Oh well!
The next time I travel I'm going to hire a shipping container.
Despite Santorini being home to 13,000+ people, I managed to get a clinger that would not leave me alone. He was harmless enough, but wouldn't get the hint until I snapped at him last night, telling him to stop following me around. It was frustrating because he was preventing me from striking up conversation with any of the other locals, and I'm sad to say that a good chunk of the last couple of days was spent being a recluse. Between Santorini's cold, windy weather, and the stupid desperate clinger that wouldn't take a hint even when I was blatantly ignoring him, I had few reasons to venture out. Factor in how expensive everything was (€3.50 for tea. TEA!) and I was perfectly content with laying low and eating cheap food.
This won't come as news to anyone, but holy wow Greece is expensive. €20/night for a hostel seems like a perfectly good deal, except that my budget is only about €65/day, and I'd like it to be even lower than that. Groceries for lunch, dinner out, and a drink during the evening add up quickly. Toss in a metro fare, a load of laundry and a bottle of water and that €65 is all but maxed out. I wish more of the hostels had kitchen facilities, because paying €11 for a chicken souvlaki dinner gets tiring. I miss cooking for myself!
I've managed to save on accommodation by taking ferries at night twice so far, and I plan to do the same with the bus to/from Corfu, if everything works out. At €46 for the bus and ferry to get there, I definitely do not want to add a stay in a hostel on top.
And that's the end of me ranting about how expensive everything is!
In other news, it sounds like the package I mailed home from Athens made it in its entirety to home! This is exciting for several reasons, the first being that the two bottles of amazing perfume oil that I picked up in Egypt have not broken! They were packed up pretty snuggly but still, I was concerned.
It also means that I've successfully imported contraband into Canada! In the package were two camel puffs (Coley will know exactly what I'm talking about), and when I mailed it off the woman at the post office looked up what Canada allows and doesn't allow, and for some reason leather was on the not allowed list. I figured I had no choice but to try my luck, as the worst case scenario was they'd confiscate it. I was not about to continue packing them around.
I also mailed home a bag of coral. Coral is so confusing; it's supposedly not allowed, as it's protected and yadda yadda yadda, but it washes up on shores everywhere. I can understand not allowing people to go and harvest it, but if dead coral shows up on a beach? I don't see the harm in taking it home.
When I went to board the plane from Cairo to Athens, I had the coral in my carry-on. When my bag when through the scanner, the security guard flagged it and tried telling me, in very broken English, that it wasn't allowed. It seemed as though he was pointing to one specific colour of coral too. Then? He waved me through with it anyway.
It's not the first time I've been allowed on a plane with contraband.
I'm happy to say that's the last package I'll be mailing home this trip. Mainly because I have very little money to spend on souvenirs here on out (which I'm fine with; it was India that I primarily wanted to stock up on treasures from), and because I can manage carrying an extra bag if it comes down to it. There were so many things I wish I could have bought, as they were dirt cheap, but they were heavy and wouldn't have been worth it to ship home. Oh well!
The next time I travel I'm going to hire a shipping container.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Only in India.
I forgot to include a funny moment that happened during the tour in India, and as I don’t know which day it happened on, I’ll just write about it now.
We were waiting in the train station for our train, and we had yet to witness the chaos that is the Indians boarding trains. Train doors typically don’t close, so people are boarding and disembarking long before the train comes to a complete stop. Seats are few, so there’s a mad scramble to get to them before everyone else, and it was typically the younger men without loads of stuff that managed to get seats. (Don’t give them to the tired old women carrying gargantuan packs and baskets atop their heads or anything. May the best man win!) Chaos is in full swing with the train still rolling along at a dangerous pace, and within moments the emergency windows are also open and being used as doors. People are fighting and pushing at the doors to get on, with people on the train fighting and pushing to get off the train.
Unlike at home, where we (mostly) understand that to make room for new people on the train, you must first let the old passengers off. In India, there’s no time for logic or manners! And I can’t really blame them; the trains will often leave before their scheduled departure time, and without any warning. But still, it’s a sight to see.
And then, in the midst of all this madness, what happens?
A cow walks by.
In the middle of a train station, among the hysterical passengers scrambling to get on the train. Slowly lumbering by, looking for food, ignoring the madness that surrounded it.
Only in India.
We were waiting in the train station for our train, and we had yet to witness the chaos that is the Indians boarding trains. Train doors typically don’t close, so people are boarding and disembarking long before the train comes to a complete stop. Seats are few, so there’s a mad scramble to get to them before everyone else, and it was typically the younger men without loads of stuff that managed to get seats. (Don’t give them to the tired old women carrying gargantuan packs and baskets atop their heads or anything. May the best man win!) Chaos is in full swing with the train still rolling along at a dangerous pace, and within moments the emergency windows are also open and being used as doors. People are fighting and pushing at the doors to get on, with people on the train fighting and pushing to get off the train.
Unlike at home, where we (mostly) understand that to make room for new people on the train, you must first let the old passengers off. In India, there’s no time for logic or manners! And I can’t really blame them; the trains will often leave before their scheduled departure time, and without any warning. But still, it’s a sight to see.
And then, in the midst of all this madness, what happens?
A cow walks by.
In the middle of a train station, among the hysterical passengers scrambling to get on the train. Slowly lumbering by, looking for food, ignoring the madness that surrounded it.
Only in India.
Kicking ass and taking names. Or getting refunds. Whichever really.
I’m not the kind of girl you tell “no refunds” to. Not when the ticket I’ve paid €32 for doesn’t say “no refunds” on it. And not when I wasn’t warned before buying it that refunds aren’t an option. And not when I’ve previously had a ticket refunded for another ferry. And especially not when I wasn’t warned that the ferry I was buying a ticket for was running late. So you can take your “no refunds” and shove it.
I was planning on boarding the 3:30pm ferry from Santorini to Piraeus, which, had it been on time, should have got me into port at around 11:25pm. This was cutting it close, as I knew the metro would probably stop running around midnight, but I figured even if I got halfway to Athens I could bus it the rest of the way, or worst case scenario, take a taxi the remaining distance. A taxi from right from port into Athens would have cost way way too much for my traveller’s budget though.
So cut to 3:30pm, when the ferry should be leaving but has yet to even get into port. I check the schedule, and there are two options for tomorrow. I go back to the Blue Star Ferry ticket office and ask to change my ticket.
The guy snickers and then tells me it’s impossible.
I let him know how I feel about this.
Long story short, a different employee cuts in, probably fearful that his coworker was about to lose his head, and calls the head office. He tries telling me that they never ever give refunds, but he’ll look into it anyway. I tell him I don’t even need a refund, just a change of date, and eventually he makes it happen.
Meanwhile, I’m reading the posted information about passengers’ rights when sailing with Blue Star, and it specifically says that passengers are entitled to compensation in case of delayed or cancelled ferries.
On my way out I tell Helpful Guy that he’s much nicer than his coworker. In earshot of the coworker. Coworker looks hurt and I tell him on my way out “Yes, I’m talking about you. You’re not very nice.” Because when Canadian girls don’t like you, they let you know.
Stavros, the owner of the hotel who drove me to port, laughed and told me that they don’t care if the ferry is on time or not, all they care about is getting their money.
Thanks a lot, Greece. Jerks.
Anywho, I’m now signed up for the 12:40am ferry tomorrow night/Saturday morning. It’s a superfast ferry too, so I’ll be into Athens at the lovely time of… 5:40am. Gross. And Stavros has been super awesome about it; for only €25 I can have the room until I leave tomorrow night. I’ve otherwise been paying €19.50/night, so an extra €5.50 to stay an extra 12 hours is a pretty good bargain. And he’ll drive me back to port tomorrow night. Perfect! Well, as perfect as staying in Santorini another night could be.
This trip has exaggerated two things about me: 1, I’m way more calm and laid back than I was before I left, and I hope I continue to be this way because it’s nice being so relaxed and 2, but when shit needs to be taken care of, shit gets taken care of.
I should have been a lawyer.
I was planning on boarding the 3:30pm ferry from Santorini to Piraeus, which, had it been on time, should have got me into port at around 11:25pm. This was cutting it close, as I knew the metro would probably stop running around midnight, but I figured even if I got halfway to Athens I could bus it the rest of the way, or worst case scenario, take a taxi the remaining distance. A taxi from right from port into Athens would have cost way way too much for my traveller’s budget though.
So cut to 3:30pm, when the ferry should be leaving but has yet to even get into port. I check the schedule, and there are two options for tomorrow. I go back to the Blue Star Ferry ticket office and ask to change my ticket.
The guy snickers and then tells me it’s impossible.
I let him know how I feel about this.
Long story short, a different employee cuts in, probably fearful that his coworker was about to lose his head, and calls the head office. He tries telling me that they never ever give refunds, but he’ll look into it anyway. I tell him I don’t even need a refund, just a change of date, and eventually he makes it happen.
Meanwhile, I’m reading the posted information about passengers’ rights when sailing with Blue Star, and it specifically says that passengers are entitled to compensation in case of delayed or cancelled ferries.
On my way out I tell Helpful Guy that he’s much nicer than his coworker. In earshot of the coworker. Coworker looks hurt and I tell him on my way out “Yes, I’m talking about you. You’re not very nice.” Because when Canadian girls don’t like you, they let you know.
Stavros, the owner of the hotel who drove me to port, laughed and told me that they don’t care if the ferry is on time or not, all they care about is getting their money.
Thanks a lot, Greece. Jerks.
Anywho, I’m now signed up for the 12:40am ferry tomorrow night/Saturday morning. It’s a superfast ferry too, so I’ll be into Athens at the lovely time of… 5:40am. Gross. And Stavros has been super awesome about it; for only €25 I can have the room until I leave tomorrow night. I’ve otherwise been paying €19.50/night, so an extra €5.50 to stay an extra 12 hours is a pretty good bargain. And he’ll drive me back to port tomorrow night. Perfect! Well, as perfect as staying in Santorini another night could be.
This trip has exaggerated two things about me: 1, I’m way more calm and laid back than I was before I left, and I hope I continue to be this way because it’s nice being so relaxed and 2, but when shit needs to be taken care of, shit gets taken care of.
I should have been a lawyer.
What to pack!
What you should pack on a trip if you are exactly like me. I’ve been keeping track of what’s been useful and what’s been useless so that when I venture off again I’m better prepared, but I figured I may as well post this so that others can possibly learn from my mistakes and wins.
Or I’m bored with talking about my day-to-day adventures and I’m opting to post this instead.
All of this advice is given on the basis that the trip will:
-be longer than two weeks
-involve varying methods of transportation, like ferries and trains
-involve stays at multiple places, with varying levels of accommodation (hostels, hotels, B&Bs, etc)
-not be somewhere tropical. Packing for somewhere tropical is basically “Fill suitcase with bikinis. Board plane.”
Packing tips:
This one was courtesy of Ella, and it’s been great. Pack your clothes in ziplock freezer bags, and sit on them to squish all the air out. It keeps everything small and separate, and makes packing super easy.
Extend that to everything else you can. Makeup cases are too bulky, so leave the case at home and use just a freezer bag. Use another for all the little things that will clutter up your pack (first aid kit, wet wipes, hand sani, etc).
Things that you won’t think you’ll need that you’ll be eternally grateful to have when you need them:
Sleeping bag.
I bought mine in Nepal thinking that I’d have to use it for two nights on a felucca sailboat in Egypt. Turns out I had confused the trip I opted against with the one I opted for and didn't officially need it, but this mistake turned out to be great. I’ve used it multiple times and I’d never take a similar trip without one now. But I’d be smart and buy one at home that’s much better quality (and much smaller in size) than the North Face knockoff I picked up in Kathmandu.
And sleeping bags protect you from cockroaches.
Slippers/warm cozy socks.
Hotel floors are often cold. Freezing cold. Freeeeeeezing cold.
Jewelry.
People recommend not wearing any jewelry when you travel. DON’T HEED THIS ADVICE. If you regularly wear jewelry at home, you will feel naked on your trip. Feeling naked is weird, and it also causes little miniature panic attacks of "omg where's my ring I don't know where my ring is why is my finger naked oh god oh god... oh right it's in Canada PHEW"
Obviously if you’re normally dripping with diamonds you’ll look like an asshole if you’re wandering the slums of India, but if you regularly wear a necklace, earrings and a ring, bring those items, or at least travel-appropriate versions.
I didn’t bring any of the jewelry I normally wear, save for two rings, for fear of pickpocketers ripping it off me. (Someone told me that in India, people will rip necklaces right off you. While I’m sure this has happened to someone at some point in time, I saw nothing that even hinted at this happening regularly enough to warrant not wearing a necklace.)
I’m using my jewelry-nakedness as an excuse for why I’ve bought so much silver on this trip.
Clothes that you normally wear.
This may seem obvious to some/all/everyone but me, but as soon as you start to shop for the trip you’re drawn to polyester quick-dry everything, which is foolish.
You’ll feel like a scrub. And if TLC taught me anything, it’s that no, we don’t want no scrubs. Scrubs get no love.
If you’re going into the jungle and actually need quick-dry stuff, then fine. But if you’re mostly just going city to city, in mostly dry environments, you’ll want all your regular clothes. You’ll be washing them at laundromats anyway, so you needn’t worry about their quickdryness, as it’s a moot point.
Clothes that you normally wear should also include one dressy outfit. I didn't bring anything suitable for a nice night out, and I regret it. Even if it's just a pretty tank and cute flats, do it.
Cutlery.
I made the stupid decision to toss my spork in the package I mailed home from Athens, thinking I wouldn’t need it. Bad idea, especially since it was so tiny and weighs nearly nothing. I still have my Swiss Army knife, so I can do fun things like cut fruits and veggies, but it’s no good for eating yogurt.
So now I’m on a mission to steal a spoon and fork at the next opportunity. International fugitive status, here I come!
Swiss Army knife.
You may not need it often, but when you do, it’s a lifesaver. Get one with scissors and a serrated blade and a sunglass screw screwdriver, and remember to put it back in your checked luggage when trying to board a plane. Oops.
A computer.
My netbook is the best $300 I spent in prep for this trip. If I were going somewhere for only a couple of weeks, I wouldn’t have bothered. But on a long trip where free wifi is readily available, it’s probably half paid for itself in money I would have spent at internet cafes and in the convenience. Plus, it’s little enough that it fits in my purse. Or rather, my purse is huge enough that it can house a netbook. Look at that however you want.
[Post-trip update: it's more than paid for itself in internet cafe savings, and was a lifesaver when I lost my camera as I didn't lose any pictures]
Speaking of purses...
A purse.
I got the bright idea that I could travel without one. I can't, and as a result I bought three on my trip. As practical as a daypack is, sometimes you won't want to look like a tourist (and a backpack looks ridiculous at dinner). Get a big one with lots of internal pockets, and make sure the whole shebang zips up to keep it pickpocket proof.
Lots of extra ziplock bags, in big and little sizes.
If you’re heeding my packing tip, you’ll wear out the bags and need new ones when they get holes.
Ziplock bags are also supremely useful when stealing food from the breakfast buffet. Trust me, you will do it. You are not better than a squished croissant and warm cheese for lunch.
Divacup.
If you are pre-menopausal and have a vagina, you need to go buy this right now. You're welcome.
Other stuff:
-a spare travel lock in case one goes missing (which they can and will)
-a microfiber travel towel (try brand Adventure Towl)
-diarrhoea meds like Immodium (you will get sick and need this)
-yeast infection meds (haven't needed this, and knock on wood I won't, but I'm grateful to have it just in case)
-any other meds you might occasionally need at home (e.g. sinus congestion meds)
-a compass
Other travel tips:
Budget money to mail stuff home.
You will buy stuff. Even if you don’t buy much, you’ll hate packing it around. Two more pounds of stuff doesn’t sound like much until you’re wearing it on your back for an hour hunting for a hotel at night.
A five kilo package from Mumbai to home cost about $70 to ship. It was more (60 Euros I think) to mail a 7kg package from Athens to home. So, not cheap. But worth every penny when you’re suddenly not carrying an extra ten pounds around.
Keep in mind that you’ll sometimes carry around all your luggage plus another four or five pounds (or more) of stuff. You’ll buy stuff along the way, you’ll sometimes have groceries, and you’ll almost always have a litre-plus bottle of water to tote around.
Things that MEC/similar stores sell that look like great ideas but are actually pretty pointless on a typical backpacking journey:
Dry bag.
If you want to carry around a half pound roll of vinyl that isn't even completely waterproof if it gets submerged, hey, be my guest. I saw no use for it.
Freshette / similar "outdoor plumbing" for women.
While great in theory, putting it into practice proved pathetic. I may try it again for camping/snowshoeing, but it wasn't the lifesaver I expected it to be.
Hangin out the passenger side, of his best friend’s ride…
Or I’m bored with talking about my day-to-day adventures and I’m opting to post this instead.
All of this advice is given on the basis that the trip will:
-be longer than two weeks
-involve varying methods of transportation, like ferries and trains
-involve stays at multiple places, with varying levels of accommodation (hostels, hotels, B&Bs, etc)
-not be somewhere tropical. Packing for somewhere tropical is basically “Fill suitcase with bikinis. Board plane.”
Packing tips:
This one was courtesy of Ella, and it’s been great. Pack your clothes in ziplock freezer bags, and sit on them to squish all the air out. It keeps everything small and separate, and makes packing super easy.
Extend that to everything else you can. Makeup cases are too bulky, so leave the case at home and use just a freezer bag. Use another for all the little things that will clutter up your pack (first aid kit, wet wipes, hand sani, etc).
Things that you won’t think you’ll need that you’ll be eternally grateful to have when you need them:
Sleeping bag.
I bought mine in Nepal thinking that I’d have to use it for two nights on a felucca sailboat in Egypt. Turns out I had confused the trip I opted against with the one I opted for and didn't officially need it, but this mistake turned out to be great. I’ve used it multiple times and I’d never take a similar trip without one now. But I’d be smart and buy one at home that’s much better quality (and much smaller in size) than the North Face knockoff I picked up in Kathmandu.
And sleeping bags protect you from cockroaches.
Slippers/warm cozy socks.
Hotel floors are often cold. Freezing cold. Freeeeeeezing cold.
Jewelry.
People recommend not wearing any jewelry when you travel. DON’T HEED THIS ADVICE. If you regularly wear jewelry at home, you will feel naked on your trip. Feeling naked is weird, and it also causes little miniature panic attacks of "omg where's my ring I don't know where my ring is why is my finger naked oh god oh god... oh right it's in Canada PHEW"
Obviously if you’re normally dripping with diamonds you’ll look like an asshole if you’re wandering the slums of India, but if you regularly wear a necklace, earrings and a ring, bring those items, or at least travel-appropriate versions.
I didn’t bring any of the jewelry I normally wear, save for two rings, for fear of pickpocketers ripping it off me. (Someone told me that in India, people will rip necklaces right off you. While I’m sure this has happened to someone at some point in time, I saw nothing that even hinted at this happening regularly enough to warrant not wearing a necklace.)
I’m using my jewelry-nakedness as an excuse for why I’ve bought so much silver on this trip.
Clothes that you normally wear.
This may seem obvious to some/all/everyone but me, but as soon as you start to shop for the trip you’re drawn to polyester quick-dry everything, which is foolish.
You’ll feel like a scrub. And if TLC taught me anything, it’s that no, we don’t want no scrubs. Scrubs get no love.
If you’re going into the jungle and actually need quick-dry stuff, then fine. But if you’re mostly just going city to city, in mostly dry environments, you’ll want all your regular clothes. You’ll be washing them at laundromats anyway, so you needn’t worry about their quickdryness, as it’s a moot point.
Clothes that you normally wear should also include one dressy outfit. I didn't bring anything suitable for a nice night out, and I regret it. Even if it's just a pretty tank and cute flats, do it.
Cutlery.
I made the stupid decision to toss my spork in the package I mailed home from Athens, thinking I wouldn’t need it. Bad idea, especially since it was so tiny and weighs nearly nothing. I still have my Swiss Army knife, so I can do fun things like cut fruits and veggies, but it’s no good for eating yogurt.
So now I’m on a mission to steal a spoon and fork at the next opportunity. International fugitive status, here I come!
Swiss Army knife.
You may not need it often, but when you do, it’s a lifesaver. Get one with scissors and a serrated blade and a sunglass screw screwdriver, and remember to put it back in your checked luggage when trying to board a plane. Oops.
A computer.
My netbook is the best $300 I spent in prep for this trip. If I were going somewhere for only a couple of weeks, I wouldn’t have bothered. But on a long trip where free wifi is readily available, it’s probably half paid for itself in money I would have spent at internet cafes and in the convenience. Plus, it’s little enough that it fits in my purse. Or rather, my purse is huge enough that it can house a netbook. Look at that however you want.
[Post-trip update: it's more than paid for itself in internet cafe savings, and was a lifesaver when I lost my camera as I didn't lose any pictures]
Speaking of purses...
A purse.
I got the bright idea that I could travel without one. I can't, and as a result I bought three on my trip. As practical as a daypack is, sometimes you won't want to look like a tourist (and a backpack looks ridiculous at dinner). Get a big one with lots of internal pockets, and make sure the whole shebang zips up to keep it pickpocket proof.
Lots of extra ziplock bags, in big and little sizes.
If you’re heeding my packing tip, you’ll wear out the bags and need new ones when they get holes.
Ziplock bags are also supremely useful when stealing food from the breakfast buffet. Trust me, you will do it. You are not better than a squished croissant and warm cheese for lunch.
Divacup.
If you are pre-menopausal and have a vagina, you need to go buy this right now. You're welcome.
Other stuff:
-a spare travel lock in case one goes missing (which they can and will)
-a microfiber travel towel (try brand Adventure Towl)
-diarrhoea meds like Immodium (you will get sick and need this)
-yeast infection meds (haven't needed this, and knock on wood I won't, but I'm grateful to have it just in case)
-any other meds you might occasionally need at home (e.g. sinus congestion meds)
-a compass
Other travel tips:
Budget money to mail stuff home.
You will buy stuff. Even if you don’t buy much, you’ll hate packing it around. Two more pounds of stuff doesn’t sound like much until you’re wearing it on your back for an hour hunting for a hotel at night.
A five kilo package from Mumbai to home cost about $70 to ship. It was more (60 Euros I think) to mail a 7kg package from Athens to home. So, not cheap. But worth every penny when you’re suddenly not carrying an extra ten pounds around.
Keep in mind that you’ll sometimes carry around all your luggage plus another four or five pounds (or more) of stuff. You’ll buy stuff along the way, you’ll sometimes have groceries, and you’ll almost always have a litre-plus bottle of water to tote around.
Things that MEC/similar stores sell that look like great ideas but are actually pretty pointless on a typical backpacking journey:
Dry bag.
If you want to carry around a half pound roll of vinyl that isn't even completely waterproof if it gets submerged, hey, be my guest. I saw no use for it.
Freshette / similar "outdoor plumbing" for women.
While great in theory, putting it into practice proved pathetic. I may try it again for camping/snowshoeing, but it wasn't the lifesaver I expected it to be.
Hangin out the passenger side, of his best friend’s ride…
Monday, March 1, 2010
More homesickness. But this time, the regular kind.
It’s ok, it’s not as bad as the title makes it out to be. I just think I’d trade this lonely hotel room in Iraklio for some home time right now. And I know that in a couple of days I’ll be back to living it up abroad, but for now I’m going to be a little homesick. And I’m ok with that.
Yesterday was quite possibly the hardest day of my life. Looking at it now, I’m pretty happy that I’ve never had to deal with worse, as everything turned out to be ok. I set off from the hostel in Rethymno just after 10 to catch the bus to Iraklio, where I planned on visiting Knossos. Mom gave me her iPod Touch before I left, and on it I’ve got my Twitter stream. There isn’t any wifi at the bus station, but I had a glance at the cached stream as I boarded the bus and I saw something that made my heart skip a beat.
SamirInVancity: Huge earthquake in Chile. Trying to look up more info.
Mom and dad are in Chile. I immediately think the worst. But the bus is leaving, and I don’t what to do, so I sit frozen in my seat as it departs. It’s an hour and a half to Rethymno, but it felt like an eternity. I’m going back and forth between calm and cool and collected, and choking on tears. Finally we get to the bus station and I get an internet connection. No messages from mom or dad or Will, but there’s plenty about it in the news.
8.8 magnitude on the Richter scale.
That is unbelievable.
Some people don’t know how the Richter scale works, so here’s some background:
Each point on the scale (e.g. 4.0 or 5.0 or 6.0) is TEN TIMES more powerful than the point before. So imagine that in miles: if a 7.0 were worth 70 miles an hour, an 8.0 would be 700mph. You go from average highway speeds to NEARLY BREAKING THE SOUND BARRIER in just a single point.
That’s why lots of 4 and 5 Richter quakes are reported with minimal to no damage, and sometimes no one even feels them. Get to a 6 or a 7 and you start to hear horror stories about bridges collapsing, buildings toppling over, and ridiculous tsunamis. And people dying.
8.8.
I get my shit together enough to convey to the poor woman working at the kiosk that I’d like a phone card. I call mom’s cell. Voicemail. Dad’s cell. Voicemail. It’s around 7am in Santiago at this point, so I somehow interpret this to mean it’s 7am in Vancouver. It was actually 2am. Oops. Call the house. No answer. Call Will’s cell. No answer. Leave a myriad of teary desperate voicemails asking everyone to email me as soon as they hear anything.
So now it’s noon and I’m standing in a parking lot freaking out. I obviously can’t go look at old shit for two hours so I reluctantly board the return bus to Rethymno. The iPod’s running out of juice and I know it might be hours/days until I hear something from mom and dad. Cue another 1.5 hour sobbing bus ride.
The next ten+ hours are me keeping vigil at my computer in the hostel, religiously refreshing my email in the hopes that there is news. I venture out a few times to try making calls but still no answer all around. Finally I get to talk to Will, who sounds as concerned as I am but did a wonderful job of calming me down a bit. He promises to email me as soon as he hears anything (as there’s no phone to call me at), and I reluctantly hang up.
The hostel managers, Ivan and Elena, were so sweet in trying to calm my nerves, and they invited me to a second dinner. (Seriously, best value hostel ever! 10 Euros a night and twice they fed me amazing dinners that would have cost at least that much had I eaten at a restaurant instead.) Afterwards, it’s tea and chocolate and more constant refreshing. I’m also worsening my worst fears by reading all the news, watching the death toll rise, and looking at all the pictures. Not the best situation to be in.
After dinner I hear from Hilary, and her and auntie Dar are on the case.
[I wisely stopped writing at this point to venture out of the lonely hotel room to find a bar that would air the gold medal men’s hockey game, and the rest of the night was spent drinking and cheering with my six Greek husbands – more about that later. I’m now wrapping this up the next day, Monday, in Santorini.]
Sometime around midnight I see the Best News Ever on Facebook. Mom posted:
We r on way to Lima. Whole of Chile shut down.
So after crying all day out of worry, I’m now bawling my eyes out, this time out of relief. The whole ordeal made me realize just how much I love and admire and adore my parents, and that I’m not going to be ready to say goodbye to them for at least another hundred and fifty years or so.
I finally get to bed well after 1am after 14 of the most emotionally exhaustive hours of my life. I felt like I had run a marathon, or at least I guess that’s a comparable feeling, as I will never be foolish enough to run one.
I probably should have slept all day after all that emotional turmoil, but I was up at 8 to shower, pack and head to the bus station, this time with all my stuff as I was planning on catching the ferry to Santorini last night.
I leave my bags at luggage storage and catch the local bus to Knossos. I was in a crappy mood going in, redeemed only slightly by the lack of entry fee as I was there on a Sunday, and Knossos was an epic disappointment. I almost wish I had paid the entrance fee so that I could have demanded a refund.
Knossos’ mantra should basically be “We had some really cool stuff here dating as far back as 1900BC, but then around 1908AD this dude named Arthur Evan came here with way too much money and ambition, and overhauled the entire site, claiming it was a restoration when it was really a creation of what his vivid imagination could come up with, and although we don’t really agree with his view and the work that he did we can’t really be bothered to undo it, so this is what you get, and by the way, everything that was actually original is now living elsewhere in museums so here are a bunch of replicas in their place.”
Sometimes I love run-on sentences.
So now we’ve got a day of emotional turmoil, a late night, an early morning, and the only thing I was looking forward to all day was a disappointment.
I salvage some of the remaining afternoon though, as I had a few hours to kill until my ferry was to depart, and I manage to find the 400-plus-year-old lion found in Iraklio’s town square. I also went to Fyllos…Sofies, as recommended by my Lonely Planet book, and tried their delicious bougatsa. Bougatsa is a cheese and pastry dish, and the version I had was topped with honey and cinnamon. An impressive, and probably not that difficult to make, dessert that I need to learn how to recreate when I get home.
Venture back down to the bus station, collect my bags from luggage storage, and I walk over to the port to board my ferry to Santorini. It was scheduled to leave at 6:20, and I’m there nearly an hour early. I don’t see the vessel. Head to the ticket counter to inquire and I find out that the ferry is stuck in Rhodes due to inclement weather and won’t be in port til at least the morning. He gives me 8am as a general timeframe for expected departure.
I’m now stuck in Iraklio, and my lovely €10 a night hostel is an hour and a half away by bus. A return trip ticket will cost me over €12, not to mention three hours of my time, and I have no idea if I’d make it back in time in the morning to catch the ferry.
I consult my LP guidebook and find a hotel that offers rooms with shared bathrooms for as low as €35/night. Perfect! Try calling them via payphone but I keep getting some weird disconnected noise. It’s not that far, so I set off, bags and backpack in tow, for the hotel.
It’s closed. That would explain the weird disconnected noise I got when I tried calling them. There’s a hotel next door, and I venture in. There’s room, but it’s €50/night. Ouch.
I venture back out, and have a look at what else is recommended by LP. There are other options as cheap as €40/night, but for the most part everything in Iraklio is expensive, which is why I wasn’t staying there in the first place. Nothing is nearby on the map, and it’s not uncommon for places to close in the offseason (I guess that they don’t realize that if they lowered their prices to something reasonable for backpackers that they’d have a full house all winter long), so I give up and go back to the €50/night place.
I’m still averaging well below the $100/day that so many people suggest as a backpacking budget, so it’s not as bad of a gouge as I’m making it out to be. I was tired and cranky and didn’t want to spend an hour and a half on a bus to save €20.
Cue sadness. I miss my parents after worrying so much, and even though they aren’t there, I was still thinking it would have been so nice to deal with all the worry at home, where I had Jack and Will and a phone to use at my disposal. Everyone at home is enjoying what is probably the biggest party that Vancouver will ever see, and I’ve started to regret being away for the Olympics. I know I’ll never ever ever regret travelling, and I couldn’t really have waited until post-Olympics, nor could I have cut my trip short. But couple all the craziness back home that I’m missing out on with my slight regret at being in Greece now (it would have been a million times more amazing in the summer), and I admit it: I miss home.
I’m missing a lot more than the Olympics, too. I’m missing my best friend’s wedding. Now I don’t in any way fault myself for that, as I’d already booked my tickets and she moved the date to when I was gone, but it’s still a little heartbreaking. This would have been the first time I’d have been a bridesmaid, and I was so pumped to help with bachelorette party and bridal shower planning. But hey, it’s Reyna’s big day, not mine, and she’s entitled to have it whatever day she wants. If I can’t be there, well, c’est la vie.
I’m missing the birthdays of three of my favourite people: dad, Nicole and Jenn. And Jenn’s birthday is St Patrick’s Day, so I’m missing that too. To be fair, had I been home I’d have missed her birthday celebration anyway, as she’s having her fete the same day as Reyna’s wedding, but it still sucks being away for all this.
Travel is (mostly) carefree, but the fact that I’ll be home in less than a month (30 days exactly) is starting to loom in the back of my head. And while I do miss lots of stuff about home, being home means responsibility, starting with jobhunting, which is my least favourite thing to do on the planet. I’ll be excited about whatever new job I land when I get it, but the interim is the worst part.
Regardless of my semi-homesickness, this is still nothing like how homesick I was when I was in Italy in 2006. I’m proud of how stable and independent I’ve been. Travelling solo is not nearly as terrifying as I’d have ever expected, and I think it’s something I’d do again if I can’t find a travel buddy the next time I want to go somewhere.
Big thanks to Dan for making my travel dream a reality. I wish you were here to see my photos and hear my stories. Miss you.
Yesterday was quite possibly the hardest day of my life. Looking at it now, I’m pretty happy that I’ve never had to deal with worse, as everything turned out to be ok. I set off from the hostel in Rethymno just after 10 to catch the bus to Iraklio, where I planned on visiting Knossos. Mom gave me her iPod Touch before I left, and on it I’ve got my Twitter stream. There isn’t any wifi at the bus station, but I had a glance at the cached stream as I boarded the bus and I saw something that made my heart skip a beat.
SamirInVancity: Huge earthquake in Chile. Trying to look up more info.
Mom and dad are in Chile. I immediately think the worst. But the bus is leaving, and I don’t what to do, so I sit frozen in my seat as it departs. It’s an hour and a half to Rethymno, but it felt like an eternity. I’m going back and forth between calm and cool and collected, and choking on tears. Finally we get to the bus station and I get an internet connection. No messages from mom or dad or Will, but there’s plenty about it in the news.
8.8 magnitude on the Richter scale.
That is unbelievable.
Some people don’t know how the Richter scale works, so here’s some background:
Each point on the scale (e.g. 4.0 or 5.0 or 6.0) is TEN TIMES more powerful than the point before. So imagine that in miles: if a 7.0 were worth 70 miles an hour, an 8.0 would be 700mph. You go from average highway speeds to NEARLY BREAKING THE SOUND BARRIER in just a single point.
That’s why lots of 4 and 5 Richter quakes are reported with minimal to no damage, and sometimes no one even feels them. Get to a 6 or a 7 and you start to hear horror stories about bridges collapsing, buildings toppling over, and ridiculous tsunamis. And people dying.
8.8.
I get my shit together enough to convey to the poor woman working at the kiosk that I’d like a phone card. I call mom’s cell. Voicemail. Dad’s cell. Voicemail. It’s around 7am in Santiago at this point, so I somehow interpret this to mean it’s 7am in Vancouver. It was actually 2am. Oops. Call the house. No answer. Call Will’s cell. No answer. Leave a myriad of teary desperate voicemails asking everyone to email me as soon as they hear anything.
So now it’s noon and I’m standing in a parking lot freaking out. I obviously can’t go look at old shit for two hours so I reluctantly board the return bus to Rethymno. The iPod’s running out of juice and I know it might be hours/days until I hear something from mom and dad. Cue another 1.5 hour sobbing bus ride.
The next ten+ hours are me keeping vigil at my computer in the hostel, religiously refreshing my email in the hopes that there is news. I venture out a few times to try making calls but still no answer all around. Finally I get to talk to Will, who sounds as concerned as I am but did a wonderful job of calming me down a bit. He promises to email me as soon as he hears anything (as there’s no phone to call me at), and I reluctantly hang up.
The hostel managers, Ivan and Elena, were so sweet in trying to calm my nerves, and they invited me to a second dinner. (Seriously, best value hostel ever! 10 Euros a night and twice they fed me amazing dinners that would have cost at least that much had I eaten at a restaurant instead.) Afterwards, it’s tea and chocolate and more constant refreshing. I’m also worsening my worst fears by reading all the news, watching the death toll rise, and looking at all the pictures. Not the best situation to be in.
After dinner I hear from Hilary, and her and auntie Dar are on the case.
[I wisely stopped writing at this point to venture out of the lonely hotel room to find a bar that would air the gold medal men’s hockey game, and the rest of the night was spent drinking and cheering with my six Greek husbands – more about that later. I’m now wrapping this up the next day, Monday, in Santorini.]
Sometime around midnight I see the Best News Ever on Facebook. Mom posted:
We r on way to Lima. Whole of Chile shut down.
So after crying all day out of worry, I’m now bawling my eyes out, this time out of relief. The whole ordeal made me realize just how much I love and admire and adore my parents, and that I’m not going to be ready to say goodbye to them for at least another hundred and fifty years or so.
I finally get to bed well after 1am after 14 of the most emotionally exhaustive hours of my life. I felt like I had run a marathon, or at least I guess that’s a comparable feeling, as I will never be foolish enough to run one.
I probably should have slept all day after all that emotional turmoil, but I was up at 8 to shower, pack and head to the bus station, this time with all my stuff as I was planning on catching the ferry to Santorini last night.
I leave my bags at luggage storage and catch the local bus to Knossos. I was in a crappy mood going in, redeemed only slightly by the lack of entry fee as I was there on a Sunday, and Knossos was an epic disappointment. I almost wish I had paid the entrance fee so that I could have demanded a refund.
Knossos’ mantra should basically be “We had some really cool stuff here dating as far back as 1900BC, but then around 1908AD this dude named Arthur Evan came here with way too much money and ambition, and overhauled the entire site, claiming it was a restoration when it was really a creation of what his vivid imagination could come up with, and although we don’t really agree with his view and the work that he did we can’t really be bothered to undo it, so this is what you get, and by the way, everything that was actually original is now living elsewhere in museums so here are a bunch of replicas in their place.”
Sometimes I love run-on sentences.
So now we’ve got a day of emotional turmoil, a late night, an early morning, and the only thing I was looking forward to all day was a disappointment.
I salvage some of the remaining afternoon though, as I had a few hours to kill until my ferry was to depart, and I manage to find the 400-plus-year-old lion found in Iraklio’s town square. I also went to Fyllos…Sofies, as recommended by my Lonely Planet book, and tried their delicious bougatsa. Bougatsa is a cheese and pastry dish, and the version I had was topped with honey and cinnamon. An impressive, and probably not that difficult to make, dessert that I need to learn how to recreate when I get home.
Venture back down to the bus station, collect my bags from luggage storage, and I walk over to the port to board my ferry to Santorini. It was scheduled to leave at 6:20, and I’m there nearly an hour early. I don’t see the vessel. Head to the ticket counter to inquire and I find out that the ferry is stuck in Rhodes due to inclement weather and won’t be in port til at least the morning. He gives me 8am as a general timeframe for expected departure.
I’m now stuck in Iraklio, and my lovely €10 a night hostel is an hour and a half away by bus. A return trip ticket will cost me over €12, not to mention three hours of my time, and I have no idea if I’d make it back in time in the morning to catch the ferry.
I consult my LP guidebook and find a hotel that offers rooms with shared bathrooms for as low as €35/night. Perfect! Try calling them via payphone but I keep getting some weird disconnected noise. It’s not that far, so I set off, bags and backpack in tow, for the hotel.
It’s closed. That would explain the weird disconnected noise I got when I tried calling them. There’s a hotel next door, and I venture in. There’s room, but it’s €50/night. Ouch.
I venture back out, and have a look at what else is recommended by LP. There are other options as cheap as €40/night, but for the most part everything in Iraklio is expensive, which is why I wasn’t staying there in the first place. Nothing is nearby on the map, and it’s not uncommon for places to close in the offseason (I guess that they don’t realize that if they lowered their prices to something reasonable for backpackers that they’d have a full house all winter long), so I give up and go back to the €50/night place.
I’m still averaging well below the $100/day that so many people suggest as a backpacking budget, so it’s not as bad of a gouge as I’m making it out to be. I was tired and cranky and didn’t want to spend an hour and a half on a bus to save €20.
Cue sadness. I miss my parents after worrying so much, and even though they aren’t there, I was still thinking it would have been so nice to deal with all the worry at home, where I had Jack and Will and a phone to use at my disposal. Everyone at home is enjoying what is probably the biggest party that Vancouver will ever see, and I’ve started to regret being away for the Olympics. I know I’ll never ever ever regret travelling, and I couldn’t really have waited until post-Olympics, nor could I have cut my trip short. But couple all the craziness back home that I’m missing out on with my slight regret at being in Greece now (it would have been a million times more amazing in the summer), and I admit it: I miss home.
I’m missing a lot more than the Olympics, too. I’m missing my best friend’s wedding. Now I don’t in any way fault myself for that, as I’d already booked my tickets and she moved the date to when I was gone, but it’s still a little heartbreaking. This would have been the first time I’d have been a bridesmaid, and I was so pumped to help with bachelorette party and bridal shower planning. But hey, it’s Reyna’s big day, not mine, and she’s entitled to have it whatever day she wants. If I can’t be there, well, c’est la vie.
I’m missing the birthdays of three of my favourite people: dad, Nicole and Jenn. And Jenn’s birthday is St Patrick’s Day, so I’m missing that too. To be fair, had I been home I’d have missed her birthday celebration anyway, as she’s having her fete the same day as Reyna’s wedding, but it still sucks being away for all this.
Travel is (mostly) carefree, but the fact that I’ll be home in less than a month (30 days exactly) is starting to loom in the back of my head. And while I do miss lots of stuff about home, being home means responsibility, starting with jobhunting, which is my least favourite thing to do on the planet. I’ll be excited about whatever new job I land when I get it, but the interim is the worst part.
Regardless of my semi-homesickness, this is still nothing like how homesick I was when I was in Italy in 2006. I’m proud of how stable and independent I’ve been. Travelling solo is not nearly as terrifying as I’d have ever expected, and I think it’s something I’d do again if I can’t find a travel buddy the next time I want to go somewhere.
Big thanks to Dan for making my travel dream a reality. I wish you were here to see my photos and hear my stories. Miss you.
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