and its over...again

So I'm heading back to that Alabaster City on a Hill. The trek to London hasn't been exactly what you call fun. First, there was the 15 hour ferry ride from Santorini to Athens. Actually, to the port of Pireaus, it wasn't until 1am that we got to the hostel in Athens. The next day we flew out and had to spend the night in Rome (thats how the ticket was). We probably should have just 1)slept in the airport or 2) slept at the airport Hilton since its 22 euro to and from the airport to Rome, and then 25 euro for a hostel we we at an entire 6 1/2 hours. I didn't do the planning on that one.

Today we woke up, ran to catch the train to the Rome airport, waited in line after line (the Rome airport has to tbe the worst designed one ever), ran to catch the plane, then landed in London.

This brings me to something; for all the impressed feelings we give the Italians about cars and leather, these people seemingly lack the genes to do anything organized. Maybe we should have let Germany and every one else run the country (late 19th century). Maybe some of the organization would have rubbed off.

But the Greek islands are still awesome.

15 hours of fun

Oh, I forgot to whine about the 15 hour ferry ride back to Athens tomorrow. From 9am to 12am. Its going to be a real joy ride. I am curious to see what takes so long since the trip should only take 9 hours. I'm praying its some sort of typo. That's possible right? This is the last time I'm ever riding a slow ferry.

We're actually talking about getting one of those cards games like Magic to learn how to play it and then play each other. However, since we're C class and on the deck, the wind might have something to say about that.

its been rocky

We got to Santorini, the island everyone likes since the volcano blew up and wiped out the Minoans. Though it caused a massive Aegean sea tidal wave, that was several thousand years ago. Im sure everyone that die would be happy to know their deaths meant a pretty sweet tourist place.

The first night here we settle into our campground bungalow. During the night I wake up to go to the bathroom. I decide against wearing my fancy and new sandles (the ones I bought in Cinque Terra lasted an entire 3 hours), because seriously, what can possible go wrong walking back and forth to the bathroom? Right before I got back to the tent, my quiet calloused heel lands on the sharp end of one of the rocks. The thing about callouses, they don't really get cut like normal skin, they tear. I realize I bleeding once I get back in the tent. In a sleepy daze I find my band-aids and just stick two over parts of my foot that aren't covered in blood. All in all, its a beauty of a 1 1/4in. gash. How did I just write that much about my foot?

Santorini isn't all about bleeding though, its about fun. Which it is. It has what has to be the most cramped club drag in the world. On this little alleyway street pretty much all the bars and clubs are located. What happens when midnight rolls around is that it gets super packed. Like those parties you've gone to and you literally are smashed next to everyone else, except this one you're still just stuck in the street.

Naxos

So after something like an eight hour ferry from Athens, we’ve been in the Greek Island of Naxos. There’s superfast ferries, but they cost twice the amount. Something after that last boat ride I now consider a good deal.

All the Greek islands are pretty amazing, I do have to say. I must admit, I just like them for them simply being cool, and not because I made out with some Australian girl (which I haven’t). The cafes hang out octopus on ropes outside their respective places, people wander through the winding streets to the top of the old Venetian quarter, you lay on the beach. That’s all there is really to do.

When we first got here we went to the campsite we planned on staying at, not having a tent they put us in an already made one. I guess they didn’t feel like searching for the keys to the huts since it was 2 am. That meant though, we got to sleep on the soft, soft ground. I did spread out my towel for extra padding. The next day we upgraded to the luxurious hut with a dirt floor, though with beds.

We don’t just lay on the beach, we build. There’s something about playing in sand that I immensely enjoy; whether digging giant holes or constructing dueling fortresses. From walking to the spot where we usually go (which after 3 days is filled with ruined monuments) I guess there are guys that come to the beach to impress girls with their tans and coolness. I impress girls with the cubist style castle I just made (complete with bridges and several lines of defense walls and moats). When I get tired of building or digging there’s always burying someone. Which when you have two people means Frank or I.