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.

A Spartan reference no one will understand

I meant to do a post on Rome. I really did. Besides delighting everyone of the harrowing tales of traveling, I also I like to later print out and put together a small book of all the posts. A journal if you will. Unfortunately, by my own laziness in not writing enough down ever, I've come up a little short on material. Maybe Rome will come out of order like Munich. Maybe I'll sit down and really get everything down. Maybe I'll also paint those paintings of the 10 avatars of Vishnu.

Anyway, we've been in Athens for what turned into four nights. There's something I like immensely about the Greeks. Taking away all the history and battles and whatnot, I still just like being here. Though lets get real, this is the place that saw the Peloponnesian Wars, and a little something else too.

It may be though, as much as I try to detach myself from any attachment, there's still a host of refuges for them to hide. One of which is the food. My diet over the last four days has consisted entirely (no joke) of gyros. I've tried multiple places around the city, and have found the one place that has the best. The pork is better than the lamb, but I'm not sure anything wouldn't taste good when its cut off with a sword and served with a 1/2lb. of tzatziki. Oh, and the beautiful tomatoes.

I'm on a 4-5 a day habit.

In other news, Frank actually mentioned he realized he was more used to the "group travel". I've been hard at work not at accepting this difference, but bending him to the fun side. I don't know everything by a long shot, but I have much to teach him. A somewhat funny episode happened tonight when I was haggling over a bootleg movie. The guy said 5, but since we were suddenly good friends he would go 4. I knew I could probably get 2 after a protracted battle, but I was going to go for the quick 3. Just as I'm explaining thats all I have the guy says "your friend has money". I look over to see Frank counting the euros in his hand. Maybe next time.

But tomorrow, at 5pm to be exact, we're finally hoping the stupid ferries to head to Naxos, and then Santorini. Hopefully it will be a week of camping, and not evil sunburns.

You probably know Santorini from when Real World went there a few years back. The one in San Diego. The one with Jamie. You all know you think shes cute.

Anyway, here's to hoping there won't be any puking on the ferries. By me or Frank. He's already gotten a kick in the balls when the flight from Rome to Athens didn't include his bag.