Athens & Greek Islands, Greece

Travelling would be a lot more boring without its unexpected hurdles. Greece kept us on our toes with a sewerage system that refused entry to toilet paper. That’s right: no flushing loo roll. Let the record show that I never exploded a Greek toilet by failing to use the bin provided. I’m not saying there weren’t some close calls, but we’ll leave it at that.

Greece arrived in a blast of sun and heat. Having had maybe three hours of sleep, our little travel group was wobbling on its feet as it entered Athens. My own fatigue soon translated into a delirious enthusiasm for the Acropolis and the Acropolis Museum. But it was not to be.

Greece seems to operate on its own time, generally rejecting anything you’d expect based on clock faces. On the Greek islands, this led to interminable ferry delays. In Athens, it meant that the Acropolis Museum was unexpectedly and unapologetically closed without notice due to the next day’s election. This wasn’t actually the worst imaginable consequence of the Greek election – my father had predicted euro-abandoning doom – but it was still quite annoying at the time. 

Having stumbled, sun-dazed, around half the Acropolis in our effort to find the museum, we decided to hop on an open tourist train to get back to our hostel. We enjoyed its unique style of commentary. A sample: “This building was [muffled static] 18- - [static]… Turkish occupation.” The evening was saved by a lovely Greek restaurant where we sat outside, ate chicken gyros, and were given a free shot of mastikha (alcohol of the Greek tree sap variety).

Early next morning, we took a choppy five-and-a-half hour ferry ride from Athens to Mykonos, the first island on our tour. The wind on the top deck was crazy, toppling everything from deck chairs to full-grown men.

Upon arrival in Mykonos, we suffered a sardine-packed bus ride to the hostel, which fronted the aptly named Paradise Beach. And then we swam in the blue, blue water, and ate delicious, cheap gyros.

We ate dinner with the busabout group in town, where we admired the famous Mykonos windmills and pub-crawled our way to dancing.

Next day, we did absolutely nothing. I lay on a sunbed and read a total of 38 pages of my book. At around 7pm, the five of us took the bus into town and found another restaurant, where Niki and I shared tsousoukakia, delicious Greek meatballs. And then we returned to Paradise Beach and sipped daiquiris from the beachfront bar.

We left Mykonos next afternoon for Paros, where we were booked to stay for the next four days. We were meant to leave at 8:30am, but this apparently equated to 1:45pm in Greek Island Time. It was not, however, the worst delay in the world, lounging in the shade at the edge of Paradise Beach.

Paros was a much cheaper, more relaxed, more authentic-feeling island than Mykonos.

Authenticity arrived in the form of laser-guided killer mosquitoes on the beautiful Krios beach. Apparently sunset is feasting time.

We spent our second day in Paros on a daylong boat tour around the nearby island of Anti-Paros. This was the absolute highlight of the whole trip. The sea was the same sort of spectacular blue-green that generally features in James Bond and Charlie’s Angels movies.

The boat stopped at various intervals around small coves so that we could swim. We lunched on a beautiful desolate beach and ate barbequed skewers, Greek salad, dolmades and throat-scalding ouzo. We were also supplied with a bite of fresh octopus (caught while sailing, dried in the sun on the mast, and barbequed on the beach by the drunken captain). This drunken captain, incidentally, was quite a character. For our entertainment, he did such things as drag an octopus over an unsuspecting girl’s behind, and eat fruit out of a bowl balanced on another girl’s behind with no hands. He was almost redeemed by his companion, a dog called Cookie, who was perpetually seasick but adorable.

The next day was a not-much day, spent lounging on a couple of town beaches and exploring the little boutiquey shops near our hostel. On our final day in Paros, Kathy, Edward and I took a ten-minute ferry to the gorgeous beach directly opposite the main town while Niki and Tash took advantage of a second boat tour.

We left for the third island, Santorini, in the early afternoon. Upon arrival, we found we had just enough energy to seek out a fro yo before collapsing in our rooms. Santorini was by far the most visually spectacular of the islands that we visited.

On our first night, we went to dinner at a restaurant set in a cliff face overlooking surrounding islands and Santorini’s trademark caldera. Later, we went to a bar for cocktails and dancing.

Our second day was spent on a bus tour that encompassed a ‘bucket list’ of Santorini’s principal sites of interest. We started by driving up to Mount Profiti Ilia for amazing panoramic views. Next was Perissa, a black sand beach, where we had a swim and tripped over the treacherous lava-formed seafloor.

Kathy, Edward and I were dropped off at an indoor exhibition of the ruins of the ancient Minoan town of Akrotiri, which had just opened. As the bus driver had warned, we only got a ‘looky looky’ as opposed to a ‘talky talky’, but most of it seemed self-explanatory. Like Pompeii, Akrotiri was swallowed up by a volcanic eruption in the distant past – but unlike Pompeii, Akrotiri had been mysteriously deserted prior to the eruption, as if the town’s residents had been warned of their impending doom…

And then we walked up to the famous Red Beach (which had rocky red sand). This walk took massive effort due to the scalding heat and shifting rock-sand underfoot.

The bus tour finished at a winery featuring another crazy epic view of the island. Santorini is basically just one massive crazy epic view.

In the evening, we drove out to Oia, a picture-perfect town that looked like everything you’d expect from a Greek island: blue-roofed churches, smooth white buildings, blue sea, blue sky, windmills, etc. We picnicked on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sunset. Views, views, views. You get the picture. 

Two days was far too brief a time to spend in Santorini. We could have very happily passed another two days exploring the island and maybe bathing in the hot springs near the caldera, but instead we ferried off to Ios, our fourth and final island. Unlike the previous three islands, Ios was incredibly hot due to a lack of breeze. It felt even hotter after climbing the billions of stairs to our hostel with suitcases in tow. (The views maybe kind of made up for it.)

I couldn't find a picture of the views. So here's a picture of Niki eating tsousoukakia!

We spent our first afternoon browsing the shops and then resting in our room, swapping photos and generally charging our batteries for the epic Ios night ahead of us. Ios is roundly acknowledged to be the ‘party island’, a title earned through its 90+ bars and clubs and lack of actual Greek population. In fact, if Melbourne has acquired a massive Greek population over the years, I’d imagine it’s a fair exchange for the sheer number of Melbournians beached in Ios.

I found Old Gregg. He runs a bakery on Ios now.

Ios lived up to its reputation. We joined the busabout pub crawl, which was to include eight bars of various ‘quirky’ themes. These themes included ‘Irish pub’, ‘fifties American memorabilia’, ‘Wild West’, and ‘Scandinavia’. We made it to a total of five: respectable. We got home around 3am, just as a group of people from our hostel left to begin their night.

In the morning, I dragged myself out of bed to join Kathy and Edward for a kayaking expedition around quieter parts of the island. The town was dead during the day. We headed down to the beach, only to take a 45-minute bus ride to an even better beach with actual powdered sand and the requisite rows of beach umbrellas. From there, we kayaked to a sheltered area where we snorkelled before heading to a burning hot pebble beach for a barbeque lunch. We soon discovered that walking on our towels was the only possible mode of transport. (Some intelligent expedition leader had told us that there was no need for thongs.) We then kayaked back to the main beach, where the three of us hit a ball with a beach racket in a round robin. While we improved loads over the course of an hour or so, we never quite reached the local levels of expertise.

When we got back to the hostel, we had a rest before meeting the others for dinner and crepes. Niki, Tash and I hit the town again with a particular bar in mind, but ended up bumping into busabout people. We joined them at a circus-themed bar, where the bartender speed-juggled flaming vodka bottles behind the bar. Very safe, obviously. I swear he burned himself multiple times. Eventually, we found the bar we’d been aiming for at the beginning, had a couple of drinks and wobbled home for a wifi party.

It wouldn’t be Greece without ferry delays, so we got back to Athens a good two hours after expected. This meant that we couldn’t go to the Acropolis that night as planned, so we farewelled Niki and headed directly for our favourite fro yo spot. As you can possibly tell, our Greek experience largely revolved around yoghurt. Yoghurt and sunscreen, and, belatedly, mosquito repellent.

Our last day in Athens was a triumph. We clawed our way through the tourists to the top of the Acropolis, took millions of photos of ourselves in front of the Parthenon, and finally headed off to the airport.

And there ended my year abroad, with only a million hours of 30 Rock episodes between me and home. Thanks so much to everyone who made the ten-and-a-half months spectacular. Northern Hemisphere: I’ll be back.  

Barcelona, Spain

Barcelona: city of sun, sea and sangria. Exactly what I needed after my hectic final week in London. The journey to Gatwick was a trial in itself. Decked out in an outfit designed to outsmart stringent suitcase weight limits, I met Kathy, Niki and Edward a mere forty minutes late, barely caught the train, and tried very hard to leave my laptop behind in the overhead baggage area. Revived by one final packet of caramel digestives, we flew into Barcelona without further hassle.

Hot stuff coming through!

Dropping our bags at the apartment, we poked around the neighbourhood looking for food, and eventually found our very first tapas bar. The delicious variety of fried things included calamari, croquettes, empanadas and a potato omelette. And there began my love affair with Spain.

We slept in almost every day: paradise. Rather than leap right into the typical touristy stuff, we started out with a long circuitous stroll around the city. We made our way down Las Ramblas until we found a most incredible (and addictive) fruit market. Here we bumped into Maddie completely at random. Small world.

Las Ramblas led to the marina and the many adorable puppies being walked there. On the way home, we found a cathedral that I very incorrectly proclaimed to be Gaudi’s famous Sagrada Familia. Next stop was paella, of both veggie and seafood varieties, and a fruitless search for churros.

Maddie joined us at the apartment on Tuesday, and the five of us took a day trip to Ocata, a beach half an hour’s train out of the city. The train tracks were set about 100 metres from the water. The whole gorgeous set-up wouldn’t have looked out of place in a James Bond film. Picture blue sky, blue sea, white sand, and bright red screaming sunburn on the fronts of my legs. My thanks to the beauty products outlet from which Kathy and I scooped full handfuls of sample aloe lotion to slather onto my legs in the middle of the street.

Wednesday was for fruit market brunch (mango and coconut smoothies, strawberries, nougat-type stuff and pastries) and Gaudi. Gaudi means touristy stuff. He was a rather extremely famous Spanish architect who was into modern architecture way before his time. We visited the Casa Battló first, a house constructed as a sort of organic seascape. The décor included rising blue tiles, a dragonish roof, ceilings and doorways moulded in the shape of waves, and general seashell décor. You have to see it to believe it.

Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia – a famous church still in the process of construction – was somehow even more astounding.

Niki and I hooked ourselves into audio guides and received a fairly thorough summary of Gaudi’s inspiration and creative process. The outside of the Sagrada Familia has three facades, each featuring a different set of biblical episodes in spectacular style. Though unfinished (and currently covered in cranes), the church sports scores of bell towers and steeples with fruit and flower-based tips. There’s even a scatter of gargoyle-like creatures running down the sides of the outside walls and towers as if to escape the altar.

The church’s inside is a fascinating interpretation of a traditional Catholic cathedral. Leaning, twisting columns sprout branch-columns that finish in a leaf-like canopy on the vaulted roof. Gaudi intended his canopy to enclose and protect the congregation. He deliberately restricted the volume of light that could enter the church through the stained and plain glass windows, believing that too much light could blind worshippers just as well as insufficient light.

The functionality of Gaudi’s design was just as interesting as its aesthetic style. The leaf-canopy plastered to the roof was specifically shaped to enhance the acoustics of the 1000-strong choir intended for the church. 

Long story short, the Sagrada Familia was pretty freaking awesome. I’m definitely coming back in twenty or thirty years when the whole thing is finally completed. 

Maddie left on Thursday and was replaced by Tash, who would be travelling with us for our Greek island tour. Tash popped off to meet a friend, leaving the rest of us to take a walking tour of the Gothic quarter, where we learnt that Catalonia used to be a separate country to Spain. We also stumbled across George Orwell.  

After a restorative churro session, we took the metro up to Park Guell, a park designed by – you guessed it – Gaudi. It was very pretty, brimming with flowers, slanting columns and typically weird/wonderful Gaudi mosaics.

We spent our last day in Spain exploring Barceloneta beach, strolling along palm-lined avenues, visiting the fruit market one last time, and eating churros. Too soon it was time to come home to pack and prepare for our very early flight to Greece.

Note to self: get back to Spain!

London: Last Ten Days

My last ten days in London were insane. I became the queen of Life Tetris, slotting in the Gilbert and Sullivan Society ball, two floor guests, the Jubilee, Melbourne friends, Borough Market x 3, French musicals, baking, many many many goodbyes, and terrifyingly last-minute packing. It was sad, it was stressful, and it was fun.

The ten day countdown started with two grand occasions: the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, and much more excitingly, the arrival of Sarah, a friend from Dublin. Sarah did much more than simply sleep on a bathmat on my floor. Sarah ate brownies with me in the captain’s quarters of the Golden Hinde, introduced me to The Avengers, held my hand at the London Dungeons, and even ate cupcakes that I accidentally flavoured with soy sauce. 

Sarah and I made a half-hearted effort to engage in Jubilee festivities. At 3pm on Sunday, we decided to wander down to London Bridge and watch the flotilla, only to be turned away by the police due to full audience capacity. Defeated, and daunted by the dreary weather, we took our takeaway noodles back to my kitchen and spent a good couple of hours mocking the BBC commentary. Did you know that the Queen “famously hates beige”?

We did, however, manage to ‘attend’ the Jubilee Concert the next night. My friend Natalie decided to hold her birthday picnic in Hyde Park overlooking one of the giant screens broadcasting the concert from Buckingham Palace. We were briefly rained on, showered with novelty bubbles, plied with picnic food, danced to Elton John (well, I did) and ultimately froze to death. It was great fun. British people turn out to be rather patriotic, especially the ones sporting bowler hats with little Union Jacks on top. 

My first goodbye arrived on Tuesday morning when Sarah left. This was a highly tragic occasion as we’d been having such hilarious fun together. To cheer myself up, I had Polly and Alice around for dinner, after which we watched 10 Things I Hate About You because Polly hadn’t seen it before, and friends don’t let friends behave in such a way.  

On Wednesday, with five days to go, Niki arrived and took up residence on my floor. It was beyond fantastic to catch up with her, Kathy and Edward, all friends from Melbourne, and future travel buddies in Barcelona and the Greek Islands. I saw these three at increasingly random intervals over the next five days as my schedule became more and more hectic. Somewhere in there, Niki and I managed to pop into the British Museum to check out the pilfered Parthenon stuff in preparation for visiting the actual Acropolis.

And then the painful part of my last ten days began in earnest, and I started the devastating process of saying goodbye to my London friends. I farewelled Tori (and family) at Borough Market, Alice at St Ali’s (a suitably Melbournian café near Old Street station), and Vicky from Iolanthe after watching the purple-panted Aussie version of Pirates of Penzance.

On Friday, the goodbyes continued in a fun but heartbreaking stream. Miki and I finally watched Mozart L’Opéra Rock like we’d planned for months on end, which was absolutely amazing. I then went to dinner with Polly and Kyveli at an Italian restaurant in a rather nice area of Chelsea that I’d never visited before. We attempted to attend a philosophy night at the French Institute before giving up and going for drinks and dancing in a bar on the south bank of the Thames.

Saturday was a particularly crazy day, starting with Josh-and-Muney-baking in the morning. It was almost successful baking, too. My last ten days in London were marked by some sort of cooking curse. I spent a good couple of unexpected hours at a last-minute hairdressing appointment. I then dropped into Borough Market for one final farewell before meeting Fiona at Bea’s of Bloomsbury near St Paul’s. It was an absolutely lovely day. The blue sky was clearly designed as a London farewell just for me.

Cara came over for dinner and watched me take down the first few posters from my wall. Several people warned me not to leave packing until the last minute, so I left it until the last midnight. 

Those final hours before midnight were great. Cara and I met up with Niki and Nabila at The Anchor (near London Bridge) for Crabbies. It was when I got back home that the hellishness kicked in. I packed and dissembled feverishly for three and a half hours until I flopped into bed, then woke at 8am and continued the effort, pausing only for a delicious parting brunch with Polly and Kyveli on Bermondsey Street. And then it was back to the packing, and the panicking, and the general manic stressfulness of it all.

Somehow I was only forty-five minutes late meeting Kathy, Niki and Edward. Somehow we made it to London Bridge station in time. Somehow we caught the right plane to Barcelona. The only positives to leaving packing to the absolute last minute were that I got to spend ten full days hanging out with the best people in London and that I was too crazy stressed to be overly despondent about ending my incredible exchange year.

My love to everyone who made the past ten months so wonderful. Come to Melbourne or else.