Three Sheets to the Wind

Finally it was time to sail up to Preveza. With the brother and girlfriend sailing the un-broken catamaran, host-dad and I remained on the broken one, which needed to be towed by her sister. It wasn't long before the constant and heavy rocking had me flat on my back in the throes of sea-sicknesses. I never experienced the urge to vomit, thankfully, though doing anything more involved than lying motionless did bring me close.

We left Kefalonia at about noon, sailed all day and finally dropped anchor at around 11:30pm. I had mint tea and biscuits for dinner. The Big Dipper was upside-down and the moon was our guiding light.

The next day we only had a few hours of sailing until we reached the marina at Preveza, where we watched in awe as Panther (the broken-down catamaran) got pulled out of the water by this massive lift.

I loved the marina and being around boats and the sailing life. Such a photo op!

For example.

I found some Treasures.

The night before we were due to sail back to Kefalonia (leaving Panther at the marina,) we decided to just sail through the night and get to the island early in the morning. My shift was from approximately 1am to 4am. The only sound was the quiet lapping of black, milky moon-lit waves against the boat.

At the Dept. of Forgotten Songs

I miss all of the music I used to listen to in high school.

Like in 10th grade when I would wear red plaid pants and Granny's cowboy boots I retrieved from the never-ending depths of Mom's closet and that red and white and blue ski jacket from Value Village that was so old it was made in "British Hong Kong" according to the decrepit tag on the collar. When we would play whiffle ball after school and when Tim would drive me to LW in his car that was always well-stocked with shop-lifted candy. When the mix-tapes we made to listen to in David's 1989 Ford Tempo that only had a tape deck would litter the front and back seats and sometimes warp in the sun. Like the time I was learning to drive in our old royal blue and wood-panneled station wagon on Whidbey Island and it was late summer and we were going camping with our usual overabundance of snacks from Trader Joe's and I almost drove off the road. And when shows were the only thing worth spending money on and when it seemed like I would never, ever be old enough to go to the 21+ shows.

But now when I go back and listen to that music, it makes me so nostalgic that I have to stop. Partly its because I listened to a helluva lot of melancholy music, but its also because Teenagerdom for me was bittersweet in itself. I mean, I can listen to a cute happy song from those times and instead be brought back in an instant to my melancholia. Things like growing up, my blossoming interest in art and music and film and photography and literature, love and hopeless crushes, not feeling cool enough for my group of friends, always wanting to be different from what I perceived to be the mindless riff-raff of LW, vintage dresses, wanting to be taken seriously by adults and my existential confusion as to what religion was really all about. Music embodies this time for me with more veracity than an untouched time capsule could ever hope.

Here's what I remember:

Jens Lekman, Sufjan Stevens, The Mountain Goats, Elliott Smith (I basically devoured these first four,) Broken Social Scene, Death Cab for Cutie, Sigur Ros, Iron & Wine (and these two,) The Softies, Deerhoof, Belle & Sebastian, Mogwai, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Explosions in the Sky, Yo La Tengo, The Shins, Modest Mouse, Animal Collective, CocoRosie, Seabear, Laura Veirs, The Moldy Peaces/Kimya Dawson, Stars, Tegan and Sara, that one Joanna Newsom song "Peach, Plum Pear," Langhorne Slim, The Flaming Lips album "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots," The Magnetic Fields, The 6ths, Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, The Northern Drive, The Jesus and Mary Chain, the Ride song "Vapour Trail," Sonic Youth (mostly because David listened to them all of the time,) Pavement, My Bloody Valentine, Television, Orbital, Beat Happening, The Stone Roses, Neutral Milk Hotel, Ryan Adams. And maybe there's more but whatever's left is deeply tucked away in folds of brain tissue and does not want out.

...I don't deny that I loftily thought myself to have quite discerning taste in music. Hah! It seemed so important back then. And surprisingly, I didn't come to The Smiths until first year of college.

Anyway, this is the song we were listening to that summer day in the station wagon when I almost crashed and what brought about this whole topic in the first place because I just listened to it out of the blue:

I think it is safe to say that this song sparked my love affair with the banjo.

Κεφαλονιά, Ελλάδα pt. 2

One day we decided to take a hike around the island, so we followed a path that said it would take us to some ancient ruins.

Maybe you can tell or maybe you can't but we came across a giant fig tree! There are also fig trees everywhere in Greece. Well, on Kefalonia at least. There was this one fig tree by our host-family's house that we would walk by every single day. We would always be sure to check up on the green baby figs growing a little bit plumper each day.

All of a sudden there were goats! We were a bit hesitant because what if they decided to ram us? But they really didn't care about us and kept eating as we walked by.

I like this guy.

We waved to an old man and his dog relaxing in an olive grove. Then his dog followed us for a good 15 minutes and we became friends.

We kept pretending that we were in the Lord of the Rings. Like hobbits leisurely wandering around Middle Earth, to be precise. Everything was so old and overgrown and peaceful and green... so yeah.

Other Things:

• Everyday we would listen to music and lay in the sun after lunch and during Siesta Time. Good thing there was sunscreen on the boat because sunscreen is not sold in shops on the island until tourist season begins!
• The salty cold water of the Ionian Sea cleared my sinuses better than a Neti Pot ever could.
• My favorite activity was sitting with my legs dangling in the water while watching all the little fishes swimmin' around our boat. Sometimes I would throw them crumbs and they would go wild! They really liked feta cheese a whole lot.
• The locals gave us looks for wearing shorts everywhere and all of the time. They were wearing sweaters and long pants.
• On our walk along the water to our host-family's house we would almost always see this trio of ducks. They would swim around together, waddle here and there together, eat together, sleep huddled up all next to each other... SO CUTE! They are best friends! We would say "Hello Ducks!" every time we saw them. No photo unfortunately.
• Also on our walk to our host-family's house, we would always walk by this one group of old people that were just out sitting in chairs and knitting or chatting as old Greek people do. They were always real friendly and would wave and smile big and say things in Greek that we didn't understand and we would wave back and say hello in Greek (which was really the extent of our Greek vocabulary) and keep walking. But there was this one lady amongst them who, instead of smiling, would scowl intently and shake her finger at us and yell things in Greek that sounded like curses. She wore all black, including a black headscarf tied under her chin, and had wrinkles like you wouldn't believe. She embodied exactly the persona of the scary witch in Snow White who tricks Snow White with the poison apple.

She was so scary!

• One evening while Emily and I were sitting outside on the boat enjoying our after-dinner-mint-tea and listening to music, I spotted something odd floating in the water. It wasn't uncommon to see bits and pieces of garbage or sticks or other things that float ashore, but this was none of the above. "What IS that?!" We both looked closer and in horror realized that it was a decomposing section of a tentacle. The smell was absolutely putrid. While it floated closer and closer to our boat, we could see that it was emitting these little oily bubbles that left the surface of the water looking slick, and that even the little fishes wouldn't go near it. Although we desperately wanted to ignore it and have it magically disappear, we knew that we would have to get up and actually do something about it. Emily grabbed an oar and with a one strong movement pushed it away from the boat. We thought we were safe for the rest of the evening, but then I looked and noticed that it was slowing bobbing its way back to us. Oh no! So this time we watched it float towards us until it was close enough for Emily to pick up with the oar and fling to the other side of the dock. Good Riddance! The smell lingered for good while, though. Yuck.

• The following photos are from Emily's blog:

Here it comes..

Come here you..!

Yah!

• Island Time. Not much happens on an island like Kefalonia and there is not much to do, so you end up with the following as your major day-to-day events: eating, sleeping, reading, writing in your journal, snacking, tanning and walking to your host-family's house for dinner. One day we had to make lemonade, go to the supermarket and go to the post office in addition to all our other daily tasks and we felt so busy. ("We're so busy!!") The Night of the Tentacle was really quite exciting for Island Time.

Next: boat trip, last days and leaving Kefalonia, Athens.

Κεφαλονιά, Ελλάδα pt. 1

According to Google Translate that says "Kefalonia, Greece."

And the reason it says I am posting this on Sunday, May 15th is because I started it on Sunday but didn't get back to it till now, which is Wednesday, May 18th.

Okay!

From our impossible-to-find hostel we grabbed a taxi at 6:00am and arrived at the bus station with time to spare for our 8:00am, 3 hour bus ride to Patras. I looked out the window at all the citrus trees and half-finished construction projects while Emily dozed.

Once in Patras, we had a fair amount of time to kill before our ferry ride to Kefalonia, so we sat outside at a corner cafe and drank tea alongside a bunch of scraggly old men chain-smoking and chattering away in Greek. Out of curiosity and general excitement at being in Greece, we wished we could have a conversation with them, a feeling which was probably mutual considering we were the only outsiders, let alone females, present. Old Boys Club indeed!

Then we had a 3 hour ferry ride.

I love taking the ferry so much! A Washington kid for sure.

Upon arrival in Sami, the town where we would being staying for the next 3 weeks, we met and introduced ourselves to our Work Away host-family-dad and dropped our bags off at the boats. The catamaran we would be living on, along with her broken-down sister, was moored at the pier, a 25 minute walk or so from our host family's house in the neighboring town of Karavamilos. We then met and introduced ourselves to the rest of the family, and went out for drinks and dinner, where Emily and I both got a little more than drunk off of the strongest gin and tonics either of us had ever had in our lives. After some lively and good-natured dinner conversation, we said goodnight to our host family, made our way back to the boats and fell asleep in our little shared sleeping cabin.

The Work Away arrangement was as such: everyday Emily and I would work from 9:00am to 11:00am or 12:00pm, we would have the afternoons to do with as we wished, and then we would join our family for dinner around 6:00pm. While Emily helped out around the house with general upkeep and looked after Jasmine, the youngest member of the family at 18 months, I would help prepare the boats for the upcoming sailing trip. This involved great deal rubber-glove-wearing, hazardous-chemical-spraying and immensely satisfying mildew-zapping. In order to repair the broken-down catamaran, the entire boat needed to be taken out of the water. Near the end of our stay, I would accompany our host-dad and his brother and his brother's girlfriend who would be flying over from Ireland, on a 5 day sailing trip up to a marina in Preveza. But more on that later.

(On the map, Kefalonia is the largest island in the Ionian Sea.)

Everyday Emily and I would wake up at 7:30 and poke our heads out of the skylight in our cabin to be greeted by pale blue skies and bright morning sunshine. I would usually jump out of bed, lured by the thought of Tea and Breakfast, and face the chilly morning air first, while Emily (sleepyhead!) curled up further under her blanket. The dialogue usually went something like this:

Me: "Emi! Get up! I'm making you a cup a tea but you have to get up to drink it!"

Emily: " MrRHHGHHHgh its cold!"

Eventually the lure of breakfast would overcome Warm Bed, Emily would join me and we would sit outside and listen to Elvis Presley while eating our breakfast. I was scrolling through the music on her iPod one morning and happened to settle on Elvis and that was that. At first it was like we were in a Quentin Tarantino movie because we were listening to the boisterous music of Elvis early in the morning while doing mundane things like making tea. On an island in Greece. But then it just became a perfectly normal aspect of our daily routine.

Tea, strawberries and 8% fat Greek Yogurt like I will never taste ever again unless I go back to Greece, bread with butter and homemade marmalade and eggs from our host-family's chickens.

We ate lots of lovely Greek vegetables for lunch.

With feta and olive oil of course!

And we ate tomatoes every single day. Literally. I mean, look at that! How could you NOT?

The supermarket sells lemons which is crazy because lemon trees grow everywhere.

...like this Monster Lemon from our host-family's tree!

We also grazed on tea and biscuits all day. And yes that is a baby french-press I am using to drink my Earl Grey since we accidentally broke one of the matching mugs. It too broke after only a few days while I was washing it. :( It was so cute! RIP litte guy.

It was my personal favorite to top the biscuits with yogurt and marmalade.

Part 2 soon!

Thoughts of Here and There Pt. 2

That last post unleashed some sort of writing frenzy in me, so I suspect that this blog of mine will be updated much more frequently from now on.

I left off with me waiting at the train station in Budapest to go to Zurich, Switzerland. So, without further ado:

• It is impossible to sleep on night trains if you are poor and have opted not to pay the extra buck for a sleeping car. On the route from Budapest to Zurich we had to stop and switch trains in Salzburg, Austria. At 3:20am. Until 6:00am. So we sat in the "Waiting Room" which was really just a white cubicle with florescent lights and hard plastic chairs. There was this clump of long, dark hair on the floor that someone undoubtedly pulled off of their hairbrush and disgustingly left on the floor for someone else to deal with that I kept staring at. We turned off the garish lights because sitting in the dark seemed like a much better idea, but then felt like creeps when other people came in and were surprised at our presence due to the lights being off.
• Stared excitedly out the window as we started to approach the Alps. Mussed up hair, bleary eyes, aching back and an unshakable feeling of greasiness all over. Sat in front of some obnoxious British youths whose every other unfortunate utterance (literally) was the F-word.
• We decide that we don't really care to see Zurich, a decision which is exacerbated by the foul weather, so we hop on a train to Lucerne, where I buy a small cup of coffee at a Starbucks because we couldn't find anywhere better for the equivalent of $7 dollars. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Switzerland.
• Upon arrival, we found out that our hostel in Interlaken had upgraded us to our own room since they didn't have too many guests. So I got to sleep in a real bed and we had a couch and TV and bathroom and little patio. Cool except that the whole place was reminiscent of the 1970s (pea soup and burnt orange wall paper included) and Stanley Kubrik's The Shining.
• I learn how to take a shower without a towel.
• I eat an entire bar of milk chocolate with hazelnuts in approximately 20 minutes because I am left to my own devices. My travel compatriots decided it would be a good idea to pay 145 SF to be taken to the top of a mountain.
• Train to Rome through the picturesque Italian countryside. The woman sitting next to me was with her daughter and they had a massive suitcase that did not fit in the overhead compartments, so it sat awkwardly in the aisle. Almost nobody could get through without a struggle and exasperated glare mistakenly pointed in my direction because I had the aisle seat.
• Wow is advertising in Italy sexual! Italian men like to stare at you if you are female (I suppose that's a whopper of a heteronormative statement, but you know what I mean..) I find the hostel alright, and later meet up with Emily, my new travel compatriot and fellow Smithie. The following day we walk around Rome and see what we can without paying for anything. Pizza with prosciutto and arugula for lunch at a little neighborhood pizzeria. Later, heavenly tiramisu for dessert. Emily feels really American for asking the people dining next to us if they minded if she smoked. Note: it seems that no one asks such a question outside the USA.
• And now here is a story of true adventure: Emily and I have separate flights to Athens, hers at 6:40am and mine at 11:00am. There is a shuttle bus service to Fiumicino Airport for 8 euros, and a train for 14 euros. We both feel that the cheaper option is best. So Emily gets up at 4 and leaves and I wake up somewhat leisurely, have a cappuccino and croissant for breakfast, then make my way to the pick-up point. After about 10 minutes on the bus we encounter Rome traffic and I immediately have the sinking feeling that I am going to miss my flight, though I try to be positive and tell myself otherwise. The minutes tick on, I am silently pissed off at all of the mopeds and scooters zipping about, making the traffic that much worse, and we finally pull up to the airport at 10:40am. The line to check-in has about one thousand people in it and I stare at the computerized black and green clock in helpless despair: 10:56... 10:58... 11:03... 11:12... I almost don't know what to feel because I have never missed a flight before. I sort of feel like crying but I suck it up and find the Aegean Airlines help desk, where I am told that in order to book the next flight to Athens I am going to have to pay 128 euros (my original ticket cost 45 euros.) So I do it and then find an internet access point to email Emily so she knows what's up . I proceed to sit in Fiumicino Airport for 5 hours and spill cognac from the cognac-filled chocolate bar Emily has given me all over my shirt and lap. It turns sticky and crusty. After what seems like an eternity, I am 30,000 feet in the sky on the way to Athens happily munching on the baklava that has come with my meal. The flight attendants keep asking to refill my coffee cup so I say yes.
• Athens looks like a a metastasized tumor spreading with nothing to stop it from the air. An urban sprawl like I have never seen before. I worry that we are going to land on red dirt and olive trees but then the landing strip appears. I am disappointed because no one stamps my passport. I ride the X95 bus into the city center where, according to the directions the hostel has provided, I am to catch a tram. I have written the names of streets and tram stops down, but alas, have failed to realized that everything in Athens is written in, surprise, the Greek alphabet! I somehow find the right tram, but it is so crowded that I am unable to wedge my way up to the driver to ask for help. I end up getting off at a stop at random after it seems like I have been on the tram for too long. There is graffiti and closed up shops in every direction, both of which look so much scarier at night (by this time it is 9:30pm.) I walk for a bit, come across a fight which involves multiple people and a whole crowd and quickly decide to get a taxi. My cabbie doesn't speak any English, but does listen to hardcore metal. He shoves a cell phone up to my ear and I speak to some lady who knows English and can translate for me. We get to the address where the hostel is supposed to be, but see no hostel. We drive around, I am freaking out ("Can this day get ANY worse?") and the cabbie stops random people on the street asking if they know of the hostel. We drive around again, real slow, and all of a sudden I spot the Hostel World logo next to a quiet and unassuming door. It was the correct address after all, but superbly well hidden. I throw some money into the cabbie's hand and stumble into the hostel where I find Emily, who has just come inside from looking for me. We hug and I tell her what happened because I am not sure if she has gotten my email. AS IT TURNS OUT, Emily missed her flight as well! I scream at this ("NO WAY!!!") because it is such a crazy coincidence. Apparently her shuttle left late because the driver was chatting up some girl at 4:30 in the morning. While she was rescheduling her flight to the 11:00am Aegean Airlines flight, the one I was supposed to be on, the woman at the desk said she could have a seat right next to mine. When the plane took off at 11:00 and I wasn't on it, Emily knew right away that I had missed my flight.
• I take a shower, begin to relax and talk to the girl we are sharing a room with who has been traveling for several months by herself. I am way impressed and ask a million questions when she tells me that she has traveled to Patagonia, a place I am dying to see. She shows me her her pictures and they are beautiful.
• So although it was The Worst Day of My Life, it thankfully ended in high spirits and good company. We went to sleep prepared to wake up at 5:30am and to make our way to the island of Kefalonia.

Switzerland:

I am excited at mountains and want to take a picture!

Seven Dollars.

Pure angst. In other views the water looked exactly like blue Kool-Aid.

A Good Morning Switzerland! from our patio.

Breakfast on a bench, don't mind if I do.

Right?

Clearly I am humbled and introspective in the presence of such natural beauty.

Rome, Italy:

Emi won't get up.

This picture really doesn't do justice to how beautiful the light streaming in made the room look.

Big Whoop.

Athens, Greece:

Emi was forced to buy these outrageously priced tampons at the airport so we figured we should document it (9.30 euros if you can't see.)

Look! An orange tree! This was before we realized that orange and lemon trees cover Greece quite densely.

On an unrelated note, I am listening to Iron Maiden because that is just what my iTunes happens to be playing and I can't be bothered to change it since I'm writing, and it is totally and completely bringing back memories of running on the treadmill at Smith in the winter, boring holes into Sage Hall with my stare of otherworldly concentration and intensity that I tend to adopt while running.

... and I still have quite a bit to cover, so I'll leave you with some Elvis, my latest musical obsession (the reason for which will be explained in the next post, don't you worry!)