Just before leaving Athens I was told of a couchsurfing meeting last minute, so since I'd never been to one I decided to pop around the corner and see who I could meet. Everyone there was Greek or living in Greece except for myself and one other surfer from Denmark. We both had plans of hitting the islands within the next couple days and after a coin toss decision ultimately leaning towards a change in my plans (since his ferry ticket was already bought), I found myself on a 29 hour ferry ride to an island I really didn't have much intention of exploring thoroughly, but had intended passing through.
I somehow managed to neglect the thoughts of possible sea sickness and with the rolling waves throwing us 20-30 feet was reminded but managed to avoid getting sick. 30 odd card games, of which I won, 1.5 sleepless nights, alot of reggae and like 10 other island stops later, we arrived in Rhodes. Our host, the nocturnal insomniac that he is, met us exiting the taxi and showed us in at 4am and offered us a ride to the southern part of the island where he had planned a walk with some hikers. With what felt like minutes of sleep we woke and drove down the coast to Monolithi. We stopped at a spot on a mountain offering a panoramic view and Ouzo for breakfast. Needless to say, I did not want alcohol in the a.m. but in Greece, you don't say no, particularly in the islands. It was overcast and grey as we started the hike but quickly it turned into heavy rain as we continued up the mountain, leaving us soaking wet. The views were breathtaking as the fog swept over the valley floor below us, and whited out everything more that 50 feet away. We soon turned around and headed back towards the car, stopping at a hotel to gather around a fire before heading back up north. We had home cooked lunch and dinner with our hosts, discussing a full range of Greek and world politics, language and each others cultures, every true couchsurfers' dream. I learned much about the history of Greece, Rhodes and the corruption in that particular part of Greece. Apparently, there was a law passed several years ago that allowed a change of height in the building code, accommodating larger resorts. It was in for a total of 15 hours, a fine example of how many Greek officials and elite twist the law for their own gain. They also told me of a time in the last century when Greece was controlled by a dictator. Many consider it one of Greece's most prosperous times, a time when things were accomplished and infrastructure was established. I guess with less hands in the cookie jar, more went back to the country than it does now. An ironic state of success and interesting notion. I think dictatorship can be a great thing if the right person is dictating. It's just too often the wrong one, one who cares only for his own gain and not for his country as a whole, in a short and long term sense.
Mihalis, our host, then taught us how to read Greek, sounding out each letter and testing his theory of being able to teach some one to read it within 20 minutes, which I can't deny, is true. However, understanding it is a different story. It will take some more memorising of each letter sound but I now have a much better grasp on it than I did before. We ate dinner at 12am and crashed hard after, sleeping until 2pm. Hot showers set us up for the rest of the day in the old town, my first real hot shower since Egypt! The old town is unlike anything I've seen. A maze of cobble stone alleys, quant restaurants and hotels. The town was built in medieval times as a fortress with walls 12 meters thick and has since been occupied by the Turks, Romans, Greeks and more. It is somewhere one could surely wander around in a state of romantic amazement, a movie set could not attempt to be more perfect. There isn't much to see and still in low season there are few people around, still, it's somewhere I intend on going back to spend an entire day. It was getting late though and we wanted to stick to the plan of hitch hiking south to camp on a beach and make our way to the valley of the butterflies the next day. Our first ride dropped us off at a resort hotel with a beach and we camped on the beach bar, utilising the hotels' nice bathrooms. The next day we hitched toward the butterflies but found that no butterflies filled the air. The season when they emerge is just around the corner but it still provided a good hike thru the trails of wandering pathways and bridges over streams leading up to a monastery atop the valley wall edge.
By noon we were hitching south to Monolithi again. It took 7 hitches, stopping in basically every town along the way. Finally a French couple heading the same way helped us cover the distance more quickly.We knew we wanted to get as far away from civilisation as possible, on a beach, so we set out in a straight line for the coast, which in hindsight, was maybe not the best idea. Determined to reach the ocean we walked what we now know was only 3km but seemed like much further, hiking thru true mountainous Greek terrain with 2 dogs that had followed us from the beginning. We got to a point where we had to pass a fence and decided it best to lock the dogs on the other side. A half hour later though, one managed to find us and eventually led us out of a difficult portion of the hike. Just as the blisters on my feet began to ache and my head filled with thoughts of what we would do if one of us were to injure ourselves so far from a road, we reached the final sloping cliff face with view of the beach. Despite our extreme efforts to go where no tourist had gone before, we found ourselves on an organised beach with a shower and bathroom. It proved better this way as we no longer had to ration water and didn't have to be salty. Turns out it's the only beach in town, an attraction for both the beach and the caves carved out in a natural pier that stretches out into the sea. We picked our favourite cave, gathered fire wood and set up camp. The sunset on the pier was the perfect end to a long day, setting directly in front of us behind a few wispy clouds in clear skies, exactly as we had planned it. Our new dog who we named Dick Chainy for some unknown reason, spent the nite cuddling with us, eating crackers we gave him, seemingly content he had clung to us. The next morning we took our first dive into the clear and salty waters of the Mediterranean. Just as I was warned, the degree of cold cannot be measured in bermudian standards but maybe by saying, winter, without a wet suit, 30 feet down, could start to paint a picture. I never realised just how salty Bermudas' waters are, the Mediterranean is a fresh shower in comparison to the visibly clear salt crystals that coat skin after a dip in native waters. They say icy water feels like a million knives stabbing you all over your body, well, this felt like a million forks, cold enough that I jumped once and couldn't bring myself to do it again. I spent most of the day meditating on the rocks, contemplating why diamonds are so expensive when there are millions for free on the ocean surface of a sunny day. We considered staying another nite but decided against rationing food and packed up to leave.
Somewhere along the way our buddy, Mr. Chainy had disappeared and we were concerned about how he would find his way back. As we made our way across the beach, dreading the long trek back, we sighted some tourists and asked them if hey could give us a lift back to town. Though they spoke only Italian, we managed to communicate enough and scored ourselves a lift back up the steep incline into the town. At least, we think they said yes. They could have said no but we got in their car so they felt like they didn't have a choice. Either way, Gratzia! The experience was a well timed reminder that determination combined with the belief it will all work in my favour will always bring the kind of experience I am seeking on this trip.
We got lunch and headed to the castle we had attempted to reach our very first day in the rain. Near the twirling road from the beach, it sits atop shear cliff faces on every side, unguarded and without gates. We soaked in another sunset laid out before us, behind islands rising from the ocean like whales surfacing for breath, as a mist swept over the valley and thunder rang in the distance. Though we were concerned it may rain we still set up a camp lit by candles against a wall in the lea. Under a blanket of stars the clearest I've seen yet, we drowned in the sound of the nite and goat bells constant clanging in the distance. The sound seemed to surround and pan around us like a symphony of animals and insects we've never heard before. I noted each one as it seems that every where I go it changes. Sleep came easy and despite the inevitable dampness, I slept well. Upon waking in the decaying but majestic castle, we packed up and headed to town to hitch over to the other side of the island. Just as we neared the area where Mr. Chainy had begun to follow us, he suddenly bolted from around the corner as happy as we had found him. We finally felt relieved that both dogs were safe, not lost to the wilderness, without a way back, due to us. He followed us again to the road out of town where we lounged for an hour on the road hoping for a car to pass in our direction while discussing how we would both take him home if we could, despite the fact neither of us are dog lovers, that's how great he was. Eventually, he sauntered off into the distance, never to be seen again and a man going exactly where we were came along and picked us up. It's an easy place to hitch as there are few main roads and getting from one side to the other takes little time. We never waited more than 1/2 an hour for a ride, no matter how 'remote' a destination we were going to or coming from.
Now I find myself in Lindos, once the ancient capital of Rhodes. A town that feels like another island in itself, boasting completely different architecture in comparison to what I've seen of Rhodes thus far. Like a page in a story book, the houses stack against a hill side cradling a crescent beach in the shadow of an ancient castle acropolis. Obviously a tourist trap but it is easily escaped at this point in the season. We spend yet another nite on the beach in the presence of the 4 elements, earth, wind, water and fire. There is something about that that makes me feel at peace and one with my surroundings, centred in my mental state of travel.
I've learned and taught more than I could have imagined from my fellow traveler. He is both the first Danish person I've met and the first other traveler I have spent considerable time with. He is fluent in English, as most people from the north are, but there are still many words and sayings I use that he has been able to learn from from me. Our difference in language and our interest in it has provided many good laughs at the similarities between our native tongues and the simplistic nature of Nordic languages. Examples such as butterfly is a summerbird but my personal favourite is the direct translation for lawn mower..... Grass punching machine. Nordic language simplicity, should have been an obvious assumption considering, Greenland and Iceland seem to follow the same rule. The Danish accent is so neutral, that it is a kind of non accent, like English in a purer form than people with english as their first language speak it. And naturally, we laughed at the ridiculousness that is the Bermudian accent. We've discussed our countries, good and bad, in detail and i know more about Denmark now than had ever hoped to. Fun fact, they get paid to go to school. The taxes are high but you literally get a pay check for attending both high school and college. We have listened to everything from 1930s jazz to Danish dubstep and intend to meet up in Denmark to trade off the tune we've been running. I've left Bermudian music at every turn and picked up so much that it will likely take me weeks to organise. Needless to say it is nice to have someone to share this with, it has pushed me to do things I certainly wouldn't have if I was alone. We are in similar places in our lives, both having significants we left back home to follow our instinct to wander. We talk of them often and after hearing so much of his, I hope to meet her and he too, hopes to come to Bermuda and experience my life. I had thought of just passing by Denmark quickly, if at all, now I will surely stay a while.
I'm off to Santorini today, feeling better than any other time I've traveled but still mildly mouldy and a little wounded. After hitching around to the 7 Springs, a nearby small town and wandering around in some abandoned hospitals, we spent one last nite out with one of our hosts, Mihalis. Riding 3 on a moped to and from the restaurant where we consumed countless bottles of Raki made me mildly nervous but hey, The element of danger always makes things more fun! I don't understand how an alcohol that tastes like rubbing alcohol, seems excessively strong and is drunk straight, doesn't get one wasted. If I drank that much black rum, I'd be on the floor. Mihalis is hilarious and I thoroughly enjoy all the random conversations that we have had. It's nice to talk politics, culture, education and science while still laughing in twisted humour.
One of the things he brought up was how the EU agreement is an experiment unlike any other attempted before. Agreements have been made before but not by so many countries, speaking so many different languages and practicing so many different religions. For me, and most other Bermudians, the EU passport is simply a ticket, a simpler way of travel and an opportunity to study, work, live and experience many other cultures. It is my ticket to meet all the people I'll meet, speak all the languages I'll speak and experience the way other people eat, drink, live and love. I have no concern with a European identity. I am Bermudian, that's it. Apparently though, there are some here that seek the definition of a European identity, as well as an identity with their country and could possibly have difficulty balancing the two. I personally cannot understand this. Why is it not easy to have both? For me, my Bermudian identity and culture will always come first. I will not forget it in pursuit of cultural learning or with the agreement of blurred borders. The question posed is how should we care for our neighbours if not identified in some way? Should the Danish care for the economic and social situation of Greece? Does the formation and identification with the notion of being 'European' over or with country specific identification, change whether or not they should or would care? I can't really say on any of this. I would care for my neighbours and try to learn from them as well as teach them despite not identifying with them in a broader social or political context. I think we can keep our cultures and still learn of others, respecting both the desire to live in other ways while remembering our own personal ancestry and culture. That is a balance that a person must find in themselves, to be what you absorb in your journey but also remain true to who you are, what you are and where you came from in actuality. The only thing I can agree with is the fact that nothing like his has been attempted before and that the markets show only the rich seemed to benefit from the conversion to the €. At present, I know nothing tho and maybe my travel thru more EU countries will help to give me a better understanding for the need of a European identity.
Some how I always manage to pick the days of roughest seas when catching a ferry but, almost to Santorini!I somehow managed to neglect the thoughts of possible sea sickness and with the rolling waves throwing us 20-30 feet was reminded but managed to avoid getting sick. 30 odd card games, of which I won, 1.5 sleepless nights, alot of reggae and like 10 other island stops later, we arrived in Rhodes. Our host, the nocturnal insomniac that he is, met us exiting the taxi and showed us in at 4am and offered us a ride to the southern part of the island where he had planned a walk with some hikers. With what felt like minutes of sleep we woke and drove down the coast to Monolithi. We stopped at a spot on a mountain offering a panoramic view and Ouzo for breakfast. Needless to say, I did not want alcohol in the a.m. but in Greece, you don't say no, particularly in the islands. It was overcast and grey as we started the hike but quickly it turned into heavy rain as we continued up the mountain, leaving us soaking wet. The views were breathtaking as the fog swept over the valley floor below us, and whited out everything more that 50 feet away. We soon turned around and headed back towards the car, stopping at a hotel to gather around a fire before heading back up north. We had home cooked lunch and dinner with our hosts, discussing a full range of Greek and world politics, language and each others cultures, every true couchsurfers' dream. I learned much about the history of Greece, Rhodes and the corruption in that particular part of Greece. Apparently, there was a law passed several years ago that allowed a change of height in the building code, accommodating larger resorts. It was in for a total of 15 hours, a fine example of how many Greek officials and elite twist the law for their own gain. They also told me of a time in the last century when Greece was controlled by a dictator. Many consider it one of Greece's most prosperous times, a time when things were accomplished and infrastructure was established. I guess with less hands in the cookie jar, more went back to the country than it does now. An ironic state of success and interesting notion. I think dictatorship can be a great thing if the right person is dictating. It's just too often the wrong one, one who cares only for his own gain and not for his country as a whole, in a short and long term sense.
Mihalis, our host, then taught us how to read Greek, sounding out each letter and testing his theory of being able to teach some one to read it within 20 minutes, which I can't deny, is true. However, understanding it is a different story. It will take some more memorising of each letter sound but I now have a much better grasp on it than I did before. We ate dinner at 12am and crashed hard after, sleeping until 2pm. Hot showers set us up for the rest of the day in the old town, my first real hot shower since Egypt! The old town is unlike anything I've seen. A maze of cobble stone alleys, quant restaurants and hotels. The town was built in medieval times as a fortress with walls 12 meters thick and has since been occupied by the Turks, Romans, Greeks and more. It is somewhere one could surely wander around in a state of romantic amazement, a movie set could not attempt to be more perfect. There isn't much to see and still in low season there are few people around, still, it's somewhere I intend on going back to spend an entire day. It was getting late though and we wanted to stick to the plan of hitch hiking south to camp on a beach and make our way to the valley of the butterflies the next day. Our first ride dropped us off at a resort hotel with a beach and we camped on the beach bar, utilising the hotels' nice bathrooms. The next day we hitched toward the butterflies but found that no butterflies filled the air. The season when they emerge is just around the corner but it still provided a good hike thru the trails of wandering pathways and bridges over streams leading up to a monastery atop the valley wall edge.
By noon we were hitching south to Monolithi again. It took 7 hitches, stopping in basically every town along the way. Finally a French couple heading the same way helped us cover the distance more quickly.We knew we wanted to get as far away from civilisation as possible, on a beach, so we set out in a straight line for the coast, which in hindsight, was maybe not the best idea. Determined to reach the ocean we walked what we now know was only 3km but seemed like much further, hiking thru true mountainous Greek terrain with 2 dogs that had followed us from the beginning. We got to a point where we had to pass a fence and decided it best to lock the dogs on the other side. A half hour later though, one managed to find us and eventually led us out of a difficult portion of the hike. Just as the blisters on my feet began to ache and my head filled with thoughts of what we would do if one of us were to injure ourselves so far from a road, we reached the final sloping cliff face with view of the beach. Despite our extreme efforts to go where no tourist had gone before, we found ourselves on an organised beach with a shower and bathroom. It proved better this way as we no longer had to ration water and didn't have to be salty. Turns out it's the only beach in town, an attraction for both the beach and the caves carved out in a natural pier that stretches out into the sea. We picked our favourite cave, gathered fire wood and set up camp. The sunset on the pier was the perfect end to a long day, setting directly in front of us behind a few wispy clouds in clear skies, exactly as we had planned it. Our new dog who we named Dick Chainy for some unknown reason, spent the nite cuddling with us, eating crackers we gave him, seemingly content he had clung to us. The next morning we took our first dive into the clear and salty waters of the Mediterranean. Just as I was warned, the degree of cold cannot be measured in bermudian standards but maybe by saying, winter, without a wet suit, 30 feet down, could start to paint a picture. I never realised just how salty Bermudas' waters are, the Mediterranean is a fresh shower in comparison to the visibly clear salt crystals that coat skin after a dip in native waters. They say icy water feels like a million knives stabbing you all over your body, well, this felt like a million forks, cold enough that I jumped once and couldn't bring myself to do it again. I spent most of the day meditating on the rocks, contemplating why diamonds are so expensive when there are millions for free on the ocean surface of a sunny day. We considered staying another nite but decided against rationing food and packed up to leave.
Somewhere along the way our buddy, Mr. Chainy had disappeared and we were concerned about how he would find his way back. As we made our way across the beach, dreading the long trek back, we sighted some tourists and asked them if hey could give us a lift back to town. Though they spoke only Italian, we managed to communicate enough and scored ourselves a lift back up the steep incline into the town. At least, we think they said yes. They could have said no but we got in their car so they felt like they didn't have a choice. Either way, Gratzia! The experience was a well timed reminder that determination combined with the belief it will all work in my favour will always bring the kind of experience I am seeking on this trip.
We got lunch and headed to the castle we had attempted to reach our very first day in the rain. Near the twirling road from the beach, it sits atop shear cliff faces on every side, unguarded and without gates. We soaked in another sunset laid out before us, behind islands rising from the ocean like whales surfacing for breath, as a mist swept over the valley and thunder rang in the distance. Though we were concerned it may rain we still set up a camp lit by candles against a wall in the lea. Under a blanket of stars the clearest I've seen yet, we drowned in the sound of the nite and goat bells constant clanging in the distance. The sound seemed to surround and pan around us like a symphony of animals and insects we've never heard before. I noted each one as it seems that every where I go it changes. Sleep came easy and despite the inevitable dampness, I slept well. Upon waking in the decaying but majestic castle, we packed up and headed to town to hitch over to the other side of the island. Just as we neared the area where Mr. Chainy had begun to follow us, he suddenly bolted from around the corner as happy as we had found him. We finally felt relieved that both dogs were safe, not lost to the wilderness, without a way back, due to us. He followed us again to the road out of town where we lounged for an hour on the road hoping for a car to pass in our direction while discussing how we would both take him home if we could, despite the fact neither of us are dog lovers, that's how great he was. Eventually, he sauntered off into the distance, never to be seen again and a man going exactly where we were came along and picked us up. It's an easy place to hitch as there are few main roads and getting from one side to the other takes little time. We never waited more than 1/2 an hour for a ride, no matter how 'remote' a destination we were going to or coming from.
Now I find myself in Lindos, once the ancient capital of Rhodes. A town that feels like another island in itself, boasting completely different architecture in comparison to what I've seen of Rhodes thus far. Like a page in a story book, the houses stack against a hill side cradling a crescent beach in the shadow of an ancient castle acropolis. Obviously a tourist trap but it is easily escaped at this point in the season. We spend yet another nite on the beach in the presence of the 4 elements, earth, wind, water and fire. There is something about that that makes me feel at peace and one with my surroundings, centred in my mental state of travel.
I've learned and taught more than I could have imagined from my fellow traveler. He is both the first Danish person I've met and the first other traveler I have spent considerable time with. He is fluent in English, as most people from the north are, but there are still many words and sayings I use that he has been able to learn from from me. Our difference in language and our interest in it has provided many good laughs at the similarities between our native tongues and the simplistic nature of Nordic languages. Examples such as butterfly is a summerbird but my personal favourite is the direct translation for lawn mower..... Grass punching machine. Nordic language simplicity, should have been an obvious assumption considering, Greenland and Iceland seem to follow the same rule. The Danish accent is so neutral, that it is a kind of non accent, like English in a purer form than people with english as their first language speak it. And naturally, we laughed at the ridiculousness that is the Bermudian accent. We've discussed our countries, good and bad, in detail and i know more about Denmark now than had ever hoped to. Fun fact, they get paid to go to school. The taxes are high but you literally get a pay check for attending both high school and college. We have listened to everything from 1930s jazz to Danish dubstep and intend to meet up in Denmark to trade off the tune we've been running. I've left Bermudian music at every turn and picked up so much that it will likely take me weeks to organise. Needless to say it is nice to have someone to share this with, it has pushed me to do things I certainly wouldn't have if I was alone. We are in similar places in our lives, both having significants we left back home to follow our instinct to wander. We talk of them often and after hearing so much of his, I hope to meet her and he too, hopes to come to Bermuda and experience my life. I had thought of just passing by Denmark quickly, if at all, now I will surely stay a while.
I'm off to Santorini today, feeling better than any other time I've traveled but still mildly mouldy and a little wounded. After hitching around to the 7 Springs, a nearby small town and wandering around in some abandoned hospitals, we spent one last nite out with one of our hosts, Mihalis. Riding 3 on a moped to and from the restaurant where we consumed countless bottles of Raki made me mildly nervous but hey, The element of danger always makes things more fun! I don't understand how an alcohol that tastes like rubbing alcohol, seems excessively strong and is drunk straight, doesn't get one wasted. If I drank that much black rum, I'd be on the floor. Mihalis is hilarious and I thoroughly enjoy all the random conversations that we have had. It's nice to talk politics, culture, education and science while still laughing in twisted humour.
One of the things he brought up was how the EU agreement is an experiment unlike any other attempted before. Agreements have been made before but not by so many countries, speaking so many different languages and practicing so many different religions. For me, and most other Bermudians, the EU passport is simply a ticket, a simpler way of travel and an opportunity to study, work, live and experience many other cultures. It is my ticket to meet all the people I'll meet, speak all the languages I'll speak and experience the way other people eat, drink, live and love. I have no concern with a European identity. I am Bermudian, that's it. Apparently though, there are some here that seek the definition of a European identity, as well as an identity with their country and could possibly have difficulty balancing the two. I personally cannot understand this. Why is it not easy to have both? For me, my Bermudian identity and culture will always come first. I will not forget it in pursuit of cultural learning or with the agreement of blurred borders. The question posed is how should we care for our neighbours if not identified in some way? Should the Danish care for the economic and social situation of Greece? Does the formation and identification with the notion of being 'European' over or with country specific identification, change whether or not they should or would care? I can't really say on any of this. I would care for my neighbours and try to learn from them as well as teach them despite not identifying with them in a broader social or political context. I think we can keep our cultures and still learn of others, respecting both the desire to live in other ways while remembering our own personal ancestry and culture. That is a balance that a person must find in themselves, to be what you absorb in your journey but also remain true to who you are, what you are and where you came from in actuality. The only thing I can agree with is the fact that nothing like his has been attempted before and that the markets show only the rich seemed to benefit from the conversion to the €. At present, I know nothing tho and maybe my travel thru more EU countries will help to give me a better understanding for the need of a European identity.
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