Grecian Islands: Santorini, Part I

First, let us start with how I got to Greece. I woke up veeery early in the morning (we are talking shortly after 3am), to catch the shuttle bus to the Edinburgh airport. It's a pretty cool deal- leaves at all hours, costs 3.5 quid, has free wifi, a camera on the luggage storage area that broadcasts to the upper deck so you can feel safe leaving your luggage, outlets, tables, the whole shebang. It was actually a little disappointing that the ride was only 30 minutes! After all of the epic bus journeying I did that week, 30 minutes positively flew by. My concept of time's passage has really altered in these last few months, I think. I'm used to spending three hours in class, riding on buses for hours on end, etc. etc. It's going to be absolutely bizarre to have 50 minute classes at Trinity this fall!

The flight from Edinburgh to London was quick and easy. It's when I got to London that things got a little hairy. EasyJet flies into London Gatwick airport, which has two terminals- North and South. Unlike SeaTac, where once you are through security you can get to any gate, Gatwick is one of those annoying ones where you have to reprocess through security between terminals. I flew into the North Terminal, but left on the South Terminal. I had checked my bag in Edinburgh, and assumed that I would just find it waiting for me in Athens. You know, like with most airlines.

Hah, no.

Turns out EasyJet isn't a "transfer airline," which means that you need to pick up and recheck your luggage at each stop along the way. It would have been fantastic to have been told this online when I arranged to check my bag, or in person when I actually checked it. Nada. By some amazing chance, I happened to ask an EasyJet staff member about this- once I was out of the North Terminal and through security in the South Terminal. The staff member sent me to the information desk, where I waited around for 20 minutes for an escort back out through security. Turns out that once you are through security, the only way you are supposed to leave is via an airplane? Not really sure how that works, but at least I vaguely feel that there is a reasonable security-related reason why. Anywhoo, some poor guy had to walk me out of security and then another guy had to pick me up and walk me through the special staff security at the North Terminal, and take me around to find my bag. Which wasn't where they said it would be. So I was escorted through more security. But we found in eventually, and I was re-escorted back around. All in all, I went through security four times in less than an hour. I finally get back to where I check my bag for the South Terminal. They need to reprint my boarding pass, obviously, since I already used it once to get in.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that until two hours before your flight."

Did I mention that my lay-over was 8 hours?

Eventually, I just gave into the inevitable and found a spot on the floor for a few hours, and paid through the nose for a Boingo WiFi hotspot thing. My bag eventually got checked, I went through security again,  and got on my flight to Greece. It went quite fast (see previous mention of new concept of time), and suddenly, I was in Athens!!

At which point I realized that I didn't actually know where the hostel that I was meeting everyone at was, or even what it was. Clever planning on my part.

Fortunately, my computer had about 20 minutes of battery left and the Athens International Airport sweetly offers 60 minutes of free wifi, so I was able to find the information on our Facebook thread, look up the hostel online, and get the metro directions.

Sadly, the view from the bus shuttle (a nighttime view) was about as much as I was going to see of Athens, save the areas directly around the hostel and the ferry terminal. I got in at almost midnight, left on a 7am ferry, got back in a week later at 1am, and left on an 8am flight. Athens and I, like ships passing in the night. Almost literally.

 On our way to the ferry, I got the first of what would be many "cheese pies." Sometimes these were spanakopita, sometimes just cheese. Spanakopita (if I am spelling that at all correctly) consists of that really flaky phyllo pastry around feta and spinach. This particular one was just feta. It was amaaazing. I am hooked. I only have this one picture for you from the ferry ride to Santorini, because my camera ran out of battery- and because I bought a seat inside after freezing on the deck for about an hour, and slept for the remaining seven. Yes, the ferry ride was 8 hours long. I have a vague memory of actually posting to this blog while on board- a post that I had written prior, during my time on the floor at Gatwick.

View from the back of the ferry as we left Athens

Eight hours later, we pulled into the ferry terminal on the island of Santorini. The water was ridiculously blue, the sun was warm- just lovely.

Now, there's this weird little thing I do sometimes, something I've been doing pretty much at every stop along my journeys here in Europe. Whenever I get off some major mode of transportation, and get through the exit, there are always the people waiting with the signs. You know, the chauffeurs and tour guides and what have you with their little papers that say "Mr. Davenport" and the like. Even though I'm traveling alone, I always check. Not because I actually think I'll see my name there. But I always check. Just in case? 

And this time, I had a sign. It wasn't my name, it was the name of my hotel, but still! There was a huge queue of people with the various signs, and our hotel owner had come down with his van to pick us up. So we got to look for the "Stelio's Place" sign. It was terribly exciting. 

Stelio's Place. It's actually a hotel, unlike all of the hostels I have been staying at, and it's right next to the beach. Perissa Beach, apparently, which is what the little town was called. The other main cities are the adorable ones that are perched on hillsides, but they are a) more expensive and b) less beach-accessible. 

Obviously, hitting the beach was one of our first priorities. 

Once I walk out of the driveway from our hotel and turn left... Mediterranean! 

We made some new friends

Hanging out at the pool at Stelio's

Heading out on a different excursion

The first two days were pretty lazy- a nice break after my whirlwind time in Scotland and then the hectic travel day. But on the third day (I count the ferry day as Day 1, since we were at our hotel by 3), we went crazy. We went ATVing!

ATV- All Terrain Vehicle, also sometimes referred to as Four-Wheelers. All 11 of us got them, two to an ATV, and we zipped (or rather, loudly trundled) all around the island for the entire day.

My intrepid driver, Emily. I don't drive, and she loves to, so we were a perfect match.

Some of the ladies on their own ATV

If you look carefully, there are several donkeys/mules/horses in the background. I suspect mules.

Rocking the Helmet Chic.

Our first stop was to the famous Red Beach. Perissa Beach is supposedly a black sand beach, but it seemed rather similar in color to the sort of dark slate that you find on many Seattle beaches. But I suppose to those used to golden sand, it would seem black. The Red Beach was pretty red, though. Absolutely gorgeous, and my toe shoes got another workout.

Some of the ladies and myself

Crashing waves!

Up next: the lighthouse.

Peeling out 

Hiking out to the lighthouse

Yeah, it wasn't much to see

But it was situated on an absolutely wonderful cliff!

Doesn't even begin to capture the color of the water

After the lighthouse venturing, we spend a few hours in the main city of Fira, mainly window-shopping (and yes, a little actual shopping as well), and then continued on to Oja, home of the world-famous sunset.

Rocking the super-chic ATV windbreakers 

Oja! SO CUTE and exactly what one expects from a Grecian village

I like to pretend that these are olive branches, thus making this the perfect shot of Greece

Just one little problem with our world famous sunset... it was kind of a dud that night. Sunsets are such a hit-and-miss science. Observe the following two photos:

Sun is still partially there.

Sun is no longer there.

That was pretty much the extent of our sunset. We hung around until it was pretty dark, and no pretty colors ever emerged. But it was still an absolutely lovely way to spend an evening.

We almost picked up a new family pet on the way home. An adorable little dog absolutely attached herself to me, and I reeeeeally wanted to take her with me, but a) she had a collar (though it was pretty worn, and she had no tags), and b) I couldn't figure out where to stash her for my remaining time in France. It was beyond heart-breaking to drive off an leave her- she actually followed our ATV for a time. If it was a movie, some tear-jerker song from the 80s would have been playing, and everything would have been in slow-motion.

There's my girl

We wound our way back to Perissa Beach, and zonked for the night. Original plans were to go to a karaoke bar, but suddenly we were on our beds and it was the next morning....

Countdown to Repatriotizing

I have a little calendar written in pencil on my wall here. It originally encompassed the majority of April and May. But the numbers aren't like the ones on your average calendar. Instead of identifying the date, they identify how many days left in Paris. Number 1 is at the bottom- Saturday, May 28th. The day I fly out. Not until I'm home, mind you- that will be a few days later, after Iceland.

I started this calendar at just under 60 days. I just erased Day 10.

Nine days. Starting tomorrow and ending with me on a plane, leaving the country. Nine days.

I'm staying pretty zen about it- I have moments of panic about what I won't be able to do again, worries about what I will and won't be able to fit into these last days, and moments where I sort of wish it would just hurry up already. Not that I want to leave, just that I'm almost in limbo right now. But for the most part, I'm just very satisfied. My French, while not perfect, comes easily now. I know how everything lays out in Paris, so on the now-rare occasion that I get lost, it's an easy fix. I've started getting almost nostalgic remembering how I was when I first arrived. The difference is almost ridiculous.

Some reflections, then. I think this will probably be the first of a three or four-part series of reflections on my time abroad, though don't hold me to that! But I imagine I will have different (and hopefully interesting) observations and things to say when I'm finally gone (maybe also on my last night? If I'm not frantically packing or out until 3a), whether that be in Iceland or once I'm in my own room, and once I am re-acclimated (the online dictionary is insisting that this is not a word. I'm going to use it anyway).

On Returning to the US:

There are some parts I'm really excited about. Seeing family? Check!! Switching from a not-even-twin, rather hard bed to an incredibly cushy queen, complete with purring kitty? Check!! Several times over the past few days, I've joined other American students in making lists of what I will be doing when I get back. First restaurant (I'm thinking Thai, but still undecided), first meal at home (a recipe for peanut tofu that I've had my eye on for months), what I'm going to do for the first week (remain motionless on aforementioned amazing bed with purring kitty, save a few fabulous pre-planned excursions and receiving any visitors who care to stop by), etc.

I am, however, a little nervous. They say that the reverse culture shock is equal to, if not greater, than the initial culture shock. Some part of me is worried about showing any difficulty. I don't want to be one of those people who is all dramatic about how it is so hard to make the shift back to English, back to the American way of life, when it's all really just a way of showing off what an amazing experience they just had or what have you. So when it took me several minutes to come up with the word "save" in the preceding paragraph instead of the French equivalent, instead of feeling victorious, I felt almost embarrassed. Seriously? I use English every day here. It's not like I've completely isolated myself. The other day, I tried to offer to take a picture for some tourists who were snapping pictures of each other, and I literally couldn't complete a full sentence. I kept trying to offer in French, when they clearly weren't French, and when I tried to offer in English, it kept bumping up against the French that was working it's way out of my mouth. What even is that? I've never tried to offer to take the photo of a French person. There is no reason for that phrase to even be in my head. Really hoping that goes away before I touch down at SeaTac.

I've also gotten incredibly adept at the Parisian form of walking down the street- have a death stare and blow off anyone who speaks to you. It is extremely effective at keeping weirdos and charlatans at bay, but it turns out I don't switch it off when in non-Parisian places. I think I offended a lot of innocent directions-seeking tourists in Edinburgh, and some nice little old ladies in Greece. At home, people smile at you on the street, say hi, make polite conversations in elevators, the whole shebang. The Parisian death stare isn't gonna fly...

On What Has Changed:

I feel much more confident in so many ways. Obviously, there is the language jump. The first few weeks that I was here, I could literally feel the "deer in headlights" look come over my face whenever someone spoke to me in French. Whenever someone asked me to speak, I would get incredibly embarrassed and couldn't say a word. My program director kept telling us that we needed to accept that we are essentially three-year olds in this language, and just learn to laugh at it and move on. That was a very hard thing to do, but I think I finally reached that point at about three months. Three months was a real turning point for lots of different comfort levels.

I have more confidence in other areas as well. I no longer fear getting lost. I've learned how to let things go (e.g. clearly, making someone move their purse so that you can sit next to them on a wide open bus isn't a problem in France. Breath, move the purse, and move on). I've even learned a few new ways to navigate social situations (you'll learn more about this in my Greece posts, starting tomorrow).


All in all, studying abroad is one of the best choices I have made in my life. Truly. Both semesters of it, but especially this second one, for how much I feel I have grown up. The first three months, I felt none of this. But when the switch flipped, everything that I had wanted to get out of this semester, I suddenly was getting. If anyone ever comes across this blog who is considering studying abroad, do it. Whatever it takes, do it (Miss Abigail, I'm talking to you in particular).

I have my final benevolat tomorrow, and apparently saying a formal, official goodbye is a big deal. I'm thinking of taking my laptop so I can show the kids a few pictures of where it is I am going home to.

And thus continues the final countdown. Last benevolat, last weekend.... Nine more days!

Edinburgh, Entry II

On my last day in Scotland, Clarissa and I went hiking. Within the city limits of Edinburgh are the craigs and Arthur's Seat- an extinct volcano! Very extinct- most of it was covered in gorgeous green grass.

Our intrepid hikers:

We thought during the first part of our climb that we were in fact climbing Arthur's Seat, when in fact we had started over by the craigs. So we climbed craigs too. It started to rain lightly when we were starting, but we perservered. It was only light rain...

The craigs from above

Then the rain really picked up. There were little waterfalls cascading over the rocks we were supposed to be climbing. But turn around? Never! We were already so far/close.... 

It was a good thing that we stopped to have a Bubble Session while still on the craigs, because we were so wet and tired by the time we reached the peak of Arthur's Seat, it never occurred to either of us even once to whip out the bubbles.

Soaking wet at the absolute highest point on the volcano- one of only about six pictures that I took. 

And of course, on the way down, it stopped raining. Sigh. 

Glasgow

In the midst of my larking about Edinburgh, Clarissa and I took a day trip over to Glasgow, Scotland's largest city. Glasgow strikes me as very UK-esque, at least my generation UK-esque. Very hip alongside being very aware of its history, kind of edgy and gritty but simultaneously posh and country. Clearly, this city has personality!

We followed a walk in Clarissa's Rick Steves guide for the UK that wound us through the greatest hits of downtown Glasgow, including what was either Prince's Square or George's Square (maybe we went to both?) and the museum of modern art (some of which was interactive!).

Product Placement

Some random wanderings led us to a fabulous view of the rest of Glasgow...

Particularly from atop this neat graffitied hill thing.

For lunch, we found an extremely amusing restaurant that seemed to want to be everything stereotypically American and, more specifically, American university. Check out some of the decor: 

I am sadly without picture of some of the wildlife we saw passing through the windows, but there was a constant stream of college-age to twenty-something guys in really bad drag. Wigs askew, bright red bras on the outside of the shirt, unshaven, you name it. Lots of tiaras and beauty queen sashes as well. They kept coming in packs. We never did figure out what was going on, but it does give one something to ponder....

Thus concluded our time in Glasgow, and we packed it back to Edinburgh, where I moved over to Clarissa's floor. Up next: our Edinburgh wrap-up, and then onto Greece! Expect updates in fairly rapid fashion, as I was able to upload all of the photos today, even if I haven't written all of the annotations yet.