athens or bust

"Taxi, 20 minutes, no problem."

"Boat leave in 20 minutes, no problem."

"Airplane leave in 20 minutes, no problem."

(insert heavy Greek accent for all of the above.)

Big problems.

Nine weeks of traveling and I didn't miss a single plane, train or automobile. (One bus at Mt. Sinai, but we won't relive that fateful day with Perquez.) Last night the folks at Hotel Galini said we only needed half an hour before our ferry at 11:40 to call a taxi to take us down to the port.

Pardon my French, but that's bullshit.

In addtion to a water shortage on the island, there also appears to be a taxi shortage. Every taxi passed us by with a shrug. I finally convinced one to pull over who claimed, "Even if you give me $1 million euro, I can no take you anywhere." Hassle, hassle, hassle, he gets us another cab, then a bus pulls up claiming to be for us, we piss off Santorini taxi driver and hop on bus and run away.

Cut to 11:35, when I see our boat docked at the port from the cliff road above and I turn to Fred and say, "No way this boat leaves on time."

11:40 on the dot. It's gone. Bye bye four-hour ferry to Athens. Hello 9-hour slow boat that gets us in to the port (which is roughly 50-minute taxi ride away from the airport) around 1 a.m.

I sulked at the port until the greatest Americans we have ever met took pity on us and offered to split a cab to the airport figuring we might have a chance to catch a flight. They were also expecting to take the same ferry as us only to discover that their tickets were for the previous day's ferry. Our superhero, Les, broke out his miracle phone which magically connected us with a travel agent, who promptly reserved us two seats on the Olympic Airways flight from Santorini to Athens at 5 p.m. for less than the million euros we were expecting to pay. Joy ensues.

Les and his girlfriend Veronica are the nicest people in the world. If we were going to have children, we would name them Les and Veronica. June 15 should be named International Les and Veronica Day. We can't emphasize enough how much we loved these crazy kids.

Not only did they get us to the airport, get us on a flight and feed us cookies, but they also bought us lunch. And they're very funny. They're the bomb dot com. Fred wants to be just like Les when he grows up. I want to be like Veronica.

So we get to the airport around 12:30 and figure we have four hours to kill at the nearby cafe. We check in at 3 p.m. (because Les is determined not to miss another mode of transport) when the monitors in the airport (where apparently a pot-smoking staffer likes to pipe in alternate strains of Bob Marley, Guns N Roses and Vivaldi) told us the flight was actually scheduled for 4:30. Then it was pushed back to 5. Then it was pushed back to 5:45. Our propeller-driven plane actually took off at 6 p.m. Unlike Greek ferries, Greek planes *never* take off on time.

We landed in Athens ready for our overpriced, all-too-short stay at the Sofitel. Apparently the Sofitel mafia has contracted with the Athens airport so that it is the only airport within any reasonable distance of the hotel and thus can charge roughly the price of a Bentley for a 10-hour stay and the price of a Rolls for a sandwich. Figuring we'd spend at least 40 euros on a cab from any cheaper hotel in the city, we sucked it up and slapped down the credit cards once more.

And so here is where I leave you, dear readers. This time tomorrow I'll be flying across the Atlantic. I'm ready to be home, but I am sad to be leaving these travels behind. This has been the greatest adventure of my life and I don't regret a second of it. There's so much more, but I'm exhausted now and the overpriced and overstuffed feather bed beckons.

I'll recap with photos from my far comfier bed in Irvine in the next couple days. Probably. Hopefully. Who knows? I'm on Greek time now.