First Day of School

School. The bane of our collective, teenage, angst filled existance. The fairytale of my trip to Greece came to a violent and screeching halt once we were forced to endure the actual objective of our journey, knowledge. Though the trips, views, sights and sounds will continue for the next month, the air of vacation that has hung blissfully over our odyssey since our arrival disappated without a farewell. It was a day we all knew was looming menacingly on the horizon of our journey, but we were ignorant in our happy, carefree state of tourism. It is feelings of pure happiness like that and the rude awakening that comes when it all slips from your fingers that make you loathe the wicked banshee of Mondays even more than you already do. All of the burdens and responsibilities so often attributed to college life are thrown back in your face after the long summer reprieve and needless to say, it takes some getting used to.

Our class with Dr. Kaplan is simple enough, read a book, discuss the book and write papers accordingly. It is nothing out of the ordinary (aside from the fact that it is in freakin' Greece), but it is familiar and you take solace in the fact that you know what is around every corner. You know what the teacher expects and how to succeed in that environment. School with the Greeks though, is a new kind of discomfort. The American College of Greece, or what I've seen of it anyway, is a shade of the American college experience. Certain fabrics of it are subtly placed to give the illusion of an American four year institution while others lurk waiting to take advantage of unsuspecting students such as myself. Few American students actually attend Deree, most of them are Greek and to hear the Greek language spoken so freely and commonly around the campus is expected because of that. You expect though that once you reach a classroom setting, the tone shifts to accomodate an international audience. In my International Public Relations class, that wasn't the case. I arrived just 10 minutes early for my class to find my classroom dark and devoid of all human life. I checked the room number, looked at my schedule and confirmed several times that this was the time and place I was supposed to be. All of my suspicions were relieved when I saw my professor come barreling up the ramp, sweating profusely and profanely wondering where all of the other students were. Little did I know, I was the first one to arrive, out of five. Such a small class size really caught me off gaurd. The only time I had ever been in a class size that small was in a one on one tutoring session so to see so many empty seats was really strange. It is odd having that much attention focused on you in a classroom as you feel like you have to devote every second of your focus to the professor or else.

The next day, after my awkward but informative tutoring session, more of the students showed up and started speaking Greek to the professor, unaware that the American sitting across from them was completely and utterly lost. When the professor requested they speak English, they all looked at me with surprised looks, like they hadn't encountered an American in the classroom setting before. Discourse took place mostly in English, but there were side bar conversations that made me feel rather uncomfortable and worried that I may miss a crucial detail about the class. Thankfully my professor does a great job at keeping the relevant and important lectures in English and banters with his students in Greek-lish. The more time I spend in the classroom, the more I come to enjoy it. I feel as though the knowledge I'm going to gain from my Greek professor and peers is going to give me a substanial leg up on my American classmates back at UNF. I'm excited about the potential that this class holds for me and I think that my time in the classroom may wind up being even more rewarding than my time exploring the depths of history.

"They Paved Paradise, and Put Up A Parking Lot"

The Acropolis. This is the Grand Canyon, Times Square, and Vegas Strip all rolled into one for Greece. This is the place that every postcard depicts and every man, woman and child that can point to Greece on a map dreams of going to. It is a massive structure that rises out of the Earth like a titan from the center of Athens. It is a beautiful construct that is slowly being consumed by the insatiable appetite of decay and time. It has a sad yet storied history. The priceless artifacts that once lined the interior of the palace are in museums or lost to the archives of history. The structure itself has also been picked clean; what the Turks didn't blow up back the in the 1600s, the British looted away in the 20th century. Yet this city fortress has withstood all of that. It has seen countless battles and thousands of men have had their blood strewn across the rough, tan rocks of the walls. It was once a place of great importance and dignity and now, it is nothing more than a rest stop for tourists on their way to the prime shopping of the Plaka.

The Acropolis. As viewed from the Aeropagus.

The Plaka is the central neighborhood of Greece and the Acropolis is the headliner of the entire region, it makes sense that it would attract tourists from all over, it is the national landmark of all Greece. The compairisons I made to the Grand Canyon and other landmarks wasn't just to compare cultural importance, it was also to help you visualize the sheer number of tourists that places like these draw in. This isn't the first time I've ever encountered the over saturation of tourists at a beacon of tourism for the entire nation, the Great Wall was very similar. It wasn't until we had reached the end away from the multitude of tourists that you finally got to appreciate the beauty of the structure. You never get that chance at the Acropolis. The place was wall to wall tourists on what seemed to be a relatively slow day, everybody wants to get in front of the mammoth sized pillars and cheese in front of them like they're Jack Nicholson to prove that they were there. It is always a shame to see something so trampled by incessant tourism, the rocks of the Acropolis were smoothed and trampled down not by weather but by the black socks and sandals combination of tourists. Of course, it is a double edged sword, the tourist industry fuels the people of this great city and region so they are just capitalizing on the smartest business strategy they can. In Greece's current economic state, I can hardly blame them. It is almost cruel though, the exploitation of this historic masterpiece. There is nothing that can or necessarily should be done about it, but it always saddens me to see such art and beauty subjected to the whims of the modern age. So it goes though.

The columns of the Acropolis as we were able to catch a break in the neverending sea of tourists.

After spending a couple of hours wandering around the Acropolis complex and getting lost in the memories of a faded glory and the staunch odor of unwashed tourists, we journeyed into the Plaka to experience Greek's cultural center first hand. As always, the heat was brutal and really affected our stomachs as well as our minds. The Kaplans, noticing that their herd of students was rapidly dying off from exhaustion, wisely stopped to consider some alternative options. One of those options was the greatest Greek dining experience and possibly most glorious face stuffing moment that I have ever experienced in my life. The place we went to was a favorite dining spot of the Kaplans and for good reason. Food was offered up in family dining style and based on the meal deal you chose, you could choose up to 16 of 18 dishes that were offered. I usually get worried at family style dishes that I won't get enough of my favorite foods, but this fear was unwarranted at this installation. Everything that we ordered was heavenly. Greek salad, mousaka, pork, calamari, meatballs, a whole host of dipping cheeses and sauces for our bread, greens, fried cheese, french fries, dolmad, sausages and a partridge in a pear tree. We were so unbelievably stuffed that by the time dessert rolled around, we wanted no part of it. Thanks to the Kaplan's incredible generosity, the entire adventure and decadent meal was free. Not only did they rescue us from being "Tan Mommed" by the Sun, they went ahead and paid for a bunch of snot nosed college student's meal. Can you think of a nicer family? Being completely bloated in the Greek heat was the perfect brew for a nap, but we still had some trekking to do in the Plaka.

Good eats.

The Plaka is a really interesting area to wander around in. It is probably the most modern part of Athens with high rise apartments and offices lining every city block, but history is not so easily snuffed out by the encroachments of modern technology. Byzantine church's still dot the city, sunken into the modern landscape by the rising roads and natural erosion. Athens is a city on top of a city on top of a city. The bottom layer of Athens is the ancient city that you read about and though most thought it could never be recovered, history has a way of clawing its way back into relevancy from oblivion. The metro station that is central to the Plaka was built in preparation for the 2004 Olympic Games. While hastily trying to assemble this intricate series of track and rail, they stumbled across an amazing discovery. Smack in the middle of this very contemporary metro station is an ancient ruin of the old city, almost 30 feet under the surface of the street. To see such a blend of modern and ancient intertwined together so closely was truly astounding and for the first time since my arrival in Greece, I truly got the sense of how far we have come as a people. The stone that used to be so integral to our survival has been buried beneath a jungle of concrete and steel. The Plaka metro station is a testament to how closely our past is connected to our future. You have to appreciate the little things, and this was one little thing that will stand out to me for the rest of my life.

Knock, Knock, Knockin' on Zeus's Door

OK, so Delphi is the home of the Temple of Apollo and not Zeus, but who doesn't love a good Bobby Dylan reference? I've been excited about this trip since I first heard that it was on the docket. Delphi has more religious and historical significance than Martin Luther forgetting where the church's "Complaints" box was located back in 1522. I wouldn't have been so stoked if I had known that we were going to have to wake up at 6 AM on a Saturday to climb the equivalent of Olympic StairMaster. The early start was warranted, Delphi is a two and a half hour drive from Athens and we were reminded along the way that people during ancient times actually had to walk the ungodly hot flat lands separating Delphi and Athens. All I could reference during that mental image was Animal Mother in Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket" saying "Better you than me". That was one of the first times on this trip that I actually enjoyed being on a bus because I don't care how powerful my gods were and how sexy/omnipotent this oracle was: "These Tevas weren't made for walking"!

Athenian Treasury

Delphi is located on the second highest mountain in all of Greece and to get there you have to pass through a beautiful Greek ski town that reminded me a lot of Berchtesgaden in Germany. There is one street that runs across the face of the mountain through the center of town and the buildings are built up and down this near 90 degree face of this imposing geographical figure. A little bit further down is the entrance to Delphi starting with the Temple of Athena, Purity Spring, and then the entrance to the complex itself. Delphi was the religious center of all Greece and people would trek from all over the WORLD to come see the famous Oracle who resided in the Temple of Apollo. The oracle was to be consulted before the Greeks made any major decisions be it battle plans, buildings, diplomacy or any other decision the Greeks deemed important. Of course, historians later learned that the chamber where the Oracle was get had seismic fault lines running through it which emitted natural gas. Essentially, this means that the omnipotent oracle got stoned out of her mind 24/7 to the point where she started babbling in incoherent metaphors and the priests gave vague interpretations of those metaphors. It would be akin to you seeking stock market advice from Paul, who lives in the Samsung box at the corner of 34th and Madison. A completely ridiculous premise that you think no one would believe, yet it sparked a mass and almost continuous exodus to Delphi throughout the early 5th and 6th century B.C..

Temple of Apollo

Delphi, like everything in Greece, is gorgeous and I was once again disappointed that I was not able to see the location in its prime. Our guides told us about the preposterously long lines that would form waiting to see the Oracle, but with the views those people were getting while they waited, I can't see what they were complaining about; except maybe the heat, or the abnormally large number of steps they had to climb to see her, or the thousand mile journey they just completed to come to Ancient Greece's version of Disneyland. This was probably the most physically taxing site we had visited and coming on the heels of our journey up Hymettos, it was not a welcome one. The history and the well preserved ruins that awaited us at Delphi's heart though were well worth any physical price. The Temple of Apollo watches over the valley below where Apollo can keep a careful, majestic eye over his subjects. Along the way are the ruins of grand marketplaces where traders from all over the known world would trade exotic furs, spices and people to one another for exorbitant sums of money. The ruins of the many treasuries of various Greek city states were located along the way too, where the votives and riches of the city states were stored as offerings to the god Apollo, he was nothing if not organized. At the back of Apollo's temple which still stands rather imposingly over the ruins of this once proud city, is the stone of the oracle where allegedly the oracle would spout her musings and where more famously Richard Dreyfuss hammed it up in 2009's "My Life in Ruins". We stopped for the obligatory picture looking out from the hole in the stone before proceeding up to view the impressively well maintained Stadium where games were held in honor of Apollo. Despite the beauty around me, my attention started to wane and I proceeded down the mountain a bit before everyone else just to get the hell out of the Sun. Well played Apollo, well played indeed.

Oracle Stone

Cheesing by the Delphi sign. Rolled up sleeves on this white body means that it is hot.

After visiting Delphi we journeyed slightly down the face of the mountain to view the remains of Athena's temple, where pilgrims would seek wisdom before consulting the oracle. The point of it was that they wanted to make sure they asked the right question to avoid getting stonewalled by a James Cromwell like response in "I Robot". It was pretty but it seemed the longer we dwelled in this religious haven, the hotter it got and our journey was pretty short lived at the locale. After waiting another 30 minutes or so in the Sun for our replacement bus to find us, we traveled back into town for a delicious lunch and then the tumultuous journey back to Athens. Though beat from the Sun God's wrath and his labyrinth of stairs, many of us conjured up the energy to go out into Agia Paraskevi and treat Hannah to a very nice birthday dinner before collapsing from sheer exhaustion in our own individual dwellings; knowing all the while that the next day, another early morning awaited us and another hot journey to the ruins of the past.

The beautiful town of Arachova.

Feel The Burn

The trail goes up.

Who in their right mind decides, after a 16 hour ferry journey, to get up the next morning and go climb a mountain? This is what was initially running through my mind as I finished getting dressed at 5 AM and headed out of my dorm room. I had casual expectations of what climbing this "mountain" was going to be like, much like FEMA had casual expectations of Katrina's wrath. These expectations yielded disastrous results. To my surprise, the rise to the summit of Hymettos was not all smooth, winding, Bavarian style roads but rather a painful reenactment of Sam and Frodo's journey up Mount Doom. For about an hour and a half, every path we took were those gentle sloping roads so commonly seen on Volkswagen commercials. Eventually though we had to venture on to the far more treacherous and rocky trails. I had climbed Mt. Fuji when I was younger and that was a much tougher endeavor than this one due to the sheer altitude and angle of the mountain, but that is hardly consolation when you're winded like Rocky after the end of a super cheesy montage scene. I wound up trail blazing for the group, doing my best to stay on the relatively clear, marked trails that led up the mountain. I hate taking my time during physical challenges, I always like to finish as quickly as possible and I always enjoy being the first one to do something, like Seabiscuit on crack, but I had to remind myself not to get too far ahead of everyone for fear of them missing the trail. I really wanted to sprint up the mountain as fast as I could and leave everyone searching around like Hansel and Gretel, but I was able to stifle those selfish urges.

Looking out from a fire watch box.

Hymettos would have made Bear Grylls start drinking his urine (not that it takes a lot of encouragement) at the bottom half of the mountain had he been climbing with us, lack of water and extreme temperatures really killed me on the latter half. As you got to one of the first ridge peaks, you were given breathtaking views of the surrounding area, a blast of heat from the rising sun, and the psychological torment of the fact that you weren't even close to the summit. It was the latter two that really drew my focus unfortunately and that made me realize that Bananarama didn't know jack about a "Cruel Summer." My drive to reach the top became primal and really all else was secondary to me reaching the top of this peak! Another ridge. I could still see the summit quite a distance away from me and the adrenaline high that I was on came to an Earheart-esque crashing halt. I didn't know if I was poised for one more run at the top, but I was determined evermore to conquer this damn annoying hill.

The summit pole.

Maybe it was my legs staging a work stoppage, maybe the lack of water or heat, either way it was on that next ridge line that I started to have my own Rocky moment. I started quickly bounding and sprinting towards the summit like in the montage scene of Rocky IV sans "Hearts on Fire" blazing in the background. This turned out to be the wisest decision that I had made all day as the motivation from my Stallone impersonation got me to the top and some of the most remarkable views I've ever seen. Also, before you ask, I did triumphantly raise my arms in the air and yell out "DRAGOOOO" at the top. Hey, I'm a sucker for 80's movie cliches. We spent about 45 minutes at the top once everyone caught up and enjoyed the spoils of our conquest: a full panoramic view of the entire Attica basin. Despite all of the aforementioned complaining, I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to the top of Hymettos, and I'm planning a return trip to the summit.

Champs!

The trip up Hymettos was essentially the only highlight of that day as the exhaustion refrained all of us from any sort of physical activity for the rest of that day. The next day was similar, with most of us still recovering from the climb. The only thing on the agenda for the next day was the Greece vs Germany soccer match. A large group of us wound up going to a really nice installation that didn't reek of cheap European cologne and cigarettes and watched the game. The atmosphere was electric, everyone was hooting and hollering the entire match until Germany started to pull away in the second half. When Greece scored their first goal, the place went nuts like they just found out the government received an anonymous check for 360 billion Euros. Although the score didn't go the way of the locals, it was still an incredibly fun cultural event to witness and you could tell the Greeks just bleed passion for their national team. Next stop for Greek athletic hopes: London 2012.

The summit group.

Parallel Rhodes (Part IV)

Before our final day on Rhodes, we ventured out into some of the oldest parts of Rhodes town, creatively called "The Old Town" and spent a good part of the morning and afternoon there. The Old Town is the original fortress that protected Rhodes for centuries from all sorts of invaders and it changed hands multiple times when some combatant or another would cramp up and not be granted a time out. The Turks, Crusaders, Greeks, Nazis all held this part of Rhodes at some point or another and all of those factions had some role to play in shaping Old Town. The Crusaders were the ones to originally fortify the outer walls to what they are today. You look at this section of Rhodes and all you see are walls stretching for hundreds of yards and wrapping around the city. The town is still formatted in the style most commonly associated with Medieval towns and architecture. High stone buildings, beautiful catholic churches and long narrow streets that, although quaint now, had to be teeming with piles and piles of human waste back in the day. Amidst all of this though, are elaborate Turkish fountains crafted during the Turkish occupation where the language of the conquerors is still visible when not violently scratched out by vandals. Right next to a specific Turkish fountain was the former Temple of Athena that once stood gloriously defiant amongst the Medieval backdrop now lying in ruins with columns and artifacts just barely visible in the tan stone. Three conflicting cultures and evidence of the their makers all encapsulated in an area no bigger than a courtyard.

A lion devouring the head of a bull. The grave marker of somebody really awesome.

That was all the beauty of Old Town, and it truly is a must see for anybody visiting Rhodes. Until this point however, I haven't really elaborated on the title of these series of posts. Maybe I got distracted or just maybe I liked the sound of the pun better than the actual subliminal meaning behind it. Who knows? Old Town though is the perfect example of Rhodes' cultural clash. Old Town has been almost completely converted into a tourist trap. I understand the economics of it, with Rhodes' economy so reliant on tourism, why wouldn't you but to defile a city like this with commercialism was very disappointing. I half expected a Medieval themed bouncy castle to be present in the middle of the beautiful stone streets with a sign erected above it saying "Ye Old Hoppy House." Vendors occupied buildings that you know must have been something extraordinary to witness back in Old Town's prime. Of course the glamor of Medieval life portrayed so famously by Disney is hardly accurate everything in town must have been rather gritty and the smell must have been noxious. Either way, there is a rustic beauty in even the most primitive of lifestyles, especially in castles. To see such things as an elaborate Turkish banker's home turned into "Dave's Wi-Fi Cafe" was particularly disappointing. I stared at the walls of a place that you know saw thousands of years of bloodshed and history and wished I could have been that stone for a day or two to witness how much has changed and how much we really don't know. Tourist traps are a problem wherever you go and this isn't my first experience with them, but even at the Great Wall, my favorite moment was at the end of the reconstructed section, staring at the remnants of the wall untouched by man for centuries and left to the mercy of time.

Our final day in Rhodes was a busy, but nonetheless incredible adventure. We climbed back aboard the hellacious diesel contraption that was our tour bus and headed out to see several sites before returning aboard our ferry bound for Athens. We spent a little time at an Archaeological Museum in Old Town looking at tombs and old pottery which was very interesting but not enough to go into super great detail about. Also spent a brief moment at a Monastery that sported some incredibly views of the island and then made our way to the highlight of the day, Ancient Kamiros. Kamiros is an incredibly old Greek city that is still being unearthed and has given historians some of the greatest looks into Ancient Greek culture. The foundations of many houses, streets, temples and bathhouses were still standing and it allowed you to get a vague idea of the layouts of these cities. The craftsmanship was so marvelous that these structures that were subterranean for almost two thousand years, yet were able to resist nature's wrath and survive to be unearthed. I was in awe of the place, not only the city itself but the views it held. The city rose steadily up the crest of the peak we were on and must have been the Goliath of the region when it was at it's best. There was so much history in that place and for the first time I got a feel of just how advanced these people were. I made an earlier reference of the Greek's being the hipsters of history; well, Kamiros was their frames with no lenses.


The ancient city of Kamiros.

By the time we were finished with Kamiros, most of us were pretty beat. We hadn't exactly gotten much sleep from the staying up all night and being forced to sleep in rooms that you could most equate to boiler rooms on the Sun. No air conditioning in the rooms plus 95 degree heat equals sleeping outside on the patio. So, we took the Trail of Tears to the bus once again and departed for the Valley of the Butterflies. Now that might not sound like the most exciting thing, and we didn't think so either, but it wound up being a really pleasant trip. For those of you familiar with Misawa's Oriase Gorge, the Valley of the Butterflies is essentially that populated by the spawn of Mothra. For those of you not so familiar with that locale, take the Garden of Eden and add a crap load of stairs. The hike up 900 meters of stairs wasn't exactly easy but the trip was well worth it. At the top was a locally owned family home that ran a refreshment service out of their kitchen essentially. I treated myself to quite possibly the greatest yogurt dish that I've ever had the pleasure of tasting. Greek yogurt with honey and nut crumbs was the absolute perfect way to cap off our hike. Also at the top was a small church where some us performed a Greek Orthodox prayer and, imagine that, a fantastic view of the island!

Summit of the Valley of Butterflies

We returned to the ferry port and finally had to say goodbye to Rhodes, it was a fantastic trip overall and I'm so happy to have spent just a little bit of time dipping a toe into Greek culture. We left with high expectations for what the rest of the trip would have in store. Leaving on the ferry I was once again thrust into the lives of George Clooney's crew in "The Perfect Storm" as the trip back was not one bit smoother than the one before. Most of my optimism was hence offered as a sacrifice to the Porcelain God...

Parallel Rhodes (Part III) - Sittin' At A Bar

I should probably give a little back story into the latter half of Part II. Before embarking on my soccer seeking adventure, I stopped at the bar to give my liver a warm up lap before heading out to the bars. I decided while down there to do a little background research on the area surrounding our hotel and pickup suggestions from the employees on a good restaurant and good place to catch the game. The key to this is to be specific in what you want. If you ask, what is a good place to watch the soccer match to the front desk, they will most likely tell you to watch it in the lobby or at the hotel bar. It's not like there was going to be a legendary soiree out by the kiddie pool at 11 PM. You have to ask where they go on their off time, which is what I did in the case of the bartender who happend to be working that night. He gave me several great recommendations for places to eat and catch the game and after that I had him make me a drink and started up a conversation. (Once again, the drinking age in Greece is 18. No laws were broken and moderation was observed mother.)

I could tell the guy was Greek and didn't know how much English he spoke, but was surprised when he essentially broke out in near flawless Brooklyn slanglish. I was stunned and immediately asked his name and how in the world he could know some of the things he was talking about. He introduced himself as Manolis and told me that he was initially born in Australia before moving to New York City when he was five years old. He stayed until he was 12 before moving back to his mother's home in Rhodes where he became a bartender at the age of 18. We briefly talked about the Greek's chances at upsetting the Russians and he blew it off as a long shot and that was that. I disagreed and told him that I thought the Greek's were going to pull this one out, my intentions were more Eddie Haskel than Nostradamus but I figured it would improve my standing with the locals if I held that belief. I ventured out with my friends and classmates to the bar and began a great night of fun.

Manolis and I: A good friend and great bartender.

Upon returning to the hotel lobby after Greece's victory, I stopped by the bar and gave Manolis (Mano for short) a congratulatory "I told you so" and had another drink. It was here that Mano and I started joking and talking about everything from sports to politics to girls. With everything he had seen, and being a child of two worlds like myself, he provided some very interesting opinions and insights that you wouldn't normally get from any American or any Greek. Over the course of the five days, I visited the bar every night and the last thing on my mind while going there was alcohol. I realized very quickly how the bar was a tremendous social tool and Mano didn't become the only friend I made at the bar over the course of my time at the Belvedere.

I felt really at ease while sitting there. I wound up picking a spot at the far end of the bar by the window where I could see the gorgeous ocean and where the sea breeze created a nice crosswind in my little corner. I was comfortable there and would talk and joke with Mano when he wasn't busy, but found myself surrounded by a cast of characters that Dr. Seuss could never have dreamed of. Ok, so I wasn't exactly Norm from "Cheers" or anything but I'll admit I occasionally started humming Gary Portnoy's "Where Everybody Knows Your Name" while talking with the regulars who came in. I began chatting up Mandel, a Human Trafficking cop from the Netherlands; Terry, a British ex-patriate who had been coming to Rhodes since the 70's; Werner and Mario, a German couple who owned several steel mills in Germany; Hans and Nick Meijers, a father son tandem from the Netherlands who were spending some time together before Nick went back to architecture school and Hans resumed his job as an Animal Abuse agent. All of these people and many other people I just felt drawn to in conversations, most of them middle aged and all of them foreign with completely different lives from my own. I found it so effortless to engage in conversations with them and all of them were friendly, insightful and truly entertaining to talk to. They all seemed genuinely interested in what a bunch of Yankees were doing so far away from home as apparently Americans are few and far between in the Greek isles. I wound up having so much fun unwinding from our tours and travels and just getting to know the people around me from all of these different cultures. It is no surprise that people start spilling every opinion and inner most thought when they don't have much blood left in their alcohol stream but it was still a very fun experience just drinking, relaxing and chatting with these people. All within moderation of course.

The girls and Manolis.

I wasn't the only one who thought that Mano and his cast of regulars were interesting. I think initially, most of my classmates thought I must have been some sort of alcoholic from all the time I was spending at the bar. Gradually though, they would come by just to see what was going on and wind up staying for hours after closing just to hear the banter, conversations and opinions that were tossed around so casually and gleefully. It wasn't long at all until I was involved in back and forth banter with Mano about whatever disagreement we were having, Werner about whether or not the German soccer player Klose should play or not, or with Terry about how his life as an accountant was a soul sucking drain yet a cash cow for his current retirement endeavors. More and more of classmates started to join in and one night we stayed out until 4 AM, about 10 of us, just talking and laughing with these incredible people from all over the world. I told some people this in summary: "Seeing all of these ruins and sites has been incredible and life changing, but oddly enough it is going to be the hilarious bartender at the hotel we stayed at in Rhodes that we remember for the rest of our lives." This just summarizes my experience at the Belvedere bar as most of specific conversations and tales aren't meant for public recreation. C'mon, my grandmothers read this. I think I can speak for almost everyone when I say that some of the best laughs and best times we had on Rhodes were just "sittin' at a bar".

Parallel Rhodes (Part II)

I woke up the next morning off of the Blue Star Ferry feeling surprisingly refreshed and energized. I climbed above deck as we pulled into port and immediately recognized that I had come to a very special place. Seeing the mountains of Turkey to my right and the crystal clear waters of Rhodes to my left, I figured that at the least I was going to get some good pictures out of this excursion. We were informed that we were not going to our hotel right away to swimming, eating and general happiness but that we were headed south of Rhodes town (via bus) towards the town of Lindos. Lindos is home to an old ancient fortress that was occupied by the Greeks in the 2nd and 3rd century B.C.. After a couple hundred years the deed changed hands a few times before being home to the Knights of St. John in the Middle Ages when they decided that killing people in Europe was so four centuries ago and took their traveling manslaughter show to Asia Minor. I've seen my fair share of ancient places, Angkor Wat and the Great Wall just to name a couple, but each place holds something unique in the stone and Lindos was no different.

That unique trait is that it was hot. Brutally hot. Unfathomably, uncomfortably, unbelievably hot. The temperatures must have been mid to high 90's with a stillness in the air from the lack of sea breeze on that side of the island. It is a place the Kool-Aid man would burst into jollily before realizing his error with a horrified "OH NO"! In true Murphy's Law fashion, Rhodes is a very mountainous country and naturally the Greeks were so strategically conscious that they stuck Lindos on the top of the biggest and hottest mountain in the general area, much to my elation. The heat got to be so bad that the soul sucking donkey tourist trap started to look tempting on the ascent up the mountain. Of course, I'm being melodramatic, the heat was probably last on my list of awe inspiring things I encountered that day. Lindos is majestic. It is a sweeping castle-fortress that still keeps its weary eye on the seas for sign of Turkish warships. Looking up at it from the base of the castle you could see the distinct difference in rock as your eyes traveled up the high walls. Starting with the original ancient rock, you could see as you ascended the Medieval architecture start to take shape as you reached the top. The ruins of Greek burial pits and a temple to Athena highlighted the inner walls of the castle with numerous Christian and Hellenistic religious artifacts scattered throughout. It was a sight to behold.

If artifacts and locations much bigger, older and more historically important than you are not your thing, than at the very least you would have appreciated the view Lindos had to offer. Even in its ruined state, the outer walls of Lindos sit on the edge of a cliff and look out for miles over open water. One could not help but try to re-imagine what Lindos must have been like in both of its primes. To imagine Hellenistic era Greeks worshipping Athena in her temple high above the sea or a medieval knight taking a header over the high walls in battle is what truly makes the location special; though it requires extra effort and imagination on your part.

After Lindos we were given free reign around the town that surrounds the structure for a good three hours or so. The group was hungry, hot and tired from trekking up the mountain so most settled for a cafe or something similar in town. We were all supremely jealous of the half naked Europeans who got to enjoy the cool waters of the bay while we marched around dazed like we belonged on the Isle of Misfit Tourists. A few friends and I were able to settle in at a nice cool cafe and bar where we ate traditional pita bread and octopus salad and drank very traditional mojitos to cool off (the drinking age in Greece is 18). We were then bused back to Rhodes town, hot, sweaty and wondering if Greek weathermen sucked as bad as American ones.

Rhodes is a resort town and a significant change of pace from Lindos. Lindos has been built up to be a bit of a tourist area, but the beaches of Rhodes town were tourist heaven and rightfully so. Our hotel came fully stocked with a pool, bar and a literal 100 foot walking distance to beaches. I had one thing on my mind going into that night though, and as much fun as swimming in the ocean was, I knew that we had been presented with an incredible opportunity. The European Championships (Euro 2012) were being held and it is highly regarded as one of the most important soccer tournaments in the world outside of the World Cup. The Greeks were on the ropes and playing the Goliath-esque Russians, who were heavily favored to win the match. I knew that I wanted to go to a local bar and cheer on the Greek national team with the locals because if the Russians put down the bottle and took care of business, the Greeks would be out of the tournament. If the Greeks pulled off the unlikely upset, they would miraculously advance to the quarterfinals. I was surprised that many of my classmates also wanted to come witness the potentially historic and exciting event. So, after the first sit down meal we had encountered in awhile, we proceeded off to find a local hangout spot to watch the game.

Boy, was that an adventure. While walking along the coast I noticed a rather noisy side street off in the distance and figured this was some sort of bar alley, a perpetual gold mine of drunkenness and stupidity, the perfect place to set up and watch the game. The street was crowded and full of drunk tourists and eager locals waiting to prey on unsuspecting Americans like ourselves. Going down that street went against EVERYTHING your parents told you not to do as a child up to and including "Don't put that in your mouth". Hecklers were offering to buy us shots if we came into the bar, the girls were caressed and bar owners began herding us into their own bar or establishment. The whole place just screamed "Dateline Special Report". I had encountered these sorts of places in Thailand and learned from my parents how to ignore and shake off hecklers as well as the number one rule: keep moving. The group was shell shocked after their first experience with the local nightlife but we found a nice bar at the end of the street and sat down and enjoyed the game.

GREECE WINS 1-0! An upset of mammoth proportions! I was expecting full blown rioting and was stretching out my throwing arm for some good ol' Molotov tossing. The celebration was slightly less Hollywood than that, though fireworks were shot off and the booze kept flowing. I felt a sense that was more similar to relief rather than jubilation from the Greek fans and understandably so. There was still a long way to go before hoisting the trophy. We traversed the "scary street" as it would later be called one more time and returned to our hotel after a very fun day and night out and about in Rhodes. From there on, I knew it was going to be a very good five days. I was right.

To be continued in Part III...

Parallel Rhodes (Part I)

DISCLAIMER: I don't know exactly how I am expected to cram five days worth of adventures into such a confined space, but I most certainly will try. Rest assured though, this one is long. For your viewing pleasure however, this will be broken down into several parts released over the course of the next two days or so. Thank you to my wonderful parents for the suggestion.

I'm quite proud of the title of this post. "Parallel Rhodes" is not only a clever pun, but it is truly the underlying theme of my trip to the island. Rhodes is a child of two worlds, one being the archaic beauty of long lost civilizations, and the other being the booming tourism industry that now threatens to overtake this once beautiful and historically important place. Please do not interpret that as Rhodes not being an incredibly beautiful island nestled neatly in the Aegean Sea, away from the seemingly endless political turmoil of the capital. Rhodes is unlike anything that I've ever seen before. It is stony shores surrounded by seas a shade of blue they never made a crayon for, with rolling hills and mountains blanketing much of the green and lush countryside. All of this coinciding with cloudless skies backed by the silent rhythms of the mountains of Turkey just 18 kilometers away in the distance. It truly is a Mediterranean paradise, but getting there is an Odyssey in and of itself.
The amount of travel I have done in the past week would probably have made Marco Polo weep. Starting off with my 12 hour journey home from Japan (if you want to read my proposal for the next big late night TV comedy, read the post below) I then departed on the equally taxing 10 hour air trip to Athens. Arriving exhausted with excitement in my heart but murder in my eyes, my group and I were herded through the bustling airport and to our dismay encountered hell on wheels: the bus. These bus rides that I will painstakingly mention throughout this noble tale weren't particularly lengthy or unbearable; however, they were so numerous in number that it is still agonizing to think about. You can only take the smell of diesel and the cheap fabric woven into ungodly shapes and colors that make up the seats of a bus before you are ready to chain the chassis up to a light pole "American Graffiti" style. I honestly don't know how the kids on the Magic School Bus could remain so enthusiastic about every trip. It is though, a necessary evil, and a minor complaint.

Athens isn't like any other major city I've seen before. There are no towering skyscrapers, bright audacious lights, or mass death and destruction at the hands of a Michael Bay asteroid/robot/plot hole. From the air, you would expect that no building was over four stories tall and that they all hired the same painter to tend to the buildings. Everything has a quaint beauty to it and you can just sense the history that this city has to offer. Though descended from ancient architecture and culture, everything is mostly modern except for the recognizable silhouette of the Acropolis out in the distance.Traffic is a nightmare with numerous unmarked one way streets, an infestation of mopeds and illegal parallel parking that would make a Manhattan traffic cop crinkle his neon vest. All of that makes the monotonous bus rides all the more frustrating with consistent stop and go traffic anyway across the city. The best way to get around is to walk and I don't mind that one bit, walking cities have more personality than mass transit ones. You are able to really immerse yourself in the city with your "boots on the ground" and Athens is no exception. On our brief tour of the neighborhood surrounding our dorms I really got an overwhelming sense of the culture just bleeding out of everything I saw and heard. The people are friendly, intelligent, thoughtful and cautious. Everything they do has a purpose and that is evident just watching the way they walk and talk to one another. Even their naps and built in "downtime" (2 PM - 5 PM approximately) all serve to refocus their efforts on the pleasures of the evening. Neighborhoods are usually centered around an open aired square that serves as the main focal point of community bonding and activities. It is interesting to see so many smaller communities woven into the greater fabric of Athens and I really enjoyed just walking around and watching the people go about their lives. Walks are long and hot, but I don't think anyone will mind coming back to the States with "Ahnuld's" calves.

After a brief two hour stay at our dorms here at the American College of Greece we were back on the road again, this time bound for Rhodes via ferry. Now when you initially think of a ferry, you think of a small, red boat that takes you, the family flatbed Ford and a U-haul across a small river or lake. This ferry, I believe, exceeded all of our expectations in terms of size, comfort and length of trip. Rhodes is located about as far east as you can go and still remain in Greek waters, close to the southern coast of Turkey and a 16 hour journey from our port in Athens. We were all surprised to climb aboard and see that this ferry more resembled a cruise ship than a paddle boat with cabins, restaurants, and a couple thousand transient passengers. The awe would have to sink in later though as we were virtual zombies being herded from one checkpoint to another by our fearless leaders Dr. and Dr. Kaplan (Mr. and Mrs. if you please). With digestible food in our bellies and a nice cool cabin to sleep in, we were happy campers. There was one exception however, though this ferry resembled a cruise ship, it definitely did not run like one. Located in a mid level cabin towards the front of the ship, trying to sleep on the open sea was nearly impossible at first. I was rocking back and forth like I was taking a nap below decks on the Oklahoma in December '41. At one point I even channeled my inner Ricky Bobby and commented to my roommate (Jimmy): "I feel like I'm on a space ship." Thankfully though, exhaustion won the war of attrition with nausea and I passed into a restful state of bliss.

To be continued above in Part II...

"If God Wanted Us To Fly, He'd Buy The Tickets"

Well, that sucked. The experience of overseas travel is rarely a pleasant one, but I didn't know that my seatmate was going to be Murphy S. Law for essentially the entire trip. Please do not take this as some sort of typical travel gripe, this is a spectacular travel gripe.

The first leg is easy enough, a quick hour flight down to Tokyo, a short bus ride to Narita Airport and I'm on my way. Little do I know that United is the only American carrier that operates out of Narita's horrendous Terminal 1. Terminal 1 is the Charlie Murphy of airport terminals, overshadowed by the larger, more successful Terminal 2 in more ways that one. Terminal 1 is smaller, poorly designed, and offers little to no food or shops for travelers to lick their wounds in before continuing on to the next leg of their adventures. It was easy enough to overlook though as my time spent in Terminal 1 was brief and boarding my flight to Houston was a simple albeit arduous process.

This already seems like an unnecessarily long gripe about what was ultimately a 24 hour trip, but bear with me, I'm getting to the good part now. You would assume that the worst part about the journey would be the 12 hour leg from Tokyo to Houston, and that assumption would be correct. However, there were other outlying and highly annoying factors that contributed to the general suckiness of my travels. I normally cannot sleep on flights without help from our always safety conscious pharmaceutics companies, so I enjoy the company of fine cinema to fill the maddening void of time that is most comparable to prisoners in solitary. I was initially impressed with United Airline's extensive in flight entertainment database, which is by far the most comprehensive in all of air travel. Unfortunately, bad luck was on my side when my seat was being selected and I was left with what I assume to be the only busted audio jack in all of the 777 aircraft. Silence accompanied my movie watching endeavor and to be honest, Mel Gibson being castrated and emphatically screaming "FREEEDOMMM"  at the end of "Braveheart" just doesn't have the same emotional effect when it can be just as easily performed by Charlie Chaplin. The normal fix would be to just simply change seats, but on a full flight, you're shoulder to shoulder with people that are just as uncomfortable and pissed off as you are, and convenience asphyxiates in the thin air. This was just the start of my woes as Murphy snickered devilishly at the misfortune that was yet to board the aircraft.

Airplane food is always bad, so I'm not even going to mention that. But, even airplane food isn't as bad as the people who you have to suffer the flight with. I'm with Dennis Miller who says he likes to get on a plane and unwind with a good book or movie and not engage in conversation with fellow passengers. I'm not happy, you're not happy, so why not be unhappy in silence? On this flight however, I was not so lucky. I had to sit in the middle of a troupe sized transitional Vietnamese family and their overly rambunctious offspring. The children took every opportunity to yell, cry, kick, scream, giggle, climb, jump and scurry all over the seats within my general proximity for the entirety of the 12 hour flight just to prove to me that some children most certainly aren't the future. So, I'm having to spend a majority of the time recreating my entire life story from DNA up to that very afternoon whilst fighting off the encroaching horde of children that threatened to overtake my personal space and my sanity before long. Somehow though, I was able to keep a calm and pleasant demeanor however and it made me appreciate the precious, solitary moments in the lavatory.

I landed in Houston with an uncanny optimism that somehow survived the near constant wailing of children who were experiencing "rapid depressurization" for the first time. I was happy to be off the plane and on the move again as I put the soul sucking part of my journey far behind me. That optimism soon faded to despair however as I entered the labyrinth of George W. Bush International Airport. Airports have a tendency to be confusing to some travelers and understandably so. There is nothing more American than pure, unbridled bureaucracy and that bureaucracy is epitomized by GW Bush Airport. Houston had me walking through parts of the airport I didn't even know existed just to get to the customs and immigration section, and on more than one occasion I felt as though I was heading into some restricted area and would soon be hauled off by angry airport workers. That adventure was nothing compared to the one I encountered upon finally reaching customs and immigration. The fine folks at Houston had apparently not expected to have several international flights land at one time so only about half of the allowed customs booths were open at the time of my arrival. This led to almost 2 hours standing in line waiting for a process that only took about 30 seconds to complete. The process took so long in fact that my plans to visit the USO and unwind had to be scratched as I sprinted up the never-ending flights of stairs to board my flight to Orlando that luckily waited for me to complete my Houston Two Step.

I was able to catch several breaks on my flight to Orlando and I'm now safely and sanely resting in the comfort of family and friends. Four days will not be enough to recover from this nightmare scenario but I intend on making the best of my R and R period before going on the move again. Greece is a few short days away and hopefully Murphy had his fun and will leave my classmates and I alone as we once again brave the treacherous waters of international air travel.

This is the condensed version. I could go into every detail and make you relive the horror of the trip until you  were blue in the face. I, nor you, have that sort of time and patience unfortunately and I'm not sure that I could emotionally handle reliving the more painful moments.

Schadenfreude. Enjoy.

"Somebody call IXII!"

For real, I've never done one of these before and I often made fun of people who did. I've never found the appeal of pouring my innermost thoughts, dreams, and musings in a public domain. That being said, this is kind of cool. You always wonder as a kid what it would be like if you could hear other people's inner monologues and really get to know a person. Well, enter the World Wide Web stage right. Loss of privacy, you're up next kid!

When I first heard about this trip at the beginning of my first week on campus, I knew I wanted to go. It's Greece for crying out loud, a place so vibrant, quirky and historically important that Andy Warhol is turning green in his grave with envy. That might be decay, but I digress. This is the birthplace of modern civilization, philosophy, mathematics, democracy, and every other thing that you really hated about high school. The Greeks are the hipsters of history! They were conquering, inventing, acting and watching their empire spiral down into an uncontrollable tailspin before the Romans made it cool! Scenic vistas, exotic foods, and interesting and colorful characters all set to the rocking hits of a 1970's Swedish pop/rock band, does it get any better than this?

I find the phrase "once in a lifetime-anything" (opportunity, trip, offer etc.) to be extraordinarily cliche. However, this is one of those trips that has the potential to be that rare instance of a genuine once in a lifetime trip. The things I am slated to see and the people I will be sharing these experiences with will forever be etched into my mind when it is all said and done. Though I will probably be less enthusiastic in the midst of the nine hour flight to Athens in a few weeks and the hellacious bombardment that my sleep schedule is going to endure from the armies of jet lag, I'm still growing increasingly more excited about this trip.

I'm trying to still enjoy my time here at home (Misawa, Japan) before I get too excited about going someplace else but with one week left to go before I depart the trip is looming in the back of my mind and making steady advances towards the front. I'm sure it will really start to hit me when I'm on my way back from home next Sunday.

I will go ahead and stop here for now. Anybody that is truly willing to spending valuable, irreplaceable man hours reading this; here is what you can expect in the coming weeks:

1. A detailed account of one college student's trip to a very foreign land very far away.
2. A few pictures every now and again but since I'm not hauling around a camera, don't expect anything mind blowing.
3. Any moments that may have caused any emotional stimuli to be triggered. (Discomfort, happiness, sadness, nervousness and any other emotion that can be joined with the affix "ness")
4. Very poor attempts at humor.
5. Any other interesting stories or things that I deem might be cool enough to share.

In all sincerity, please enjoy this blog as I plan to thoroughly enjoy writing it.

Yassas :)