The end is nigh
So, I think I left us in Paros last post, where the shine on my beach holiday in Greece had started to get a little bit salt sprayed and dull.
Try as hard as I could to maintain my holiday theme song of "Never had so much fun" by Frenzal Rhomb http://www.frenzalrhomb.com.au/ "This year" by the Mountain Goats http://www.themountaingoats.net/ was quickly gaining pace as a contrapuntal tune in my head.
By the time we arrived in Paros I had an internal monologue akin to a 5 year old before Christmas, where I was mentally counting down "ten days to go, ten days to go" and using all my powers of telepathy to will my fellow travellers to not speak.
So, from Paros we went to Santorini, which as an island is truly beautiful, and certainly a location that one should include in any Greek holiday. Initially we stayed on the beach side of the island, and it is at this location that all things went a little bit phut. After dumping our packs, we wandered down to the nearest bar, where we befriended the bar tender and talked about all the things we would do the next day, including water sports and generally doing more than just sitting in a bar and talking shite. However, after 6 hours of vodka and tequila, when we returned to our motel a midnight dip in the pool seemed like a brilliant idea.
For those of you who have been to Greece before, you will know that what has not been concreted is marble. And so I think the easiest way to explain the next set of events is: drunk girl, wet feet, marble stairs, hello hairline fracture to knee cap. Fortunately the enormous amount of alcohol imbibed in the previous hours provided a thick veil of anaethetic and so it wasn't until the following morning that I realised I could not bear weight, making even the effort to walk to the bathroom enormous. My lovely travel companions allowed me a day of bed rest (the well know cure for broken bones) and then the next day we moved to the caldera side of the island and into a hotel that looked like an Escher print it had so many stairs.
This seemingly spiteful action may have just been a badly timed coincidence, but as our daily activities suddenly changed to gambling up and down cliffs and hills like veritable mountain goats I am dubious.
As I didn't want to either admit defeat or slow down my friends I simply gritted my teeth and tied my shoes a bit tighter, despising my so-called friends just a little bit more with each step.
That they didn't know that I was mentally trying to work out if Greece had extradition orders with Australia is, quite honesty, credit to the fact that I could take Nicole Kidman any day of the week in an acting throw down. And so when they finally left for Crete and Turkey, leaving me to get on with my originally planned trip through Italy, Spain and Portugal our farewell was as quick and perfunctionary as farewells after a family Christmas. I'm quietly confident that each of us was quietly engaging in a bit of internal happy clapping for what can only be described as the end to community service served in advance.
Try as hard as I could to maintain my holiday theme song of "Never had so much fun" by Frenzal Rhomb http://www.frenzalrhomb.com.au/ "This year" by the Mountain Goats http://www.themountaingoats.net/ was quickly gaining pace as a contrapuntal tune in my head.
By the time we arrived in Paros I had an internal monologue akin to a 5 year old before Christmas, where I was mentally counting down "ten days to go, ten days to go" and using all my powers of telepathy to will my fellow travellers to not speak.
View to beach from Pensione in Paros
So, from Paros we went to Santorini, which as an island is truly beautiful, and certainly a location that one should include in any Greek holiday. Initially we stayed on the beach side of the island, and it is at this location that all things went a little bit phut. After dumping our packs, we wandered down to the nearest bar, where we befriended the bar tender and talked about all the things we would do the next day, including water sports and generally doing more than just sitting in a bar and talking shite. However, after 6 hours of vodka and tequila, when we returned to our motel a midnight dip in the pool seemed like a brilliant idea.
For those of you who have been to Greece before, you will know that what has not been concreted is marble. And so I think the easiest way to explain the next set of events is: drunk girl, wet feet, marble stairs, hello hairline fracture to knee cap. Fortunately the enormous amount of alcohol imbibed in the previous hours provided a thick veil of anaethetic and so it wasn't until the following morning that I realised I could not bear weight, making even the effort to walk to the bathroom enormous. My lovely travel companions allowed me a day of bed rest (the well know cure for broken bones) and then the next day we moved to the caldera side of the island and into a hotel that looked like an Escher print it had so many stairs.
Santorini Island, Caldera side
This seemingly spiteful action may have just been a badly timed coincidence, but as our daily activities suddenly changed to gambling up and down cliffs and hills like veritable mountain goats I am dubious.
The sheer cliff trek we made to red beach 2 days after breaking my knee cap, spite or coincidence, you choose!
That they didn't know that I was mentally trying to work out if Greece had extradition orders with Australia is, quite honesty, credit to the fact that I could take Nicole Kidman any day of the week in an acting throw down. And so when they finally left for Crete and Turkey, leaving me to get on with my originally planned trip through Italy, Spain and Portugal our farewell was as quick and perfunctionary as farewells after a family Christmas. I'm quietly confident that each of us was quietly engaging in a bit of internal happy clapping for what can only be described as the end to community service served in advance.
