After our night of excitement in Athens, it was time to start the real deal: leave the country and not look back for three weeks while we covered as much of the continent as our Railpasses would allow. After prying ourselves out of bed early (except Di, who left even earlier that morning), we packed our bags and hopped on the Metro to hit up the Blue Star Ferries office to buy our ferry tickets for later that day. After standing in line for like ever, we got our tickets (for free– thank you Railpasses!) and learned that we had to be at the port to check in in like four hours. Knowing that it was going to take us three hours to get to the port on a bus, we hopped in a cab and headed straight out to the bus station.

Note to reader: bus stations in Greece are ultra-sketchy. However, the one in Athens is definitely the worst. It’s in the middle of an industrial area, surrounded by chop shops and abandoned buildings. Rumor is that it’s a hangout for drug users– I’m so glad that we were there in the middle of the day. Anyway, we bought our tickets and some snacks, and settled in for the bus ride (which was thankfully uneventful).

We arrived in Patras, where our ferry was to depart from, in plenty of time. After checking in and being told we had about three hours before we could board, we headed over to a grocery store and bought some sandwich fixings to take on our 15 1/2 journey. (Side note: pickleloaf, gouda and spicy mustard sandwiches with salt and vinegar chips crushed inside are totally craveable. I’ve wanted one ever since we got back, but I haven’t been able to accidently buy pickleloaf ever since). We hung out and made some last-minute preparations until they let us board. Once we were on the ship, we were directed towards our seating. We knew going into the trip that we had purchased “deck seating.” We didn’t really realize until we got there that we were really going to be sitting outside on the deck, in white plastic lawn chairs. It was a gloomy, misty day, and as we settled in to our chairs, we realized that 15 1/2 hours was a really long time. Thankfully, we got moved inside after the wind started pitching tables over. So, we settled into our new, warm, dry airline-style seats and prepared to get going.

Aside from some super unprofessional staff (we had one guy tell us, in all seriousness, that there were no bathrooms, and another lady told me that my seasickness was “all in my head.” Really, would you like to see it all over your desk?), the ferry trip was also uneventful. I think I slept for like 12 of the 15 1/2 hours, and the rest of the time was spent watching BBC News on mute and journaling. When we docked in Bari, it was around 8 AM, and we were all energized and ready to get our trip started. We disembarked, paid wayyy too much for a taxi to the train station, and went to book our tickets. It was at the ticket window that we got our first taste of Italian hospitality.

“I am ITALIAN. I SPEAK Italian,” boomed the ticket agent, after we had stood in line for like half an hour. After waiting for the English-language ticket agent to come on duty (after having to test out every other agent in the meantime), we finally got word that the train we planned on taking to Rome was booked, and we had to wait an additional six hours for the next one. We reserved our seats, stored our bags, and went out to explore Bari. We found some excellent gelato (probably the best we had on the whole trip), hit up an internet cafe and made some more reservations, and walked to a really cool-looking Russian Orthodox church (which you can see pictures of on Flickr, of course).

After our lovely walk through Bari, we headed back to the station and got on our train to Rome. Next time: our 24 hours in Rome. Tourist scams, incredible art, and enough walking to kill a weaker woman. Ciao!

Dear blog,

I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you lately. I actually have something kind of important to tell you: I’ve been seeing someone else.

Now, don’t freak out. It’s over. It was a one-time thing. I can’t help it if my professors want me to write about John Searle and philosophy of language. And that one time, the time I wrote about Mt. Athos and Byzantine Art, it was nothing, I swear. I’m done writing for other people now, and it’s gonna be all about you again. Soon, I’ll get back to like it was before spring break. I’ll tell you all about Italy and France, the Netherlands, Belgium and Germany, I promise. No more not writing for days at a time, not even looking at you, I swear. Please forgive me. It’ll never happen again.

Love,

Ashlee

Well, last time I promised you a little bit about my traveling companions. These are some of the few people I would ever consider spending 20 consecutive days with.

I met Tina, Jon and Kyle during orientation, which was like the third day I was here. Our program took us out to lunch after a bus tour, and I ended up sitting by Tina, who introduced me to Jon, who introduced me to Kyle later that night when we went to a traditional Greek nightclub. I guess we all hit it off, because I can’t really remember a time after that that we weren’t hanging out pretty much every weekend. All three of them go to Iowa State, so maybe it’s my native Iowegian blood that makes us all get along so well. Anyway, they’re all cool, laid-back people. Which is a good thing, because when we would run into stressful situations, they were there to calm neurotic, control-freak me down. It worked out perfectly.

The end of our Athens trip, however, wasn’t stressful at all. I left off last time after the rest of the group (except our friend Di, who was staying with us until the next morning) left to go back to Thessaloniki, and we were stuck in the suburbs of Athens trying to find the train station to take us back downtown. We found said train station, after a scenic walk through the town, and it took us back into Athens. We got to go past the Olympic stadium/complex, which was really neat. We grabbed our stuff that we left at the hotel, and then caught the metro to our hostel– the first hostel I had ever stayed at. It wasn’t as bad as I had imagined– those hostels came later . After taking naps and working on booking stuff for the rest of our spring break, we finally headed out to find some dinner. By this time it was almost 10:30, and everything in our neighborhood was closed. So, we decided to head over toward where our plans were taking us that night, where we found a takeout pizza place. We finally got our food at like 11:30, and famished, took it to the nearest seating– the stoop of an under-construction apartment complex– and chowed down. After dinner, we decided to go find the club we had decided to go to for the night, which happened to be right across the street.

So I purposely haven’t said anything about the club yet, because I wanted my more conservative readers (hey grandma!) to be able to enjoy the first half. I wasn’t sure if she would approve of her favorite pseudo-Greek grandchild going to a gay bar for a drag show. But oh well, it’s out there now. Grandma, stop reading!

So yeah, we’re there at the gay bar, and we’re getting strange looks because (a) we’re five Americans at a tiny Greek gay bar (Greeks aren’t so big on being out– they don’t necessarily embrace the gay community, so there aren’t a lot of gay bars, and most of the patrons show up by themselves– not in big groups) and (b) none of us are gay. Which I don’t think they could tell at the door, but certain members of our party were slightly uncomfortable at the beginning. Anyway, so we buy our tickets, which include two drinks and entrance into a raffle, and head inside. We get our drinks and claim a table and chill and dance a little until it’s time for the show to start. The drag queen comes out, dressed in a fabulous red dress, with a red boa and a slightly cheap looking blonde wig. He does a song, which is nice. Then, he grabs a big bucket full of tickets and starts working the crowd, getting other patrons to grab the tickets and posing for pictures. He’s reading the numbers in Greek, which is a little hard at first, but it wasn’t too hard to recognize when he called one of our numbers. The look on Kyle’s face was priceless when he realized that he had been picked.

Now, a little more about Kyle– I want you all to be able to picture this as vividly as I can. Kyle is like six feet tall, and very thin. He also looks strikingly similar to Jesus. I think it’s the hair– long, blonde and curly down to his shoulders. So, picture this: Blonde, Jesus-looking kid getting a lap dance from a drag queen.  Blonde, Jesus-looking kid being instructed to go out to the lobby. Blonde, Jesus-looking kid winning THREE HUNDRED EURO for getting picked in the raffle (and being part of the stage show). Needless to say, he was pretty pumped about it. The rest of the night is kind of a blur– Kyle buying everyone drinks because he’s now a wealthy man, dancing with Di and Tina and our new favorite gay Athenian, Sebastian, and taking taxis back to the hostel and entertaining our cab driver with our valiant attempts to speak to him in Greek. Overall, it was definitely the best way I could think of to start our spring break.

The next morning, we left the hostel and booked our ferry tickets to Italy. We then caught a bus to the port of Patras, and chilled until like 4 PM when we got on our ferry for the 15 1/2 hour journey to Italy. Next time, the ferry ride, Bari, Roma and Vatican City. But now, it’s Ciao time!

(sorry, I couldn’t resist the bad pun).

Sorry it took me so long to start chronicling the awesomeness that was spring break. I went back to school on Monday and made a terrible discovery: after three months of virtual vacation, my professors actually want me to think again. It sent my brain into overload, and I’m just now recovering enough to be able to blog.

Anyway, on to more exciting things– like Athens, the site of our spring break kickoff. We went as part of a school-sponsored trip, along with the other 90-something Americans in our program. The big difference was when they went back home to have another week of class before their spring breaks, we went to Italy. This had the unfortunate consequence of us missing a week of classes, but that was outweighed by the fact that we were in ITALY. Anyway, back to Greece.

We arrived in Athens on Friday, April 11. After dumping our stuff at our hotel and taking power naps, we all met up again and headed out to a taverna as a group, which was a real trip for the three or so tables of real Athenians that ended up there with us that night– they got quite the show. Imagine ninety young Americans, live traditional Greek music, and unlimited wine all night. Hilarity ensued– I’ll leave it at that.

The next morning, we headed out on a bus tour. We saw the Panathinakio Stadium, where the first modern Olympics were held in 1859, among other, less awesome things (like lots of Athenian police officers, since we got rerouted around most of the other awesome stuff because of “security issues”). We eventually ended up at the Acropolis. After climbing a bunch of stairs (and having to pass like eighty buses worth of elderly tourists– a recurring theme for the whole spring break), we made it to the actual ruins. The Acropolis literally means “high city”– hence us having to climb all of those stairs. Back in the day, the Acropolis was the place to be if you wanted to worship the Greek gods. It consisted of several temples, of which two major ones still remain: the Erechtheum and the Parthenon.

It was totally worth the stairs. Everyone has seen pictures of the Parthenon, but seeing it in person was so much cooler. And, even though I had never heard of the Erechtheum, it was really cool too. Plus, we had a really informative guide to put the sites into perspective for us. She gave us some time to roam the site, and after checking out the info on the signs by the Parthenon, I headed over to the other site that wasn’t on the tour: the Areopagus, also known as Mars Hill. It was on Mars Hill that the Apostle Paul spoke to the Athenians. Standing within like six feet of where the Apostle Paul stood= priceless.

After our morning of classical Greek history, we headed to lunch, then over to a flea market, and then back to the hotel for another nap. That night, a small group of us went out for Korean food. I am a total convert– it was the best Asain food I’ve had since I started this trip. International food is the one thing that Thessaloniki is really bad at, so eating something other than Greek food was awesome. Plus, we made friends with a random Canadian guy who was living in Austria, and he joined us, so we got to hear awesome stories about skiing (awesome enough to make me never want to ski, ever).

The next morning, we started our day at the changing of the guard at the Parliament building. They have the ceremony every day, but on Sundays it’s huge– something like a hundred guards in traditional Greek costume (complete with shoes with little fuzzy balls on the toes and man-skirts), and toting large guns. We randomly ran into our new Canadian friend too, and he joined us for the Archaeological Museum, which was cool (but would have been cooler had I not gotten lost in the garden trying to find the bathroom).

After the museum, they loaded us onto the buses and trucked us out to a suburb, where we had lunch and said goodbye to the rest of the group. It really started to feel like spring break when the group left and it was just the four of us (plus one more person who had the bright idea to skip a week of class). In the next post, I’ll introduce you to my traveling companions , and finish up our last night in Greece (it’s too big to be part of this post– ooh, cliffhanger!) and move on to Italy. But now, I have to go write something else– my philosophy paper. What’s homework again?

]]> http://ashbash.wordpress.com/2008/05/10/spring-break-days-1-3-athens-greece/feed/ 0 ashbash http://ashbash.wordpress.com/2008/05/04/its-not-all-greek-to-me-anymore/ http://ashbash.wordpress.com/2008/05/04/its-not-all-greek-to-me-anymore/#comments Sun, 04 May 2008 13:38:56 +0000 ashbash http://ashbash.wordpress.com/?p=99 ]]>

So, I’m officially back from my spring break mega-tour of Europe. I’ve been unofficially back since Thursday, recovering from lack of sleep and catching up on Grey’s Anatomy. In a nutshell, it was great. Even though all didn’t go as planned, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. So, keep checking back for stories and photos (once my internet stops freaking out and cutting out every ten seconds).

I’m taking a break from studying for my Greek midterm to deliver the sad news: no more updates for three weeks. The good news? It’s because it’s SPRING BREAK. And I’m taking Europe by storm!

Three weeks, six countries: Italy, France, The Netherlands, Belgium, Spain and Germany. We’re headed to Athens for a school trip on Friday and we’re not coming home until May 3. It’s going to be extreme (in a good way). So, even though you won’t hear from me until then, look forward to blog-overload when I come home. Miss you guys!

Well, two weekends ago I knocked another World Heritage site off my list of things to see before I leave: the Meteora Monasteries. We left on a Saturday morning and took a bus to Trikala, a small city about a half-hour away from the monasteries. We had lunch and walked around, then hopped back in the bus and drove to Kalambaka, where we would be spending the night. Kalambaka lies at the foot of these massive sandstone rock pillars, which were left behind about 16 million years ago when the sea that had previously submerged them dissapeared. Around the 11th century, some seriously antisocial monks decided that these rock towers would be the perfect place to build monasteries so they could isolate themselves from the outside world. So they did. All of the building materials were carried up by hand, either up ladders or in nets, and slowly, piece by piece, these monks built the fantastically beautiful structures that stand today, which look like they emerged from the rocks whole. Driving from Trikala, we could see vauge outlines, but it wasn’t until we were driving into Kalambaka that we could really tell how awesome they were.

Saturday we hung around Kalambaka, took dozens of pictures of the rocks and had some “mexican” food, and watched movies with Greek subtitles. Sunday, we got up early and headed up to the first monastery, which was actually a nunnery called St. Stephanos. We walked around the grounds and got to visit the chapel, which was breathtaking. In the narthex, every surface was covered with frescoes depicting the martyrdom of various Orthodox saints, which were gruesome, but beautifully done. The inside of the chapel itself was also covered in frescoes, with a beautiful hand-carved screen featuring mosaics of Jesus and Mary made of precious stones and materials, as well as a giant chandelier made of silver and gold. We couldn’t take pictures, but it’s something I’ll never forget. At St. Stephanos, we also visited a museum dedicated to some of the modern-day saints, who were martyred during the Turkish occupation. Seeing the frescoes and reading the descriptions of how they were killed gave me a little more insight into why the Greeks dislike the Turks so much. It was kind of nauseating.

We then moved on to Great Meteoran, the biggest monastery and the one that attracts the most visitors. After trekking up like a million steps (it was only like 300-something, but we kept getting stuck behind large groups of slow-moving elderly people). It was much like St. Stephanos, but with more museums and older frescoes. The only thing I could have asked for was more time to just stand around and take in all of the details.

After descending the rocks (which is not fun in a big tour bus), we headed back to Kalambaka, had lunch (and some of the best sorbet ever), we headed back to Thessaloniki. Another great trip– something that I wouldn’t miss if you are planning on coming to Greece anytime soon.

The conclusion of my Istanbul (Constantinople) adventures.

But first, a cultural note: Greek people freak out when you call the city I was in Istanbul. To the Greeks, it will always be Constantinople– the name it had before it fell under the rule of Ataturk (the guy responsible for the Greco-Turkish war). Evidently the name of my Facebook photo album, which came from the popular song, Istanbul (not Constantinople), caused some controversy, and probably some cursing in Greek. So, sorry Greeks. I like you more than the Turks, anyway. Promise.

So, when we left off, we were getting ready to go to dinner and a bellydancing show. We walked there through a slightly sketch part of town, led by our slightly sketch bus driver who elected to walk us instead of drive us, which was a little weird. We arrived at the club, had some okay food and some okay wine, and watched some decent bellydancing and some awesome Turkish folk dancers. There was one act where they chose an audience member, who happened to be a guy from our group, and balanced a wood block on his chest as he lay on the stage, and threw knives into it. It was pretty awesome– for those of us who didn’t have sharp objects chucked at us, at least. After all of the dancing, a couple of singers took the stage, including one who looked suspiciously like Kenny Rogers. Much Greek dancing ensued.

The next day, we got up and had breakfast, then headed to the port for a boat cruise of the Bosphorus Strait, the narrow waterway separating the Asian and European sides of Turkey. It was gorgeous– a beautiful day to be out on the water. I took about a million photos, which of course are up on Flickr. After the cruise, we headed to the market, a cavernous indoor maze of what must have been hundreds of stalls, all with their own loud, boisterous Turkish merchants. As we would walk past the stalls, the guys would yell after us, “Hello. I am here. You have found what you have been looking for all of your life.” And, “Here! Here! I will help you spend your money!” My favorite was the guy at the shop where my friend bought a hookah– a water pipe for smoking flavored tobacco (just flavored tobacco, Grandma– I don’t want you getting any ideas about the people I’m hanging out with ). He was also selling daggers, and when we wouldn’t agree with his prices, the merchant across the way would grab him and hold the dagger to his neck, and they’d put on a little routine about what body parts were going to get cut off first if we didn’t go with his price. We spent a few hours there, making all kinds of new Turkish friends– at least the ones who we gave our money to– and then headed back for a delicious McDonald’s dinner. Side note: McDonald’s is mediocre everywhere. Just in case you were wondering. But, I’m not going to lie, American food was pretty attractive after some of the Turkish food we had sampled the day before. After hanging out and testing the hookah, we headed to bed.

Our last day in Turkey was pretty dreary. It drizzled all morning, until we had to go outside to wait on the bus, at which point it actually started to rain. We got a late start after having to wait on the bus for an hour in the rain, and then we got sidetracked from our final stop– the “Vatican of Greek Orthodoxy” when we couldn’t find it and weren’t willing to walk in the rain to get there. After getting back on the bus, significantly wetter and crankier, we figured we were on our way home. But, we didn’t realize that we had one last stop: the leather fashion show.

You might ask, “Why? Why would a double-decker tour bus full of poor study abroad students stop at a suspicious building in God-Knows-Where, Istanbul, Turkey for a leather fashion show?” And that would be a good question, because none of us knew either. Aside from the fact that one of my friends got to serve as a guest model in the show, it was pretty pointless and frankly, really weird. But, finally, after the show delayed us another hour, we got back on the road. The trip home was definitely much more eventful than the bus ride there. We got pulled over twice. We came to a construction site where they were building an overpass where there were no paved roads– we got to pick our way around 10-12 foot deep holes and ginormous puddles in a double-decker bus, slogging our way through the mud while the Turkish people in the nearby businesses all came outside and laughed. It took us like half an hour to go maybe 100 yards. Then, on our way back into Greece, we had to sit at the border for what seemed like forever (but was only probably like an hour and a half) while they processed our passports. I heard two rumors about why it was taking so long: first, that the computers were down; second, that since we were re-entering Greece from Turkey on Greek Independence Day– the day where Greece celebrates independence from Turkey– they were just being slow because of where we were coming from. Who knows which one it really was. In short, we were delayed a total of like four hours, bringing the grand total of hours spent getting home from Turkey to a little more than sixteen hours. That is a long time to sit on a bus, folks. So, in summary: Turkey was gorgeous. Go see the historical stuff. Skip the leather fashion shows. Don’t take a bus.

Here’s your first installment of my Istanbul adventures…

So, one time, when I was twenty, I went to Istanbul for a long weekend. We took a bus there, which was cool because it was a double-decker bus (I had never been on one of those before), but wasn’t cool because we were on this double-decker bus for twelve hours. Yes, twelve hours. Plus, some people had the brilliant idea of getting drunk before getting on the bus– twelve hours on bus+drunken, obnoxious people= not so pleasant. Good thing I brought my iPod and got to tune them all out . The bus trip was relatively uneventful until we got to the border, where they kicked us all off the bus and we had to kill about an hour roaming around in no-man’s land. After getting our Turkish visas and getting back on the bus, we crossed into Turkey just as the sun was coming up. We arrived in Istanbul around 10 AM.

Now, a couple of quick facts about Istanbul. Istanbul is the fourth largest city in the world, spanning two continents– Europe and Asia. The two halves are split by the Bosphorus Strait, and connected by two large bridges. It’s gone by several names in the past– Byzantium and Constantinople being the two that come to mind. And, they speak Turkish. Considering all of these things, you can imagine how much of a culture shock going into Istanbul was with my suburban Midwestern background. Even having adjusted to living in Thessaloniki (which isn’t small by any means) didn’t help me much here. It was completely foriegn… and I loved it. Even before we got into Istanbul, as we were driving through the countryside, I knew it was going to be great. Small towns dotting the horizon with minarets instead of church towers. Being immersed in another new language, street signs and billboards totally incomprehensible again. I love that kind of thing. Anyway, back to Istanbul.

As soon as we got into Istanbul, we started a bus tour of the city. Problem was, the tour guide only spoke Greek. So basically, for the first half of the tour, we didn’t know what was going on, but I was fine with that because there was so much to look at. We were headed to the historical center of Istanbul, home of the Hagia Sofia church museum and the Blue Mosque.

We pulled up and got off the bus, were introduced to our (thankfully) English-speaking tour guide, and headed for our first stop, an obelisk from Egypt that was a gift to someone whose name I can’t remember– it might have been Constantine? I could be making that up. We then moved over to the church of Hagia Sofia (Saint Sophia). Hagia Sofia, if you want to get all technical about it, is the first Christian church– it was the first church built after the early Christians decided to adopt a monotheistic (one-God) tradition. And, it’s still there today. When the Ottomans invaded the area, bringing Islam with them, they turned it into a mosque. But, instead of destroying the murals and mosaics like they did in a lot of churches in Thessaloniki, they just added Islamic art. So, walking in, you get a sense of the building’s full history, with the Christian and Islamic influences still intact. I took a few pictures (on Flickr), but photos can’t really do it justice. It’s huge and every surface is covered in something beautiful, whether it be marble slabs or golden mosaics or intricate frescoes. We spent some substantial time wandering through the museum, and then headed over to the Blue Mosque.

The Blue Mosque was, in short, the highlight of my trip. Built in the 17th century in honor of the Sultan Ahmed I (it’s also called the Sultan Ahmed Mosque), it’s one of the grandest mosques in Turkey. According to our tour guide, it was controversial when the plans were revealed because there were to be six minarets (the pointy things that surround the mosque where the muezzin does the call to prayer)– the same as the most holy site in all of Islam– the Ka’aba. Sultan Ahmed solved that problem by financing the addition of a seventh minaret at the Ka’aba. Anyway, enough history– I think I’m the only one who likes that stuff .

In order to enter the mosque, we had to remove our shoes and cover our heads. As we entered through a small passageway and a covered opening in the back, we could hear that one of the daily prayers was underway. As you enter, you pass under balcony on the second floor, which makes it look kind of ordinary. It’s only when you emerge from under the balcony that you can see how spectactular it is. Every inch of the walls (except where there was decorative woodwork) was covered in mosaics of blue and white tiles– hence the name the Blue Mosque. It was massive– there were hundreds, if not thousands of people there at the same time we were, and there was still room to move around easily. Once again, I can’t think of the right words to describe it– it’s such a cool feeling to know that I got the chance to witness something that takes even my words away The pics are on Flickr– but they don’t do it justice. Again.

After we left the mosque, we headed toward the hotel. Our hotel was comfortable– the highlight was definitely the flat-screen tv’s with cable. I got to watch CNN again! And MTV –which after watching for five minutes, I decided I didn’t miss at all, after all. Also, I think the Turks have some weird fascination with Michael Jordan– I had several people ask me about him, and both nights we were at the hotel, they were showing vintage Chicago Bulls games. Who knew?

Anyway, I have to go catch the bus home. Be on the lookout for part two– bellydancers, Kenny Roger’s clone, and yes, those crazy Turkish merchants.

Well, it’s Wednesday afternoon here in Thessaloniki, and according to my weather forecast, its sunny refreshingly crisp and cool. I would have gone for unseasonably cold, but whatev. It’s definitely an improvement over rainy and dreary like it has been since Thursday. I heard a rumor that it doesn’t rain at all here in the summer. I am crossing my fingers and looking forward to that.

In other news, I’m back from Turkey. I spent Saturday night-Tuesday in Istanbul, and it was the best trip I have taken so far. It was super eventful, so I’m going to spread my account out over a few posts– that’s a lot to remember (and write) in one setting. But now, I have to go to class. Look out for stories about off-roading in a double-decker bus, aggressively flirty Turkish merchants, and plenty of new pictures on Flickr soon.