It couldn’t have been any nastier outside on Thursday, but Edessa was still great (pictures going up on Flickr as I write this). Getting there, however, was quite the adventure.

We decided to go to Edessa on the day that Parliament was voting on the pension issue that everyone has been striking about, so tensions were high. Both the buses and the taxis were supposed to be on strike, so we planned to meet extra early so we would have plenty of time to walk to the train station. We got to the meeting spot and found out that one of the people we were meeting had gotten on a bus that was stuck in traffic, so we waited in the rain until she arrived. At this point, we’re still fine, time-wise– we had been watching taxis drive by, so we figured we could hail a couple (there were ten of us), and be on our way. We didn’t anticipate that all of the taxis would be full, or that dozens of taxi drivers would refuse to drive us. So, after a quick Greek lesson to make sure everyone knew how to say train station in Greek, we started putting people in cabs one or two at a time. We finally all made it there around 11:05– our train was supposed to leave at 11:10. The ticket agent sold me the tickets, and as soon as I got my hands on them, she started flailing her arms, yelling “Run, Run!” So we ran. We ran to the first platform, looked at the tickets, realized they didn’t have a platform number on them, and ran to someone to tell us where to go (imagine the poor Greek person, with a herd of 10 Americans running at them). We figured out the right platform, ran over there and jumped on the train with only a minute to spare.

After we composed ourselves, we took a look at the ticket and realized that the agent had only sold us nine seats. Riding trains without a ticket is a big deal in Greece– they fine you major euros, and I think they might make you get off, too. So, somehow I was elected to be the “stupid American”– the one who got to pretend I didn’t know what was going on. We were split evenly between two cars, so I sat with the first group and waited anxiously.   The conductor came by and (thankfully) didn’t speak English, so I just pointed to where it said “nine” on the ticket and motioned vaguely to indicate that most of us were sitting there. He seemed satisfied, and moved on. I moved up to the next car, and waited for him to catch up. The second time around, he scrutinized the ticket a little more closely– closely enough that I started to get a little nervous. Then, he shrugged and gave it back to me. The rest of the train ride was significantly less eventful. I had a conversation–in Greek!– with two adorable little old ladies who told me I was a nice girl in English, and were thrilled that I was from America. Then everyone kind of dozed off until we arrived.

Edessa is in the prefecture (kind of like a county) of Pella, which is where Alexander the Great ruled from when he was king. The Greeks love to say that it was the natural beauty of the area that led to it being chosen for the location of the throne. Edessa was no disappointment in that area. It’s famous for its waterfalls, which are close to the center of the city. You follow the river to the edge of the center, where the city abruptly stops at the edge of a cliff. The waterfalls spill down the cliff, and the city has transformed them into quite the tourist attraction, with walkways down the cliff so you can see the waterfalls from different angles and walk behind them. My words really can’t do them justice– check out the pictures on Flickr to get at least a taste of what they were like. It was beautiful.

After visiting the waterfalls and wandering past the hemp factory and the water museum, both of which were still closed for the winter, we had a tasty pizza lunch at a cafe that looks over the cliff down to the valley below, and headed back to the bus station. By this time, it had started drizzling again, so we were ready to wrap up the day. We made it to the bus station at 4:50, and went up to the ticket window to buy tickets for the drive home. Of course, the next bus left at 5.  It was parked right outside the door, so at least we didn’t have to run this time. We made it back to Thessaloniki and navigated the striking buses again, arriving home just before it started to rain.

Tomorrow I am headed to Edessa– a small town about an hour and a half away with some awesome waterfalls. Sure, it’s only supposed to be like 55 and our transportation is sketchy (both the buses and the taxis are on strike tomorrow), but I’m still really looking forward to it. It’ll be a nice change from the in and out routine of class. Plus, we get to take the train, and I haven’t gotten to do that yet. Hopefully some new pictures tomorrow!

This evening when I got home, I checked out CNN and found some news coverage of the strikes. Evidently there were more people on strike than I realized.

Story about nationwide strikes (CNN)

Story about riots in Athens and Thessaloniki caused by the strikes (CNN)– those people I saw set things on fire!

Video of riots in Athens (CNN)– I only understand one word in that video.

Plus, my power is flickering right now. Please, no….

This morning, I rolled out of bed late and panicked. Quick shower, no makeup, speedwalking to the public bus stop late. I come around the corner of the intersection next to my stop, and freeze. There are police everywhere, blocking off the street with tape, the only traffic being allowed to pass is motorcycles. I stand at the bus stop for a couple minutes, hoping I’ll see a bus, any bus. I only see full taxis and more motorcycles. Okay, so the buses are on strike, I think. Add them to the list. In the distance, I hear faint music. I step out into the street (hey, there weren’t any cars coming) and look down toward the Arch. I see a massive crowd of people, spanning the width of the four-lane road, chanting and carrying large banners. A pack of stray dogs has gathered with them, leading the protesters straight toward me. It was at this point that I decided that (a) there weren’t going to be any taxis on this road and (b) I should probably get out of there– these demonstrations always seem to turn anti-American, and I happen to be wearing my Truman shirt again (I am never wearing that shirt again. It obvously brings me bad luck). I headed back up toward my apartment, passing through more taped-off areas and crowds of curious students, and caught a taxi to school. It wasn’t until I got here that I learned the full extent of it. Today, on strike:

-Buses

-The airport/port (I have lots of friends who were flying to Rome today for American Easter– sorry guys.)

-Banks

-Sanitation workers

-Lawyers (I think)

-Doctors and dentists– unless it’s an emergency.

Plus, there are still rolling blackouts.

So, I walked to my favorite kiosk tonight to get something to drink. I picked up a 1.5 liter bottle of water (one euro) and a can of Sprite (80 cents). I take them to the window and hand the guy a twenty. He gives me back seven euro and twenty cents. I look at my change, and hold up my bag. “Po so kaneis?” (how much?), I asked. He gives me a sheepish look and slips me the remaining ten euro that he owes me. Could it have been the English letters on my Truman State shirt? Or was he just trying to fleece everyone who went to the kiosk that night? The world may never know.

Okay, so I’m confused. I walked to the Arch today with some friends and decided that the garbage strike was over– the bins by our apartment had been emptied. But three hours later, I was picking my way through a giant mound of trash that had overflowed out of the bin and cascaded onto the sidewalk, completely blocking it. Selective garbage strike? Either way, it’s gross and smelly. Seriously.

Okay, for those of you who were harassing me about updating (Dad), today is your lucky day. Posts about Xanthi and Volos below!

I went for a walk today down to Aristotle Square to try to find the outdoor market again. Success! It was great. It was huge and crowded, and they had the most random stuff. Clothing next to olives next to Greek flags next to whole chickens, etc. Lots of yelling and bargaining and such. I got a purse from a guy on the street for half price, which I think makes up for all of my bargaining failures in the past. We were talking about the price when his phone started ringing. He took the call, then immediately started gathering his merchandise and sprinting down the street. I looked around and saw three other guys, all with big bundles over their shoulders running too. The guy who I was talking to starts yelling at me to come along. I’m just standing there trying to figure out what’s going on. He comes back, and starts talking to me like nothing happened. Then, more shouts, more running. He comes back a second time, gives me my price, and runs off.

Oh Greece.

Carnival in Xanthi

As you know from reading my other posts (you are reading this, right?), Carnival is really big in Greece. In fact, Greece is the third largest celebrator of Carnival, behind New Orleans and Rio de Janero. The biggest Carnival in Greece is in Patras, which is south of Athens– a nine hour train ride each way. So, when we decided that we wanted to get out of Thessaloniki for a day and go celebrate Carnival, we decided to stay a little closer to home and headed to the second-largest one, in a city called Xanthi, which is about three hours northeast of Thessaloniki.

We decided on Saturday to meet at noon Sunday and head over to the train station to catch a train there. After I got up and got ready, then went and woke everyone else up and waited until they were ready, we grabbed a city bus and headed to the train station, where we discovered that the next train wouldn’t leave for another four hours. Having been told that the bus station was within walking distance (Stepan), we set off on foot to find some bus tickets. Two and a half hours and six sets of directions later, we finally found the bus station, which was several miles away from the train station through some decidedly sketchy parts of town. We grabbed tickets for the bus that was leaving in fifteen minutes, hopped on, and were on our way.

When we arrived in Xanthi, it was after dark, and we had just missed the fireworks (we saw them going off over the roof of the bus station as we pulled in).  We went ahead and booked tickets for the next bus home, which wasn’t until 6 AM, so we had a good 14 hours to explore Xanthi. We headed toward the city center, where the party was, through huge mounds of broken glass, streamers and confetti. After a delicious fungus pizza dinner (seriously, anything with mushrooms on it is advertised as fungus, which is decidedly less appetizing), we changed into our costumes and went looking for something to do. We hadn’t thought ahead far enough to bring jackets, so after a few chilly hours we headed into a warm bar to chill. The rest of the night continued like that, until about two AM, when we found a cute little Greek diner and decided to stick around and have some soup. We savored the warmth until it was time to get back on the bus. After trucking back to the bus station, we climbed back on the bus and promptly passed out, glad to have comfy chairs and warmth again.

Wrap-up: Volos/Mt. Pilio

Two weeks ago, I took my first field trip with the Field Trip Club (yeah, we have a field trip club. Top that, Truman!). The destination: Volos, a city about two and a half hours southwest of Thessaloniki. Volos is Greece’s third largest port city, and makes up a major chunk of the economy. It’s also like the mothership of Neolithic artifacts in Greece– it’s built on top of three Neolithic settlements. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the Neolithic time period, we’re talking like 6000 BC. That’s a loooong time ago, folks.

We left on a Saturday morning and drove through the Tempi Valley, a favorite haunt of Apollo and the nymphs if you’re into Greek mythology. We arrived in Volos around 11 and headed straight to the Museum of Archeology. We saw a bunch of Neolithic artifacts (cool) and painted gravestones (cooler) and ancient jewelry (coolest). We then split up and did our own thing for lunch– my group went and ate lunch at a cute little taverna by the sea and I had swordfish, which was pretty fantastic. We spent some time walking on the seafront, which was gorgeous, then got back on the bus and headed toward Mt. Pilio.

Volos is  pretty much surrounded by mountains on all sides, and the mountains are covered in vacation homes of the rich and famous. The further up the mountains you go, the bigger and more expensive the houses get. The village we went to (Makrinitsa) was an exception, a little blip of traditional Greece. Sure, it was definitely touristy, but it was packed with old-fashioned charm and some great views. We stayed the night at a small hotel, woke up and had a great breakfast of traditional Greek yogurt (which has the consistency of sour cream), honey, granola and preserves made on Pilio, which were super tasty. We visited a folk museum housed in a mansion that had great traditional furniture that was really cool. Then, we hopped back on the bus (which we had to walk to, since cars weren’t allowed in the village), went to another village and had lunch, then headed home. It was a great way to start my exploration of Greece outside of Thessaloniki.

Sorry about the lack of updates, but spring break planning has been kicking my butt. But, a teaser of what is soon to come (I promise!):

- Volos wrap-up (jams! oceans! motion sickness! oh my!)

- My Carnivale experience in Xanthi

- General awesomeness.

Oh, and one more thing. Two words: garbage strike. Imagine. Disgusted yet?