Child of the Planet

Woke up the next morning after enjoying a sleep, fathoms deep. Sounds of crowing roosters, dogs barking, and birds singing floated through the bedroom windows on the sea breeze. I had a shower and shave, and discovered that in my rush to catch the plane, I packed way too many socks' and not enough t-shirts. We strolled along the beachfront looking for breakfast and found a beach front cafe that was open. Sipped coffee while scoffed a bowl of yoghurt sweetened with fresh fruit, and watched a tractor drag a machine that shifted pebbles out of the sand. The weather somewhere out in the Med was still crap after a couple of days snooping around the island, so rather then hang around without any guarantees that we would score a passage on a direct route, we bought tickets on a ferry to Naxos, which had a slightly bigger port, Not as small and cute as Parous, but with the prospect of much more nightlife, and a step closer to Turkey. LINKS Part-one ...

The van did indeed follow the edge of the beach and we passed by a number of small hotels and bars lined up along the road, and soon stopped in front of a really nice little white washed building with a small restaurant in the front. We checked in and discovered the reason for the unnerving manic haste, with which the host had bundled us into the van and sped back to his hotel. The footy was on the tele and the poor guy had been caught between business and pleasure. We were led to a really nice little room at the back of the building. I opened the shutters and took a deep breath of cool island air. Slightly agog at the pleasant room we had found ourselves occupying, and gently fatigued from the twenty-four hours plus of travelling, we stumbled down stairs to the restaurant and were invited to share a complimentary glass of wine with our host. Draining the cool drink while watching a bit of the game on the tele, we excused ourselves and spent an hour scouting out th...

When the ship finally shuddered and pulled away from the shore, a buzz spread out amongst the passengers, that the ferry company had been waiting for the ship to fill up before shoving off. Everyone on board had been watching other ferry boats come and go from the naughbouring docks all afternoon. I was a bit mental from sleep deprivation and drifted in and out of consciousness, stretched out on the white slates of a bench, with my pack as a pillow. The boat dragged its self through the sea. A little floating patch of hell. I had one of those 'want to go home’ attacks. The food from the shop was expensive and pretty crap (which is pretty normal of ferry fare all over the planet.) After dinner René and I sat out on the deck and watched the sun set behind the boat, leaving behind a persistent rosy bush fire smudge in the opalescent glow of the horizon. The ferry cruised into Parikia, the main port of Paros, round eleven that night and docked. The concrete finger of t...

Emerged from the plane into bright Athens morning sunlight after four hours of MTS. That’s Mass Transport Sleep where you try to grab some kip, jammed into a vehicle with a group of strangers. You can't stretch out and you have no control over the lights or meandering children. Out of the terminal and onto the six o'clock bus that connected the airport to the sea port of Piraeus, where our lightning progress towards Turkey was halted by the weather. Whist it was clear and bright at the port, we were told that all hell was breaking loose somewhere out in the Mediterranean. We had planned a quick hop to the island of Samos, and from there we had hoped to be suffering Turkish immigration by morning the next day. We found some breakfast, and rather then hang around the ‘standard issue’ port, caught a bus back up the coast to the first beach we could find, and burnt some time snoozing on the sand until the sun had climbed high and hot, making slumber uncomfortable. ...