The Greek islands trip (part two)
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 the pier was sparsely lit with electric street lights. René and I merged in with the large group of passengers, as they stumbled down the iron ramp, footsteps ringing as we followed the cars and trucks that had been released from the hold. I wondered if the hostels detailed in the LP that I clutched in a hand, would be open at that late hour and still would there still be vacant beds.
As we walked off the dock and into the town, locals emerged from the dark, sprucking hotel rooms at extremely good prices.
René and I were swamped by a circle of people all talking at once, so we allowed ourselves to be dragged off by one local who had brandished a colourful brochure detailing accommodation with luxuries such as ‘hot water,’ and a ‘beach front location.’
We were shoved into a van and sat in a weird steel enclosed silence as our host disappeared to scrounge up some additional motion sick bodies. Rene was chilled and completely prepared to trust her life to this unknown hotel manager, while I feared that we would be whisked off into the interior of the island, to some creaky tumbledown b&b.
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 the pier was sparsely lit with electric street lights. René and I merged in with the large group of passengers, as they stumbled down the iron ramp, footsteps ringing as we followed the cars and trucks that had been released from the hold. I wondered if the hostels detailed in the LP that I clutched in a hand, would be open at that late hour and still would there still be vacant beds.
As we walked off the dock and into the town, locals emerged from the dark, sprucking hotel rooms at extremely good prices.
René and I were swamped by a circle of people all talking at once, so we allowed ourselves to be dragged off by one local who had brandished a colourful brochure detailing accommodation with luxuries such as ‘hot water,’ and a ‘beach front location.’
We were shoved into a van and sat in a weird steel enclosed silence as our host disappeared to scrounge up some additional motion sick bodies. Rene was chilled and completely prepared to trust her life to this unknown hotel manager, while I feared that we would be whisked off into the interior of the island, to some creaky tumbledown b&b.
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ohh, i cannot wait to hear the next installment.
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