Broken plans and Greecey food

I've come to think traveling is extremely easy, but maybe it's due to the fact I am no longer fazed by anything. Jordan and I had our bags packed, we had checked out of the hostel in the Victoria Square district of Athens, and we were ready to catch a cab to the station to hop on a three-hour bus ride that would connect us to a seven-hour overnight ferry to Venice. Jordan returned from what was to be a quick confirmation phone call with this news:

"So the ferry that leaves Greece at midnight and gets into Venice at 7 a.m. is actually not a seven-hour ride. It's a 31-hour ride and we get there the following morning."

It appeared what we had calculated as a drive across Iowa was now more like a drive across most of the U.S.

"Oh, and the ferry doesn't run for the next two days, so we can't go until Thursday."

I sat in silence for a few seconds, cracking a smile at how quickly our plans were changing. "Okay. So now what?"

We spent the next hour coming up with plan-B, which included a train instead of a bus and a different ferry to a different Italian city the next day. So we had one extra day in Greece. Life could be worse.

***

"You see, the beds are very clean, the room is very clean. This area of town is, ahh, ahh, very clean."

Mama Fula's English was not extensive, but it was enough to convince us to stay at her guesthouse in the Old Town of Rhodes upon our arrival to Greece last Thursday afternoon.

"How many nights you want?"

"One is fine."

"Ahh, see, there is problem. I will have to clean room and, no, one night no good. Two nights?"

Jordan and I looked at each other and nodded. "Okay, two nights."

"And what time you check out?"

"Well, our flight to Athens is at 4, so maybe noon would be good?"

"Ahh, you see, I have to clean room for new guests, so how about 10?"

We complied. It appeared it was mama Fula's world. We got too much of a kick out of the old Greek woman to care. And she was right, everything did seem pretty clean.

"You need me, I live upstairs. Just yell, 'mama Fula, come!'"

***

I was running faster than usual, and there was a reason for this. I don't know exactly what went on in the ancient stadium I was jogging around, but it made me feel like an original Olympian, or a gladiator, or maybe an Olympic gladiator. Nike training shoes and iPods didn't used to make frequent appearances on the track that has been around since 300 B.C., but the atmosphere was surreal nonetheless. I sprinted up the staircase that led to the ancient Acropolis and began an intense set of pushups and sit-ups. My sweat hit the ground at a place that had soaked up perspiration since sometime in the B.C. years. Sometimes fathoming history is impossible. This was one of those times. I ran back to mama Fula's place, feeling like I had won the gold or conquered an empire. It was time for my first taste of real Greek food.

***

There was a Simpson's episode I recall in which Bart told Lisa, "You don't win friends with salad." He obviously forgot to take Greek salads into consideration since I'm pretty positive you can win a lot of friends with them. Throughout my seven days in Greece I would have seven of these.

If my information is correct, and this particular bit of information happens to come from the Will Ferrell movie "Talladega Nights," then a crepe comes from France. I will, however, forever consider this to be a Greek treasure since crepe stands can be found on every few corners in the country. I never thought it was possible that taco pizza could lose its place as my number one food, but the crepe may have enough punch to capture an upset. As I eat one crepe -- filled with spinach and feta and red and green peppers and tomato and ham -- I find myself staring at the crepe menu, already considering my next selection. Possibly yogurt with honey and nuts and strawberries. Or maybe Nutella and bananas. Oh, and also on the list of ingredients -- "alcohol". That's right. You can get Bailey's or Grand Marnier or rum in these very special treats. I have already recorded several recipes in my journal. I hope that someday I possess the ability to recreate them.

***

We collected our bags at the Athens airport after the one-hour flight from Rhodes around 6:30 p.m. We asked a woman at the information desk what time the ferry ran to Mykonos.

"The only one is at 8, and the bus takes at least an hour and ten minutes to get to the port. I don't think you will have time."

"Thank you, we said, already sprinting off toward bus X96 that would possibly get us to the ferry station with a few minutes to spare. The traffic on the way was thick. I waited by the bags, ready to collect them while Jordan stood by the door, ready to sprint to the ticket office. By the time I had loaded our bags off the bus, Jordan had already purchased two tickets. Our ferry happened to be the furthest one away. I sprinted with over 30 kilos of baggage attached to my body as my flip flops threatened to fall off. We reached the ferry, out of breath but proud. I mentioned to Jordan that it felt like we were on the show The Amazing Race. The ferry, as it turned out, was running about a half hour late.

***

After a six-hour ferry ride, which included the consumption of the Raki we bought duty-free in Turkey and some homemade wine given to us by a Greek man who worked on the ship, we arrived on the island of Mykonos around 2 a.m. Jordan and I began chatting with a group of 15 Americans who were studying abroad for a semester in Athens and were heading to the popular Greek island for a weekend getaway.

"You can follow us to the cabins we're staying at," one of them offered.

Like usual, I hadn't taken any measures to book a place to stay, so we hopped a bus and headed to Paradise Island with 15 strangers in the middle of the night. The rooms, which included two beds, a mirror, and a light, were a cheap 10 euro per night. We signed up for two.

We spent the next day at the beach, throwing the football around -- something I haven't done since leaving America -- and drinking the local beer, Mythos. Jordan was in a goofy mood later that night as we roamed the streets of the main town.

"Did you know you can get everywhere faster if you run?" she would ask, followed by taking off into the maze of winding alleys. We went into a clothing store to keep warm, knowing very well I was not going to buy anything. The woman who ran the store held up a jacket, ensuring me it was a very good price at 75 euro. And that was half off.

"Actually, I was looking for something in the five-euro range," I said to the woman, who appeared baffled. Jordan and I ran out laughing and continued our antics. We made our third stop at the crepe stand within one hour - the first for dinner, the second for dessert, and now the third to attempt something I assume was unprecedented.

"Yes, can we have two shots of Bailey's please," I asked. The man at the counter, who recognized us by this point, was confused.

"You want them in the crepe?" he asked.

"No, just by themselves," I said, with the straightest face possible.

"Um, we don't really do that. Yes, I don't think that is possible. You will have to go to a bar for this."

So we took a seat on a beautiful private patio of a bar overlooking the Aegean Sea. The bartender delivered our drinks -- a whisky-Coke and a vodka-orange juice -- then went back inside to bring us straws. We thought it would be funny to chug our drinks by the time he returned 15 seconds later.

"I cannot believe it," he said with a thick Greek accent.

"We'll take two more," I said. The man shook his head and joined in on our laughter.

***

I am writing this from the biggest ship I have ever set foot on. I estimate it holds 5,000 people, but 1,000 or 50,000 could also be correct since I am bad with estimates. On this particular day there are only about 100 passengers according to the bartender (not that I've spoken to him already within the first 20 minutes of the 21-hour ride). We basically have the ship to ourselves. There is a casino, a swimming pool, a hot tub, a few bars, a children's play place, and probably a few other things I've yet to discover. The next time I step foot on land, I will be somewhere in Italy.