got me feelin HELLAS good

Remember the first taste of Greece you got from the media? For some, it was “Mama Mia, or “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.” For others, it could have been Michael Phelps’ super-low ass crack-grazing jammers at the 2004 Athens Olympics. All of the above are undeniably fantastic, but none mirror my experience in Greece. Other than the part about scantily clad men doing water sports. Europeans seem to get more and more naked with each passing port. But that’s beside the point. I would like to preface this blog entry by saying that I’ve been in bed with a nasal/throat thing and miserably watched three movies so far today in between overmedicating and over cough-dropping myself, so I’m not the happiest of campers at the moment. But I’ll try my hardest to not let that influence the tone of what I’m about to say.

That being said, I have three words: Greece. Is. Overrated.

Yep. I said it. And I’m sure there are hoards of you that starkly disagree with this statement but my time here was nothing short of underwhelming. Blah blah, Parthenon. Blah blah, Mykonos. By the end of it all we had to leave the islands a day earlier than originally planned because we ran out of money and out of motivation. But let’s go back to the beginning of things. Katey is still wide-eyed and dreaming of whitewashed buildings and the turquoise Aegean, ABBA on repeat in her head…

The MV docked in the port city of Piraeus, just a few minutes from Athens. After finalizing our plans for the finale of our stay in Greece – a two-day, two-night rage fest in the beautiful Greek island Mykonos, we hopped into our most lightweight sightseeing apparel and into the back of a cab. Piraeus is kind of ugly and industrial, but what port city isn’t? I couldn’t wait to get into the heart of Athens.

Well, Athens never got any prettier than Piraeus. To be honest, I couldn’t even discern when one ended and the other began. But we kept a good attitude because we were going to see the Acropolis! And it was going to be great!

Okay so the Acropolis was cool, we took the compulsory photos in front of the Parthenon and went on our way. We also ravenously ate a really delicious meal at a restaurant across the street, our first taste of Greek cuisine. And we could literally see the Parthenon from the window next to our table as we inhaled our gyros and moussaka: amazing. However, at this point in the day we realized there wasn’t much else to do in mighty Athena. We went to the Acropolis Museum and learned a little about the history of the structures. Peeped more ruins on display. The only things left on our agenda were the Temple of Zeus and the Olympic Park.

Well, chalk that up to a double-fail. We were too hot and lazy to pay for a ticket/find the entrance/even look for the entrance to Zeus, so we just took bootleg pictures of something I’m fairly confident wasn’t even the Temple (I mean every column looks the same, it was an honest mistake) through a fence. Sad.
And then we took an absurdly long/expensive cab ride to the Olympic Stadium. It was so exciting to see those huge white arches in real life! (Olympics nerd, sue me) But once we started getting closer, I began feeling a weird sense of déjà-vu. Wait, are we back in Atlanta? Is that the Georgia Dome/Phillips Arena/World Congress Center? Shit. All huge stadiums look the same. No matter what continent they’re on. But no it’s okay there’s for sure some sort of cool tour we can take! …Negative. The entire complex was shut down for the summer. So again, bootleg pictures through a fence. Waiting for a cab on the side of the highway for like 45 minutes. Getting stuck in sweaty Athens traffic.

The next day, everyone packed up their bags and headed to the ferry terminal to catch boats to the islands for the remainder of the trip. However, a group of my friends and I had decided to do a Semester at Sea day-trip to Delphi and put off Mykonos to the next day.

…And then all of them bailed except me and Cam. One by one they dropped like flies. 150 bucks down the tubes here, 150 bucks out the window there. The mesmerizing draw of what godly pleasures the islands surely had in store was too much in comparison to a scholastic endeavor. Whatever, I didn’t want to waste money. And it would be cool, right?

Wait, what’s Delphi? We thought it had something to do with the Battle of 300. Nope. We thought it was a city? Nope, ruins. Apparently there’s some oracle? Didn’t see it. But I did enjoy another fabulous awkward coach bus ride contorted into weird sleeping positions for a total of six hours. In all seriousness, though, Delphi was quite beautiful. The ruins of the city are up on a REALLY steep rocky mountain and the view from the top is stunning. And I got a nice leg workout, I guess.

And oh. Remember the nerds from my layover? Found them! They go on Semester at Sea-sponsored trips to ancient ruins. Overheard at the Temple of Apollo: “I brought this cookie to sacrifice to the Gods!”

FINALLY the day came for us to travel to Mykonos! We caught an early ferry, which I was picturing having about as much charm as the Staten Island Ferry (meaning: none, unless you’re into drunk guidos and hobos) but I was sorely mistaken. Ferries to the Greek islands are like a cross between airplanes, malls and cruise ships. They have super comfortable seats, TVs, actually edible food at the snack bar, and random duty-free shopping? Greece just can’t decide whether it wants to suck or not.

What happened next was so stereotypical I couldn’t even believe I wasn’t unknowingly starring in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2.” We arrived at the hotel: a quaint little place known as “Makis Place.” Perpetually smelling of fresh warm pita, clothespins hung on lines outside the tiny rooms stacked up on each other – white with blue shutters, of course. And there standing at the front desk, in all of his glory, was Mr. Makis. What followed was as an hour of Mr. Makis yelling at us for booking through a travel website, demanding his money, barking orders at his son, and then abruptly switching into jolly giggling Greek man, cracking jokes, giving us drinks, and chatting with friends on the phone as we waited impatiently in the hotel’s hot lobby. Kalimera?

We got the room. Mr. Makis got his money. And we moved on to the beach. Paradise Beach, to be specific, is a hotel/resort/camp ground/club monstrosity frequented by Europeans on holiday and of course, the perpetual swarm of SASers each and every summer. The atmosphere was chill and the water was beautiful, but honestly not up to the caliber of the beaches of Croatia or the Amalfi. Or even Miami, for that matter. Regardless, we had a grand time sipping Coronas in the sand and letting our Mediterranean tans deepen.

As the Aegean afternoon melted into night, it seemed everyone on the island was abuzz about a club called “Cavo Paradiso.” Mykonos is known as “the party island” and “the gay party capital of Europe,” so obviously we knew a crazy night was in our future.

One skinned knee, 35 euro cover and handful of outrageously overpriced drinks later, we realized that Mykonos might be the most overrated place in the world. It was like being back in South Beach but worse. Sure, Cavo had a cool tropical lagoon-y feel to it, and like, eight bars, but it was by no means the best club I’ve ever been to. Yes, I probably (and by probably I mean definitely) whined about how nightlife in Barcelona was better, and everything in Barcelona was better (I can’t shake the obsession), but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a good time in Mykonos. The little town is quaint and many of the people share the Makis brand of friendliness and larger-than-life Greek hilarity.

But now I’m back on the MV. And I spent my last day in Greece in bed. And I didn’t really care. It wasn’t that Greece was bad or I didn’t have a good time, but it didn’t have the culture of Spain. Or the food of Italy. Or the relaxation of Croatia. Nothing about Greece sparked my interest or curiosity or made me want to return for any length of time in the future. It was just, bleh. And I still don’t like olives or feta cheese. Sorry.

Well, I did forget to mention that my friend Krissy proudly wore a neon green tank top reading “Good Girls Go To Heaven, Bad Girls Go To Mykonos” and a “HELLAS” doo rag/swim cap thing out to Cavo that night. And I have to say that sight pretty much made up for all of the unexciting parts of Greece combined.

We only have one day off and then we arrive in Turkey! This pace just gets crazier and crazier. But I have a good feeling about Istanbul. I can’t wait to really immerse myself in the culture and get away from Euro vacation destinations and bad techno for a minute. Visions of doner kebabs, Turkish baths and turrets are dancing in my head.