Gorgeous Greece and more annoying alliteration

Written June 27, 2007

You may have guessed from my noticeable lack of email contact that I've been having far too good of a time to consider tending to my Australian bridges. Either that or I had fallen off a boat somewhere in the warm oceans I have become acquainted with. If you thought the former, you'd be right.

You'll recall (if in fact you continue to open my emails), that my last recollections were of my final weeks in the U.S. These are from the last few weeks in London, Athens, the Greek Islands, Berlin, and Barcelona. I'm now in Florence, and will be heading to Venice, Paris, Amsterdam, London and Singapore before greeting all of my wonderful friends (read "you") at the airport, fresh from my 5am flight on July 11. Of course this is an unnecessary reminder; it's been in your diary since you requested the day off work in anticipation of my arrival.

As much as I care for you all, this edition is likely to read like a series of dot-points; I care far more for a Florence evening than satisfying your cravings for quality literature (in an age where even The Age is no longer a real broadsheet).

As soon as I got off the plane in LONDON, I knew I was no longer in the U.S (an insight worthy of a 6 year old, I hear you think). The people looked different (mostly just paler), the policepeople actually wore those ridiculous hats, and things were back to the equivalent of Australian prices. No wait, that's a £ sign. This exorbitance was forgiven by the sheer friendliness of people (another stereotype dispelled). And customer service staff who actually serve customers! Highlights of this gorgeous city included a GAP reunion, when I caught up with a number of the Brits I taught English in China with, the London Eye (close your eyes when you fork out the admission though), the Tate Modern (a transformation of a disused factory space that Melbourne would do well to learn from), seeing Les Miserables on the West End, seeing the House of Lords in session, and of course riding the Tube. Sean, a friend from Penn State, played host at his home in Kent, so again I shout out to him for his hospitality (he had better have read this far).

Meeting Jeremy (a friend from Melbourne) and his friend Caitlin at the airport, I was disappointed not to be checked-in by any of the stars of the endlessly fascinating "Airline", after all, we were flying EasyJet. I was consoled by a different flying first for me – not having an assigned seat. Our destination, ATHENS. For some inexplicable reason I pictured Athens to be similar to how I picture Cairo (which is probably also way off the mark): dusty, sweaty etc. etc. This time I was totally wrong. Athens was such a charming city, with archaeological excavation adjoining the brand-spanking new Metro line, amazing ruins next to spotless city parks, and locals that would volunteer assistance the very second you pulled out a map. If one image could represent a city, it would surely be the cafes with all seating facing out onto the street; rather than the islands of tables we seem to create. People enjoyed interacting with each other and watching their world go by. And an interesting world is was too. Another image that will stick with me was the juxtaposition "Everybody hurts sometimes" wafting from exclusive shops while street hawkers selling cheaper versions of their own products gathered their goods and sprinted down the street for fear of prosecution (their crime: servicing tourists and attempting to carve out a living in a new land). A thoroughly entertaining if racist and misogynist hotel clerk had no hesitation about sharing his thoughts on these (and every other) aspects of Athens with us.

If I was impressed by Athens, I was blown away by the GREEK ISLANDS. The white buildings and blue rooftops of Santiorini came straight from postcards (perhaps that's the other way around), and sunsets over crystal clear ocean topped it off (I'm not on commission, I swear). The occasional black cat perched on top of a white balcony showed that humans weren't the only ones who appreciate the view. From Santiorini is was to the sleepy island of Paros, which we were convinced was totally deserted until we realised that everyone was having their afternoon siesta (which I will now campaign to make mandatory at RMIT). We finished in Mykonos, the island playground of the rich and famous, though it was difficult to tell where they were, with opulent cruisers given subtle names like 'Star Ship'.

We reluctantly left the gleaming Greek Islands for Berlin which, like Athens, dispelled any mistakenly held perceptions of just another big city. The grandiose boulevards of what was formerly East Berlin, soviet architecture and somehow endearing graffiti on every flat surface were punctuated by perhaps the best hostel and funniest tour guide in the history of the world, who educated us about the sprayed number 6's that appeared all over the city (ask me). And boy can Berlin party! Ignoring the fact this is at least somewhat because of the nearing 20% unemployment rate (which is bound to give a whole lot of people a whole lot of 'free' time), it seemed like Berliners (most of whom appear to be in their 20s) spent their times either in clubs with indescribable burlesque cabaret or at cafes that were so hip their unpublished opening hours were decided each morning. With everyone having such a great time, it was hard to believe that 20 years ago it was a city divided. Jeremy's friend Cam (who is on exchange from Melbourne) turned out to be a great host.

As I have failed to come up with a decent linking sentence, I will start by adding that "Next we went to Barcelona", which was also a lot of fun (broken record, anyone?). The humidity and feeling of the city reminded me of Hanoi; bustling with motorbikes and scooters, streets that weaved their way into communal squares. It turned out that we had come to town at the right time, as the gunshots we thought we heard turned out not to be gunshots at all, but kids playing with fireworks. And so the evening started. The consensus seemed to be that most of the action was at the beach, so we headed down to find literally thousands of people, from toddlers to grandparents, all partying it up on a coastline that was lit with massive bonfires. We were particularly transfixed with the one that was surrounded by half naked men who leapt through the six foot high flames, only to turn around and do it all over again, and again, in what could only be attributed to some neo-macho ideal of a what it is to be a real man (brave, not burnt that is). We marvelled at Gaudi's architecture, including the magnificent cathedral that, despite having been started more than 150 years ago, was still under heavy construction.

It was in Barcelona that the travelling triplet (does anyone have a cure for alliteration?) split up; Caitlyn and Jeremy to Amalfi, and me to Rome. It's in Barcelona that I'll leave you for now as well; Rome and Florence will come in the next bout of verbal diarrhoea.