Auzzie Auzzie Auzzie oi oi oi

FYI, Say Auzzies, NOT Aussies. They never drink Fosters beer. When I asked a couple Australians to mimic an American accent and say something they think Americans say a lot, one said (with a Brooklyn accent) “Yo, get me some COFFee, thank you.” The other: “Can you up-size me?’’ Youch.

more from Francesco -- Ios

exchange of the Greece trip: Francesco, owner of pansion in Ios, was lookin mightily stressed as about 20 peeps fresh off the ferry boat were desperately looking for accommodations. I asked him how life was treating him. He paused in the chaos, stepped in close to me, held out a finger, and carefully lectured, accentuated by a thick Italian accent: “let me tell you my friend: every night on this island is Friday night... (wearily) Every morning, however, is Monday.”

Sostis

Sostis is the ‘man of the volcano’ in Santorini. If you look out from the caldera upon the dormant but still threatening volcano you would describe, in essence, just a large pile of black rocks, mildly steaming with volcanic activity from assorted openings about the size of basketballs. You would be hard-pressed to find a more inhospitable place. But take a ride around it and you will notice in one easily missed nook a tiny white hut, carved out of the volcanic rock and painted to match the Santorinian style. A bright orange boat docked outside brings your attention to what this place might actually be. Sostis lives here, and has for over 25 years. Look more closely and you will see a laundry line, a finely-smoothed-out dockslip, and 40 feet away a tiny white church with blue-topped dome, probably five feet tall and wide enough for two people to cram together within. Sostis’ dog Socrates might also make an appearance if you get too close. Ive been told there is a herd of goats somewhere amidst the rocks near Sostis’ house, but haven’t seen them.

But even entrepreneurism flourishes on this desolate place. Sostis runs a healthy business shuttling around small groups (six people max) to see the volcano, swim in the hot springs, and feel the hospitality at the edge of his house. Sostis incorporates a bit of massage therapy into the day as you lounge on your back within the murky-brown hot springs and volcanic mud. Supposedly there is a book coming out soon on Sostis’s life. It would be easy to make parallels to the myriad of American sensationalist stories about people who reject the common world to retreat to their own world of existence. But no anti-governmental thread exists in Sostis’ rationale for moving to the volcano. Rumor has it, a broken heart is the reason for Sostis’ self-imposed exile. And oh yeah, I’ve also heard he has a cell phone. How ‘bout them apples.

arrrgh

During the middle ages the Mediterranean Sea and its islands were ruled by pirates. Sure, officially, you could trace a timeline of which specific lands/peeps ruled each of these islands, ranging from Turkish bandits to Greek overlords to Spanish kings. But in practice, the biggest influence on the lives and habits of the Greeks living around here were pirates. They would jump from island to island, looting, pillaging, you know, doin pirate stuff. But the island peeps got smart: they built castles at the highest part of the islands, for a couple of reasons. One, it would provide a lookout spot so that the villages would have some advance warning before the bandits made a landing. Two, it provided a sanctuary for that entire section of the island to flee to and barricade themselves against the attack. Many of these castles are still standing, including the one in Akrotiri. Mostly they serve as semi-functional warehouses for the villages, but the Greeks take great care in maintaining that reminder of their past, and often keep them as close as possible to the condition they existed way back when. Sometimes they add a Greek flag at the top, or shine a lone blazing light upon the castle at night, appearing as the eternal watchman. Most interesting to me is the ancient method of keeping the pirates away: unsurprisingly, the external walls are constructed at sleek angles and with overhangs to prevent possible climbers. Also, there are strategically placed holes in the overhangs around the front entrance, supposedly because the most frequent method of protecting the entranceway was to pour boiling hot oil on top of whoever was trying to enter. In Akrotiri this castle is surrounded by other abandoned buildings; you can walk directly underneath these imposing holes in complete silence. At night the blazing light illuminates the structure while the wind whistles round the narrow alleyways. During the day you can often walk up within its abandoned structure and look down upon the sea, imagining that the notification of the island’s imminent attack was completely in your hands, studying the shores which brought constant threats to this tiny island.

the story of Pansion Carlos

Time to get you acquainted with the peeps that bring this little corner of the island to life, the people of the fourteen-room Pansion Carlos. Pansion Carlos is located in the tiny village of Akrotiri on the island of Santorini. Main street Akrotiri is made up of about 100 yards of street. There are three restaurants, two mini-marts, an auto-repair shop, a car rental shop (conveniently located next to the auto repair shop). One bus stop, bus comes every 90 minutes or so, from 8am to 9pm.

Eva – mother, owner, cook, greeter, distributor of Santorini magic dust. Abruptly widowed about six years ago, and subsequently wore all black for two years straight. BTW, do you know how hot it gets here? I mentioned to her this trip how that blue fits her well and she smiles: “yes. no more black.” If you need it, she already anticipated it. She misses Carlos everyday, and you feel it. Speaks at least Greek, Italian, German, French, Spanish, and English, all well enough to converse just fine with the native-speaking customers. 99% of her life is spent at Pansion Carlos.

Maria – eldest daughter of Eva, probably late 20s. Asst head, treasurer, the money man, also concierge. She might be serving you moussaka in one hand and making a reservation for you on a lil boat for the next morning with the other hand. Knows what is going on around Santorini that you would like, months in advance. Just married to a man so classically-handsomely Greek I think his mug should be on the Greek wheaties box, if there is one. I need to get a pic of him.

Arsenio(s) – middle child of Eva. 17, tan, strong, wise beyond his years, horned-rimmed glasses, sly smile, knows what you did the previous night in the pub, but don’t worry, isn’t telling. Has a lead-foot but lacks a helmet on his scooter whipping around the winding Santorini roads. As one of the frequent summer visitors said last week, he has a lil’ bit of pirate in him.

Rafael – just turned 13, futball player extraordinaire, spunky, hides his cards well, ready to take you on in any game of skill on the pansion veranda, and doesn’t take losing to 32 year-old men well, when that extremely rare event happens. Would invite you to his birthday party even if he just met you. Five years ago he couldn’t speak a drop of English. Now he can understand just about anything you say. If you try to take a picture of him he’ll shake his head, lower his eyes, and demand with a thick Greek accent “no paparazzi please!”

lil history lesson of the day

This island of Delos was an old sanctuary to Apollo, supposedly b/c he was born there. At one point the residents asked all Athenian cities to provide/build something to show the magnificence of all things Greek. so the folks on Naxos, a couple of whom got to travel a lot, gave these marble lions who would serve as an intimindating greeting to all visitors, mostly because no one had ever heard or seen these animals called lions. Supposedly folks would see them and either start to weep or prostrate themselves in front of them. They look damn cool in person (spoiler: they are copies of the real thing). No one is allowed to be born or die on this island because of its sacred nature. No one can spend the night, either. How they enforce the whole not dying thing Im workin on finding out. Oh, and J, I hadn't seen a bike in a week when I saw a crew of 30 people all outfitted in full gear rollin their way on fat tires through Mykonos Town. I immediately felt very, very fat.

Francesco's in Ios

Francesco is a Greek gentleman who runs a pansion here in Ios. He epitomizes the fun-loving, open nature of Greeks who literally open their homes to travelers. Ok, so his "home" is a 20-room thriving hotel-of-sorts here in Ios, but he's got a brilliant system down which unsurprisingly rules the travelin crowd waitin to spend their paltry euro on reliable accomodation at their next is;and destination. Here's how he does it: he sets up this covered rooftop patio overlooking the harbor for his clients and purposefully (I'm pretty sure, and others have the same theory) announces that the rooms will be delayed for a bit, but....enjoy these cold drinks as part of our "welcome to Ios". So here you have maybe 30 or so wayward souls, barely any of which know each other, and they all sit together chatting for a while as chill music plays and the boats drift lazily by. Francesco makes a big production announcing that the rooms are ready to a huge eruption of applause, and adds that at 10pm everyone should meet back on the rooftop patio to kick off the evening, as the bar will be open (think one of many scenes from 'Cocktail' when someone gets on the bar to make an announcement). So a little after ten those 30 have reunited and are soon fast friends. check out the reviews of his place at http://www.tripadvisor.com/, search francesco's ios. There's a reason he is #1 most popular hotel in Ios according to this site, and we're pretty sure that's why. It ain't for the free exfoliating sandpaper, I mean, towels.

moped riding on the islands

Let's hope we don't need to cut the head off a live rooster to take a potential hex off the blog. The aforementioned "Lafayette, Louisiana friend" was involved in a scooter accident and (according to his mates we ran into again in Ios) had to be flown back to the states at a cost of 20 Gs. These scooters are bad, bad news. Everyone always asks if it's a good idea to rent one. Let's just say "pull over onto the shoulder" is not a frequently used phrase on the Greeck isles, b/c there ain't any, nor many guardrails. The helmets that come with these things are more for show. You get the drift. Wherever you are, you are in our prayers.

Greek word of the year

“xsay-soh-loh-soh-may!” Verb uttered only by Greek youth nowadays. It literally means “Let’s go out on the town tonight with the intention of breaking stuff!” No joke.

cliche time

The spirit of Santorini resides in its quiet moments at daylight’s end, when everyone stops to take a look at the horizon and tries to contemplate both their next step in life and ways of explaining the experience to their friends who constantly ask “what do you DO there?” (imagine the tone of Kelly McGillis asking Tom Cruise in Top Gun: “what…were you DOING there?”) In Court’s words: “NOW I see why you come here every year; I would stay up here in this café all damn day.” Yup. It is a frequent stumble for words when you answer your friends’ queries with “well….you …read, you …chill, you beach, you hang out at cafes, you watch the sun sink behind the monster ferries, you meet incredible people, you…..” and their stumped looks have only intensified. You know those days when you throw away your watch b/c it just ain’t gonna be part of the equation? Yeah, you got the idea. Well bring a pocket one so you at least know when the last bus is leavin for your neck of the island. The public buses here? Nicer than the tour bus you took in 8^th grade to visit Washington DC.

Court and I had a fun lil glass of wine waiting for a table with a young honeymooning couple from Saint Louis who fit each other perfectly; she had this great spirit, he had this powerful, tangible contemplative nature and they balanced their own enthusiasm with an infectious curiosity. Definite energy-providers, them two. They fit the mold of being able to harness the power here just right. Seein peeps like them and you think “clearly, they ain’t part of the whole 50% divorce rate deal, eh?”

Yesterday’s log: one slab moussaka, the house white (quantity: hard to say), tzasiki galore, one slab saganaki (fried cheese, whoa). Absinthe from my new Lafayette, Louisiana friend. (Eight weeks on the Greek island path; I ask him “which day has been your favorite?” His answer between gulps: “every damn one of ‘em, my man!” attababy.)

Today’s log: 2 greek salads (hoping for their healing powers), 1 gyro, 1 large serving macaroni pie (!), many, many bottled waters, a lil leftover baklava, a lil leftover vinsanto.

We’re off to Ios for at least one day and, if we live to tell the tale, Mykonos for at least one day. Peace out.

Lost, Santorini style

Lets talk a little bit about the power of this island. I have known many people who have shown up to this island and had their entire worlds rocked. Yeah, well, what exactly does that MEAN? Alright, let’s quantify it. ‘Bout five years ago I came here for a grad school course run by the College Year in Athens program. It was a three week course with mixed undergrads and grads. There were 12 of us, methinks. All of us had just planned on coming for our three weeks and then leaving. By the end of those three weeks, four of the twelve decided to forgo any plans they had the rest of the summer and FIND A WAY to stay here and also visit other islands as part of the package. At least two of those four quit jobs to do so. I would have been number five of that crew, was certainly willing to give up my originally planned summer job, but had a girlfriend at the time and thought it especially insane making THAT phone call, explaining why I was going to spend the next two months getting paid expenses to throw foreigners off their banana boats with the Aussies on Mylopotas Beach. I tried to convince her to come on over but…..yeah you gotta be here to experience that kind of insanity.

So, besides the four peeps who give it all up to stay here longer, get ready to have your head spun by a wild stat: I know three people who have landed on this island and at some point during their stay (usually early-on) realized that their current relationship is not what they hoped to be experiencing in life. This phenomenon is NOT, in my opinion, due to the fact that the tropical-infused atmosphere and inhibition-disregarding attractive summer inhabitants combine to make this a temptation island of sorts. I believe it is due to the concept that intense vacations often serve as self-examinations of your normal reality. Here, your reality is so altered that you cannot help but – in times of retrospection – examine your own day-to-day normal existence and measure whether or not it meets what you wanted to establish for yourself. Ok, so we’re entering mystical waters here but it is kind of like an out-of-body experience where you can kind of observe/evaluate how you’ve lived recently. ‘Minimizing the useless chatter of life’ is one of those frequently-quoted phrases cited when bringing up the advantages of intense travel, and I say for good reason. Intense doesn’t have to be 16 hours of plane rides away from home like this one, but it does have to minimize your normal attention-grabbing devices which dominate your usual reality. There is no email at this ‘hotel’, nor could I just walk down the street to reach one. It is a 12 euro cab ride or a 30 minute bus ride to find an internet café. However, you CAN walk down the street around midnight, pass by all three restaurants (all open-air) in this town and hear the entirely happy folks contently conversing in many languages accentuated by zero TVs or computers. When you can sit here on the rooftop of Pansion Carlos, looking up at 1,000 more stars that used to be obscured by the effects of Los Angeles by-products, rock out on whatever music allows for heightened awareness, AND because of your vantage point look out upon nearly the entire island and point out the other scattered towns, You’d be surprised at what epitomes surface. I told you this blog would have some ‘Lost’ references, eh? An island with magical powers. Don’t think I don’t recognize the irony involved in the fact that I had to find an internet café to post this…

the sweet sounds...

...of Greek. here are a few of the cool words that are bouncin around on the first day across the pond. My friend Courtney is gonna die when she sees this place tomorrow.
"PAme eLA!" -- "get over here (punk)!" -- said frequently by grandmothers to misbehavin children
"orEa" -- "sweet" as in, --"did you have a good flight?" --"yes." --"orEa!" also works with "orea zoi"= "the sweet life". just sigh and say orea zoi frequently and you'll fit in fine.
"poli" = "very much". "parapoli" - "very very very very much." as in, thank you very very much for saving my life. pretty darn thankful. Heard today when a good samaritan pulled a woman out of the way of an incoming Greek van traveling near light speed. Use this phrase sparingly for necessary oomph.
The island of Santorini is going through some amazing changes; first, obviously the secret is out about this place, it keeps getting more crowded every year. Not to the point of annoyance, but definitely to the point of this-aint-our-own-lil-corner-of-the-world anymore. There might actually be a LINE to get into particular nightspots now, the horror! Also, the additional peeps are resulting in more notorious accidents, I think just because of the increasing likelihood for newsworthy stuff comin out of here. About a year ago the aging roof at the archaeological site collapsed (probably beacuse of the massive crowds descending on the 'Pompeii of the Aegean'), causing several casualties. Then a couple months ago most peeps saw on tv the cruise ship sinking just off the port here after running aground. The Greek family I stay with here says there are "400 million liters of petrol" spilling out of that thing on the ocean floor right now. The family takes special humor recounting the media story that "every duck on Santorini's beaches was covered in oil", because in their 30 years of living here they have only seen two ducks period on all their beaches.
The variety of western music heard in the airport today in Greece:
g.l.a.m.o.r.o.u.s. - Fergie
what a feelin - Irene Cara
wouldn't it be nice - Beach Boys
achy breaky heart - Billy Ray C

vivamus atque amemus -- Catullus

Ah, the perils of starting a blog. One, there is a basic implicit presumption that you feel you have something worth saying, or being read by others. Well, those are just the naysayers, the “energy-suckers” (thanks E.A. for defining that years ago), those smiling skeptically with one arched eyebrow. Well who cares! It will be fun to look back one day and marvel at the lack of wisdom I sure will permeate this blog. Plus, it’s just good, damn clean fun. Props to Jonah and Dr. L (‘a friend of a friend’) for providing inspiration.

There is also the danger that a blog about spending the summer abroad in nautical pursuits will turn into haughty-taughty “woe is me they only had Heineken light on Ios” sort of dribble. The fact that my full name sounds exceedingly preppy certainly brings me one more step closer to that eventual outcome of the blog. “Buffy, warm up the catamaran, we’re late for the sunset cruise around the volcano!” Hopefully I can capture a few of the memorable images of current life in the nooks of the world I will be inhabiting, and thus perhaps give that final nudge to a bunch of my cohorts who are thisclose to pulling the trigger on getting their momentum-lacking selves over there. I know, I know, it ain’t easy to get there, but it is damn easy to live cheaply and perfectly happily. Pause, and read those final two words again. I tell ya, easy. Pick up a copy of Ralph Potts’ VAGABONDING, or just ask anyone who has dropped everything to separate themselves from their current reliable, semi-predictable existence; find out if any have regretted it. I am seriously still looking for that person who says that they shouldn’t have taken that leap of faith, that they shouldn’t have stretched their moolah a little thin on that crazy monster plane ticket, so that my data will be mildly more interesting and reputable, but I haven’t found one. Also check out the book HONEYMOON WITH MY BROTHER; a bit self-indulgent message in that book, but the basic idea is clear: get going. Pop in a “Café Del Mar” CD near a body of water and you’ll start to get the drift about what life is like in these places in summer, for just about everyone; seriously. (a lot of these random references will be fully revealed later on – I’m feeling some ‘Lost’ influences on the blog here) I envision posting about the demeanor of interesting people I will encounter, e.g. Greek island bus drivers, among whom I would happily spend many days with if my fluency was at all a reality and of course if they’d let “Emriki” (Americans) hang with them. Probably not, I ain’t cool enough. If anything, by the end of the summer let’s just hope peeps don’t have many “listen, buddy, what the **** is the point of your story?” moments. At least if that comment is posted I can sit back, flash an omniscient e-wink at the movie reference, and laugh at the concept of a blog at all. Got the idea?

begin summer 2007

first, strangers in a Greek land: http://www.santorini.net/108.html
then 64 high schoolers in Italy: http://www.calza.it/en/index.htm
then the summer of my Greek taverna. www.iospartyisland.com
stay tuned.