In Greece they have Good Captains

Why the hell am I always hungover in Athens?

I know you're thinking to yourself, "Probably because you drink too much, you GD lush!", but the reality is that on this trip I have only been hungover twice.

Both times in noisy, dirty, chaotic and VERY HOT Athens - my vote for worst city in the world to be hungover in.

Right now, I should be on top of the Acropolis snapping pictures in the midday heat, but the idea of sitting in a cool basement writing a blog entry seemed like a much better option. Go figure, right?

My last day of news is as follows:

Had a brilliant stroke of good luck when I got back to Parikía from Dryos where I was using the computer yesterday... turned down a random street and ended up right back at the rental place. No problems.

The guy at the rental place was trying to talk me into the idea of taking home a "Greek Souvenir". Little did I know the souvenir he had in mind was his 25 year old nephew Dimitri.

The guy wanted Dimitri to take me out for a drink before my ferry sailed, but since Dimitri spoke very limited English and wasn't really my type, I thanked him for his offer and headed to the middle of Parikía to sit on my backpack for a few hours instead.

Got on the ferry at 5 pm and set out towards Piraeus, with an extimated time of arrival of about 11:30 at night.

Mother Nature obviously had other ideas. About an hour off the shore of Paros, the winds started to kick up and waves started to crash into the side of the boat.

I continued reading my book, oblivious to the weather.

It wasn't until my book got ripped out of my hands and flew right into the back of a Greek guy's head in the row ahead of me that I chose to look around at the mayhem of scared looking tourists and swirling garbage.

The Greek brought my book back to me, introduced himself as Zaous and explained that the wind is completely natural going back to Piraeus, because we're travelling against the strong north wind.

Feeling better, but not sufficiently ok, I cracked my bottle of cheap Santorini wine, mixed it with some orange Fanta and settled in for a long ride.

Tried 7 times to land on the island of Tinos due to the almost gale force winds hitting us by that point, and we resigned ourselves to a very delayed landing in Piraeus.

Which bring me back to the title of this entry... the captain could have moored on the dock, but it would have knocked everyone not sitting in a secured seat on their hind ends. Since I was almost completely pissed by that point, I wish I could have thanked him for not doing that, since I probably would have been tossed overboard.

My Greek compadre explains all this to me, and I smile while thinking about the thoughtful ferryboat captain.

"In Greece they have good Captains", I smile dreamily.

Zaous just about wets himself, he's laughing so hard.

We finally land, drop some people, pick some people up and set sail for our final destination.. the mainland.

A voice comes on the loudspeaker, and Zaous strains to hear the words.

"They expect us to arrive in Athens at about 2, maybe 2:30", he says with a scowl.

"Oh well", I say, emptying the last of my cheap wine into my cup.

"Fuck It", Zaous says to me. "Do you ever use that phrase in Canada?"

"Hell yes", I say, "I think we might have invented it.

He goes downstairs and comes back with 2 of the small bottles of wine that they sell on ferries, and a few glasses.

We talk a cute little gay Greek into joining us, and we all proceed to get tanked and have the best conversation that 3 total strangers can have on a boat in the middle of the Aegean.

We arrived in Piraeus at 2:30, and Zaous says goodbye, as does Ioannis, the little gay Greek.

I stumble out with the enormous backpack from hell and realize.. I don't have a fucking clue where I'm going.

It's nearing 3 in the morning, and I have a hostel booked in Monasteraki, the name and address of which I cannot recall, and the metro lines are all closed. Shit.

So I cried for a bit because, hey, it's really scary being in a foreign country with no idea of where to go, and this young scruffy looking guy wanders over and asks me in broken English if I'm ok.

I pour my heart out to him, and he mentions something about going to a Starbucks.

In retrospect, I realize he was probably homeless and he was probably telling me we could go SLEEP outside the Starbucks, but lacking for a better plan, I followed him until I hear someone calling my name.

Zaous is standing on the side of the road looking completely confused to see this drunken Canadian wandering along having an involving conversation with a bum, so he wanders over, leads me gently back to the car where his wife is waiting, and they drive me to my hostel. I can't even explain how we found it except that I recalled a few landmarks mentioned in the directions from when I booked it, and I have a horseshoe up my ass.

Got stuck in the lift and the Aussie receptionist at the hostel had to rescue me, so I'm happy I've made a good impression on him at least.

Passed out and that brings me to the present.

I love the Greeks.