Trip Start Apr 12, 2006
Trip End Ongoing

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Flag of Greece  ,
Wednesday, May 31, 2006

I saw Brooks off at the ferry port this morning at 10.45am. Sitting on a white town ledge, inhaling a solo Gyros, i pondered my fresh situation, alone, solo, buzzing with a new sense of freedom and unknown possibility. I too boarded my own ferry at Midday, a quick leg North to the very happy and ultra-naked island mecca of Mykonos, which would be the steeping stone to the island of Samos, the gateway to Turkey. The fast ferry was a speedy journey, made even speedier by viewing the Greek take on 'Australian Idol', the very tacky and highly bizarre 'Fame Story', an amateur fusion of 'Idol' and 'Big Brother', but with very average, wery well endowed singers, and judges that made Dicko and Holden look like totally civilised and savoury characters.

On first impression, Mykonos looked shimmering, classy and clean, its main port town area lined with middle aged US and British travellers, dining out on big budgets on cafe chairs facing out onto the waterline. So far, no signs of nudism or gaydom. For that sort of raciness, you had to get a bus to the infamous 'Paradise Beach', where nudity runs free, otherwise to 'Super Paradise Beach' if you fancy a healthy dose of rampant homosexuality in the sun. Well, it turned out that Paradise Beach was a bit of a let down, a nice enough beach and all, but i guess i just come from the school of fish that just doesn't dig a beach full of banana lounges, umbrellas and seedy blokes with schlongs 'a flailin', slowly roasting in the Mykonos sun. Not cool. Despite it being off-season, it was a little crowded, it seemed to be frequented by a preponderance of deadshits, and once the high decibel techno started pumping out of five different beachside clubs simultaneously, i felt it was high time to head back into town with the old people. I dunno, some people might really get into Paradise Beach, but the whole 'Real Cancun', 'lets all dance to repetitive, mind destroying noise pollution' vibe is lost on a beer swilling rocker like myself. And lets face it, the only thing worse than an array of blokes in budgie smugglers is an army of blokes with their budgies on the loose.

Sardined in a squeaky-braked old bus back to town, it occurred to me that I'd need to kill some serious time before the 11pm ferry to Samos. It was only 4.30.....time for Gyros. Actually, before the gyros, i hit up a bayside cafe for a face-rippingly muddy Greek coffee, and let my muse run free with pen poised, as a cruise liner docked slowly into the main port, and the arvo san began to dance over the water of the bay. I kept the writing spirit up on the adjacent beach and absorbed the last of the days' sun.

Myknonos may be attractive in the daytime, but at dusk and nightfall, its fairly magical, its array of white building lit up, its cosy stone lanes illuminated and bustling, it exudes and feeling of warmth and class without coming across as overly touristy. With a Gyros in one hand and a can of 'Amstel' in the other, i sat along the pier and watched at the sun began to hide behind the enormous cruise liner in the foreground, turning the sky into a calming easel of pink. I sat, watched, and listened to Aussie Crawl on the I-Pod, as old Greek ladies gossipped and a fisherman and his son pulled in a fresh catch. At that precise moment i felt a distinct feeling of independence and pride in the fact that i was now on my own, left to my own vices on a foreign continent, so far from home. The last 7 weeks flickered past my mind like a montage of super-spped, action reply, through split-second scenes of the countless moments of the oddyssey, and how different i now felt, how my perspective had accelerated and grown massively. And to think that this was all the beginning. The warm up.

With hours still to be killed, and with a typically abyss-like appetite, i put the challenge upon myself to go for glory, to rise to the occasion on my last day in Greece, and eat a record 5 Gyros for the day. We would later calculate that between the three of us, Brooks, Rev and myself consumed 64 Gryos souvlakis in 8 Greek days, a fair effort i think you'd agree. In a vague attempt to shed to new roll of fat i'd just desposited on my belly, i walked to the port 2km up the road, before jumping on the 11.10pm ferry to Samos. Once again acquainted with the ferry floor, i unravelled my sleeping bag and though about the wild adventures that awaited me in Turkey, as well as why i ate that last Gyros.
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