New Year’s Day began quietly with a gentle awakening in our rented apartment, and a lazy morning. Eventually, we headed out for a walk around the nearby cemetery… I know, sounds gloomy, but it wasn’t. We were able to see monuments to Melina Mercouri and other notable figures from Greek history, and enjoyed a quiet, pleasant walk in the sunshine. I was beginning to feel a little odd at this point, so favoured a couple of hours back at the apartment with cups of tea before we set off again towards the mall.
The bus didn’t arrive, so we flagged a taxi, or ‘apped’ a taxi, I guess, as we called one on an app, and this chap drove us at Grand Theft Auto speed to the mall some five miles and 30 seconds away. There, we did some hanging out, watched the sun set over the coast, had fast food, and went to the cinema to see Wonka. I only fell asleep once, and managed not to cough and splutter over people, but, to be frank, was happy to get home where, later, I spent the night wet, sweating, cold, too hot, and generally not feeling tip top.
I should have mentioned that on the way home we took the metro to Syntagma to view the lights… yeah, yeah, very nice, but I want my Ovaltine, before walking the short distance home to our creaky apartment with its excellent view of the main road – excellent for the car spotter among us, that is.
Athens trip, day two. What didn’t we do? The day started with a hair appointment. Unlike when I cut my hair with a pair of clippers and little enthusiasm, and unlike a trip to a local barber or even one on Rhodes, this was something of a state occasion. Planned, booked, and looked forward to, I’d recommended a barber we’d used in the past just of Syntagma Square. Traditional, very well kitted out, and professional, I knew they did the full service from ears to nose to shaves to haircuts, although those extras weren’t needed on this occasion, and nor was the ‘Something for the weekend, Sir?’ that only British men of a certain age will understand. Even the floor tiles are interesting at Sir Barber.
I stayed with H while the others wandered, and was treated to a strong Greek coffee – my first in many years – while himself had his hair washed and discussed, books were brought in and browsed, deep deliberations were held, and finally there was some in-the-chair action with clippers and scissors, combs and much theatre. Another wash, some more business, and then some product analysis, and 45 minutes later, there was a beaming teen, totally made up and having had his first trad barber experience. I, by this time, was bouncing along on a large shot of caffeine and the sniff of ammonia thioglycolate fumes, and off we strode to meet the others at Panepistimio. Strode, note. We’d been to a gentleman’s barbers and left there like the Johny Walker Whisky man, all strut and confidence (and caffeine).
Once we’d rendezvoused with the others, we strode on to find the Nakas Music Store where I could have spent the rest of the day. Talk about choice. All I wanted was some more piano music to play, but… what? I bought a book that will be useful for our piano lessons and thought I’d come back another day for a longer, solo browse. A treat that was to be denied me, as it turned out. That done, we then headed to Old Man’s Paradise #3, the model shop. I don’t mean Smantha Fox type models, but kits and paints, and the smell of both, and middle-aged men with their sons and godsons oohing over undercoats and Humbrol, marvelling at fake grass and plastic parts, and trying to avoid saying things like ‘In my day…’ We have two kits to build, you see. A Cutty Sark for me (Airfix), and a Toyota of some modern sort for the teen, but like the barber, it’s something of a first, so we needed the right paints and brushes, tweezers and cutters and… Eighty Euros later and off we toddle to the real event of the day, the shopping mall.
Panepistimio
A quick aside here. We’d bought travel cards so we didn’t have to worry about a) paying each time we took the metro or bus, or b) being fined for not stamping the tickets. (Not mentioning any names.) Five days of unlimited public transport travel for €8.20 (except the airport connection), and, it’s an old-fashioned paper card so there’s no need to top up this-and-that or breed oysters or whatever. Easy, efficient, and very cheap. So, metro to the Mall to enter a world of OMG. Obviously, Mother went off to do leisurely lady shopping while we boys did expert boy shopping: two t-shirts, a quick look at some tech, then a sit down with three plates of noodles and beer. Done. What’s next?
While there, we booked tickets for Wonka on New Year’s Day, and then, as Neil’s treat, strode next door (the haircut empowerment was still in full swing) to go ten-pin bowling. That did little for my back, but was great fun, even though they put my name up on the board as Topy, and with the Greek Ro (r) looking like a Latin P it was, in effect, Tory, but the good-news omen here is that I lost.
That match was followed by a pool competition which, playing as myself and without political affiliation, I won, and then it was off home to put our feet up and admire the hairdo. Again. The coffee had just about worn off by the time I sat down for half a pizza, looking forward to the following day, which would be New Year’s Eve, and I’ll tell you about that tomorrow.
We’re setting off to Athens today, except online in story world, not in the real world, because we’ve already done that, and here are some photos to prove it. But… ten days ago, we set off for our New Year adventure, and it started, as all good stories do, with a boat. (A train works better, but we don’t have one of those.)
The ferry was at a reasonable time of the morning, and the walk from Akandia to Mandraki was a pleasant one, especially as Neil took my luggage because I’d put my back out. We had time to kill which we were going to do at Mandraki with breakfast, but the plans started to go awry when H discovered he’d dragged his case through dog sh*t. Hell hath no fury like a hormonal teen, Shakespeare once didn’t write, but let’s just say there was great consternation and gnashing of teeth, beating of the breast and entreating to the great God of WhyMe? With the end of the world upon us, the goddads slipped away to find breakfast and a remedy for this early-morning teenage angst, returning a little while later with food, water, half the supply of papers from the public toilets, and a new toothbrush. The luggage cleansing was a success, and the universe was put back on an even keel.
Off to the airport.
Using Rhodes Airport in winter is almost a pleasurable experience. Being fair, it’s a very easy experience, and as we’re only ever flying within the country, it’s quick and quiet. I remember being there in the summer one year, escorting a couple of family members to their check in, and witnessing the horror of queues of passengers snaking through the concourse, outside, and along the path a mile or so. Not having this, I thought. So, I left my party in the queue just in case, and investigated what was happening at the desks. There, I discovered that a new check in had opened, and only a few people were being herded there by their rep. I was wearing Chino shorts, a white shirt, and had a travel bag slung over my shoulder, so I popped forward and acted the ‘organised, in a hurry, and keen to get my business done’ holiday rep act, in Greek, saying: ‘Sorry, mate, but are you checking in for the Exeter flight? (Or whatever it was.) Answer: brusque but affirmative. So, head down, checking a random sheet of paper and looking professionally flustered, I hurried back to my party and nearing them, called their names while still checking the paper, and signalled them to ‘Follow me… Quickly now.’ Reaching the front of the long queue and the back of the very short one beside it, I projected, ‘They’ll check you in here, and I’ll meet you on the other side,’ and left them to it while I stood a few feet away, attending to a vital text message from head office. Upshot: my party were checked in within minutes, and all was well.
Anyway… There were no queues when we reached Rhodes airport for our flight to Athens. In the winter, with the sun shining, it’s a pleasant place to be. We’d taken the bus there for €2.50 each rather than a taxi for €30.00 or whatever it is now, and had plenty of time to check in (no queue) and hang around upstairs after exploring the shops without the crowds.
I always like it when you can walk across the tarmac to the plane; it feels like you’re trusted and everything is homely, but in this case, it was a bus ride as the plane was up the other end (a technical expression). It also took off the wrong way around, by which I mean, we set off in a direction I’d never taken off from before, so we got a different view of Symi before turning and taking the usual course. There were occasional breaks in the clouds to allow a view, but before you know it, you’re up, along and down again, arriving in Athens 45 minutes later. Quicker than taking the ferry from Symi to Rhodes.
Symi on the horizon to our left.Somewhere in the Cyclades, I think.
We had a Welcome Pickups driver waiting for us (highly recommended), who whisked us off into town and our apartment in a very comfortable car with Teen in the passenger seat examining the controls and no doubt imagining how he’ll be driving something similar in less than a year (yeah, right), and we landed safely ‘a few paces away from the Acropolis Museum,’ as the Airbnb blurb had said. It wasn’t that far from anywhere, actually, and came with lots of amusing quirks, like shower heads held on with masking tape (not even gaffer tape), and such like. It was handy for a decent supermarket, so we split up and shopped in pairs with one pair ringing up a total of €52.14 and the other, quite independently, ringing up one for €52.13 – how odd was that?
Shopping done, stored, unpacking done, blah blah, it was off to find food. (Teen must be fed every two hours or it does a gremlins thing and transforms into hormone monster.) Not far from our pad was a very nice Asian restaurant which did us well for dinner. It was opposite a Tibetan food place which I mean to call back to but never did. So much choice not enough time, and you will read in future instalments…
As Randy Quaid, playing Russell Casse in ‘Independence Day’, famously said, ‘Hello, boys. I’m back.’
He then went and crashed his aircraft into a spaceship and saved the world. I don’t intend to do anything quite so dramatic as I take up my typewriter and bash out my regular morning nonsense. On which note, lets get the AOB out of the way first: Happy New Year, Kali Xronia, and all that. As for the 1st of January, that was a ‘Kalo olla’ day as it was a first of the year (kali xronia), the first of the month (kalo mina), first of the week (kali evdomada), and so on, and that’s done with now, so lets start back at Christmas…
(Taken on Christmas Day morning.)
I don’t want to bore you with hundreds of shots of our Christmas and New Year, as they are mainly photos with us and the logical family in them, and there are only so many images of our godsons that mankind can take in one sitting, but over the next few days, I will pull out some choice pics, and throw them up here by way of a ‘things I did in my holidays’ essay from junior school. Since I last wrote, we have been away, flown to Athens and taken the boat back, and had a few adventures in between. You may have seen some on Facebook, but not everyone uses that millstone, hence, a few more pics and stories will appear here.
Shopping at the local madhouse on Christmas Eve.
Christmas followed our tradition of helping out at the boys’ house on Christmas Eve, peeling veg, with now trained chef Sam creating things in the kitchen, making stuffing with Neil, and everyone lending a hand. The reward was a game of Cards Against Humanity in the late afternoon, now the youngest is old enough (it was his idea), before a quiet night ahead of the storm which was Christmas Day. Not a real storm, the weather was very pleasant, and has been since. Except, I have been away and then, apparently, it wasn’t.
Still… Christmas family time continued and was followed by Boxing Day fun, feasting, cabaret and films. H did his first piano recital, we played some duets too, and he did me proud, playing three pieces from grades three, four and five (he’s only just started at the beginning of grade four).
It’s so rewarding after 20 and 16 years of waiting, one can finally share certain films and humour with one’s godboys. We made them watch Monty Python’s Meaning of Life. (Inserts evil, sniggering emoji.) I mean, it’s a film that covers all important aspects of growing up from contraception and the Catholic Church, to sex education, middle age to death, and all with catchy songs and silly sketches, people having their insides pulled out, and fat men vomiting. What more could you want as a teen? When we later asked H (now 16) for his opinion of the film, his verdict was ‘Disturbing.’ But it was said in that tongue-in-cheek way he has, and we don’t think he will be scarred for long.
Duetting with my star pupil.
Anyway, that’s all done and dusted now, and not what this week’s set of blog posts was to be about. That’s just getting the Christmas stuffing out of the way so I can get on with the business of Athens, and our trip, and that adventure will start tomorrow. As for the rest of today, we are back to piano lessons (grade 4 proper starts today), the schools are back, everything is returning to winter normal, and we’ve almost finished the post-holiday washing and tidying. What’s still to do is model making, but more about that another time. Then there’s the book writing and publicity and, like everyone one else, somehow, making some money to keep us going through the winter. Stay tuned…
I’m just leaving this here as a surprise for anyone who stumbles upon Symi Dream on Christmas Day. Here are six images, one from each Christmas over the last six years. Yeah, I know, they’re not great, but they are all I have. Most of my photos are of us and our family, and I like to keep those moments private (and so might the others).
Anyway, here’s wishing you a peaceful Christmas and New Year. Ours will be anything but what with a day with the family, then a day with them coming to us, then, two days later, all of us off to Athens for New Year like ‘Five go Mad in Attica’ or something. More likely to be ‘Carry On Up The Acropolis’ but good fun will be had by all. We have a day each to plan which, so far, includes my day (‘Into the Woods’ sung in Greek at the National Theatre), Jenine’s day (The Nutcracker at the Opera House), Neil’s Day (rock climbing and other dangerous activities), and Harry’s Day which will be 100% shopping at the Mall, going to the cinema, and doing all those other teen things you can’t do on Symi.
