The Not So Lonely Planet: Best of the Rest: The Greek Island Odyssey

Dedicated to N. the ever kind, considerate and easy going travel buddy. Much love xx

The unofficial guide to the Cyclades Islands

Eaten: Too many gyros.
Drunk: Icy cold frappes - it's how iced coffees should be made - a short of espresso, sweetened with condense milk and then topped with ice cold water and ice. Love it.

On a bit of a side note, I've recently been making references to "Putters" and "Leavers". As Jon Richardson aptly described, You’re either someone who, if you’re asked where your keys are, you’ll say, “They’re where I put them”, in which case, you’re a good human. Or you’ll say, “They’re where I left them”, in which case, you will die of dysentery.

Mykonos

If Disney's trade marked itself as "the happiest place on earth", this island would be trade marked as "the gayest place on earth". While the Greek flag is a swash of white and blue, Mykonos' unofficial flag is a kaleidoscope of colours of the rainbow. If you ever need to take revenge on a heterosexual guy, take him here and watch him squirm and make the usual, predictable homophoic comments. ("Ugh. This place is gay.") The bodies are tanned and rock hard, and more often than not, covered with very little clothing. Coming to Mykonos is like going to a Chipendale reunion - it's an island with a high concentrate of chiseled bodies in tank tops and short shorts, gay couples holding hands, canoodling, kissing and riding scooters together. Mykonos is a rich gay man's playground - it is here you can buy Chanel, Armani and Gucci - (a large proportion of the boutiques are for men - N.in a blonde moment asked why there were so many clothing stores to men,) drink Moet at 95 euros a pop, and party from dusk til dawn.

Long gone are the carts, donkeys and the little old Greek ladies driving them, as N. reminisced with an old friend.

I head out with N. (out from semi-retirement) on Saturday night for a few drinks at the Skandinavian bar. The bar staff are hot in different ways to suit all tastes and types. The head bartender is an older guy who reminds me of the Greek version of Bryan Brown from his Cocktail days. There's also a younger Greek boy, but I have to say that my preference is the one who looks like a younger version of Mark Walhburg. If last year's party anthem (cira Croatian island hopping,) was all about Black Eyed Pea's "I've Gotta Feeling", the Greek Islands' all about Kesha's "Tik Tok".

The beaches deserve a separate paragraph. We head to one beach called Super Paradise on one of our days there. Sounds super gay? Because it is. Happy campy dance tracks are blasted from the decks in the late afternoon until the early hours of the morning. Expect to hear the likes of C&C Factory and Kylie. On another day, we head to another beach, this time called Elia, which is the longest sandy bench, and most definitely the most expensive and the gayest. We accidentally sit on the wrong side of the beach - (N.: I think we're the only women here,") but cannot be bothered to move. Nudity appears to be more commonplace compared to some of the other beaches. There are way too many guys in their birthday suits lounging around on sun decks. Too late - We've already paid for our sun decks - the two deck chairs and umbrella cost us 16 euros for the lot. Our coffee frappe and OJ sets us back another 13 euros. N. spies a gay German guy doing the gay hand thing while stark naked in the water saying, "Ja, ja, ja," in a high pitched girly voice. Naturally, on the gayest place on earth, in the gayest part of the town, I end up attracting the only non-gay sleaze in the village. The man attempts to grab my hand and says, "Can you kiss me? Come back to my hotel and we can have sex." It is like the polar opposite version of Little Britain. I have to make a wild dash back onto the last ferry back into the main town.

Little Venice is extremely beautiful. Everybody should have a Bourne Identity moment in their life.

We meet some boys on our last morning at the beach prior to catching the ferry to Paros. They're in their early twenties from Albania, and are working on the island for the summer. They're main priority is obviously to pick up girls. They ask both N. and I whether we're "together".

"No," I reply. "But aren't you guys on the wrong island? Shouldn't you be on Ios?"

Turns out they didn't do their research.
Classic leavers.

N. & I spend the morning arguing which of us would be the "girl" and the "guy". It's a tough call. I'm the one with the shorter hair, but I'm also the smaller one of the two. The boys pipe up with their own opinion; they decide that it is me who would (hypothetically) be in the masculine one because of my hair cut. Geez, thanks.

On a side note, the Greek boys are also buffed, and all (unfortunately) remind me of Peter Andre.

Paros

Island hopping from Mykonos to Paros is like moving from a club playing happy hardcore to a silent sound proofed room. Exit flamboyant Priscilla Queen of the Desert Show Girls and enter Italian families with kids.

We take a boat out to Martselo beach where the sand is very white and the water is clear. We get two deck chairs and an umbrella for 7 Euros - bargain!

N. wakes up the next morning feeling NQR. She thinks it's probably a cold and decides to have a low key day and hang by the hotel pool. I head off to catch the ferry to Kolymbithres beach where I chummy up with a Canadian girl.

The beaches of the Kolymbithres are a group of little inlets. The water is calm and therefore a magnet for many families with young children. I don't spy any toilets around, so I start to wonder where all these small children are peeing. We have to venture further away (read: precariously wade through water with expensive electronic devices ie: my ipod touch,) to get away from the children. It is hot. Under my 6 euro umbrella and lathering spf sunscreen (dubiously marked as spf 50+), I think I almost get burnt.

We end the day at Naoussa, which has been described in the guide books as a "quaint little fishing village". Quaint it is not - the place has a surprisingly trendy and distinct boutiquey feel about it. I'm not sure where they have hidden the old ladies and their donkeys. We stumble across a beautiful jewelry store with really unique pieces made by a local girl. How I wish I had brought my credit card. Maybe next time.....

The rhetorical question of the day: Time to get Tango-ed..... Would you really want to use a product that has such strong associations with a carrot? Atlhough, in the land of England, that appears to be the norm for most women....

Naxos - the Land of the Beautiful
N. wakes up the following day feeling worse than before. We end up making an impromptu visit to the make shift looking emergency department at the small hospital in Paros just hours before our ferry trip to Naxos. N.'s consultation with the doctor consists of charades and the end result is an injection of some kind - likely to help with her nausea, I'm guessing. Combine nausea, the ferry ride and the heat, N. is understandably teary by the time we dock in Naxos. She wants to go home but with no direct flights out of the island, the staff at Hotel Grotta suggest bed rest and kindly help N. order food and give her some ice cold bottles of water. With N. comfortably lying in bed, I head off to explore the island.

Naxos is a charming seaport and it has a slightly more rustic fishing village feel compared to Paros.

Its most distinctive feature is the Temple of Apollo which serves as a majestic backdrop in the deep blue sea.

It's so distinctive that if you were blindfolded and plonked right in the middle of the island, you'd immediately realise where you were if you took one look out to sea.

The first stop of my stay - the beach of course; this one called Agia Anna. I take the bus that leaves from the port and find a boy sitting in the driver's seat. He looks far too young (probably around 14,) to be driving a bus. I nervously allow him to validate my ticket (1.40 euros one way,) which basically means my ticket is torn in two. My fears are alleviated shortly as middle aged man (whom I assume to be his dad,) arrives soon after to take the driver's seat.

After an afternoon at the beach, I head back to the hotel to check on N. There I meet the hotel owner's daughter. I take one look into her sky blue eyes and I am in awe; she's one of the most attractive girls I've ever seen. If we were in the deep south of America rather than in the Greek Islands, I imagine that stereotypical scene of the red neck farmer taking to a shot gun at guests playing out regularly. Anyway, I am in love :p

(Above: Hotel Grotta)

I chat to the daughter about where I'm thinking about having dinner and mention that I'm thinking of checking out the Tex mex place in town that has received rave reviews.

"Oh, Picasso's," the daughter enthuses. "It's really good."

So this is where I end up - twice.

One of the most unexpected things I've found when travelling has been discovering great Tex Mex restaurants in places I'd least expect to see them - the first was in the Cech Republic and now Naxos.

For some reason, the warm weather has me craving a frozen margartia to help wash down a dinner of tacos. Unusual, given the fact that I feel like vomiting every time I smell a whiff of tequila after an ah hem, incident some 8 years ago.

The next day, N. is still not feeling well and is getting bored of Greek TV. She tells me that thinks she saw something that looked like Come Dine with Me (but the Greek version) on the tellie yesterday. I buy her a couple of books in English (at a premium price,) and then head off to Plaka where the sand runs powder white alongside the turquoise sea for another day at the beach.

In the evening, N.'s still not feeling well so I head out to have a wander around town.

I get a little disoriented whilst wandering through the little alleyways. I end up stopping at a pharmacy to ask for directions. The lady at the counter is beautiful with long soft curls and liquid brown eyes. Think, a much better Greek looking version of Andie MacDowell. There are quite a number of few extremely attractive women on the island; it must be something in the water I assume. Ironically, the lady tells me that she thinks that I'm beautiful just when I'm murmuring about how beautiful I think she is.

The following morning, it's time to pack up and head to Santorini. Poor N. is still not feeling well. The staff at Hotel Grotta tell her to come back another time and that she can stay for free. Everybody at the hotel has been so nice and incredibly kind, that I wouldn't hesitate to stay there again.

Final thoughts on Naxos:
Test out your skills of love on the love machine. (Coincidentally a bargain at only 1 euro!)

I find pasta sauce with ouzo - definitely the best Greek Island gift purchase!

Santorini - Part II

(Above: Chillaxing on Perissa Beach)

Over in "The Continent", Santorini is considered the ultimate romantic islandget away. With weddings and honeymooners aplenty, it would have run the risk of being in my "Places to Avoid" list (think Koh Samui,) had it not been for the magnificent sunsets over the sea and the island's natural "infinity views" with the dramatic drop of the caldera. To be honest, you'd have to be foolish to come here for your honeymoon if you're after any kind of special treatment. It's like that Simpson's episode where they go to New Year's Eve land in Itchy & Scratchy land where it's New Year's Eve all the time - mention you've just got engaged or married and the Santorinians don't even blink an eye and then go, "Oh, okay." (Kinda like me, actually :p). We met a Perth honeymooning couple on our way back to London who found this out the hard way.

N. is feeling optimistic on the ferry to Santorini and feels that she may be up for lying under an umbrella by Perissa beach. The coach ride from the port to the hotel and the blazing sun starts to make her feel sick again and by the time we reach the hotel, N. has had enough. She decides to book a flight to fly out the following day and then goes down to the hotel reception to enquire about booking a taxi to the airport. The owner of the hotel is particularly unhelpful and not very nice. It's fine if you cannot speak English, but to not even attempt to try and communicate with hotel guests is just plain rude. (For those of you thinking of staying at Hotel Amaryllis, I suggest that you stay clear.) Luckily the cleaner (a lady from Slovakia,) ended up giving her a hand after noticing N.'s attempt to get blood out of stone, otherwise known as the rude hotel owner.

N. plans to leave the following day in the afternoon and as how things always turn out, she miraculously feels better the next day, ditches her flight and decides to stay.

Hooray! :)

(Below: Tomato Keftedes - the Santorinians' answer to Fried Green Tomatoes)

The island is still just as beautiful as I remember it to be when I first came here the first time around.

(Above: Outside the Mati Gallery)

The big highlight is watching the sun set over the water. Even better was the chance to create better memories (sunset v.0.2) that didn't involve looking-out-in-the-ocean-and-then-having-your-friend-yell-at-you-about-how-she-should-be-here-with-a-boyfriend-but-doesn't-have-one-so-why-is-she-here-with-you-oh-woe-is-me. As much as love the girl in question, I'm sorry, but that was so not cool. Why is it that there are so many women out there whose self esteem revolves around having a guy? I so don't understand.