Leading up to Travel....

Leading up to leaving for I was already travel-weary from a trip to Pittsburgh. I spent the evening resting with Tracy, wrapped up in affection. I felt so grateful to have found her and to share such deep love with her. At 3 am I packed, and was ready to pick up

Roger at 6 am. We got a ride from my dad, who managed to tell Roger his life story on the way to Harrisburg. My dad followed a parking lot cleaner around the parking lot of Harrisburg Mall, trying to ask where the bus picks people up. The only problem is, a street cleaner has his head out the window looking at the curb. So dad circled the parking lot a couple of times and actually stopped the car and jumped out in front of the cleaner's path in order to ask for directions. I had already told my dad I knew the approximate pick up spot, but he wanted to make sure. Well, Dad found the exact spot and we were happy about it. The Megabus picked us up and took us to DC. I edited photos and requested couches in Europe on the way using bus wifi.

When we arrived in DC we got lunch in Union station and took the metro to Reagan airport. Then we flew to JFK and had an excruciating layover. Roger and I were in good spirits. We killed time by people- watching. I saw celebrity look-alikes like Bill Gates (every middle- aged white guy with glasses), Tony Hawk (every 40 year old white male with street style and longish hair) and a woman that looked exactly the way Michael Jackson wished he looked. She had a fedora and everything. We flew many long hours to Madrid. Roger and I partially slept. I listened to Rachmaninoff on repeat. Once we arrived in

Madrid, we had little time to spare to get to the new terminal. So

Roger and I ran 2 miles with heavy luggage up and down escalators, through security, and arrived at the gate with a few minutes to spare.

We were both looking and feeling very haggard at this point. Roger was experiencing mild neurological problems and I felt like I came down with the flu. We flew to Athens and arrived grateful that the

20 hours of travel were over. I immediately paid 9 dollars for a

Watered-down smoothie. I was slightly tricked by the cashier on that one because of exchange rate stuff she did in her head. When we walked outside, the weather was warm with a cool breeze. Roger and I got metro tickets and I walked down the escalator, then realized I was on the wrong side of the track. I was only 3 steps down the escalator, so I figured I would walk back up fast and take the other one down.

Apparently it is impossible to out-walk UP a DOWN escalator. I was like a hamster on a wheel, walking as fast as I could. I fell down and skinned by knee badly and fully expected to be eaten by the escalator. Luckily I didn't. Roger laughed at me, I laughed at me, suprisingly greek bystanders did not. We took the long metro ride to

Syntagma Square. On the way, we looked at semi -barren landscapes with many billboards that were all blank! The people in the metro seemed sad. I wondered if it was because of the Greek economy or if all people in metros are sad. Roger was sandwiched by two attractive women and he looked beside himself. When we exited the metro and surfaced to Athens for the first time, we were struck with the sight of a burn victim who was also a parapalegic. It was one of the most gruesome images I have ever beheld. He was shaking uncontrollably and begging. Roger and I wondered where the hell we were and why we were there. It was at that moment we knew we weren't in Kansas anymore and that we had better find out the rules of lawlessness. We walked around trying to find the street that our hostel was on. Our directions were screwy and all the roads meander about. We stopped a Greek woman who was talking to a friend and asked for help. Surprisingly, despite us interrupting her, she graciously gave us directions with a smile. Then she realized we weren't talking about a cafeteria by the same name as the hostel. So she and a hotel concierge worked together to figure it out. The large, tan, yellow-toothed, smiling hotel concierge gave us directions and we were more than grateful. We headed down the street remarking on our observations of Greek culture, trying to figure out if they were sad, nice, both, or something else. When we got to the hostel a shy Indian immigrant checked us in. We got to our barren room, much like every other private hostel room in the world. We both wanted to do two things: sleep AND explore. Since it is impossible to do both, we decided to shower and then explore a bit. We walked down the street to a nice outdoor cafe. We sat down and drank beer, and ate crepes. The waitress was SUPER nice. We were loving Greece, soaking in our experience at the cafe on cobblestone, looking up at an ancient fortress on the hill. Lonely dogs wondered by. Oh... the dogs. Good God...the dogs. They were EVERYWHERE. They all had collars. They knew when to cross the street most of the time. No one paid them any mind. They were of every breed. They were small, large, medium, lazy and sad. They limped, hobbled, sulked, sauntered, and hopped along. They seemed like handicap assistant dogs without any handicapped people to help. It was as if the city of Athens wanted to find out what domesticated dogs would do in an urban environment if they were left to their own devices. It was a hard pill to swallow, with all the beliefs I have about how people should treat animals. I could not understand why the city had let this happen. They must be starving! (none of them looked starving). They don't have enough love! (on average one dog probably gets pet by citizens of 10 different countries a day) They get hit by cars! (yes it seemed many of them in fact were hit by cars). This business of letting dogs go wild rubbed me the wrong way. This city was upside down. I knew that if they could nip this dog problem in the bud, then the debt crisis would be soon after. More on the dogs later, as this was my primary preoccupation in Athens. Roger and I went to sleep and woke up 9 hours later. Roger wanted to go out and explore even though he wasn't feeling top-notch. I wanted to rest in an undisturbed tomb for 3 thousand more years. I felt like I had the worst hang over of a lifetime but I had not drunk the night before. I was extremely dehydrated. My brain was not processing things very fast. After some labored thinking I arrived at the idea of booking the hostel another night so we could sleep all day. It was decided.

Roger's enthusiasm to explore turned into an all-day sleep affair.

We slept and slept and slept until we had slept a total of 15 hours.

At 3pm we got up and hit the streets with camera in hand. We had no idea where we were going. We walked uphill on perfectly clean cobblestone toward the fortress. There were accordion players and nut vendors. It was frick’n charming. We entered a natural path to the fortress. We were surrounded by a canopy of plant life as we walked up the old stone steps. We were surprised at the grandeur of the building. We walked up to two Greek people and asked them what the building was. They didn't seem to know much English...they told us it was a theatre and to the right were "ancient things". The rest of our trip Roger and I referred to everything slightly cultural and historic as "ancient things”. Example: Roger: “Sean! I don't think we have enough time to do Athens justice, we haven't even seen half the ancient things”. Sean: “Roger, we've seen ancient things, look there's the Acropolis.” Roger: “We haven't even been inside the fence.”

Sean: “We could go inside the fence. Do you want to go inside the

Fence?” Roger: “No, it’s closed. All the ancient things are closed by

3pm. And we don't even know where most of the ancient things are!”

Well, we ended up seeing plenty of ancient things, as if you could even avoid them! We walked higher up the hill around the ancient theatre to a lookout point. There were seven dogs laying down on the marble. One of them growled at everyone that passed. The lookout was a natural rock formation with steps cobbled out of it. As we reached the crest we knew that the view would be "epic". But we were unprepared for the sheer beauty we beheld. The entire sprawling city of Athens lay before us. The chalk white buildings looked like pieces of shell in a grand necklace draped about the valley. The wind was about 20 mph. We were about 15 ft from the cliff edge. We took panoramic images until our hearts were content that we could share this experience with others with some sort of suitable visual reference. As we descended the hill, we pissed along the nature path and commented how national parks in the states would have had functioning toilets, tour guides, and gift shops. We preferred the

Greek way. The paths spit out onto another charming cobble stone pathway. It seemed we had stumbled out around vakka time (Greek promenade). Everyone was walking hand in hand. The vendors and restaurateurs tempted passersby with cheesy sayings like "We have best food", "You will love" , or more direct sayings like "Sit down right here" and "Eat here at my restaurant". They were all hustling, but not is an overly fake way, a slightly fake way. A way that told you they genuinely wanted to meet you, and they genuinely did need you to pay them money for them to continue operating the business. Roger and I engaged in conversations with these restaurant showmen. We always asked about cheapest price, and over the few days we found out what meals to order and what was a good deal. We enjoyed watching them work. They were very proud when they landed a tourist at their table. They would rub their hands together, eyes aglow, chest puffed out, and bask in their success for a short moment before they moved on to the next tourist passing by. They tried everything on everyone. Whatever worked.

During the day everyone was talking about the protest. There were rumors that the whole metro system would be shut down. Everyone was afraid to go to Syntagma Square where riots had occurred previously. But my curiosity got the better of me and I had to see the scene for myself.

I walked to Syntagma without the more careful Roger. When I got there is was a very empty square. Only about 30 riot police surrounding 10 sitting protesters. I took pictures and left. Later I would find out that a protester was beaten into a coma with a fire extinguisher wrench that day in the very same square. We went to the hostel and rested a while and then prepared for some night life. It was about

11pm, the time the party starts in Athens. We walked to Psiri, but could only find one overly-upscale looking club. No one was outside to smoke or talk, so I wanted to go to the more exclusive Gazi district to observe. Roger was getting peeved at our lame wondering.

A cab driver pulled over and offered to take us to Gazi, which was about 1.5 miles away. We decided to walk instead to save money. The cab driver was extremely nice. He gave us directions even after we refused him. He was trying to get Roger laid. He asked Roger if he wanted women. Roger said no, but he meant that he was not only looking for women, he was looking for a taverna. Roger clarified that he was not gay and the cab driver continued to chat with us for a few moments. We walked along a lonely industrial thoroughfare, and finally arrived at Gazi, which is two main rows of clubs and bars with some side street clubs as well. There were lots of people. We wouldn’t go in any of the clubs because we heard the entry was 10 euro.

So we walked around and listened to horrible Greek dance pop music or the occasional American classic rock band. Eventually we found an

American-themed bar with no cover and cheap drinks. We watched live concerts on the flat screen. Roger had Greek beer and I had ouzo...now about ouzo.

Ouzo is a licorice liquor, I think, I don't really know anything about it except that it makes you invincible. Ouzo does not give me hangovers. Ouzo does not dehydrate me. Ouzo has no negative effects whatsoever unless you consider zero inhibitions and extreme confidence a negative effect...which I don't. We decided to walk all the way back to our hostel, except that we had no idea how to get there. We had a map, but Roger didn't want to look at it in public because it would target us as tourists. I had no problem leading the way because

I was confident I knew where I was going. We walked about 2 miles.

The streets were stark, with only a few odd looking people skulking around. The mood was a bit odd. We came to a square and Roger started to get unnerved. He wanted to take a taxi. I wanted to walk all the way home. With the effects of the ouzo, I wanted to walk forever because ouzo makes you feel like you have clouds for feet.

You don't really walk when you're on ouzo, you float. Basically I'm saying it’s like a Segway. Keep in mind I only had one glass of ouzo.

When we looked at the city map and realized we were in the Amonia district Roger went over the edge. Roger: “Sean, we're in the worst neighborhood in Athens, at the worst time of night. There's a guy over there carrying a large stick. We need to take a cab, ASAP.”

Sean: “Listen Roger, I just had a glass of Ouzo, and these Greeks don't know that'll go American on their ass. Chuck Norris was born in America.” Roger: “Chuck Norris is Lame! We will be robbed and beaten and you don't even seem to care. Listen, I'll pay the cab fare if its less than 10 euro.” So we went to negotiate cab fare with the cabbies in Amonia square. It wasn't that far from where we wanted to be, but they knew we were American and they weren't about to charge us non-tourist prices. They sensed our desperation. I offered 4 euro, they offered 10. I offered 4 euro. They offered 7. I offered 4 euro. They offered 6. Roger offered 5 euro and they turned it down. We were back to square one. Roger started hyperventilating. I reminded him he was practically from North Philly. He restarted negotiations by getting in a cab. Once the cab started driving we started talking price. The cabbie said 10 euro. We said 5. The cabbie said 10 euro, 11 euro, 12 euro, 13 euro, 14 euro, 15 euro. We congratulated him for watching syndicated Sesame Street on Greek television but negotiations don't work in reverse. You generally bid a lower amount if you want to strike a deal. One also doesn't normally increase the bid continually until interrupted. Roger said how about we just turn on the meter and follow the meter. The cabbie pretended to not know what a meter is. Roger explained that a meter is a device which measures the distance cabs go. It calculates the price a cab driver charges for the distance traveled. The cabbie was confused so we exited the vehicle. Back to square one. I flagged down a brand new Mercedes taxi and offered 5 euro. They gave me one look and told me to get into the cab. This one roll of the eyes spoke a thousand words. It said: You sound American, but you also sound like you know exactly the legit price of where you're going. You sound like you've already negotiated with half of the drunk cabbies in

Amonia and you sound firm on this 5 euro amount. You also sound like you've drank some ouzo and are brimming with too much confidence for a tourist in the middle of Amonia.

Write a paragraph about ouzo and the ouzo song

The next day was more of a relaxing day of walking through plakkah, drinking ouzo, photo taking, editing, and planning for . We spoke to the hostel owner about politics and hostel ownership. He even gave me his details if I wanted to invest in a hostel in crete. Roger swooned to deniza, we left a couple hours early for the cruise. The riot police were in full force at syntagma square, even though nothing much was happening. Roger and I got on 3 wrong subway trains till we finally made it to the port. THen we got on the wrong cruise ship. We ran and ran and ran to the right ship a minute before they left port. We were laughing, panting, and loving the fact that we were fully experiencing a down to the wire moment.

The cruise to Crete was an insomniacal one. Roger and I wrote a song called "Ouzo Nova" a bossa song about ouzo. It turned out semi-poetic.

I couldn’t sleep and ended up journaling and photo editing.

We talked to a Cretan about Crete. The cruise ship was interesting, with a lot of native Greek families talking into the night. Roger laid next to an obese snoring person. Roger began what has come to be an obsession on cheapness to rival mine. Every time he buys something like a coke for one euro he has immediate buyers remorse. He has calculated the exact amount he can spend per day. He has decided he wants to camp and couchsurf the rest of the trip. He said he is willing to temporarily starve himself to save money. Every purchase is an excruciating analysis mixed with despair. When we arrived in

Crete we went into the information center and used wifi to set up couchsurf arrangements. Still no word from Ele, we booked our flight to Germany for 100 dollars each. Then we walked to McDonalds and split costs on everything and changed in their restrooms. Then we took the public bus to Auduroavoidod beach. When we walked down the alleyway toward the beach, we saw a cantina with 1 euro Heineken and

Greek beer. We purchased and proceeded down the alleyway. As we approached the ocean, the view of the steep majestic mountain speckled with farms and rock formations came into view. We stumbled to a hotel chair on the sand and plopped down. We reveled in our final resting spot, sipping beer and enjoying the pure beauty of the moment. We rested and went on jaunts back and forth to the cantina to get more

Greek beer which was superior to their Heineken. Then Roger went into the hotel and hatched a plan for free lunch. This was soon put to rest by an increasing paranoia that we were being outed by the hotel staff for using their beach chairs. We hurriedly took our packs away when we saw a lookout from the hotel look for us. This may have all been in our heads, but we were sure they were after us. Then we slept on the sand as a heavy cool wind buffeted our satisfied faces. The kitesurfers were in full force. After a few hours of sleep I got a haircut at a salon down the street and then took the bus to our transfer bus. It was a long affair trying to catch the right bus. Herakalion is a smaller, dirty, shabby, unremarkable, version of

Athens. It is polluted and many scooters, buses and pedestrians weave without killing each other...barely. Somehow the organized chaos works. We arrived at the University Area where we were told our couchsurfing host lived. But we had no contact with her and she would not answer our calls. Roger was getting disgruntled and I was getting a bit worried. We waited in a dorm lobby using wifi to contact other hosts and hostels. Luckily she answered our call as it grew dark.

She sounded quite stoned on the phone. We walked toward the university center and met her and her friend from Ecuador. They walked us down a series of streets which will be left anonymous to protect the inhabitants of the squat. Yes we were sleeping in a squat. A squat is a building that has been possessed by someone who did not have original legal title to the property. In this case,

it was possessed by University students. Because of a 1973 Greek law, police are not allowed to enter the property. They all live loosely cooperatively for free there. There is running water, electricity, and some internet. They live off of dumpster-dived food and garden vegetables. Every wall is graffitied. Stray dogs live in the building with the squatters and protect the inhabitants. Ele and her

Ecuadorian friends were indeed severely stoned, but they were sooooo friendly. We played music, and talked politics, culture, and travel into the night. They gave us a traditional Cretan liquor made by a college professor. They were both students. Ele studied agriculture, Ecuadorian Isriael studied engineering. They seemed to like the song The Dogs of Athens. They also appreciated Roger's guitar-playing skills quite a bit. They shared sheep’s cheese and other recovered food that was fresh and delicious. Stray dogs were very wary of us new visitors. The bathrooms had no toilet paper.

The dogs barked and music played into the night. Roger and I worried about bed bugs and other critters. The people in the squat seemed very laid back. They were not very political, more of a socially conscious squat rather than an organized group of antisocials. Roger and I had no idea what we thought of staying here, it rubbed against our values for cleanliness, organization, and safety. But it also inspired us that people found a way to work together without rules.

Then again, with the building in the mess that it was, was it that much of an accomplishment? Who was more parasitic? A bank or a squat? Ask the author of Web of Debt. After exploring possible judgments of the squatters, we realized we were parasites of parasites. Perhaps everything is in symbiosis and it is arrogant to think otherwise.

The cruise to crete was an insomniatic one. Roger and I wrote a song called "Ouzo Nova" a bossa song about ouzo. It turned out semi poetic. I couldn;t sleep and ended up journaling and photo editing. We talked to a cretian about crete. The cruise ship was intersting, a lot of native greek families talking into the night. Roger layed next to an obese snoring person. Roger began what has come to be an obsession on cheapness to rival mine. Every time he buys something like a coke for one euro he has immediate buyers remorse. he has calculated the exact amount he can spend per day. He has decided he wants to camp and couch surf the rest of the trip. He said he is willing to temporarily starve himself to save money. Every purchase is an excrutiating analysis mixed with despair. When we arrived in crete we went into the information center and used wifi to set up couch surf arrangements. Still no word from Ele, we booked our flight to germany for 100 dollars each. Then we walked to mcdonalds and split costs on everything and changed in their restrooms. Then we took the public bus to Auduroavoidod beach. When we walked down the alleyway toward the beach, we saw a cantina with 1 euro heineken and greek beer. We purchased and proceeded down the alley way. As we approached the ocean, the view of the steep magestic mountain speckled with farms and rock formations came into view. We stumbled to a hotel chair on the sand and plopped down. We reveled in our final resting spot, sipping beer and enjoying the pure beauty of the moment. We rested and went on jaunts back and forth to the cantina to get more greek beer which was superior to their heineken. Then Roger went into the hotel and hatched a plan for free lunch. This was soon put to rest by an increasing paranoia that we were being outed by the hotel staff for using their beach chairs. We hurriedly took our packs away when we saw a lookout from the hotel look for us. This may have all been in our heads, but we were sure they were after us. Then we slept on the sand as a heavy cool wind buffeted our satisfied faces. The kitesurfers were in full force. After a few hours of sleep I got a haircut at a salon down the street and then took the bus to our transfer bus. It was a long affair trying to catch the right bus. Herakalion is a smaller, dirty, shabby, nonremarkable, version of Athens. It is polluted and many scooters, buses and pedestrians weave without killing eachother...barely. Somehow the organized chaos works. We arrived at the University Area where we were told our couch surfing host lived. But we had no contact with her and she would not answer our calls. Roger was getting disgruntled and I was getting a bit worried. We waited in a dorm lobby using wifi to contact other hosts and hostels. Luckily she answered our call as it grew dark. She sounded quite stoned on the phone. We walked toward the university center and met her and her friend from equador. They walked us down a series of streets which will be left anonymous to protect the inhabitants of the squat. Yes we were sleeping in a squat. A squat is a building that has been repossessed by someone who did not have original legal title to the property. In this case, it was possessed by University students, because of a 1973 greek law, police are not allowed to enter the property. They all live loosly cooperatively for free there. There is running water, electricity, and some internet. They live off of dumpster dived food and garden vegetables. Every wall is graffitied. Stray dogs live in the building with the squatters and protect the inhabitants. Ele and her equadorian friends were indeed severely stoned, but they were sooooo friendly. We played music, talked politics, culture, and travel into the night. They gave us a traditional cretian liquor made by a college professor. They were both students. Ele studied agriculture, equadorian isriael studied engineering. They seemed to like the song the dogs of athens. They also appreciated roger's guitar playing skills quite a bit. They shared sheeps cheese and other recovered food, that was fresh and delicious. Stray dogs were very weary of us new visitors. The bathrooms had no toilet paper. The dogs barked and music played into the night. Roger and I worried about bed bugs and other critters. The people in the squat seemed very laid back. They were not very political, more of a socially conscious squat rather than an organized group of anti socials. Roger and I had no idea what we thought of staying here, it rubbed against our values for cleanliness, organization, and saftely. But it also inspired us that people found a way to work together without rules. Then again, with the building in the mess that it was, was it that much of an accomplishment? Who was more parasitic? A bank or a squat? Ask the author of Web of Debt. After exploring possible judgements of the squatters, we realized we were parasites of parasites. Perhaps everything is in symbiosis and it is arrogant to think otherwise.

don't forget to mention staring lady, horror movie bathroos.

the next day we explored . It has a small but nice fishmarket and square, but other than that it is a very trashy city. Children begged us. Roger and I had a discussion about what can really be known and we also talked about the morals of giving to beggars and how to choose correct action. We talked more about the dogs and the children. The beggars, those that fall through the cracks. we decided to rent a car. It was the smallest car i've ever seen. I felt likea circus clown. To get the car, i had to ride on the back of a moped with the car rental manager. He told me to relax and then headed the wrong way up a one way street. He told me not to do that with the rental car. Roger and I filled the tank and headed down the highway toward the south of the island. We couldn't find the ruins of . We stopped to get groceries in the small town of archanes. It was charming, with winding cobble stone streets, men in black suits, everything about this island reminds one of mafioso sicily. We continued down the highway taking picturs of amazing vistas along the way. The mountains were steep. The valleys were speckled with white houses and feilds of grapes and olives. It was dark now and we drove for 2 hours through the middle of crete. There was hardley any civilization, no factories, or infrastructure. No billboards. Just one stop sign towns and gas stations. There were no highway names or numbers. No signs to let you know if you were going north south east or west. Just a few roundabouts with different town names on the arrow shaped signs. Therefore we went the wrong way several times. The roads were of medium quality, and wound round the mountain peaks. Some with no guard rails. We arrived in a small town called Matala. It was very scenic. It was dark, so we could not see much, but we saw a lit up cliff face, and many tavernas. One of them had live jazz folk music. After taking the fiat up the town hill I realized a 2 cylander engine can't go up hills, The engine sqealed. Roger was freaking out in the passanger seat. I inched up the hill into a driveway to turn around, then i reversed and forwarded a 9 point turn with a 3 foot vehicle to turn around in the narrow driveway. We went to the taverna and snacked and drank while listening to the most magical music. Locals and German tourists clapped, laughed, and danced. We drove down a dirt road and slept on the side of the road in the fiat. It was surprisinly comfortable to sleep in the tiny vehicle.

It got pretty cold at night, but we survived. When the sun rose, it got very hot. There were goats butting heads on the canyon peak above us. There were also "cave men" hippies sitting in lawn furniture in a nearby cave hole in the mountain. We changed into shorts and packed a day pack. We followed signs that pointed toward red beach. We climbed out of the hollow canyon we had slept in, up a steep incline. We chatted with a German woman along the way that told us she had been coming to this exact beach for 20 years. She also mentioned it was a nude beach. Roger and I continued on, and crested the mountain. THe views were spectacular, looking back at the village of matala on the ocean. On the other side we saw the tiny private beach in a cove. There were many caves in the mountain, which we briefly exlored. Red beach is a primitive small beach with nice sand and naked germans. Most of them old and fat. There is a small drink kiosk and blue umbrellas for rent. When we arrived we decided that when in Crete, do as the germans do. We played guitar, drank frape (greek ice coffee), made some sandwiches, and soaped ourselves in the water. The water was cold, crystal clear and amazing in a birthday suit. This was one of the highlights of our trip. As we left the beach, a pirate ship sailed in for a photo opportunity. We climbed back up the mountain and got more pics of Matala. After climbing down to the town, we had an amazing greek lunch with fresh veggies, feta, and grilled chicken. We sampled some free Raki ( creten liquor). Then we got in the rental and headed off toward Lentas. We drove through Gortyna, an ancient town in ruins. Then through the highlands past sheep, goats, and rock walls. The vistas were amazing. Every once in a while we would go through a small village. I would yell "yasas!" out the window at an old woman in a black robe. When we arrived in lentas we were very happy. Night had just fallen. We walked to the beach. The moon lit up the ocean to a glow. We went to several places inquiring on rates, they all said 30-35 euro. We wanted cheaper even though it was ocean view. We stumbled apon a hotel owned by a 90 year old couple. They hardley knew a word of english. We tried to explain to them that we wanted a room for 20 euro. They said "no problem" mixed with a lot of greek words. They smiled toothless smiles. THe old man had a knub for a leg. The old woman was large, with a cane and a hobble. They showed us our simple but quaint room. There were flowers and honeysuckle everywhere, and the aroma was intoxicating. When we settled in our rooma and paid 20 euro, they had sour faces and exclaimed: "Trentay!" So we reluctantly gave them 10 more euro because they were the most beautiful people we had ever interacted with. They yelled and talked witht their hands at each other and at us. Roger even got a hug. When we got to the room we realized how sunburned we were. It was painful.

Roger and I went to the lentas nude beach, which took a bit of a hike. It was hot and we were sunburned. We just wanted to see what we could see. When we got there the beach was ok, not as nice as red beach, because red beach was so private, with clear water and fine sand. Here the beach was longer, but very pebbly. Roger and I wrote the beginning of the song Today is life, tomorow never comes, we took the lyrics from graffiti we saw in Matala. We hiked back and headed back on the highway. But before we left, roger got some real aloe plant from a greek woman. The people really open up when you ask for stuff. Once in the car, We were looking for agia galini. It took many hours to drive through the steep mountains. The vistas were around every corner. The driving was very dangerous. Greek people are horrible drivers. They tend to pass you only when there is oncoming traffic. The roads are narrow and not very well maintained. The mountains are steep and the rental was weak. As we approached the quant town of agia galini roger attempted to adjust my rearview mirror and almost broke his hand off. We were worried until we realized it was just a sprain. We went to the beach a walked past empty cafe after empty gift shop. It was a beautiful place, but it seemed more touristy. We drank beer and water at a cafe and then decided to go to bed. We layed down in the rental car in a parking lot and tried to sleep but we couldn't. A dog barked and moaned often. The moaning was very comical, so we partley couldn't sleep because we kept laughing. Roger had a bright idea to go to a hotel to use wifi. We clibed up to a swank hotel on the hill called sky beach. We ordered ouzo and beer. We used the internet and stuck up a conversation with the bartender. We found out later that he was a co-owner of the hotel. We talked about greek politics, international economics, the mafia, capitalism, entrepreneurship, and everything. He really opened up, and we felt that we had bonded with the greeks. The next morning we drove to Treopetra. It was a beautiful but sleepy beach place with a few cafes and hotels, but not many. Then we drove even more hours through what seemed like the alps in the sound of music. There were so many sheep, goats, and wildflowers. Sometimes we would drive to the beach or a farm road dead end by accident. Then we would just turn around and try another route. Roger stopped in a supermarket in a small village and purchased some fruits and veggies. He was trying to buy a knife from the owner, but this village was so remote that no one spoke english. They interpreted his hand motions as that he wanted them to cut the tomato for him, which they did and even added salt to if for us. When we arrived in Plakias we were blown away by the beauty. The mountains are so steep next to the ocean. The village is filled with crafts from local artisans. We got a very cheap hotel room for 12.50 euro each for beachfront with pool. Then we went for a walk around town. We settled on a place to eat called Muses' The man who attempted to get us to eat there was very persuasive. He waited on us and recieved the moniker "snapfingers lovely" because he repeatedly snapped his fingers and said "Lovely" with a very deep, raspy, and enthusiastic voice. This man was a character. He loved being greek and talkin to people about food. He persuaded us to get a house bottle of red wine. Then we spoke to us with such intensity about philosophy, his life, his age, his health problems, and finally he spoke to us in nonsense, saying enigmatica and vague things like he can see what is coming. He ended the rant with "do you know what i mean?" I admitted that I did not but I thought I was catching on. We were blown away by the beach front restaurant but also by the pure intensity of this character. He said he used to be a submarine commander and that he spoke 4 languages. We tried to talk to him more because of how funny it was to hear and watch him speak. He even spit at one point for emphasis. The second rant was much more negative. We thought he was superconscious at first, but his rant about illegal immigrants and politicians scared us more than anything. The moon rose over the mountains like someone was lifting it with a string. It was HUGE, yellow, and I was the first to snap a picture. Then the germans copied because of the pure beauty of it. Yes there were german tourists at all of these towns. We ate fresh greek salad, bread, wine, squid and shrimp. Then snapfingers gave us free raki and orange cake. The rest of the night was a series of snap fingers jokes. Roger and I capped the night with a songwriting and recording session. We finished and recorded "today is life" with the ocean waves in the recording. THe next day we drove back to Heraklion. Knossos, the ancient ruins was on the way, so we stopped there. We were unimpressed. It might have been different if we knew more of the history though.