Listen to the Song "Gypsy Melodies" by The Snake, The Cross, The Crown

June 10

What can I even begin to say? You have no idea. I have no idea. All of Santorini and Paris have no idea, either. Did we find Atlantis? Yeah, it’s that big dark spot just off of that beach somewhere that direction, Lori said as we stood on the edge of a cliff watching the sun set. Mystery solved. Everyone chill. Let’s go to the beach.

Santorini is…one of the best things about traveling. It was one of the most fun and most memorable parts of the trip so far. It’s definitely in the top 25, at least.

It’s been a while since Santorini Island, it seems. So how bout some highlights? The hostel was so cheap and so awesome. It was seven euros a night. It was 2 minutes from the beach. It was full of Australians and Canadians and some Americans. There was a 24-hour bakery just down the street where nothing was over 2 euros. There was a beach about 2 minutes from the hostel. There was beach service at a lot of the restaurants. The beach was less than a two minute walk from the hostel.

On the first day we got to the beach and Lydia looked at a mountain and said “I’m gonna climb that mountain.” And I said. “See that ship way out there? I’m gonna swim to that ship.” We laughed and said, “I’m gonna sleep on this beach for 4 days.” That was a little closer to the truth. But Lydia really did climb that mountain. I think I showered once in Greece. It was kinda useless to anyway because the water was salty. It did wonders for my hair, though. I didn’t wash it at all while I was there; I just dipped it in the sea every day and it was awesome. On the last day one of the waiters on the beach told me my hair was perfect. I laughed and he said, “Don’t you think so?” I just thought it was funny because I hadn’t washed it in a week. He might have just been trying to sell me a beer. I took the compliment and left the beer.

We rented 4 wheelers and rode all over the island. We ate lots of pastries and bread and (tatzsiki) I can’t spell it but it’s that garlic-y cucumber cream sauce.

::side note:: I love watching people wake up on trains because we all do the same thing. We fall asleep. We wake up. Look out the window. Look around at who’s still on the train. Look at the watch. Calculate where we’re supposed to be at what time. Calculate how long we’ve got till our stop. Go back to sleep in a slightly different position. By the way, I’m on a train from Paris to Barcelona. I’ll get two days to make Brent Lederle proud. Then I’m back to France. 48 days.

We met some crazy characters in Greece. Unfortunate Max from New Jersey who appreciates punctuality and fell off a bicycle and had to get stitches. Santorini Dave from Australia who hung out with us every day. “Geographical South” Brandy from Texas who studies in Mississippi and hates it because it’s the stereotypical “anthropological south.” Normal Sarah and Kathleen from New York who study in Paris. Jerk-Face Alex living in Greece who thinks girls shouldn’t play soccer. Bottle Opener Martin Powers Jameson from Ireland who always had a bottle of Jameson with him but he loves Powers Irish whiskey more so Powers and Jameson are not part of his name and he could open any bottle top with any object, including another bottle top.

Our batting average for making ferries ended up being a 500. If it were a test we would have gotten a 50/100. That’s failing. But when life is a song, not a test, it’s better that way because it lends itself to more interesting lyrics.

Speaking of Life is a Song. After Santorini Island we had an afternoon in Pareaus, Greece. We got there at 7:30 am and we went to a café and drank frappes and analyzed song lyrics for about 2 hours. Ask us if we went to the Acropolis. Go ahead. Did we go to the Acropolis? Yeah, twice. Once on Santorini Island and got delicious 2-euro gyros and once in Pareaus and got frappes! We didn’t even want to go see the real thing. Everything in Greece is named after the Acropolis.

So…what’s really on my mind is this train and feeling a little bit nauseous and sitting by myself in a dining car and only speaking to strangers in a strange language because Lydia and Lori just left and I just left and we’re all leaving Paris behind. I love goodbyes. I love saying goodbye at train stations and bus stops and airports and all those transitional places. I love it when the people you’re saying goodbye to will give you a hug and then look you in the face and then once you get on the train or they get off the train they stand there and keep looking at you and waiving a little bit and maybe make a little funny face and after the doors close they find the window that’s open and call out your name to catch your attention because they’re not done saying goodbye and after the train starts to slowly wind its gears into motion, they walk in time with it and run even if it’s crowded and they’ve got heavy packs on and say things like “I love you, Sarah K!”

I think saying goodbye at a train station is way better than saying it at an airport. You get more time to say goodbye and there’s no weird post-goodbye but pre-departure period. And the first time I rode a train, other than the SouthShore, was summer after my junior year in high school and Josh came to see me off and he gave me a hug before I got on the train and after I was on, the train slowly wound its gears into motion and he ran along side and called my name and jumped up and hit the window and I pulled ahead of him and thought that I wish I could spit off the bridge one more time with him.

I’ll have to write about the rest of Greece and Paris a little later. I just can’t do it now.