Thursday are usually the squalor of this as only the fourth day of the week can be. It was indeed the dawn of a Thursday morning that got out of bed on the wrong foot (the middle of the leg) when I decided that this summer would have passed only marry my beautiful host city, to save money, caste moral rectitude and provided an escort semi-infinite pilsner beer. The following Friday I booked a flight to spend my summer holidays in Greece.
Given my recent failed attempts to make a decent trip with Easyjet, I decided to entrust to a Greek Association of Germanic Lufthansa. Despite the name (AEGEAN Airlines) passengers dangerously memories as the Aegean Sea could be their final destination if something goes wrong, just got on board already seems to be in the Hellenic land: the hostesses are beautiful, die, tan, smiling, wink and give you candy colored anise-flavored. Would you say that they are all looking for the adventure of a crazy night were it not for the effect of the typical music, oriental spinta a forza dagli altoparlanti, ha sull'atmosfera metallica di un Boeing 737: raffredda i bollenti spiriti come solo la melodia di uno scacciapensierista lappone saprebbe fare.
In ogni caso le cameriere sanno fare il loro lavoro e quando mi sono avvicinato al bancone chiedendo gentilmente un Campari col bianco, senza ghiaccio, agitato, non mescolato, con più bianco che Campari, mi raccomando e, se possibile, una oliva verde, non nera, perché se no poi mi viene il cagotto, mi sono ritrovato a bere un tè smunto con uno spunto dentro.
C’è da dire che questi sono voli di alta classe, pensano a tutto e ti fanno sentire a tuo agio, perfino quando, al check-in, l’esame della prostata diviene obbligatorio, anche if you're a woman. Already anticipate that the lunch served on board and do a look at the menu. The fact that it is written in greek does not help much and even the eight or nine Greek letters that I know seem to encourage the paper to make themselves understood. The waitress explained to me by signs that there will be something edible along with some typical food and taught me a couple of words in the language arcade:
έξοδος = output
χοίρος = pig
πίπα = fellatio
circumference = 2πr
λν = c
seems to be a pretty articulate
blasphemy blasphemy aside, the sound of the greek is really beautiful: it's nice to hear, and although it has nothing to do with the Romance languages, I might confuse it with a Catalan trotting whose melody is reminiscent of the sun and the sea of \u200b\u200bthe Mediterranean countries, with a vague taste of nostalgia for southern Europe.
Once arrived in Athens, I have just enough time to realize that the time zone has changed (no one said anything to me), learn about an American tourist, to see the Acropolis, taste good and spend the whole evening mousakàs in search of my hotel. Apparently, if the signs with street names have faded from the sun in Greece did not bother to replace them. Luckily I met an old man who kept him company for a couple of stray dogs (or vice versa), who spoke Italian better than me and pointed me in the right suburb.
you like the picture? I have not made it myself mica: it was taken by a professional photographer with a professional camera. I put it to give you an idea. What I managed to take pictures with my phone turned out to be a blur of yellow light blue background, but you know they are too stingy to buy a serious camera. The next morning the
noise of the port to wake up, skipped breakfast, we set sail for the open sea.
After only four hours, the ferry docks in history, slower than the Paros, the island that is in front of Antiparos (as the name says), my ultimate goal. Thanking the rough sea and my friend Poseidon, the tub that connects Anti-Anti-Paros Antiparos has allowed me to make friends with four beautiful Greek girls at least until I threw up on their toes. Strange, I do not suffer from seasickness, were just being ugly.
arrived on the island, I worked hard to find accommodation. Having a sleeping bag, but not the tent, the option camping non era conveniente. Nessun problema: appena approdato, mi si avvicinano un losco figuro che, con il fare indifferente da pusher svizzero, mi offrono sottobanco una stanza per dormire. Ed il prezzo? Lo fa il cliente: 20 euro al dì. Mmm dove sta la fregatura? La stanza è bella e confortevole, con tutti gli optional: tv, clima, acqua desalinizzata per farsi la doccia, ma non posso fare a meno di notare che nei suoi cinque metri quadri (bagno compreso) io ed il mio zaino non ci riusciremmo a stare. Visto che nessuno dei due (né io, né il mio zaino) voleva dormire nel corridoio contrattiamo per una stanza più confortevole al primo piano per 25 euro. Lascio il mio zaino come pegno di buona volontà, vado a farmi un giro e, when I come back, everything has changed. The landlord has changed, the room was rented to another, unless I pay a euro more deca. He began to insult me \u200b\u200bin greek, I swear in Italian and I'm slamming the door, which here has the appearance of an awning and shall not have the desired effect. The good thing is that so much tends to slam attracts several neighbors, without delay, provide other accommodations. There is plenty of choice and when the two can not lower the price, come to blows. I choose the two that most of the pesto, limped, I show my humble abode. Greets me with a smile and an incisive in less bloody.
Antiparos, an island fuori dal mondo, il paradiso delle vacanze dove ristoratori senza scrupoli sottopagano onesti lavoratori per permettere alla massa un benessere solo illusorio. Avevo un contatto sull'isola, la mia bandiera del Che già garriva sebbene chiusa nello zaino, pronta per scatenare la rivoluzione… Infine abbiamo desistito. Vuoi per il sole, il mare, le ragazze in bikini, vuoi che il capitalismo ci tenesse per le palle o per il solo fatto che i nostri tentativi di ottenere delle molotov dai campioncini di profumo di Hugo Boss si sono rivelati infruttuosamente letali come un lombrico con le emorroidi.
La fauna autoctona dell’isola si è rivelata essere la blatta. Scarafaggi degni di una piaga biblica popolavano le strade ad ogni ora, pronti ad approfittare di ogni svista per compiere misfatti, saccheggiarti la cucina, sventrare pargoli, fare il test psicologico di Donna Moderna. Narra poi una antica leggenda che nelle notti di plenilunio lo Scarafaggio Mannaro faccia la sua comparsa, in cerca di giovani capre vergini per colmare la sua brama di sangue. Il solo modo per sconfiggerlo è l’impalazione. Con uno stuzzicadenti rigorosamente di frassino.
Mentre girovagavo per l’isola ho incontrato casualmente una delle mie tante cugine, Martina, che ormai assieme al suo ragazzo Φοιβος (no, non provateci nemmeno a leggerlo, vi si annoderebbe la lingua. Si pronuncia Fivos more or less), I was introduced to the Greek tradition of sharing the dinner table, which, apparently, can be summarized in three basic steps:
order a little of everything 'in quantities to feed an army, divide what you ordered with your guests so that everyone will appreciate a bit 'of everything, it pays to shave in the ancient Roman ancestors:)
Very nice! I thank our stomachs.
That's why I say it's good to have so many cousins, you know? There is always found around the world, we are their friends and your friends will be grateful when they find that 95% of girls in the company are your relatives. I've got really a lot, not enough thumbs to count them all. If I only had a few inches instead of two more unnecessary ... indexes
I noticed that all those who I see myself in a long time always say without hesitation that "now you have become a crutch." German? To me, that the last he tried to launch an epithet like that ended up in hospital? Fulminant gastroenteritis. If you got off in a month. What bad luck, eh?
I'd abandoned my Italic origins because the beer at lunch to add the names of three to digest? It is because of that 5 of the beach? Or maybe it's the dinner that goes down there? A couple move to the evening, late non ce le vogliamo fare? Non mi sembra di chiedere troppo se sono in vacanza! Appunto perché ero in ferie ho incontrato di nuovo un mio vecchio amore, la Amstel. È dai tempi di Valencia che non la bevevo: dolci ricordi accompagnati dal solito retrogusto di cane bagnato.
Se da quando mi sono trasferito a Berlino ho pensato che il Kebab turco fosse lo snack più pesante mai visto su questo sporco mondo, beh, mi sbagliavo. La variante greca, nomata Gyros Pitta, è almeno due volte più letale. Nonostante gli ingredienti siano pressappoco dello stesso tipo (carne+verdura+pane) questo in più ha anche un paio di patate fritte e una crema di formaggio tipica, il Tzatziki. Non è però il formaggio di capra a renderlo una atomic bomb for our glands Liver: bread, in fact, is soaked in cooking oil. Although it only takes one look for trans fats will obstruct the arteries (and perhaps something else) and despite the Gyros is ten times heavier than a turkish kebab, it is at least a hundred times better. Yet, one day soon you will arrive at the showdown, the world is too small for both, and if he says Clint, I know which side to take.
The sea was a fairy tale, crystal clear waters, fine sand and a nudist beach a short walk from the campsite. Scrotum flaccid, drooping boobs and hairy Bagigi everywhere you look posasse. The apex is the è raggiunto quando un vecchio tettuto sballonzolava i suoi racchettoni senza ritegno in riva al mare. Era bravo, ed a volte non usava nemmeno la racchetta… Uno zoom è d’obbligo per comprendere le “dimensioni” del fenomeno…
Un giorno in cui non avevo nulla di meglio da fare che fare paragoni dimensionali alla spiaggia nudista, ho noleggiato un motorino. È stata una pessima idea, fondamentalmente per due motivi: sono tornato quattordicenne e mi ha fatto crescere dentro una nostalgia incontrollabile per la mia adorata, amata, fulgida Vespa. Al momento del noleggio mi sono fidato solo di un italianissimo Piaggio modello “Rottame” che mi ha accompagnato lonely in a raid in the hills of the island. Dirt roads, pastures not greener, churches mountain ascents and clutch my guts bicycle motor I have won the coveted summit. 115 meters above sea level where I've left a piece of exhaust pipe for a perpetual reminder of the epic undertaking.
After six days in Antiparos greeting Syros direction where I'm meeting a couple of friends, even their holiday, with the objective of making the journey back to Athens in the company. The ferry this time the formula is one of the seas, even though I can not explain why it should necessarily buy a seat in business class when I feel stuck with enough teeth the keel ...
stay on the island of Syros lasted only a couple of days, hours, punctuated by the cries of night two cocks arteriosclerosis, salt, sea and beaches where it took only three euro a day to keep umbrella and in the first row.
Before leaving for Athens, let's look at the inevitable sign that remains after a tan is not full.
Berlin at the end it is me again welcome you, with the inevitable rain that marks the premature end of summer. Yet this holiday has left me with a philosophical regret: the old made me realize that when there were more of the things were simpler. When a jerk you advised to recommend the soul to God, at least there was plenty of choice. Instead, now, everything is neutral gray, one god and to change force you to jump from one religion to another to discover that he is always, usually the Almighty.
PS One important note if you visit the continent Hellenic: When you poop, you have to throw toilet paper into the trash. You throw it down the toilet malpractice, never do.
A man who fears nothing, is a man who does not like anything, but if you love nothing, what joy can there be in your life?
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