August 8 CORFU

On our last day in Santorini we did indeed catch the bus to Oia. The bus stop is in the center of town. On our last trip we walked to the right and then down to Amoudi. This time we walked to the left.

Our first stop was a café for brunch. It was a tiny bakery in the front but opened up onto a large balcony overlooking the caldera in the back. Initially the service was unfriendly. It changed to friendly as soon as we started using our few Greek words.

A typical sight in Oia, the town of dogs:

In fact, we’ve found that speaking a little bit of Greek goes a long, long way in Santorini. Sometimes we’ll walk into a store and say yia-sos or calemera (hello, good morning) and be greeted with a burst of Greek. Then we have to say o-hi, o-hi – anglika! (no, no, English!) or just look painfully confused. At that point the store owner will switch to English and we’ll have a lively conversation about where we’ve traveled in Greece, because it’s obvious that we’ve been here long enough to pick up some of the language.

Our other words include calespera (good evening), perakalo (please), efkharisto poli (thank you very much), adi-o (bye), poso kani (how much?), numbers from one to 10, sighnomi (sorry), and the important food words such as nero (water), bira (beer), kafe (coffee), gha-la (milk), pso-mi (bread), and so on. We’re learning new words every day and the more we use them, the more welcome we feel.

We caught the bus back to Fira in the mid-afternoon, before the crowds got the same idea. We made our usual stop at the market and then trekked to our hotel. None of us felt like much for dinner so we went to a small café on the main road for something light. Simone can write about that more later.

A last look at the view from the Hotel Keti:

Yesterday was a travel day. We caught a taxi to the port two hours before our ferry because we wanted to avoid the crowds and chaos. We found a café and had breakfast, then settled in at the air conditioned waiting area. Getting onto the ferry was just as chaotic as we remembered. The aisles were once again filled with luggage and I had to shift several backpacks just so we could get to our seats.

The chaos that is disembarkation from the Flying Cat 3:

The ferry trip itself was long and deathly boring. We were all glad to get off in Pireous, where we were greeted by Rita. She had a taxi waiting for us and before we knew it we were at the airport. We said goodbye, got our boarding passes, ate, and then settled in for three hours of people watching before our flight to Corfu.

When we arrived in Corfu I found a taxi and arranged for the driver to take us to our hotel. He was playing some very good music so Simone asked him who was singing. He told her it was the winner of the Greek Idol contest. After that he was very chatty and recommended some tours and beaches, gave us a map of Corfu Town, and wished us a very happy holiday when he dropped us off at the hotel.

Our hotel was built in the late 1800s and overlooks the old port. The reception is on the first floor so we caught the elevator up. The owner greeted us and told us to leave our bags on the elevator because we had to go up to the third floor. I made the mistake of closing the door (yes, it’s an actual door) and it was called down to the main floor.

The Hotel Konstantinoupolis:

Simone went down the stairs to make sure our luggage was okay and found a man throwing our luggage out of the elevator. She semi-yelled at him and he semi-yelled back – in French. He was rude when the elevator stopped at reception (I’d rung for it) and I closed the door quickly. A little too quickly, it turns out, because it slammed shut and scared the crap out of everyone. I apologized to the owner, but we laughed about the shocked French tourists later. Served ‘em right.

Our taxi driver mentioned that the town was full of Italian tourists. Too many Italian tourists, he said. I discovered what he meant when I went out to get some water at the sidewalk shop across the street. I had my arms full of water and Fresca and beer when five Italian tourists barged in front of me to the counter to order cigarettes. I wouldn’t mind, normally, but my temper was a bit short after the encounter with the French tourists. The Italians were rude to the lady behind the counter because she didn’t understand Italian and didn’t have their exact brand of cigarettes. When they finally left I used every single Greek word I had, including sako (bag), and was gifted with the most lovely smile from the lady behind the counter. She even packed the bag for me, something that most sidewalk shops won’t do.

We slept well despite the street noise. I’m not sure what’s on the agenda for today. We’ll probably do a quick recon of the town after breakfast. Mom is also really keen to do a day trip to Albaniaso we may visit a travel office to arrange that trip. Cheers for now.