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Aug. 15th, 2012 05:32 pmI am made of failure as an adventurous traveller.
It's just embarrassing that I have such... awkwardness with buses.
So, I got it into my head that I'd take the bus to Marathon this morning, and see what the archaeological stuff out there looks like. Which, fine. But today's the Panaghia, so everything out there would be closed. Fine, sez I to myself, I'll just go have a look at the lay of the land and see if there's a beach.
I tried to forget that I'm a nervous traveller who has in the last two visits to Greece developed a paranoia concerning Jesus fuck where's the return bus-stop? Aieeee, the bus doesn't come back for five hours!
And succeeded, until I saw how far everything of archaeological interest at and around Marathon was from everything else, including the disparate bits themselves. So, sez I to myself, I'll just stay on this here bus and ride it back to Athens, having enjoyed the nice scenery.
Except.
The bus, she does not do immediate turnaround.
She goes on and on among olive groves and the red earth of Attica, along camping sites and farm villas, towards a lovely beach at Skianias... At which point I'm saying to the driver, "Er. Bus goes to Athens, yes?"
He says, in Greek - and at this point I'm the only person on the bus - "We make a circle! Marathona, Skiania, Marathona, Athena!" He looks at me. "Is there some problem?"
I say - useful phrase - "I don't speak Greek well. I don't know what I'm doing." Shrug. "I want to go back to Athens. This is okay?"
He smiles, laughs, is very understanding. The bus waits at Skianias beach for fifteen minutes - the bus driver tells me where we are, and that - as far as I manage to understand - the bus stops here three times daily. I wanted to get off and go to the beach, but I did not want to be stuck there. So the bus driver took a picture of me at my unexpected destination, a nice Greek lady and her Italian husband got on, and we turned around.
And had a three-way conversation in my broken Greek and the married lady's good English on the way back to Marathon about how the rich people who had villas at Skianias were all thieves. Who'd stolen all the money from the people. The same in Italy! the lady said. The same in Ireland! I agreed. The same the world over! the bus driver exclaimed. Bankers and politicians, no-good-very-bad people.
(And look, my friend! sez the bus driver - in Greece, everything seems to be Hello, my friend! and Ah, my friend, you're here! even when you've only just met - there's the artificial canal they built for the 2004 Olympics rowing. Not used afterwards.)
So I spent a little over four hours of my day bussing around Attica. Very nice scenery, once you get out of the industrial edges of Athens. Not really sure I want to do it again.
Next time, someone with a car should come with me. That way, less fear of stranding.
It's just embarrassing that I have such... awkwardness with buses.
So, I got it into my head that I'd take the bus to Marathon this morning, and see what the archaeological stuff out there looks like. Which, fine. But today's the Panaghia, so everything out there would be closed. Fine, sez I to myself, I'll just go have a look at the lay of the land and see if there's a beach.
I tried to forget that I'm a nervous traveller who has in the last two visits to Greece developed a paranoia concerning Jesus fuck where's the return bus-stop? Aieeee, the bus doesn't come back for five hours!
And succeeded, until I saw how far everything of archaeological interest at and around Marathon was from everything else, including the disparate bits themselves. So, sez I to myself, I'll just stay on this here bus and ride it back to Athens, having enjoyed the nice scenery.
Except.
The bus, she does not do immediate turnaround.
She goes on and on among olive groves and the red earth of Attica, along camping sites and farm villas, towards a lovely beach at Skianias... At which point I'm saying to the driver, "Er. Bus goes to Athens, yes?"
He says, in Greek - and at this point I'm the only person on the bus - "We make a circle! Marathona, Skiania, Marathona, Athena!" He looks at me. "Is there some problem?"
I say - useful phrase - "I don't speak Greek well. I don't know what I'm doing." Shrug. "I want to go back to Athens. This is okay?"
He smiles, laughs, is very understanding. The bus waits at Skianias beach for fifteen minutes - the bus driver tells me where we are, and that - as far as I manage to understand - the bus stops here three times daily. I wanted to get off and go to the beach, but I did not want to be stuck there. So the bus driver took a picture of me at my unexpected destination, a nice Greek lady and her Italian husband got on, and we turned around.
And had a three-way conversation in my broken Greek and the married lady's good English on the way back to Marathon about how the rich people who had villas at Skianias were all thieves. Who'd stolen all the money from the people. The same in Italy! the lady said. The same in Ireland! I agreed. The same the world over! the bus driver exclaimed. Bankers and politicians, no-good-very-bad people.
(And look, my friend! sez the bus driver - in Greece, everything seems to be Hello, my friend! and Ah, my friend, you're here! even when you've only just met - there's the artificial canal they built for the 2004 Olympics rowing. Not used afterwards.)
So I spent a little over four hours of my day bussing around Attica. Very nice scenery, once you get out of the industrial edges of Athens. Not really sure I want to do it again.
Next time, someone with a car should come with me. That way, less fear of stranding.
