• Cyan goes to Greece - Day 4

    Hullo thar nobody.

    Its been a rather long gap between part 3 and this, but ive been all busy and shit. So fuck you, who are you to judge me?

    This will be a shorter megathread than the others as it was spent mostly in transit from one place to another. Lets see if I can remember everything with pinpoint detail as we describe my morning....

    We awoke from our beds, unwillingly early, to the morning bustle of the town. Athens is a noisy city, with lots of shouting from balcony to balcony and and endless symphony of car horns. It makes sleeping in something of a chore.


    After breakfast in the shadow of the acropolis, we wandered off in a random direction that we had not yet travelled, stopping by the frozen yoghurt place from yesterday for one final taste of their deliciousness. The man who served us the day before was not present. In his place was his wife, and we noticed that there were indeed no more strawberries on offer. He wasn’t bullshitting us when he told us he had served us the last ones he had. My female compatriot asked for some kiwi on her yoghurt, which was placed upon it. The old woman then suggested “how about some mango? Mango is nice”. My girlfriend agreed to this and then as the mango was applied, the old lady asked the same question in regards to peaches. My girlfriend agreed again, understanding now that she was no longer in control of her future breakfast. The serving lady didn’t even bother asking after this as she applied several other fruits in a veritable mountain of value.

    We paid and were on our way until we happened upon the local flea market district.
























    Whats this I see for sale? Oh yes. Just what the discerning traveller needs.



    Naturally I approached the vendor and we talked at length about the product on offer. I demanded to know the nature of their construction and if they were made with the very highest of craftsmanship standards and products. He assured me they were all hand carved by his family, who were wooden cock artisans of the highest order.

    I neglected to buy one, however, based on the asking price. Ill get my wooden dicks elsewhere thankyou.

    We moved on towards the rest of the flea market when... HOLY SHIT THATS A LOT OF GRAPES!





    This place was full of all manner of delicious fruits, nuts, meats and other things. All kinds of stores from shoemakers to antique dealers. It was really cool to walk through (with our hands firmly over our wallets).

















    We spent a large portion of the day in there but I didn’t take many pictures. I kept the camera in the bag for the most part, because nothing says “I have money, come rob me” like a stupid tourist walking around with a fancy ass camera taking pictures of stupid shit.

    We wandered into one of those places that sells army supplies and I found the most beautiful, German military backpack that was big enough to fit my current, raggedy backpack into 3 times over. I asked the woman outside what the price was and she told me 50 euros. I was already pleased because this bag would sell for close to 200 in Finland, so I went inside. My girlfriend, naive to the concept of haggling, almost fucked it for me. The person inside asked me for the 50, and I told her the woman outside told me it was 30. My gal took this chance to pipe up cheerfully; “No she didn’t, she said it cost...” I whirled around to cut her off mid sentence and gave her the biggest murder face i could manage, while I hissed through my teeth in Finnish that she shut the motherloving fuck up right this second, then I turned back to the seller who, smelling weakness, attempted to keep the price high. She wouldn’t go below 40, so I had to risk it all and give her the bag and tell her I didn’t want it and would go elsewhere. The gamble paid off and she thrust it back into my arms offering to settle on 35.

    Deal bitch.

    I smugly enjoyed my new, discount backpack as we looked at a few other things.
















    And with that, our time in Athens was up.

    We caught the bizzaro clean metro back to the airport and waited around bored as shit for our flight. We decided we were hungry, but there was 2 options available to us. A shitty looking, overpriced airport cafe and McDonalds....

    Greek Mac mother fuckers. Take it in.








    I shit you not. The greatest thing I have ever eaten in any McDonalds, anywhere.

    We took an uneventful flight back to Rhodes, where we enjoyed a high speed taxi ride home where the taxi driver lectured us about the Greek economic situation and we regaled him with tales of the Finnish winter temperatures that gave him the shivers then and there. All that was followed by a romantic stroll as the sun set upon the empty beaches of the northern shore, the majestic mountains of Turkey seeming to glow across the water and the sun sunk down over them. I know, I know.... I’m a faggot, right?























































    FUCK POLICE!

    We retired to the room after sunset, made ourselves beautiful and headed out in search of dinner, a pleasant and warm breeze blowing across the island.

























    We wandered around a long time in painful indecision.
    Everything looked good, but nothing stood out to us in particular. Eventually I decided to backtrack a little and go down a windy alley to see what was up this street. We noticed a fat old man feeding a bunch of kitties outside his place, and the girlfriend stopped to coo over them for a brief moment. This was all he needed and the small, round, barrel of a man waddled over to me with shocking speed. He opened his arms wide, his open shirt barley able to contain the mountain of chest hair bursting from the collar and enquired if we wanted to eat there. I turned my lip and said “mayyybe” which is normally code for “no thankyou” as you begin to walk away.´But not this time...He raised his eyebrows as if I had just claimed the sky to be florescent pink. “Maybe? What is this maybe bullshiting?” He clasped his hairy arm around my shoulder and held me like a vice. “Come, you sit, you eat” he instructed as he manhandled me into his terrace. I was too impressed with his gall to resist.

    After we sat, he presented us his menu. 2 sheets of A4 paper, fresh from his home PC printer with the menu in Greek. I told him I cannot read it, and he made an “oh yeah...” face. He had forgotten he was speaking to the lesser peoples. So, what does he do? He pulls up a motherfucking chair and sits with us to tell us what is for dinner. He tells us what we are eating, and when.
    We accept the law.
    The food arrives and it is fucking delicious. He gives us a sample of a few things he likes. The souvlaki is god tier and everything else is just great. That is, of course, until about half way through our meal. A gigantic Greek family turns up. Maybe 20 of them. There is not enough room to fit them all, but they will be damned if they aren’t eating here. How does the proprietor solve this problem?
    By moving our fucking table, of course. We were forcefully inserted into the group of Greeks. Our table became their table and we were forced to eat a second meal at their expense. They actually ordered extra food for us and demanded we eat, converse and make jolly with them. They were amazingly friendly people. The old grannies all fawned over my girlfriends white skin and bright blue eyes. “So beautiful. So much beautiful” they said while stroking her arms and face. Creepy as fuck and just as awesome. The men and i talked about things like how wonderful Greece is and how young Greek women are too much like foregin women and forget their place as well as many other topics, such as the dangers of Albanians and Niggers.

    After our second dinner, we managed to get the fuck away from our new Greek family under the strict proviso that we swear to return later that week with my girlfriends family. After that we explored the thin and narrow old town streets in the dark. The ambience of these streets on a late summer night really cannot be described in words, or even in pictures.... But you can look at them anyway. Just trust me that it was all romantic n shit.











































    And that’s it. Tomorrow there were bigger plans afoot!
    • What is a Cyan?

      My name is Rhys, Reiska or Cyan. I don't remember which one...

      Sometimes i go places and do stuff.

      These are those things...