It Only Takes Three Minutes if You Run

June 18, 2013

So two days ago my three nerdy archaeology friends and I arrived at our excavation destination – finally! – but a day late.  Oops.  The main thing I learned from the whole disaster is never to take Dramamine until you’re actually on the thing that you think is going to make you throw up.  In this case, it was a very fast moving boat.  Having never popped a Dramamine tablet before, I didn’t know how long it would take to start working and wasn’t going to take any chances.  I took two little orange chewable pills once we got on the bus to the port in Santorini.  My friends followed suit.  Up until then, the whole day was perfectly timed.  We were a half hour early for the bus to the port and a half hour early to the port – how on earth could we miss our boat, right?  Wrong.  In the midst of our Dramamine fog (which is the what I’m calling it since I believe it’s the reason we missed our boat – even if it’s not and we’re just idiots I’m still going to cling to that) we did not realize that there were multiple docking areas for the boats.  What we saw was one docking area and a line of busses blocking our view to the rest of the port.  In the midst of our collective fog, none of us thought to ask anyone at the ticket office where the boat would be coming in, but on the other hand it did look like there was only one loading dock.  I even asked someone who looked like he would know the answer.  He pointed out the green boat coming our way and indicated that it would be picking up people where we were standing.  Sweet, no need to move!  Well, maybe not.  While waiting in the masses one of my friends came over from the other docking area and said “Our boat left.  Maybe it will come back.”  At the time that seemed like a reasonable possibility to my Dramamine brain.  Looking back, I now realize how ridiculous our collective lack of reactions was!  Twenty minutes after our boat was supposed to have left we started thinking that something was up and should check with the ticket office.  In any other scenario I would have been panicking five minutes before the boat was about to leave – not twenty minutes after it was supposed to leave.  Damn Dramamine brain.  The woman inside thought we were insane once we had explained that we had been waiting for the giant green boat and hadn’t seen it arrive.  “It left.  There were 560 boarding it.  I don’t know how you missed it!” she grumbled.  Where were these 560 people?!  We saw no mad rush of people at any point (presumably there would have been one once the boat arrive if there were that many people!), let alone a crowd of more than 100 people.  We later realized that the damn line of busses was the culprit – we couldn’t even see other boats docking!  Lucky for us, the boat that had just started loading passengers in the spot where we were standing was also going where we needed to go!  We hurriedly pooled our money and bought new tickets (ugh, why did she make us buy new tickets?!  Thank you, nasty old Greek lady at the ticket office for costing me an extra 55 euro when I had already paid for a spot on a boat and there was plenty of extra space on the one we actually took) then made a mad dash for the next boat.  We stored our stuff, found a spot to sit on the back deck and sat there sulking.  Not only were we out more money, but we definitely wouldn’t make it to our final destination in time to meet our professor, who was going to pick us up and take us to the small town where we’d be staying.  We sat in sulky silence as we sailed slowly away from beautiful Santorini, sad to leave, but even sadder to be leaving with less cash and knowing we’d miss our ride and probably have to find a place to sleep in the random town we’d arrive in.  Not even the sun setting into the sea could cheer us up.  What did cheer us up finally was getting the whole boat to ourselves!  As it turned out, the boat was stopping in one city first, dropping off all its passengers, then sailing to where we wanted to be.  For an hour and a half it was just us four and the crew aboard the ship.  It was an endless sea of airplane-like chairs and empty cafes.  I think at that point the Dramamine fog turned from blissful foggy ignorance to fits of giggles.  Our boat mishap now seemed ridiculous and the fact that we were on an empty boat was even more so.  Somehow our boat ride that was supposed to be an hour and a half long (the mystical green boat) turned into a six-hour journey on a ghost ship.

We finally docked and got off the boat around midnight.  Our ride was long gone and we were in desperate need of a place to sleep.  We wandered to the nearest (super fancy) hotel and asked a very nice receptionist if she knew of any hostels. I felt ridiculous asking a place of lodging for a significantly cheaper place of lodging, but I think our attire and sweaty/stinky nature gave away the fact that we could not afford her establishment.  Not only did she give us a map, a location where there would be hostels, but she also gave us cookies!  She definitely made up for the ticket wench.  Greece had redeemed itself.  After about twenty minutes of wandering we just started asking people in cafes and bars for help. One very nice man led us to a youth hostel!  Finally!  And it miraculously had an empty four-bed room.  Zeus and Greek xenia was finally favoring us… or so we thought.  The rooms in this place were decent, but the bathrooms looked like they were from a horror movie.  I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had actually been murdered in one of them.  Upon seeing them I stopped guzzling water so I wouldn’t have to use them and risk getting trapped in the murder den.  We then plotted our next move in the morning and promptly passed out, only to awake a mere few hours later to catch a bus to the excavation town. 

In the morning a new problem arose.  We wanted to take the 7am bus, but the front desk was closed until 8am… and our passports were locked up behind the desk.  Crap.  We formed a new plan: take the 8:15am bus, but drag all of our stuff to the bus station in advance, have two people stay there to guard everyone’s stuff, then the other two go get the passports from the desk that would hopefully actually open up at 8am (punctuality is not a prominent feature in the Mediterranean), then run to the bus station to make it to our bus on time.  After a ten-minute walk with all of our junk, Josh and I walked speedily back to the hostel and waited for someone to arrive.   Thank Zeus, a nice old Greek woman showed up at 8:02!  We grabbed all four passports (thinking about this later, it was shocking that she let us take the passports of people who weren't there... Greece: one giant trust exercise) and sprinted to the bus station.  It only takes three minutes if you run!  Unlike our Santorini experience the previous day, we found and hopped on the bus promptly and arrived in our excavation town… only sixteen hours too late.  The excavation and the real adventure begins here!

And no more Dramamine for the rest of the trip ;)...