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Countries

GUINNESS in Greece (Athens)

by Marina Martin on March 23, 2005

in Countries

MISSION: ACCOMPLISHED
DATE: MARCH 23, 2005
PLACE: MIKE’S IRISH PUB, ATHENS, GREECE

Continuing my trend of getting lost just about anywhere, it took Kristen and me quite a few tries to successfully make it from Athens airport to our hotel. After winding up on the side of random roads a couple times, we finally made it to the President Hotel and met up with Kristen’s friend Heather.

In the back of my mind, I was secretly hoping that my wet clothes would dry in my suitcase and I’d be just fine by the time I arrived in Athens. I was very, very wrong. You know that moldy smell clothes get when you leave them in the washer for a couple days? Multiply that by three, and add that they were still pretty darn wet, and you get my suitcase.

The front desk at the hotel informed us that they had no laundry facilities, but I could get my clothes dry cleaned for the low price of 10 euros apiece. Right. Like that was going to happen. So Kristen and I walked for miles trying to find a laundromat, to no avail, but we did find a grocery store, so I bought what appeared to be laundry detergent and washed my clothes in the bathtub, draping them to dry all over our hotel room.

Only… what I thought was laundry detergent was actually starch. So I now had damp, incredibly stiff, still-unpleasant-smelling clothes. Oh, the fail. I gave up and spent the entire week in the same pair of yoga pants and sandals. Sigh.

Our first order of non-laundry business was to visit the Acropolis, which we assumed would be simple enough given that Athens has a subway system and they had just hosted the Olympics, so it was probably easy to get around the city. Except, when we got to the subway station, an ostensibly-nice man informed us in broken English that, contrary to how it might look, the Acropolis was *not* at the Akropoli stop, but instead off a stop on a different line (requiring a transfer). We thanked him and followed his directions.

Yes, dear readers, that man was lying. We ended up in the Grecian equivalent of Timbuktu a good 40 minutes later, then spent 40 minutes on a return trip, only to go to the Akropli stop and find — lo and behold — the Acropolis.

Ascending to the Acropolis requires serious leg power. There are a *lot* of steps. Luckily, I was addicted to the Stairmaster at the time, so the climb was fairly easy — but it wasn’t for most everyone else. If you’re planning a trip here, run a lot of stairs beforehand.

Don’t ask us how we know this, but there are guards hidden behind trees and in bushes to jump out and yell at dumb Americans who try to cross the “Do Not Cross” lines for photo opps.

Amphitheater at the Acropolis

Not Sure Why These Girls Are Marching

The Acropolis itself was eh. As I’ve mentioned, I’m not big on history. That said, the idea that they could build structures like that prior to the invention of the crane is pretty impressive… and the view was pretty sweet, too.

View from the Acropolis

Kristen and Me Feigning Excitement

We made our way back to the hotel to find something for dinner. Heather wanted lamb, and we were in Greece — a restaurant serving lamb would be no sweat, right?

Hah. Much to our surprise, there are almost no restaurants in the entire city. Every place that sells food is more like a snack stand… baklava, spanikopita, drinks, etc. but no waiters and no full-on meals. We searched for lamb (okay, for ANY restaurant) for days, to no avail. (Remember, this was pre-Google Local.) Finally, we asked the front desk at the hotel, who continued his strong of unhelpfulness (recall the 10 euro dry cleaning) by recommending a “fabulous” restaurant across town where he knew the owner personally and would call ahead for us.

I’m not quite sure how we found the restaurant given that we had no maps, but after navigating a considerable number of dark sketchy alleyways, we arrived. It was, in fact, a restaurant, but it had zero guests and zero lamb. The owner — a gruff old man — came down, looked at us, and said he’d bring us three of the special. Which was … macaroni and cheese. He then proceeded to sit at our table with us and watch us eat it, asking angrily if we didn’t like it since none of us finished our bowls. (As mac and cheese goes, it was pretty good, but I can’t eat a huge bowl of it!)

As you may be able to tell, I was not warming to Athens… rather disappointing since I am half-Greek and expected to feel at least a smidgen of solidarity with the culture and the people. Not the case. I was far more at home in Budapest.

At this point, I was going to kill someone if I didn’t get to change out of that one freaking pair of yoga pants, so we went clothes shopping. I found a cute pair of capri jeans that worked just fine, and we also stumbled into Petinarelli, where the incredibly kind store owner commented repeatedly on how skinny I was. This immediately caused me to spend a significant chunk of money on clothes from her store, including one pair of sweet black pants that we continue to refer to as the “skinny pants.” If you are in Athens, you should go to this store.

Petinarelli: Home of Skinny Pants

Thanks to some tourist stand, we found a map of local attractions that listed both a restaurant that served lamb and an Irish Pub so I could find a Guinness. We trekked out for lamb and happened to walk past the American Embassy, where we got yelled at for taking a photograph. (Other people had their cameras confiscated, so we got off easy, it seems.) Because, you know, the terrorists are going to use a photo of the front door of the Embassy to do bad things.

Forbidden Photo of American Embassy in Greece

This is where things got more interesting. We found lamb in a restaurant with real waiters and a real menu where we were not the only guests. (It was even good lamb!) Then we wandered to Mike’s Irish Pub for a “quick” Guinness.

There was some European university rugby match that night, which the British team had won, and the losing team consequently had to buy them drinks. They also chose Mike’s Irish Pub for their victory celebration, and the rugby guys just happened to have three empty seats at their table for three pretty American girls. *smirk*

I cannot share the story of what happened that night here, but let’s just say that everyone had fun.

An Idea of What Went On

Heh Heh Heh

Mike's Irish Pub

It was time to fly back to Luton so we could switch over to Heathrow and fly back to New York City. We accidentally underpaid for our tickets on the train to the airport and two very serious-looking police officers took down all our information and wrote us tickets. There may be an outstanding warrant for me in Greece. (Luckily, I’m not really planning on returning to Athens.)

Baklava at Airport McDonalds

Our Last Day Together in Athens

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GUINNESS in Belgium (Brussels)

by Marina Martin on March 19, 2005

in Countries

MISSION: ACCOMPLISHED
DATE: MARCH 19, 2005
PLACE: UNKNOWN CAFE, BRUSSELS, BELGIUM

On our way from London to Athens, we had a four-hour layover in Brussels, Belgium, which was the perfect amount of time to find a Guinness.

I will always love Brussels because their airport has storage lockers, and those storage lockers meant I didn’t have to drag my sopping wet clothes all over the country and could instead seek out a Guinness in peace.

Kristen speaks French, and I do not, so she gets 100% of the credit for getting us on a train that went into [what I believe to be] city center.

Do you remember The Gates in Central Park?

(Photo from Mike Rollinger on Flickr)

Brussels seemed to have its own really messed up version going on:

We lovingly dubbed this “Sketch Park,” partially because it was half children’s playground equipment and half seriously deep and dangerous holes that were not even roped off. I respect any place that respects Darwinism like that.

We found a restaurant and ordered a Guinness and mozzarella salad. Nom. Sadly I did not anticipate becoming the Guinness Globetrotter and therefore neglected to note the name of the place. Fail, I know. A place someplace near Sketch Park? I believe it had a spiral staircase inside. (Do you know?)

After our drinks (I also had my first Chimay Blue in Brussels) we wandered around a bit, hopped a train back to the airport, and made our flight to Athens in plenty of time.

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GUINNESS in Hungary (Budapest)

by Marina Martin on March 17, 2005

in Countries

MISSION: ACCOMPLISHED
DATE: MARCH 17, 2005
PLACE: IRISH CAT CLUB, BUDAPEST, HUNGARY

Ever since reading Prague by Arthur K. Phillips (which is actually about Budapest) and seeing Adoption by Marta Meszaros (which happened in the same week), I have been somewhat obsessed with Budapest. It has a haunting familiarity that I cannot explain, but have simply come to accept and enjoy. That said, there was no way I was not going to spend time in Budapest during my first trip to Europe — and no way I wasn’t going to have a Guinness in the process!

Hungary is the first (and last) country I ever owned a guidebook for. Traveling is much (much, much, much) better if you leave the guidebook on the bookshelf and just try to figure it out on your own, as I learned within 20 minutes of landing at Ferihegy Airport.

Getting to Budapest from Ferihegy Airport

The travel guide said to arrange a ride to my hostel at the travel counter, which I did. They said it would take at least an hour for my ride to arrive, so I paid (after withdrawing forints from the airport ATM) and leaned up against a wall to people watch.

A few minutes later a couple cute guys came up to me and asked if I spoke English. (They were British.) They were with a big group taking a long weekend and invited me to ride to Budapest in their coach bus.

What could possibly go wrong?

They were a very entertaining bunch and I was glad I went with them instead of sitting around forever at the airport. We stopped at their hotel (Hotel Eben – it looked nice and had a very clean lobby) and I accompanied them to dinner at a local place across the street. We then parted ways, but they invited me to meet them that night at the Irish Cat Club — seeing as it was St. Patrick’s Day and all. I had no idea where I was, where I was going, or where the Irish Cat Club was, but I said I’d be there and then started wandering.

The guys' hotel

Navigating the Subways

It was early in the day yet, but I’ll admit to being slightly worried about not knowing a lick of Magyar and needing to find my way to the Catarina Hostel from Wherever I Was. At some point I wandered past a train station and attempted to ask the kiosk man for a subway pass. He spoke no English and I spoke no Magyar and yet, a moment later I had exact change and a three-day unlimited subway pass. Woot.

3-Day Budapest Pass
3-Day Budapest Pass: Back

The subway in Budapest is on the honor system, with police occasionally checking for tickets either on the train or as you exit the station. Contrary to other honor systems (like Salt Lake City’s TRAX or most of Germany), in Budapest they seemed to check all the time. Don’t try to cheat.

There are three metro lines (red, blue, and yellow) and it was dirt simple to get from one place to the next. I easily found my hostel off the Oktagon stop and checked in.

Despite the rather icky-looking stairs leading up to the hostel,

it’s actually very nice inside, and the caretakers are incredibly kind (and speak damn near every language on earth fluently). I highly recommend staying here. It was dirt cheap and it comes with breakfast – and there’s no curfew.

Reenacting Prague

Prague the book is, as I mentioned, actually about Budapest. Arthur K. Phillips lived as an American ex-pat in Budapest as it was becoming more westernized in the early 1990s (just as Prague had westernized prior, hence the title), so he knew Budapest intimately and used real places and landmarks in the novel.

I loved sipping a cappuccino at the Gerbeaud:

But I could have done without riding the Funicular Railway (an outdoor elevator, basically):

Ticket to Funicular Railway in Budapest
Funicular Railway in Budapest, Hungary

St. Patrick’s Day, Budapest Style

Before heading to the Irish Cat Club I wandered around Budapest more, tracing the Danube and walking across the Chain Bridge. This could very well be me over-romanticizing the situation, but it was really peaceful and really beautiful.

(Yes, I suck at photography. I know.)

I found the Irish Cat Club on a map the night before, so I hopped on the metro and made my way over. The whole group of guys from earlier was there with a green hat and a Guinness for me. (Goal achieved!)

After taking a sip or two of Guinness, Main Guy asked, “Would you fancy a group poke?” (Yes, those were his words exactly.)

Why, YES, Guy Whose Name I Don’t Know, now that you mention it, I would love to have sex with an entire bus of men I met a few hours earlier.

Heh. I said I’d love to, but I really needed a shower first. He asked if I stunk. I repeated that I needed a shower, but “my hostel is right down the street” and “I’ll be right back.”

In case this needs saying: I never did go back.

Good Morning, McDonald’s!

I woke up at 6am sharp to enjoy as much Budapest as I could before flying back to London in the afternoon.

(Tip: waking up early at a hostel means you get the shower to yourself and ample hot water.)

I skipped breakfast, much to my host’s horror, but I did agree to some peach tea, which was delicious.

By 7am I was out the door and ready to see the world. Except, the whole world was asleep.

I walked around and around and the only thing that was open was McDonald’s. Fail. (Although, in Budapest, the McDonald’s has waiters and tablecloths. Somehow this made me feel a little better.)

So I sat in McDonald’s reading and journaling and sipping coffee until 10am when other people finally appeared and I could check out more of the city.

I bought some postcards, found the post office, and attempted to mail them. (Visiting a post office is something I like to do in foreign cities – it’s not typically prepared for tourists, so I have to figure out how to communicate what I need without using English. The postal workers may not appreciate my little exercise, but I enjoy it.) [Update: The postcards indeed arrived, so I must have mailed them correctly.]

I also went to the grocery store and hunted around for some peach tea bags. Score. As I was checking out, I tried to use a large (relative to the cost of the tea) bill, and the cashier very helpfully asked if I had any “little time.” She meant “coins” (little money – I’m assuming she confused time/money) — I don’t know why this struck me as particularly amusing, but it did. Laugh, damn you.

Finally, I had – of all things – some really delicious gnocchi at an Italian restaurant, Oliva. (I intended to go to a vegetarian restaurant mentioned in the guidebook, but the address it listed was for a steep set of dark stairs leading into a basement. No thanks.)

Oliva Italian Restaurant in Hungary

At this point, I made my way to the last metro stop, where I connected with the airport bus (which conveniently has an image of an airplane on its sign – and a crowd of people holding luggage standing around it!), and I boarded a flight back to London.

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GUINNESS in England (London)

by Marina Martin on March 15, 2005

in Countries

MISSION: ACCOMPLISHED
DATE: MARCH 15, 2005
PLACE: THE BETSEY TROTWOOD, LONDON, ENGLAND

I had no idea how much my life would change when I accepted my friend Toby’s offer to try a sip of his Guinness as we munched pad thai at The Betsey Trotwood in London, England.

Toby was living in London for awhile, and my friend Kristen and I decided to visit him and check out a few other European countries while we were there. This was my first trip abroad and we pretty much winged the whole thing, setting the tone for future international adventures.

After I finally found Toby’s apartment (a bit of challenge given that I had no way to reach him until I showed up on his restricted-entry doorstep, and his building was down a rather hidden alley), I spent a couple of days wandering the city. London is not one of my favorite cities; it’s drab and cold. I’m far from a history buff, so while the museums around Trafalgar Square had free entry, I was sort of bored. International adventures are more fun when you aren’t 100% positive every person you meet speaks English.

Socialist Rally in Trafalgar Square

A Gross Fountain in Trafalgar Square

A Lion Statue in Trafalgar Square

One novice mistake I made was buying a ticket for a Dali exhibit, which I actually enjoyed — but I didn’t realize that every country on Earth seems to have a Dali exhibit. I will also admit to stopping at a McDonalds, although only because I was very hungry and there was nothing else open in the immediate vicinity.

Ticket for Dali Universe

My first Guinness happened entirely by accident. I was not a big beer drinker, but I was still willing to try any beer once, so I happily tried a sip of Toby’s “meal in a glass.” Here’s a dirty little secret: I did not really like that first sip, but I ordered a pint of it anyway, and I proceeded to have a couple more later that week less because I loved Guinness and more because it was one of the few beers I knew by name. Twice, a bartender commented that they were impressed with a young female ordered a Guinness, and I have to admit that was a large part of its initial appeal for me. (Quickly, though, I developed a genuine appreciation for its taste.)

My last night in London, Kristen and I were headed for Athens, Greece and discovered at the last minute that the Tube didn’t run late enough to take us to the airport. (Fail, Tube!) So, we arranged for an all-too-expensive cab to pick us up at 2am. Much earlier that evening, I threw in a load of laundry and went across town for what I expected to be a quick beer with another friend.

Now, I am navigationally inept. I get lost all the time. I can usually plan ahead for this and find a way to compensate without making a total ass of myself… but not this time. “One beer” turned into a few, and it was getting late, so I had to start making me way back to Toby’s place. My friend offered to walk me back, but I insisted that I was fine. I was not fine; I continually read maps wrong and walked in the wrong direction, so it took me over three hours to make it back, and the cab was already there waiting for me.

I ran inside to pack my bag, only to realize — to my horror — that every article of clothing I had was still in the washing machine, sopping wet. I had no choice but to throw the entire load of sopping wet clothes into my suitcase (ruining the books I had packed) and drag it (dripping!) up to the cab.

My wet clothes journey continues in Brussels and Athens…

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