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Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Athens and theTurquise Isles
The picture many paint of Athens is one of a grubby, grimy, dusty city thats only worth getting out of as quickly as possible and indeed if you follow all the guides and advice this is what they'll tell you, but having to stay there for some days while I processed my Indian visa taught me just how guides and books are only really one persons view and ideas of people and places theyve seen. I admit Athens isnt the picture perfect tourist destination people are looking for when they come on holiday, but increasinly I dont feel like Im on holiday, I feel quite separate to the tourists in a way thats hard to describe, like Im part of the land rather than simply passing through unconnected as perhaps others are. So Athens for me felt very real and gritty and not painted over with the pretty tourist brush that can wear a little translucent when you get used to it. For me I loved the dirt and dust and the broken down old buildings with their shabby balconies
and peeling paint, I loved walking through the the fish market and meat markets at dusk, saw stalls piled up with dates, seeds and nuts, sold for pennies, watched sadly junkies,husslers and prostitutes hanging around scruffy squares and amazed at street stalls selling everything and anything you could ever want and some stuff you might not ever need. I did do some of the touristy things however like see the Acropolis and the other many ancient monuments and ruins, but like I said I find the real life of the city far more interesting than traipsing from this site to the next. I will say however that the view from the top of the hill overlooking the Acropolis into 
Athens is something everyone should see, everywhere you look is Athens from far off mountains in one direction to distant blue sea with ships and islands in the other,its simply breathtaking, such a mass of houses and monuments, steets and cars, buildings and rooftops as far as the eye can see. I tried to c
apture it on my camera but its simply impossible, you'd need a lense that looks behind you and more.
And then the day came when I came face to face with the amazingly crazy beurocracy that surrounds getting an Indian visa, oh man, its just simply bizzare, everything has to be just so and the amount of useless information they want from you is both bizarre and fantastical. A word of advice to anyone doing this, approach with a sense of humour and a continuous and unflinching inner smile. Apparently my photocopies of my passport were the wrong size,they had to be A4, they needed to know where I was staying in Athens, and also a statement written on A4 size paper as to why I had not got my visa in London, and what I was doing in Greece on a motorcycle, all this in a two hour slot in a hot sticky visa office in central Athens with a woman behind a screen who had managed to acheive a startlingly good impression of a prison camp guard, I tried to make her laugh, but an unflinching scowling face made me realise that that was certainly not the way forward. Anyway she sent me scuttling across Athens to grab my camp address from an internet cafe, 2 new correctly sized photocopies of my passport from a pokey little shop in a backstreet, and addresses of where I intended to enter and exit India all to be back within the space of an hour. To say it was a mad dash is an understatement, spinning in and out of streets, trying not to trip over people and bags in a search to find an internet cafe and somewhere for photocopies, but I made it back, albeit in need of a shower and an iced drink and after once again giving me a suspicious look and rifling through the papers she eventually lifted up her hand and stamped my documents like a judge sending a man down.
So with that I packed up my tent, headed for the port and booked myself and the bike onto the cheapest oldest ferry Ive seen floating and slept my way to the greek islands. I landed 5am on the island of Ios and found camp on the beach. The least said about Ios the better really. I had some fun there when I was younger and only really went there because I knew the island and knew there was a good base top make plans. The place is overun with young kids who have no respect for the island the people or the culture, all they want to do is party and live in a world of hedonism, booze and self gratification. It really swung me and looking at the locals it seems to me that its taken its toll. People seem tired and with little patience and if you take time to ask them how they are they seem genuinely suprised that you care. Its such a shame because the island is so beautiful, but now its energy is somehow heavy, its hard to describe, not dark but not clean. I think it seems the party tag has become a noose on the islanders collective necks, they need the money but they dont want the kids who litter their streets each night with bottles, rubbish and in some cases themslves.
So, not need
ing any part of that I got my bearings and caught the next boat anywhere out of Ios which happened to be where I am now sat in a little camp cafe on the island of Folegandos. The change is indescribable, 
a tiny little port with a few tavernas made out of old fishing boat housings and the prettiest old town with winding, rickety streets, all white washed with hidden alleys and courtyards. A few tavernas in the central square with book exchanges and seafood to make your mouth water and the energy here is amazing. I lay on the beach and it felt like all the days of little sleep Ive had in my life were being pulled from me into the rocks and the pebbles of the beach, beautiful, solid, warm energy filled with life and goodness and the locals happy and smiling, stopping to talk with you, easy. I met an old man sat sideways on his donkeys, trotting down a steep hill from the local church perched high up on the cliffto
ps, he slowed down and stop to ask me "you english" I said yes, "this one" he said pointing to the donkey, "this one Mercedes, the other one Rolls Royce" and off he plodded chuckling to himself. Great!
So, today I head for Athens just me without the bike to pick up my Indian Visa, god willing, prayers to the universe and all, it'll be a dash of overnight ferry to Athens arrive 8am tommorrow, grab the visa and some essential supplies (new pair of crocs) overnight ferry back to Folegandros same day, same ferry, 5pm. I keep trusting in the universe that all will go to plan and work out in the end, but I suspect some things might well go totally pear shaped, but thats just how it is I guess. Once I get back Im straight off to Koufonissi a small island just off naxos where you can camp for free, so for now many blessings and much love and peace to all who know me. Jonny
The picture many paint of Athens is one of a grubby, grimy, dusty city thats only worth getting out of as quickly as possible and indeed if you follow all the guides and advice this is what they'll tell you, but having to stay there for some days while I processed my Indian visa taught me just how guides and books are only really one persons view and ideas of people and places theyve seen. I admit Athens isnt the picture perfect tourist destination people are looking for when they come on holiday, but increasinly I dont feel like Im on holiday, I feel quite separate to the tourists in a way thats hard to describe, like Im part of the land rather than simply passing through unconnected as perhaps others are. So Athens for me felt very real and gritty and not painted over with the pretty tourist brush that can wear a little translucent when you get used to it. For me I loved the dirt and dust and the broken down old buildings with their shabby balconies and peeling paint, I loved walking through the the fish market and meat markets at dusk, saw stalls piled up with dates, seeds and nuts, sold for pennies, watched sadly junkies,husslers and prostitutes hanging around scruffy squares and amazed at street stalls selling everything and anything you could ever want and some stuff you might not ever need. I did do some of the touristy things however like see the Acropolis and the other many ancient monuments and ruins, but like I said I find the real life of the city far more interesting than traipsing from this site to the next. I will say however that the view from the top of the hill overlooking the Acropolis into Athens is something everyone should see, everywhere you look is Athens from far off mountains in one direction to distant blue sea with ships and islands in the other,its simply breathtaking, such a mass of houses and monuments, steets and cars, buildings and rooftops as far as the eye can see. I tried to capture it on my camera but its simply impossible, you'd need a lense that looks behind you and more.
And then the day came when I came face to face with the amazingly crazy beurocracy that surrounds getting an Indian visa, oh man, its just simply bizzare, everything has to be just so and the amount of useless information they want from you is both bizarre and fantastical. A word of advice to anyone doing this, approach with a sense of humour and a continuous and unflinching inner smile. Apparently my photocopies of my passport were the wrong size,they had to be A4, they needed to know where I was staying in Athens, and also a statement written on A4 size paper as to why I had not got my visa in London, and what I was doing in Greece on a motorcycle, all this in a two hour slot in a hot sticky visa office in central Athens with a woman behind a screen who had managed to acheive a startlingly good impression of a prison camp guard, I tried to make her laugh, but an unflinching scowling face made me realise that that was certainly not the way forward. Anyway she sent me scuttling across Athens to grab my camp address from an internet cafe, 2 new correctly sized photocopies of my passport from a pokey little shop in a backstreet, and addresses of where I intended to enter and exit India all to be back within the space of an hour. To say it was a mad dash is an understatement, spinning in and out of streets, trying not to trip over people and bags in a search to find an internet cafe and somewhere for photocopies, but I made it back, albeit in need of a shower and an iced drink and after once again giving me a suspicious look and rifling through the papers she eventually lifted up her hand and stamped my documents like a judge sending a man down.
So with that I packed up my tent, headed for the port and booked myself and the bike onto the cheapest oldest ferry Ive seen floating and slept my way to the greek islands. I landed 5am on the island of Ios and found camp on the beach. The least said about Ios the better really. I had some fun there when I was younger and only really went there because I knew the island and knew there was a good base top make plans. The place is overun with young kids who have no respect for the island the people or the culture, all they want to do is party and live in a world of hedonism, booze and self gratification. It really swung me and looking at the locals it seems to me that its taken its toll. People seem tired and with little patience and if you take time to ask them how they are they seem genuinely suprised that you care. Its such a shame because the island is so beautiful, but now its energy is somehow heavy, its hard to describe, not dark but not clean. I think it seems the party tag has become a noose on the islanders collective necks, they need the money but they dont want the kids who litter their streets each night with bottles, rubbish and in some cases themslves.
So, not needing any part of that I got my bearings and caught the next boat anywhere out of Ios which happened to be where I am now sat in a little camp cafe on the island of Folegandos. The change is indescribable, a tiny little port with a few tavernas made out of old fishing boat housings and the prettiest old town with winding, rickety streets, all white washed with hidden alleys and courtyards. A few tavernas in the central square with book exchanges and seafood to make your mouth water and the energy here is amazing. I lay on the beach and it felt like all the days of little sleep Ive had in my life were being pulled from me into the rocks and the pebbles of the beach, beautiful, solid, warm energy filled with life and goodness and the locals happy and smiling, stopping to talk with you, easy. I met an old man sat sideways on his donkeys, trotting down a steep hill from the local church perched high up on the clifftops, he slowed down and stop to ask me "you english" I said yes, "this one" he said pointing to the donkey, "this one Mercedes, the other one Rolls Royce" and off he plodded chuckling to himself. Great!
So, today I head for Athens just me without the bike to pick up my Indian Visa, god willing, prayers to the universe and all, it'll be a dash of overnight ferry to Athens arrive 8am tommorrow, grab the visa and some essential supplies (new pair of crocs) overnight ferry back to Folegandros same day, same ferry, 5pm. I keep trusting in the universe that all will go to plan and work out in the end, but I suspect some things might well go totally pear shaped, but thats just how it is I guess. Once I get back Im straight off to Koufonissi a small island just off naxos where you can camp for free, so for now many blessings and much love and peace to all who know me. Jonny
and peeling paint, I loved walking through the the fish market and meat markets at dusk, saw stalls piled up with dates, seeds and nuts, sold for pennies, watched sadly junkies,husslers and prostitutes hanging around scruffy squares and amazed at street stalls selling everything and anything you could ever want and some stuff you might not ever need. I did do some of the touristy things however like see the Acropolis and the other many ancient monuments and ruins, but like I said I find the real life of the city far more interesting than traipsing from this site to the next. I will say however that the view from the top of the hill overlooking the Acropolis into 
Athens is something everyone should see, everywhere you look is Athens from far off mountains in one direction to distant blue sea with ships and islands in the other,its simply breathtaking, such a mass of houses and monuments, steets and cars, buildings and rooftops as far as the eye can see. I tried to c
apture it on my camera but its simply impossible, you'd need a lense that looks behind you and more.And then the day came when I came face to face with the amazingly crazy beurocracy that surrounds getting an Indian visa, oh man, its just simply bizzare, everything has to be just so and the amount of useless information they want from you is both bizarre and fantastical. A word of advice to anyone doing this, approach with a sense of humour and a continuous and unflinching inner smile. Apparently my photocopies of my passport were the wrong size,they had to be A4, they needed to know where I was staying in Athens, and also a statement written on A4 size paper as to why I had not got my visa in London, and what I was doing in Greece on a motorcycle, all this in a two hour slot in a hot sticky visa office in central Athens with a woman behind a screen who had managed to acheive a startlingly good impression of a prison camp guard, I tried to make her laugh, but an unflinching scowling face made me realise that that was certainly not the way forward. Anyway she sent me scuttling across Athens to grab my camp address from an internet cafe, 2 new correctly sized photocopies of my passport from a pokey little shop in a backstreet, and addresses of where I intended to enter and exit India all to be back within the space of an hour. To say it was a mad dash is an understatement, spinning in and out of streets, trying not to trip over people and bags in a search to find an internet cafe and somewhere for photocopies, but I made it back, albeit in need of a shower and an iced drink and after once again giving me a suspicious look and rifling through the papers she eventually lifted up her hand and stamped my documents like a judge sending a man down.
So with that I packed up my tent, headed for the port and booked myself and the bike onto the cheapest oldest ferry Ive seen floating and slept my way to the greek islands. I landed 5am on the island of Ios and found camp on the beach. The least said about Ios the better really. I had some fun there when I was younger and only really went there because I knew the island and knew there was a good base top make plans. The place is overun with young kids who have no respect for the island the people or the culture, all they want to do is party and live in a world of hedonism, booze and self gratification. It really swung me and looking at the locals it seems to me that its taken its toll. People seem tired and with little patience and if you take time to ask them how they are they seem genuinely suprised that you care. Its such a shame because the island is so beautiful, but now its energy is somehow heavy, its hard to describe, not dark but not clean. I think it seems the party tag has become a noose on the islanders collective necks, they need the money but they dont want the kids who litter their streets each night with bottles, rubbish and in some cases themslves.
So, not need
ing any part of that I got my bearings and caught the next boat anywhere out of Ios which happened to be where I am now sat in a little camp cafe on the island of Folegandos. The change is indescribable, 
a tiny little port with a few tavernas made out of old fishing boat housings and the prettiest old town with winding, rickety streets, all white washed with hidden alleys and courtyards. A few tavernas in the central square with book exchanges and seafood to make your mouth water and the energy here is amazing. I lay on the beach and it felt like all the days of little sleep Ive had in my life were being pulled from me into the rocks and the pebbles of the beach, beautiful, solid, warm energy filled with life and goodness and the locals happy and smiling, stopping to talk with you, easy. I met an old man sat sideways on his donkeys, trotting down a steep hill from the local church perched high up on the cliffto
ps, he slowed down and stop to ask me "you english" I said yes, "this one" he said pointing to the donkey, "this one Mercedes, the other one Rolls Royce" and off he plodded chuckling to himself. Great!So, today I head for Athens just me without the bike to pick up my Indian Visa, god willing, prayers to the universe and all, it'll be a dash of overnight ferry to Athens arrive 8am tommorrow, grab the visa and some essential supplies (new pair of crocs) overnight ferry back to Folegandros same day, same ferry, 5pm. I keep trusting in the universe that all will go to plan and work out in the end, but I suspect some things might well go totally pear shaped, but thats just how it is I guess. Once I get back Im straight off to Koufonissi a small island just off naxos where you can camp for free, so for now many blessings and much love and peace to all who know me. Jonny
★ 2 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, July 16, 2008 2:34 AM
Saturday, July 5, 2008
A mad dash acroos the Med
After riding nearly 500 miles up the western coast of Morocco in one day to catch the ferry back to spain, my backside was telling me I neaded a rest. So I promptly holed up in Tarifa again for a few days to relax and enjoy the beach, the
sun and the surf and generally calm down after the storm that was Morocco. Being back on european soil made me realise just how well structured and clean and organised we have it in Europe and also how much personal space we give each other. Sure thats not always such a good thing but when youve experienced the stresses and hassles of travelling in Morocco it felt pretty good to have things easily organised and accesible and to be free from people constantly wanted something from you.
I remember when I left Scotland, someone saying to me "Morocco you'll either love it or hate it" and I know what they meant. I can say I felt both ways at differnet times. The rural areas are wonderful and the landscape in the atlas mountains can be breathtakingly beautiful, and I guess like anywhere in the world, here you find the most real people and to me the most beautiful. Berbers in all their colourful clothes, kids selling honey and fruit by the side of the road, helpful smiling folk. But in the towns and the cities, people seemed to turn to tugging your arm, following you around trying to sell you something or their services, few real genuine smiles without a "whats in it for me" and that I found exhausting and frustrating. So one day I'd had enough and rode all the way back to organised, policed, structured Europe. I woman I spoke to before I left for Morocco confirmed what I thought when I returned, she said " 10 days and thats enough for me" and in my book shes right. My feeling is that Morocco is too close to Europe to not be affected by all that seems to glitters over there and its a shame because it stops you really connecting with the people in a meaningful way.So I stayed in Tarifa three or four nights, recharged, cooled down, and got organised for my 800 mile trek up the coast of Spain and across the Mediteranean to Greece. The plan being to catch ferries from Barcelona to Rome and from Bari to Patras and get to Greece and relax for a month or so, grab my Indian Visa in Athens and then head for Turkey and Iran around the middle of august.On the way up I stopped in Granada ( famous for making guitars for all those-795406.jpg)
Musos out there)for a couple of nights because wanted to visit tthe Alhambra Palace, something I'd missed doing the last time I was here because I was broke. So with decisions made I headed up the steep hill to the Alhambra.-735363.jpg)
Its a wondefully beautiful place, part moorish, part spanish from different centuries perched high up on the hill peering solidly over Granada. From a distance it looks incredibly domineering and once inside its a place of timeless wonder and beauty. Its hard to describe really, ornate palace gardens with every kind of bushy tree and shrub, rambling twisty paths and green fish ponds, castle turrets and broken down moorish ruins. Inside the palace theres the most exquisitely intricate mosaic tile work and ceiling carvings, galleries and open courtyards, its very beautiful and too much to put into words really. However, unfortunately for me I found the place saddened and weighed down by tourists, its popularity has made it a place that was once light with energy and beauty into a place thats somehow heavy and burdened. Loaded with bus crowds of burger eating daytrippers dredging along the tick list of sites to see on their 10 day trip the Alhambra has lost its charm, people are sheep herded from one part to the next on time tickets, and theres no freedom in the place, and in a place that eminates lightness and space thats at a real juxtaposition to its true identity. I felt exhausted and perplexed by my experience there, in so much that somehow we've made something so beautiful and spacious into something so ugly and tight by revolving it around tourism and cash generation. To be honest it was a sad day for me as Im one of the tourists although I gave up eating burgers a while back.
On a more postive note, while in Granada I set about redesigning my seat again, trying to somehow eliminate the ass hell Im living in everytime I sit on the bike. So with a 
bit of cunning and guile I designed a foam pad made from 3 layers of camping mat, some contact adhesive and scissors. Sculpted and placed under my sheepskin rug in the butt position this seemd like the ideal solution and setting off from Granada to Barcelona I thought it would be, but oh no,no,no, after riding the 530 miles up the coast I wondered if I'd ever walk again or father any children for that matter, I was living in serious Ass Hell again, wiggling this way, dangling my feet of the bike that way, doing pelvic exercise, it seemed like every area of my backside was crippled and paralysed. So on arriving in Barcelona I finally decided to give in to the financial worries of buying an air seat for the bike. Still havent found one yet but I will, believe you me I will.
A couple of none descript days in Barcelona, the best Spanish city by far, all spacious and airy, has a real free and e-799697.jpg)
asy feel to it. Spent most of the time organising and arranging things and problems although I did see Gaudis masterpiece the Seven Sister, fruits bowls on turrerts and all, bizarreness redifined. Hopped on the ferry to Rome, camped in a wonderful green froggy wood in Italy, cooked rice boiled in Canal water (yuck), -747153.jpg)
argued wholeheartedly in true English "thats just not cricket" style with a booking agent at Bari who charged me an extra 20 euro for my internet prebooked ticket to Patras. "Port tax" she said, "oh yeah" I said, nothing about port tax from any of the other companies here, "oh ok, not port tax, fuel surcharge" Made me realise things are no longer set in sto-718677.jpg)
ne as Im getting further east.
So here I am now, camped up in Athens, waiting till monday to try and get my Indian visa and perhaps extend my Iranian one by a month or so, so I dont hit the rains in Pakistan or the monsoons in India. Its a good feeling to slow down a bit and know that Im close enough to my visa deadlines to not have to worry too much about getting to the border. I love the greek people, I love theyre energy and exuberance, it has a good feel to it and is a welcome relief after many long hours riding on the road.
Last night when I arrived I set about one of my main headaches of finding a new tyre for the rear of my bike, I suspected it would be almost impossible to track down the right one in Iran or Pakistan so I decided to carry a spare. I thought "I'm going to struggle to find a bike shop in Athens and if I do manage to find one I wont be able to get the same tyre" Walked up to the first tyre place I saw 200 meters from the campsite, told the guy what I needed, he sat me down, gave me a Frappe coffee, told me to wait 5 minutes,and low and behold the tyre arrived by courier, the price is agreed, a bit over the odds for sure but, hey ho who cares, i have my exact tyre, with no hassles, I love Athens! So this weekend Im going to relax take it easy and see a few sights, gently gently, oh and try to find a blow up cushion for my seat! Peace love and blessings to everyone. Jonny.
After riding nearly 500 miles up the western coast of Morocco in one day to catch the ferry back to spain, my backside was telling me I neaded a rest. So I promptly holed up in Tarifa again for a few days to relax and enjoy the beach, the sun and the surf and generally calm down after the storm that was Morocco. Being back on european soil made me realise just how well structured and clean and organised we have it in Europe and also how much personal space we give each other. Sure thats not always such a good thing but when youve experienced the stresses and hassles of travelling in Morocco it felt pretty good to have things easily organised and accesible and to be free from people constantly wanted something from you.
I remember when I left Scotland, someone saying to me "Morocco you'll either love it or hate it" and I know what they meant. I can say I felt both ways at differnet times. The rural areas are wonderful and the landscape in the atlas mountains can be breathtakingly beautiful, and I guess like anywhere in the world, here you find the most real people and to me the most beautiful. Berbers in all their colourful clothes, kids selling honey and fruit by the side of the road, helpful smiling folk. But in the towns and the cities, people seemed to turn to tugging your arm, following you around trying to sell you something or their services, few real genuine smiles without a "whats in it for me" and that I found exhausting and frustrating. So one day I'd had enough and rode all the way back to organised, policed, structured Europe. I woman I spoke to before I left for Morocco confirmed what I thought when I returned, she said " 10 days and thats enough for me" and in my book shes right. My feeling is that Morocco is too close to Europe to not be affected by all that seems to glitters over there and its a shame because it stops you really connecting with the people in a meaningful way.
sun and the surf and generally calm down after the storm that was Morocco. Being back on european soil made me realise just how well structured and clean and organised we have it in Europe and also how much personal space we give each other. Sure thats not always such a good thing but when youve experienced the stresses and hassles of travelling in Morocco it felt pretty good to have things easily organised and accesible and to be free from people constantly wanted something from you.I remember when I left Scotland, someone saying to me "Morocco you'll either love it or hate it" and I know what they meant. I can say I felt both ways at differnet times. The rural areas are wonderful and the landscape in the atlas mountains can be breathtakingly beautiful, and I guess like anywhere in the world, here you find the most real people and to me the most beautiful. Berbers in all their colourful clothes, kids selling honey and fruit by the side of the road, helpful smiling folk. But in the towns and the cities, people seemed to turn to tugging your arm, following you around trying to sell you something or their services, few real genuine smiles without a "whats in it for me" and that I found exhausting and frustrating. So one day I'd had enough and rode all the way back to organised, policed, structured Europe. I woman I spoke to before I left for Morocco confirmed what I thought when I returned, she said " 10 days and thats enough for me" and in my book shes right. My feeling is that Morocco is too close to Europe to not be affected by all that seems to glitters over there and its a shame because it stops you really connecting with the people in a meaningful way.
So I stayed in Tarifa three or four nights, recharged, cooled down, and got organised for my 800 mile trek up the coast of Spain and across the Mediteranean to Greece. The plan being to catch ferries from Barcelona to Rome and from Bari to Patras and get to Greece and relax for a month or so, grab my Indian Visa in Athens and then head for Turkey and Iran around the middle of august.On the way up I stopped in Granada ( famous for making guitars for all those Musos out there)for a couple of nights because wanted to visit tthe Alhambra Palace, something I'd missed doing the last time I was here because I was broke. So with decisions made I headed up the steep hill to the Alhambra. Its a wondefully beautiful place, part moorish, part spanish from different centuries perched high up on the hill peering solidly over Granada. From a distance it looks incredibly domineering and once inside its a place of timeless wonder and beauty. Its hard to describe really, ornate palace gardens with every kind of bushy tree and shrub, rambling twisty paths and green fish ponds, castle turrets and broken down moorish ruins. Inside the palace theres the most exquisitely intricate mosaic tile work and ceiling carvings, galleries and open courtyards, its very beautiful and too much to put into words really. However, unfortunately for me I found the place saddened and weighed down by tourists, its popularity has made it a place that was once light with energy and beauty into a place thats somehow heavy and burdened. Loaded with bus crowds of burger eating daytrippers dredging along the tick list of sites to see on their 10 day trip the Alhambra has lost its charm, people are sheep herded from one part to the next on time tickets, and theres no freedom in the place, and in a place that eminates lightness and space thats at a real juxtaposition to its true identity. I felt exhausted and perplexed by my experience there, in so much that somehow we've made something so beautiful and spacious into something so ugly and tight by revolving it around tourism and cash generation. To be honest it was a sad day for me as Im one of the tourists although I gave up eating burgers a while back.
On a more postive note, while in Granada I set about redesigning my seat again, trying to somehow eliminate the ass hell Im living in everytime I sit on the bike. So with abit of cunning and guile I designed a foam pad made from 3 layers of camping mat, some contact adhesive and scissors. Sculpted and placed under my sheepskin rug in the butt position this seemd like the ideal solution and setting off from Granada to Barcelona I thought it would be, but oh no,no,no, after riding the 530 miles up the coast I wondered if I'd ever walk again or father any children for that matter, I was living in serious Ass Hell again, wiggling this way, dangling my feet of the bike that way, doing pelvic exercise, it seemed like every area of my backside was crippled and paralysed. So on arriving in Barcelona I finally decided to give in to the financial worries of buying an air seat for the bike. Still havent found one yet but I will, believe you me I will.
A couple of none descript days in Barcelona, the best Spanish city by far, all spacious and airy, has a real free and easy feel to it. Spent most of the time organising and arranging things and problems although I did see Gaudis masterpiece the Seven Sister, fruits bowls on turrerts and all, bizarreness redifined. Hopped on the ferry to Rome, camped in a wonderful green froggy wood in Italy, cooked rice boiled in Canal water (yuck), argued wholeheartedly in true English "thats just not cricket" style with a booking agent at Bari who charged me an extra 20 euro for my internet prebooked ticket to Patras. "Port tax" she said, "oh yeah" I said, nothing about port tax from any of the other companies here, "oh ok, not port tax, fuel surcharge" Made me realise things are no longer set in stone as Im getting further east.
So here I am now, camped up in Athens, waiting till monday to try and get my Indian visa and perhaps extend my Iranian one by a month or so, so I dont hit the rains in Pakistan or the monsoons in India. Its a good feeling to slow down a bit and know that Im close enough to my visa deadlines to not have to worry too much about getting to the border. I love the greek people, I love theyre energy and exuberance, it has a good feel to it and is a welcome relief after many long hours riding on the road.
Last night when I arrived I set about one of my main headaches of finding a new tyre for the rear of my bike, I suspected it would be almost impossible to track down the right one in Iran or Pakistan so I decided to carry a spare. I thought "I'm going to struggle to find a bike shop in Athens and if I do manage to find one I wont be able to get the same tyre" Walked up to the first tyre place I saw 200 meters from the campsite, told the guy what I needed, he sat me down, gave me a Frappe coffee, told me to wait 5 minutes,and low and behold the tyre arrived by courier, the price is agreed, a bit over the odds for sure but, hey ho who cares, i have my exact tyre, with no hassles, I love Athens! So this weekend Im going to relax take it easy and see a few sights, gently gently, oh and try to find a blow up cushion for my seat! Peace love and blessings to everyone. Jonny.
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Musos out there)for a couple of nights because wanted to visit tthe Alhambra Palace, something I'd missed doing the last time I was here because I was broke. So with decisions made I headed up the steep hill to the Alhambra.-736134.jpg)
Its a wondefully beautiful place, part moorish, part spanish from different centuries perched high up on the hill peering solidly over Granada. From a distance it looks incredibly domineering and once inside its a place of timeless wonder and beauty. Its hard to describe really, ornate palace gardens with every kind of bushy tree and shrub, rambling twisty paths and green fish ponds, castle turrets and broken down moorish ruins. Inside the palace theres the most exquisitely intricate mosaic tile work and ceiling carvings, galleries and open courtyards, its very beautiful and too much to put into words really. However, unfortunately for me I found the place saddened and weighed down by tourists, its popularity has made it a place that was once light with energy and beauty into a place thats somehow heavy and burdened. Loaded with bus crowds of burger eating daytrippers dredging along the tick list of sites to see on their 10 day trip the Alhambra has lost its charm, people are sheep herded from one part to the next on time tickets, and theres no freedom in the place, and in a place that eminates lightness and space thats at a real juxtaposition to its true identity. I felt exhausted and perplexed by my experience there, in so much that somehow we've made something so beautiful and spacious into something so ugly and tight by revolving it around tourism and cash generation. To be honest it was a sad day for me as Im one of the tourists although I gave up eating burgers a while back.-735083.jpg){kind=link}
On a more postive note, while in Granada I set about redesigning my seat again, trying to somehow eliminate the ass hell Im living in everytime I sit on the bike. So with a
bit of cunning and guile I designed a foam pad made from 3 layers of camping mat, some contact adhesive and scissors. Sculpted and placed under my sheepskin rug in the butt position this seemd like the ideal solution and setting off from Granada to Barcelona I thought it would be, but oh no,no,no, after riding the 530 miles up the coast I wondered if I'd ever walk again or father any children for that matter, I was living in serious Ass Hell again, wiggling this way, dangling my feet of the bike that way, doing pelvic exercise, it seemed like every area of my backside was crippled and paralysed. So on arriving in Barcelona I finally decided to give in to the financial worries of buying an air seat for the bike. Still havent found one yet but I will, believe you me I will.A couple of none descript days in Barcelona, the best Spanish city by far, all spacious and airy, has a real free and e
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asy feel to it. Spent most of the time organising and arranging things and problems although I did see Gaudis masterpiece the Seven Sister, fruits bowls on turrerts and all, bizarreness redifined. Hopped on the ferry to Rome, camped in a wonderful green froggy wood in Italy, cooked rice boiled in Canal water (yuck), -733159.jpg){kind=link}
-747646.jpg)
argued wholeheartedly in true English "thats just not cricket" style with a booking agent at Bari who charged me an extra 20 euro for my internet prebooked ticket to Patras. "Port tax" she said, "oh yeah" I said, nothing about port tax from any of the other companies here, "oh ok, not port tax, fuel surcharge" Made me realise things are no longer set in sto-719192.jpg)
ne as Im getting further east.So here I am now, camped up in Athens, waiting till monday to try and get my Indian visa and perhaps extend my Iranian one by a month or so, so I dont hit the rains in Pakistan or the monsoons in India. Its a good feeling to slow down a bit and know that Im close enough to my visa deadlines to not have to worry too much about getting to the border. I love the greek people, I love theyre energy and exuberance, it has a good feel to it and is a welcome relief after many long hours riding on the road.
Last night when I arrived I set about one of my main headaches of finding a new tyre for the rear of my bike, I suspected it would be almost impossible to track down the right one in Iran or Pakistan so I decided to carry a spare. I thought "I'm going to struggle to find a bike shop in Athens and if I do manage to find one I wont be able to get the same tyre" Walked up to the first tyre place I saw 200 meters from the campsite, told the guy what I needed, he sat me down, gave me a Frappe coffee, told me to wait 5 minutes,and low and behold the tyre arrived by courier, the price is agreed, a bit over the odds for sure but, hey ho who cares, i have my exact tyre, with no hassles, I love Athens! So this weekend Im going to relax take it easy and see a few sights, gently gently, oh and try to find a blow up cushion for my seat! Peace love and blessings to everyone. Jonny.
★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Saturday, July 5, 2008 8:51 AM
