SPARTAN WAY OF LIFE
=====================
It takes four people, three motorscooters (called Klio, Green-Wheetie and Samenerv), a bit of courage, enough money (not much) and time and most of all something one might call ''happy-go-lucky optimism" .
And not to forget, you'll need a map of Italy and Greece too; that is a couple of maps.
But what is this all about? A trip from Switzerland to Greece via Italy of course, what else ?
First we only intended to go on a small trip in Switzerland, then the four of us, later to be known as ''Les Echarpes", decided to visit Venice and after that,. somebody said let's go to Greece." We all had a good laugh, but the crazy idea didn't let loose of us anymore.
" Le tout est de commencer" Damascius
(the most important is to start)
Preparing a trip like ours is a long story. not very interesting, but quite complicated at times. However there were a few highlights:
Tony, while learning how to drive, somehow manages to hit the goal-post on an empty soccer-field; that put him on the back-seat from then on!
The people at the travel-agency thought we were completely out of our minds. Every time we changed our plan a bit, we'd go see them, and that was quite often. And then I had to twist my arm the day before we left and put it in a sling; but nothing was going to stop us anymore.
Finally we got everything together and packed what we thought would be necessary. Ken thought we wouldn't really need the tent; luckily we vetoed that. otherwise we might still be in Greece with no money left or we would have frozen to death.
Brian, our philosopher and connaisseur of Greek History, had warm feet thanks to the fact that he disregarded my advice not to take woolen socks along.
Et les oiseaux chantaient encore (March 13th (a Friday!), 1970)
(and the birds were still singing)
On the morning of departure, we got up at 6:30 am, after having gone to bed at 2:30 am; and for the next five hours we managed to have breakreaat and say good-by to everybody. Having been told we were all crazy and that almost everybody wished they could be coming along, we started our trip which was to last 36 days and cover 3000 miles.
Brian had only driven 6 hours on his scooter before we left, so we were driving very slowly. The fields were covered with snow, it was very cold and we hadn't quite realized that we actually were on our way to Greece. but it didn't take Ken very long to get the feeling of the road...
"Tourne avec le chemin lorsqu'il tourne" Arab proverb
(Turn with the road as it turns)
About an hour after we had left Fribourg, we stopped for the first time. Ken had disappeared and Brian was telling me all about this "big crash" he had heard a while back. In the meantime Ken had tried some acrobatics on the scooter and had found the applause of the people by doing a slalom-slide combination on the gravel. He landed in a nice little muddy puddle and was about to be carried to the next hospital when he got over his shock and was afraid we'd go to Greece without him, so he just jumped back on the scooter and roared off: behind him he had convinced a few more people that we were crazy. (I only wonder if he told them he was going to Greece!)
Vive Walt Disney!
Well, we kept on driving inspite or the accident and the cold. A of coffee, a bit of Kirsch on his elbow and down his throat as well as his favorite record was all Ken needed to keep on going. We ate lunch on a bench in Vevey and then kept on going in the rain. The road was straight and boring, except for Brian who thought he was really flying. It was impossible to drive more than 1 ½ hours at a time, so we stooped for coffee again. This time Ken and I alsmost died laughing whise looking at Bria. His face was red from the cold and his movements quite awkward. He looked like Donald Duck
Ce n'était pas la guerre, mais le vendredi treize
(It wasn't war, but Friday the 13th)
If you're down, remember it could be a lot worse if you were at war. Maybe this was what kept us going. First the accident, then Brian broke the salt container and spilled the salt, then Ken discovered the loss of a few books and maps. Two youth hostels just happened to be closed, Brian cut his fingers and I broke my glasses. What a day for a nightmare! Dirty,tired and soaked we finally reached Sion and slept in a cheap hotel. Somehow we managed to cheer up and the next day we were all back to our normal form. And I had to open my big mouth and tell the nice old Catholic lady that we were “plus ou moins catholique'', luckily we left that very day!
Un héro, le hasard,
une fille du même âge,
et un peu plus t a rd
c'était le mariage. (guess who)
(a hero, a coincidence, a girl of the same age and a little bit later, a mariage - guess who
We left Sion and fought against the wind all the way to Brig. Here we took the train through the Simpson tunnel .On the other side destiny was waiting for Ken, little did he know. We looked strange, maybe a bit tough or dirty, but one thing is sure. we made quite an impression on everybody who saw us. This is where and when Molly saw Ken and Ken saw Mo11y... Love at first sight and marriage just a few weeks ago.
But the story must go on and we soon left Molly and her friends and only saw her the next time after we had returned to Fribourg.
Dov'è il sole ? l'écharpe verte
(where is the sun?)
Italy! We thought that just crossing the border would leave the cold weather and the snow behind; the first of the illusions to be corrected. The sun was still far away. Sun or no sun, we were hungry and soon made aquaintance with the little italian storms where everything is twice as expensive for foreigners. We finally bought about fifty hot dogs which Britan called “Wienerschnitzels'' (if only they had been).
Avec nous 1e ..déluge: (ou Louis XIV mouillé)
Our first day in Italy was soon to be over. We had been hearing “beep, beep” all day long and were dead tired. That night was to be memorable. Neither Ken, nor Brian or myself will ever forget Novara and the first night we camped otltdoors.
It wasn't easy finding a camping spot. First there was this small factory with a big covered shed. That would have been fine, but there was a little light in the building next to it, so I went to ask the person in there. There was no entrance to be seen so I decided to use the horn. When in Ita1y.... That worked fine: a window opened and a man in his underpants stood there looking at me. I wonder which of us thought the other was funnier. Anyway, I explained our situation and he patiently listened and finally told me that he was sorry, but could not allow us to stay. Then we saw an old farm, the dog there didn't seem to like the idea too much. On to the next try. This time we were lucky...that is at least we found a place to stay. It was next to an old marble quarry. Soon the tent was set up - we had practiced at Ken's place before leaving - then we covered the scooters and brought everything inside the tent. It took us a while to get into the sleeping bags - Brian started the first or a series of battles with the zipper of his sleeping bag - but finally we turned the flashlight off and tried to sleep. It vas a restless night; each of us being used to sleeping in a big bed and having space to turn around. All of a sudden a car drove into the quarry and pointed its headlights straight at our tent. Police or maybe robbers! Whoever it was, was probably scared when Ken lifted his head, he had his helmet on, they didn't want to have a fight with this giant bald guy! Then it started to rain, the tent was soon completely wet, a cold damp wind was blowing ahd we were shivering in our sleeping bags. Somehow we finally managed to sleep a while, but when we woke up we were in the ''leaning tent of Novara”. The middle of the tent kept sagging in, but we didn't care anymore. The sleeping bags we soaked, we were sleeping in the middle of a puddle. It wasn't much nicer outside, fog, rain, only with the first cup of self-made coffee did we begin to wake up. It tasted like salt from the peanut can we boiled the water in, but it was hot.
Then we left Novara. The rain kept pouring down; Ken had a plastic rain protection, I wore my leather jacket a nd Brian made himself a “pancho” out of a plastic bag. On we went. We wanted to get to the coast and see the sun.
“The long and winding road”
After a few stops for coffee and having a dirty grey dog trying to get a piece of my elbow, we took a detour in in order to avoid driving through Genoya. This was Italy and we were just North of the Mediterranean _ what was all the snow doing here ??? The little valley was almost completely abandoned and what was left of it was dying. The only prosperous industry seemed to be the cemetery which had graves as big as houses in it. Brian will always remember this valley. It was his first real experience with curves; actually there was nothing but curves for 40 mi1es. Then a car used the horn right behind him and almost scared him off the road. We were happy to see the coast that evening; the Mediterranean.
What can be packed in red, yellow. green, blue, orange or brown and still always taste the same? Italian cookies ofcourse!
What was the name of this delicious meal? ''We'll order it again because its good and cheap” Ken asks the waitress and she answers:'”Spaghetti”.
Thèse, antithèse, synthèse ou Hegel dépasse un camion.
(thesis, anti-thesis, systhesis or Hegel passes a truck)
The road along the coast was a straight line on the map; they must have tauken the average of all the curves. Ken lead the way, Brian followed next and I was last. There was only a slight difficultly about six or seven 20 ton trucks! Ken just kept on passing them, curve or no curve. Poor Brian didn't know what to do. To pass or not to pass...Finally he decides neither to passing to stay behind, but to drive along beside the truck! Great fun and what suspense! Somehow we made it past all the trucks. Then came La Spezia with special curves. First gear, both brakes on seemed to be still too fast. It was like driving down a spiral stairway. In the city we went shopping and I can still see this marvelous big piece or chocolate with nuts in it, but it looked too expensive...
The leaning tower of Pisa
Everybody knows all about it, so there isn't much to say. Just a few little remarks: stone collectors of famous monuments will be disappointed, not even a tiny one to be found; don't stand too close to the railing on the top floor when the bells start to ring, they're so loud that you either have a near heart attack or you're tempted to jump. All in all, it is a very nice place and quite worth seeing.
Les dangers de la route
(The dangers of the road)
While driving on scooters something is always bound to happen, sometimes (luckily) it only happens in imagination. I had signaled Ken that I needed gasoline and thought he understood the sign, but when I stopped to get gas, Ken and Brian kept on going. Ken thought I wanted him to pass a truck and passing trucks was his specialty. It took him quite a while, but finally the truck was passed, but then he saw that I wasn't there anymore. So they decided to look for me in the ditches on both sides of the road! Soon we were together again and ready for the next adventure. It was Ken's turn. A lady and her little daughter wanted to cross the road. He barely managed to stop in front of them. An Italian woman screeming at us wouldn't have helped our nerves very much.
Brian hadn't had his share of the fun yet. He didn't have to wait very long.
We tried to pass a little truck . but the cars just kept on coming and passed us, not waiting for their turn to come. So I drove into the middle of our lane and the cars couldn't get by as well anymore. Ken thought I wanted to come up front and waited. Brian thought Ken was going to pass and gave gas. Soon he was in the lead with a big truck behind him blowing his horn which sent Brian all over the road. He was mad at us, but just gave us his typical “get going'' sign with his hand.
Then we were in Rome and in the middle or the rush-hour traffic, which really means and sounds like something in Rome. Where is the youth hostel? It wasn't easy, but we finally round it after having driven through the Vatican, almost squashed and killed at every intersection and between intersections.
Il faut le faire . . .
(hard to beleive)
After the first night in the hostel we decided to go to a “pensione”. On the way there we stopped to see the Colosseum and walked around inside it for a while, just like any other tourist. Back on the road I missed a little Fiat by a few inches. Lucky Fiat. It was rush-hour traffic again and we had to keep starting and stopping constantly; this my clutch didn't like at all and it decided to play a little trick on me. I was behind a truck and had the clutch pulled, but the scooter kept on going until I slammed on the brakes. The headlight of the scooter had almost hit the truck. Then the truck moved and the same thing happened again. I thought Brian was doing something and told him to stop the pushing, quite angry as I was. Soon the mystery was solved as the scooter finally stalled and had to be pushed to the pensione.
Did you ever cook fish-sticks in a hotel room? We did! They tasted great. We opened the window and put a towel underneath the door, the owner of the hotel would probably have blown his top had he known.
Did we see Rome?
We sure did. But as usual, we didn't do it the way normal people would. We walked past the forum Romanum and occasionaly glanced at it, then we took the bus to the Vatican and stayed there for a while, but all the time we were thinking of something else. A good meal with Ken's cousin. Here we made a little mistake. We took the wrong bus and ended up taking an almost two hour long bus ride through Rome. When we finally arrived at destination they didn't expect us an more. Cest la vie...
How far from Rome to Naples?
Every map will tell you that it's about 220 km, we did 350 ! Mea culpa, is all I can say this time. One of the back-packs a ( word easier to write than to say) fell off the back of my scooter and we spent over an hour looking for it but had no luck. Almost all the film, the first-aid kit, a pair of pants and Brian's cut-offs, and no way to find the things. From then on, we were travelled light with just 5 pants to shake for the 3 or us; and 4 weeks to go! After lunch in Anzio, we headed towards Naples where Ken knew a family. Irained, the wind almost blew us off the road, but we just kept on driving for six hours without stopping. Then came the sign: Naples. But we still had to find Ken's friends. He gave them a call and told them we had come by scooters. It must have sounded quite incredible. Ken was surprised to know that Father Joe was there. Finally we were having a bit of good luck again and we certainly needed it! With even more luck we found the place where we arranged to meet.
A boy walked up to Ken and asked him: ''Americano?” but Ken didn't want to be bothered and said.-”No”. Only when the boy asked if we came from Switzerland, did we know that he was a member of the family. Now we had to drive to their home. It was quite a ride in and out of big puddles on the worst pavement anybody can imagine.
“Sono arrivati i banditi”
(The bandits arrived)
Did we ever look like bandits! Dirty, wet, tired, hungry, with leather jackets, helmets, wet and dirty scarves around our necks and all our luggage in our hands: a frightening sight. Inside they were all waiting for us. About thirty people. None of us knew who was who, but we just kept on shaking hands. Then they told us to sit down and wait a while; so that they could heat up the “leftovers” for us.
They were the best leftovers we ever had. Something hot, something to eat and all we had to do was start, but for a while we just stared at it. There was whiskey too and a cigarette. This was a great place, in a great world and we had found a great wav to travel! I had only one problem left in this and we world: how to eat Spaghetti without getting it all over my mustache? We just kept on talking and didn't realise how it already was. Then one or the girls (Gemma) said in her best English: ''If you desire, we shall go to bed now”. What she meant and what we understood wasn't quite the same. However none of us dared to laugh until we were in “our room”; this was a Catholic family and we didn't want to get thrown out. (And they had also been patient enough to listen to our broken Italian all evening.)
Whiskey. for breakreast , soda and cookies for lunch--and corned-beef for dinner a day in the life of ''les écharpes''.
The next morning we got up early, had breakfeast (see above ) and after a little chat with everybody, left for the island or Ischia with Luigi who works for the police, on the back of Ken's scooter showing the way and telling Ken how to do all kinds of crazy moves.
At the port we said ''ciao” to Luigi and got on the boat. On the island we found a camping-spot and settled down to rest for days. The tent was only about 30 ft from the Mediterranean. A beautiful sunset welcomed us. The water was ''greenish-iceblue'' (hard to describe) and the sky orange with a big red sun in it. There's no nicer way to say good-bye to a beautiful day .
“Burn baby , burn”
Next morning we washed what was left of our clothes and hung them up to dry o n the tent line. ' They weren t of whitest white,' but a lot better than before. Ken and Brian set off to explore the island and I settled down on a rock and did a sketch. The afternoon was spent reading or just doing nothing. We watch the fishermen, talked to them a bit and just looked out at the water.
That night we decided to make a fire, so we started gathering wood. After a while it was burning and we cooked a few eggs over it while listening to the Beattles sing ''Let it be” on the radio. Then the fire needed more wood. It was too dark to look for little pieces; we needed something big and actually found it. Now we had a bonfire going, the cliff behind us was lit up in orange. Then Ken and I left to get some water and take a little ride. When we were back, Brian had quite a story to tell us. One of the fishermen had come along to say hello, but soon the friendly expression on his face changed. The big piece of wood happened to belong to him and he used it once in a while, or at least he did before we came. He was angry and started yelling at Brian, but Brian didn't understand more than a few words or Italian, so he just sat there and listened to the man yell; and the fire kept on burning. When “les écharpes” did something, we did it right. The fisherman wasn't going to spoil our evening though. We had some Chianti, heated it up and, feeling warm inside, had a good night's sleep.
Heureux qui comme Ulysse, a fait un beau voyage” Joachim Du Be1lay
(Happy is he, who like Ulysses, has made a beautiful trip)
We had a beautiful time on Ischia, got all the rest we needed and were quite content, thinking of nothing special, just absorbing the sun as it came down. On the boat back to Naples we sat down next to the shooters and almost immediately fell asleep. As soon as the motor stopped, the three of us woke up at same time. We were back ''home'' again.
Che cosa ha detto l'arancia pompiere?
(What did the orange say to the fireman?)
Back with the family, we had a great time that evening. We played card games, the game with the signs and the one with the numbers. They were quite funny, everybody was getting everything mixed up. Then we told 'them a joke that wasn't really a joke, but arranged with Father Joe for him to laugh along with us. The answer to the above question was Mussolini and as soon as we said it, the three of us and Fr Joe started laughing, then the others laughed because we laughed and soon everybody either was holding on to their stomach or half dead on the floor. It's a great way to go though!
“Et voilà, voilà Tony”: Abdul Yahya
(and here comes Tony)
Tony was écharpe number 4 (longue). He had taken the train to Sicily and stay there with his relatives, while we were on the way to Naples and on the island. A t first we were supposed to meet in Naples: but then we thought it would be better if he took the train to Brindisi and met us there. We also thought that Tony knew all this. But somehow next morning he was on the telephone and told me that he was at the main train station in Naples. Al1 I could manage to say was ''you're supposed to be in Brindisi'' and then followed a long silence. But there was no way to change things anymore and so we said good-by to the Fiorentino family and picked up Tony at the station. We were on the road again !
La prochaine fois....
(Next time...)
There are many things to see all around Naples, but we had a bad day. They wouldn't let us get on the highway with our scooters even though Ken insisted and said “No, non è piccolo”. Then we had to find our way out of Naples and the little road leading to the top of the Vesuv. This is when my scooter went on strike. First it got too hot, then I had a flat tire and that settled it; no Mt. Vesuv that day. When we finally reached Pompei after that. it was too too late, the gates were closed. Maybe the next time was all we could say.
''Quand vient la nuit, la peur se tient à la porte ” proverbe afghan
(when the night comes, fear is at the door)
It was dark and we still hadn't found a camping spot for the night. There was hardly a chance of finding anything in the plains, so we left the main road and went up into the mountains, which as somebody had told us were supposed to be dangerous. We found a little trail leading into the vinyards and followes it. It was a muddy track with walls on both sides, but after a while we found an opening. Tony didn't like the idea at all. They shoot first and ask question later ''You don't know the Italians”. It was his first day with us and we didn't want to scare him, so we left and drove back down to the valley.
Camping indoors
After bad luck, good luck was soon to follow. At a gas station we asked if they knew a spot where we could set up our tent for the evening. “Ofcourse, right in the garden.” It wasn't a big garden, but it would do. Soon all the people gathered around us and started setting up the tent. They did a fantastic job and then they started bringing blankets, two bottles of red wine and an invitation to coffee and an evening watching TV. When we tried to get into the tent they thought it would be too small for all four of us and told us we could sleep in the empty house next door. Tony was at ease now: nobody was going to shoot him anymore, and soon he was snoring and dreaming or the sun in Sicily.
Come on, “Samenerv”, you can make it.
Samenerv, my s c oo t e r , had been upset ever since we left Naples and the next day it wasn't any better. The spark plug broke, the engine was smoking and scooter seemed to have lost all its power. Going uphill the only thing we passed was a mule or two. Driving wasn't easy and I had to use every trick I knew to keep going. At Potenza we stopped for lunch and had some of the worst fruit-cocktail ever made and a bit of awful goat cheese. The cheese looked like chalk and didn't taste much better. The countryside was fascinating, ugly and empty..Then came the ''Super-strada”, a highway on which it seemed only mules were allowed.
A quoi sert le passé sinon pour le présent?
(What use is the past, if not for the present?)
We reached Metaponto that night, but where to camp? Ah! How about those Greek ruins belonging to that museum up the road? All we had to do was to lift a big chain and push the scooters underneath it and then walk around like gangsters so that nobody could hear or se us. “Les écharpes” had struck again. We were probably the first and last people ever to set up a tent between the two nice rows of columns. The next morning we wanted to leave early, but it was such a great place to sleep. Anyhow we would have missed a lot or fun. Poor little man who vas in charge of the museum. We must have scared him or did he really see a tent set up on his holy ground? It couldn't be, but it was! He walked up and down the road and even tried driving up half way and yet the tent was still there. When he finally gathered his courage and wanted to yell at us we had already prepared a friendly “buongiorno''. Now he couldn't yell anymore. We told him that it was a good place to sleep and asked him all about the columns and then went to see his museum. He was probably glad to see us go, but will almost certainly add little story to his usual commentary, ...'”and one day 4 crazy guys from Switzerland were here...''
Brindisi or bust
We had a boat in Brindisi that we had to get on and my scooter was getting worse all the time, back-firing, stalling, getting hot, but it was faithful as always and slowly but surely brought us to Brindisi. No more driving for 4 days, what a wonderful feeling! We had made it from Switzerland to the very South of Italy. It was quite an accomplishment!
“Homme 1ibre, toujours tu chériras la mer” Baudelaire
(Free man, you will always love the sea)
We never thought it could be quite so complicated to get on a boat from Italy to Greece, but it took more than an hour to collect all the necessary papers, stamps etc. Then we had to push 2 of our 3 scooters on the ship; no way to get them started. The seats we were supposed to sleep in were much worse than sleeping in the tent. We ended up sleeping the floor, that is all of us except Tony who didn't mind seats at all and who, the next morning searched the whole boat in order to find us. We were used to many things but at least our tent didn't move up and down all night. It was a new and very strange feeling and probably only the fact that we would soon be in Greece kept us from getting sick.
La Grèce, notre pays promis.
(Greece, our promised land)
Soon land could be seen. First it was Albania, the forbidden country (maybe next year!)
then Corfu, but there were too many houses there. Then we had our first look at the Greek mainland; Igoumenitsa, a name we had slowly and surely learned to pronounce and a place that in our minds was as big as its name was long. It was a big disappointment; Just a little village and nothing worth seeing. The coast was quite frightening too: the islands were small and pretty but not far behind them nothing but rocks could be seen. Not a single village for miles. Our first impression of Greece.
Oh well, we'd better start studying Greek . ...
We landed in Patras that night and were too worried about finding a place camp so we forgot to celebrate our arrival. We really made it to Greece; it seems almost incredible today. At the gas station,.we found out that most Greek speak nothing but Greek. No English. no French, Italian or German. Luckily we knew how to count up to ten in Greek and managed to get enough gasoline. At the end of our stay in Greece the four or us were masters in the art of sign language.
Try, try again..
While looking for a place to set up the tent a policeman stopped us. We didn' know what was going to happen, but all he wanted to know has where we came from: “Switzerland, Schweiz, Svizzera, Suisse” and the man still didn t understand. Then he took a look at our license plates and said ''Helvetia”. We should have known that. We asked him where we could camp and he told us that we could stay in the empty house right in front of us or in the field to the right of the next gas station. If only all policemen were like that! We chose the field and it worked out fine.Only trouble was finding a restaurant and some red wine. Restaurants seem to be nothing but big rooms, lots of chairs and besides the good Greek coffee and the white wine they didn't seem to have much on stock.
Et chacun trouva sa paix.
(And each found his peace)
The beach in Corinth doesn't have much sand, it has nothing but rocks, big and small ones and even very small ones with interesting marts on them. Strange as it may have seemed to any on-looker,mthe four of us, with our leather jackets, long hair, looking mean and frightening to most everybody were sitting on the beach and looking at the little stones and whenever someone would find a nice one he'd show it to all the others and we'd admire it. It was a beautiful thing do, maybe crazy or childish, but proved that happiness is made of the little things in life.
“Celui qui a peu de courage doit avoir des jambes” (ou un scooter) proverbe italien
(he who has little courage, must have legs to run)
As we left the beach, where we had spent over an hour, a group of Gypsies was sitting in a nearby field eating lunch. Ken loved adventures and he just had to take a picture of the Gypsies. It took him a while to get the camera set and some of the Gypsies had seen him and didn't like having their picture taken or wanted money. Ken didn't stick around long enough to find out. When they started running towards him, he quickly took the picture and decided to leave the scene as soon as possible. Never saw him run as fast again..
“For there is but one veritable problem - the problem of human relations” (or of communication) St-Exupéry
We had a friend who was supposed to be in Athens; a Greek friend, but he spok French very well. All we had to do, was call him. It would have been an easy thing, but there was one problem: our friend couldn't come to Athens and when I called his father who spoke only Greek answered the telephone. It was an interesting conversation: “Do you speak English?...Français?..Deutsch?..ltaliano? Oh oh! There wasn't much left to say. We both listened to each others silence for a moment and then gave up.
Idéalisme contre realisme
(idealism versus realism)
We found the youth hostel, had a good sleep and started out the next day to see Athens and most of all the Acropolis. It's a strange feeling seeing something in reality that up to then had only existed in History books. We walked past the hot-dog stands of the modern American civilization and up the stairs amongst all the tourists into the Greek civilization. We looked completely out of place with our helmets and scarves. Finally on the Acropolis and in the Parthenon we sat down, didn't say much and just stared, trying to get the feeling of this famous site. Then some of the tourists came up and took pictures of us sitting there. We let them have their souvenir of the Parthenon.
Then we got up and started walking around. All of a sudden I heard someone yell, in an American accent|”Finnigan”, don't you dare throw my coat...Finnigan” From dreams back to reality. How cans anybody call thier child Finnigan? And how could they ever let a Finnigan on the Acropolis? But had I been in my dreams, I would have said: how can I be so intolerant? Philosophical problems like that one I prefered to let someone else worry about and went on with my dreaming.
We went into the museum and Tony volunteered as a guide, reading all the explanations to the statues, but we didn't want to study them; we only wanted to look at them and try to feel something. Then we went over to the Erechteion and climbed around in there for a while. But then Brian and I saw something interesting. Should we or shouldn't we try to steal a little black Greek column? How to split a Greek column once you've stolen it? What are Greek jails like? The last question settled the matter!
After the Acropolis we went to the Agora, the center of ancient Athens, the streets Socrates and Plato had walked on. Now the historians can add ''les écharpes” to the list ! Then we tried to rind a good place to eat, but tn the vicinity or the Acropolis generosity didn't seem to be the motto of the restaurant owners. Reality was here, idealism was in the ruins we had left.
C'était tellement beau, on y va de nouveau.
(I was so nice, we go again)
With two Australians who stayed in the same hostel we decided to see another old friend of ours again. Off to Corinth! We got lost in Athens, then my scooter broke down again, but we made it anyhow. We had wanted to see Ancient Corinth but it looked almost the same as places we had seen before. Then we saw a castle on the top of a nearby hill. Ken asked a 1ady if we could drive up there. First she sa id no, but when she heard that we had come all the way from Switzerland, she said if we did that, then we could drive up there too. It was easy, only Tony had trouble hanging on; he ended up sitting on the spare tire for a while. At the top, Ken almost drove off the cliff, but by t hen we were used to these surprises and they didn't worry us anymore. There was a beautiful view from the top. The only trouble was trying not to fall into one of the unprotected wells while walking around admiring the scenery.
Back in Athens we ate mountain of souvlakis and drank a few of the 8 bottles or soda Tony had bought. Our stomach was getting used to quite anything and was happy to get whatever could.
Au revoir et à bientôt
(good-bye and see you soon)
Tony wasn't feeling well, he wasn't used to this kind of travelling and wanted to have a little rest. We didn't want to leave him alone, but it wasn't too serious and all he needed was few days taking it easy. As for us, we still wanted to keep moving; Brian wanted to see Delphi and Ken and I would just go anywhere but stay in Athens, a big town like most any other big town in this world. We arranged to meet Tony in Corinth a few days later, said good-by and get well soon and left for Delphi.
Il faut savoir s'arrêter au bon moment
(you must be able to stop at the right moment)
On the way to Delphi we went to see the Daphni monastery. The place is beautiful, but more like a tourist attraction than a monastery. Ken shocked most of the tourists by laying on his back in the middle of the church and taking a picture of the mosaic ceiling.
After Daphhi we came to Thebes, but Alexander the Great had been there before we could reach it and he took care of it in his own way, leaving nothing worth seeing. Then Brian's scooter broke down and we cleaned his carburetor and also took advantage of the situation to have much. The day was very nice and bright, we sat in the fiends under the blue sky and listened to a donkey “eeh-ah” in the distance. This was Greece, and we were enjoying our stay. Next came Levadia and here we completely ruined a policeman's idea about of traffic re|gulations by doing about s ix U-turns on the main street. I wonder what he thinks of Swiss drivers... That evening we were lucky. It was dark and we needed a camping spot, which isn't easy to find in the Greek rnountains. The next morning we saw that the spot we had found was the last possible one for many miles. Luck.
Vedere Delfi e poi ...partire! (or four accidents in 2 days!)
(See Dephi and then...leave)
On the' way to Delphi we saw the Osian Lucas monastery, drank the water of Mt Parnasse, the snow-covered mountains of Parisian poets, bought a sheep-skin jacket for Brian's brother and then finally Brian's dream came true. He led the way into Delphi.
We really let the town know we had arrived. Especially one truck driver is probably still looking out for these 3 crazy guys who drove straight at him, then slammed on the brakes and skidded to the right of his truck, barely missing him.
Delphi was full of little English kids and they stared at us as if we were from another world. In the museum we goofed: “Do you belong to a group?” the man at the entrance asked. Maybe he thought Hell's Angels had invaded the city. We sure didn't look like we belonged to a tourist group.''Ofcourse we belong to a group'' was our answer. Wrong guess this time: groups have to pay, people travelling alone or in small groups didn't always have to and this was one of those free days. The museum wasn't very exciting, even Brian was glad to leave. We were tired and all the columns and statues began to look the same.
Then the rain came down and that meant accidents as we soon found out. There was oil all over the road. First I fell down and slid down a road on the seat of my (Brian's) pants. Then Brian had his turn, the scooter just fell down beneath him, it just collapsed. Ken hit the oil twice the next day; really something for the nerves. For a few days he was seeing oil everywhere. We were glad to have been in Delphi, but also glad to leave again.
An international day: the Sicilian Swede and the Greek fisher net.
Now we started our trip towards Southern Greece. In Itea we wanted to take a ferry-boat and cross the Bay of Corinth in order to meet Tony. The boat left late in afternoon and took three hours to cross the bay. It would have been much too late to meet Tony, so we had to contact him and tell him we couldn't make it that day. A lady in a fancy hotel spoke a bit of English and called the train station in Corinth for us. There the man didn't get the message right asked Tony if he was Swedish instead of Swiss. It was certainly one of the first times a sicilian-American was ever taken for a Swede. Tony soon went to the phone and we explained why we couldn't make it to Corinth that day. Then the three of us took a rest a bit down the coast and there we met a group of Greek fishers. One of them spoke a little French and thanks to him there's a fisher net hanging in my room. Its a souvenir of Greece, the nicest and cheapest one I've got; they refused to take any money for the net, so we took pictures of them and their wives and sent them to Itea. Friendly people can be found all over this world.
Then came the fourth boat-ride or the trip. Wind, water, waves, dark clouds allowing only a few sunrays to get through, islands all around; the boat went up and down and the water would splash our faces. If we didn't have scooters, travelling by boat would be the next best way. Brian and Ken didn't see much of all this, they were admiring the South American girls inside. What a wonderful world.
''Jamais deux sans trois'' proverbe français
(Never twice without a third time)
On the other side we slept in a field with ditches all over it. When you're tired you can even sleep in, over or on the edge of a ditch. We had to meet Tony and soon were in Corinth for the third time. Tony had found himself a little hotel room and stood out on the balcony waiting for us. Then we were on the move again. Today was my big day. Brian had seen Delphi and now I was soon to see Mycenae. On the way there, Ken was still shook up from his two accidents and didn't have any confidence in his driving anymore. One of his moves made Brian drive on the grass on the side of the road where luckily the Greeks hadn't set up very many posts. Brian told Ken that he was the stupidest person he had ever met, but soon the incident was forgotten and we went to see Mycenae.
“On se ruine souvent pour soutenir qu'on est riche” Gustave le Bon
(Often one ruins oneself pretending to be rich)
Mycenae once was one of the richest cities in the world and now all that is left is the lion gate, a few empty graves and many stones. All the riches have disappeared or now attract tourists to the museum in Athens. Only the name Mikine and the History of the city keep it going as secondary tourist attraction. Agamemnon, Electra, Clytemnestra; famous names, but not an inspiring history. Anyhow I was glad to have been there after having read about it. One thing can still be said for Mycenae though: the old shepard we met was a very friendly man. He allowed us to set up our tent under the olive trees and thus enabled us to find the nicest camping spot since Ischia.
When in Greece do like the Indian's ? ? . . Veto !
That night Tony suggested heating up rocks in our fire and then putting them around the sleeping bags. Now, we did many things. but that we didn't do! Actually we didn't need it that night; the sunset was beautiful, the fire warm and we heated up some sweet red wine and settled down to sleep only to be disturbed by strange noises outside. It was only a branch.
Follow the leader.
Driving to Sparta: what a ride! Nothing but curves for miles and miles and on both sides of the road only stones. Brian had learned how to drive, that was clear to see by the way he led the way, cutting curves, roaring around them; there was no way to stop him. The ''Green-Wheatie'' and the philosopher had gone wild! We really flew and in no time Sparta was in sight. No train station, no youth hostel, mountains all around the city; not quite the place to expect luxury.
Anybody hungry ?
In Sparta we went to see local tourist policeman; a very friendly man. We wanted information on cheap hotels, but even the cheapest ones seemed expensive to us, money was running out slowly but surely. Then we asked him about the road from Sparta to Kalamata.'”No, you cannot go there. The road to Kalamata is blocked, there are big snacks, little snacks, many many snacks on the road”. He| had gotten his vocabulary mixed up. Snacks ofcourse meant rocks; there had be an avalanche. He told us how to get into the museum for free and when we asked him if we could sleep in the empty house just up the street, he was sorry he couldn't help us.
“Le ciel, infiniment lointain, n'a plus d'étoiles pour ma route” Ernest Bussy
(The sky, far away, has no stars to guide my way)
We camped out that night and tried to make a warm fire, but all the wood we found was wet and would only have been good if we had wanted to make smoke signals. The gas-burner was empty and a series of cold dinners had begun. A few drops of rain suddenly came down and we began to worry a bit. One Novara was enough for us. All we ccould see were the high mountains we planned to cross the next day and between the dark and unfreindly clouds there was only one little star to be seen.When it too was blacked out we called it a day and all went to sleep.
L'arbre
(The tree)
We woke up to a cold and rainy morning. It was the k ind of day you'd just like to turn over and sleep all day; it sure wasn't ideal weather for driving across a mountain pass. Tony was not sure if he'd rather take a bus to Kalamata and meet us there, but he decided to come along anyway. After a few minutes on the road, were completely soaked, but now it didn't matter anymore. You can only get wet once at a time, so we kept going. Soon we came upon a big sign in four languages saying : ”the road to Kalamata is blocked”. Brian and I took one glance at each other; if this road is rea1ly blocked, we at least wanted to make sure that there was no way a scooter could get through. So on we went again, paying no further attention to the sign. Only a few mintutes later what used to be a road turned into a cobblestone, rock and mud path. Then we came to the place where the “snacks” were. A couple of workers were t rying to clear the road . There was enough space for us to get throtlgh and the workers took pleasure in outr crazy idea to go over the pass in this weather and waved us by. Curves, curves and more curves, rocks, the cold wind on our wet clothes, this steep road where it was hard keeping balance because of the mud and the cobblestones wasn't easy driving. There was nothing; no shack, no house, no animals It was like a desert or a scene in the “Twilight zone”. On the top we were all freezing. There was even snow on the ground, one of the last things we had expected in Greece. Soon the fog came along and then it started hailing. The road consisted of nothing but mud and big puddles right now.We had barely passed the top when out of the fog huge dead trees appeared. The wind and the rain had distorted them over the years. They were a frightening sight, almost a symbol of death or evil to our eyes. These trees are about the last thing Ken remembers of the pass.
While driving downhill on a somewhat better road I looked back after a while and Ken had disappeared. We drove back up to look for him. He was in the middle of the road, holding on to his scooter, but he didn't move nor did he know where he was or where he was going. The cold had been too much for him, he had no control over himself anymore. Brian knew a bit about first aid and took care of Ken while I drove off to try and find help somewhere. In the meantime Ken collapsed completely for about five minutes. We had no idea how serious it was and there wasn't much we could do but look for help. After quite a ride in the mud the village I thought I had seen turned out to be nothing but big white rocks. My hands were numb but Ken was lot worse off.
Something had to happen fast !
And it did. The clouds lifted a bit and there, just a few miles further on was a villages The first village in 25 miles! Brian took Ken on the back of his scooter, raced down the road, tried to keep Ken talking all the time and finally reached a little restaurant where he kicked the door open, put Ken on a chair and called for a doctor. Luckily there happened to be one in the village. So things were alright again. Ken needed rest for a few days and then he'd be fine. We were going to stay here for a while and these days we probably will always remember as one of the nicest times on our trip through Greece.
Des journées calmes
(Calm days)
The name of the village we stayed in is Artemisia. It was a poor mountain village with about 300 inhabitants. There were a few cafés, a church, two or three 1ittle shops and that was about all. A boring plance most people would say, but for us it was peace and quiet. There wasn't much to do. We went 1ittle walks, read a lot, stayed in the restaurant almost all day 1ong and tried to talk to the owner of some of the other people. They were all very friendly to us. The ownier's wife hung our wet things out on the balcony to dry, every wish was fulfilled right away. Hospitality can still be found in Greece. In a way they were thankful to us for bringing a little change in their everyday life. They seemed to be happy and content. It was only too bad we didn't speak Greek; sign language and the little dictionary couldn't translate everything. But we understood each other most of the time.
Des Suisses: soyez les bienvenus et joyeux Noël à vous aussi!
(The Swiss, be welcome and Merry Christmas to you too)
Brian was reading Nietsche, Ken was drawing a map of our trip, Tony was upstairs sleeping and I was doing a sketch when a car drove up. Inside it was a family from Zurich. They had seen the Swiss license plates on our scooters. They only wanted to know if the road was really blocked. Then they asked where we came from and a long conversation started. The mother was worried about Ken and went out to the car with her son. Soon the whole table was loaded with food: meat, cookies, soup, coffee and tea etc. But then they had to move on again and so we wished them good luck and a nice vacation. Back in the restaurant it looked like Christmas to us. We hadn't seen that much food all at once for a long time. The patron came and shook our hands, he was just as happy as we were.
“Le temps s'en va, le temps s'en va '' Pierre de Ronsard
(Time passes, time passes)
It was a beautiful day and the whole landscape was friendly. What a difference between rain and sunshine. The blue sky and the snow-covered mountains; even the trees that scared us before, now were fascinating to look at. We had to leave though. The 3 days of rest were over. The owner offered us a drink. We toasted to him and to our next stay in Artemisia and were sad to go.
“ Foule, vaste désert d'hommes'' Chateaubriand
(Crowd, big desert of people)
Kalamata wasn't as nice as we thought it woald be, so we just kept going. Messina was the next town and was supposed to be a very nice peace according to the tourist guides. Maybe they just don't like scooters. Por some reasoner, soon as we arrived, the whole village surrounded us and just kept on staring at us: no smiles, not a word, no reaction to our questions. The atmosphere was tense to say the least. Then a lady said she spoke German and she showed us the way to a cheap hotel. Most of the 80 people came along; at least we could talk to somebody how. The lady said she had been in Germany and told me how she had worked as a striptease dancer. We were were glad to get rid of her too by the time we reached the hotel. The scooters needed fixing and we went back outside after a while. Some of the people were still there to stare at us. It was the strangest town we had been in during the whole trip. The food was awful, the hotel wasn't much better. Why did we have to leave Artemisia?
“Pas mal” Brian Byrne
The next day wasn't exciting, but it was a nice one anyhow. We were glad to leave Messina and started out towards Pilos. Soon we eached the s ea again, took one look at the port and left right away as people were heading a towards us in almost the same way as in Messini. Then we saw Ancient Pilos and Nestor's Palace, one of the oldest ruins in Greece, 2300 BC. There wasn't much left to be seen, but it's still amazing that even the slightest part of it should be here after 4000 years. The little dog at the gate cheered us up again. He wasn't much bigger than Brian's helmut and being young was interested in this strange thing, so he pulled at it and dragged it along a while. On the way to Pirgos each of us almost had a crash. First Ken underestimated a curve and wound up on the other side of the street barely managing not to drive off the read. He was lucky, a big truck came up the road 30 seconds later. I had to tell Tony what Ken had done wrong and while explaining almost drove off the road myself. Then came Brian's turn. He had taken the lead ever since Tripolis and was really roaring around the curves. Then he cut one, slammed on his brakes and skidded back to his side of the road. A split second later a big bus appeared from behind the leaves or an overhanging tree! In Pirgos we had a little lunch and rested in the sun and also met an American teacher we were to see again on the boat leaving Greece.
Souvenirs, souvenirs.
Olympia was our next stop. The youth hostel we stayed in was clean and friendly. The owner's wife forced us to wash our hair. she even scrubbed it for us. Then we set out to buy souvenirs for the people back home and a few little things for ourselves. ''.'20% for students”, the man in the shop kept repeating. He was trying to get our money, but in the other shops they tried to get even more it. So we added a box of ceramic to our luggage. It was a miracle all arrived in Switzerland without breaking. The ruins in Olympia were quite nice and so was the museum, but we didn't care too much about columns or statues anymore. We had already seen our share. History is good and interesting, but the present way of life in a country is also a part of History, maybe not as famous, but sometimes more interesting and just as important. We just fooled around in Olympia; maybe we should have had more respect, but . . we were living and the stones were dead .
“Even the most restless vagabond dreams of home” Goethe
Olympia a was nice but we soon only thought of going home. We had seen a lot, met many people and now needed time to straighten out all the impressions and absorb them. Money was running out too .
Maybe a boat leaves earlier than the one we had booked. So we drove back to Patras, thus completing our tour of Southern Greece, “ le Péloponèse”.
No boat! That meant two more days in Greece, in Pa t ras, a city with nothing special to offer. The youth hostel was awful compared to the one in Olympia and the people inside it were quite strange.
The next day we found a better spot. It was a camping place, officially closed, but they let us in. We set up the tent only a few meters from the water. Tony didn't like the idea too much. He suggested putting everything up in the trees in case the water rises at night. We vetoed that once again. The day was bright and we needed rest. Brian read Nietsche, his eternal travel companion; Ken just lay in the sun after having tried the cold water for a moment, tony read Time magazine to save him from “utter boredom”, therewasn't much else to do; I did a few sketches assouvenirs of the trip. Finally a bit of time to do just anything we wanted. That night a storm came along and we slept in a little storage room. It was beautiful, the wind, the rain, thedark clouds, the feeling that everything was coming back to life after a lazy day. A bird flew by, tossed by the wind and at moments even standing still in the air while still swinging its wings. Dinner was bad; more corned beef and a few sardines, but this was our last day in Greece. Tomorrow afternoon we leave. “A la Suisse”
Plus Jamais!
(Never again)
Never again will we take a Greek ship! The crew was mean, looked down on us as something inferior and tried to push us around, but we fought back and a tired person doesn't care too much about what he says or how loud he says it. Tony volunteered to pay dinner for us that evening. The dinner was exactly what we neede, especially the supplements and the fact that crew had to serve us decently now with everybody else around. The best meal since we left Naples (a long time ago that was). Our trip through Greece was over. We had a wonderful time and will never forget it.
Lentement et surement on y arrive.
(We get there slowly but surely)
We left the boat with music blowing out of all the windowes: they had a fantastic juke box on board. If you knew how, you never had to pay anything, on the contrary, money came out and you could put as many records on as you wanted.
The customs office looked for drugs, but we didn't have any. Then Ken lost his contact lenses and even though the four of us crawled all over the sidewalk 'we had no luck. We wanted to reach home as soon as possible and got on the high way right away. The stop in San Marino did one good thing: now we know that we'll never go to that tourist trap again. Then back on the road. I had another flat tire and later Brian's scooter just stopped; a broken piston. Ken tied a rope from his scooter to Brian's and towed him at full speed, with no more than 3 feet between the two scooters! That night we slept in a tool shed in Faenza while we waited for a possibility to get the scooter fixed. Next morning we towed the scooter into town again and brought it to a shop where they did it right away.
Fribourg or bust
It was 5 pm when we left Faenza and started a long ride towards Fribourg. We had to drive slowly because of Brian's new piston and also had to stop every 30 minutes. At one of these stops one of us proposed driving all the way to Fribourg. With our voting system there was no problem. Three against ¾. Tony onlv had ¾ of a vote because he didn't drive. It was dark soon and also cold but we kept on going. Tony kept himself and Ken awake by hitting himself and Ken a bit. Brian and I didn't have any problem, but were still glad to stop Just outside of Milan at l1 pm and have a 3 hour pause. Only 300 km left to Fribourg! It took us about 24 hours!
At 2 am the autostrada was completely empty . The night was black and all we had to do was drive straight ahead, always straight ahead .We were just thinking of what it would be like in Fribourg and what a good bed would feel like! After a few hours and a few coffee breaks the sun rose and we were close to the end of the autostrada, but then Brian had a flat tire. Tony and I went to the next town to have it fixed, while Brian and Ken slept for a moment. When we woke Brian up, he thought he was on a beach in Greece and was wondering what this big road was doing here. Ken's eyes were symbolic of just one thing: Oh, I'm so damned tired.
Then we went on. Once the autostrada was finished things went better. We were flying, flying towards the Simpson Pass, towards Switzerland. Before we knew it the pass was there. We had completed our tour and just had to drive home now. In Brig we had a good meal and also a look into a mirror. We were black, dirty and hadn't shaved for a few days. The Valais seemed very very short.
In Vevey Brian got mad at a truck and almost drove him off the road. Then came Chatel-St Denis (not Château-d'Oex, Ken) and my scooter started smoking like a old fashion train. We reached Bulle, just 25 km from Fribourg, but there was no way for us to keep on going. Ken was falling asleep. He didn't know what he was doing. 40 hours without without sleep and after a trip like ours, that was too much for him. He almost drove into a parked car. We needed help. I called my sister and she drove the car to Bulle, there Ken and I got in and soon we we in Fribourg. Brian had taken Tony along on the back of his scooter. He was one the only one who drove the only scooter all the way.
“Rien n'est plus heureux qu'un homme qui part en voyage, si ce n'est un homme qui revient” Emile Bergerat
(No one is happier than a man going on a trip, if it isn't the man coming back)
We were back in Fribourg, back at home; a bed. food, no more scooter driving for a while! And so many things to talk about, all our friends to see again.
The trip was worth every effort. It was great, something we have trouble believing looking back at it now, something we might never do again and certainly something we will never forget; but it was good to be back too.
