Sami to Patras

 Another morning with bleary-eyes walking to the port looking for my boat. I catch the yellow livery approaching and calculate that there is still time to grab a cheese pie before I go.

The ride is uneventful, four hours later I am in Patra. The third largest city in Greece. This place is old and for thousands of years Greek and Byzantine ports have been on this site to trade with the Italians. After Kefalonia Patras feels like Manhattan. People and shops everywhere. An endless array of possibilities. What a concept to be in a place so big that you can’t go to all the bars in one night. 

Patras is a sea of 200000 people packed into an endless mass of five story buildings. The roads are orderly and refreshingly easy to navigate. As I adjust to the new normal and check in to my new dwelling I hope that I’ll be able to enjoy a luxury that I haven’t had since Italy. No dice, soiled toilet paper still goes into a trash can in the bathroom. Oh well, some other time.

I’m hungry and find myself at a small cafe on a square. The waitress tells me they have a roasted chicken for lunch. And asks if I want anything to drink. Everyone around me is having ouzo, why should I not also get hammered over lunch. The chicken is oily, the olive oil is mixing with the chicken fat to make a delightful combo. The bread nearby soaks it happily. The stray cats meow at my excitedly. The ouzo puts my brain in a mood to handle the errands I need to get done.

I hop the bus to the main train station. The rail line in Patras is narrow gauge and not physically compatible with the standard gauge lines that connect to Athens. Years ago there was a one transfer ride. Today that link is served and I need to take a bus to the Athenian rail network. That bus ticket can only be booked in person at a Hellenic rail agency. Luckily with Eurail, it costs me nothing.

On to the next errand. No shade to Thessaloniki but I was getting tired of a book of essays on a place I was not going to go. I located a shop and they were kind enough to let me pursue their warehouse with its larger selection of English literature. Here’s a flashlight, make sure to lock up and bring the key back with you. There is so much trust here, why do Americans insist on burning each other?

The maddening piles

For my evening adventure I went out in search of a bar. Patras has a Jazz bar and I haven’t seen much live music for a while. The place is packed and people are dressed. I learn there is no live jazz tonight but the Tuesday night Lindy hop group is having a dance. I’ve done precious little swing and the Lindy hoppers in Long Beach always seemed so unapproachable. Someone starts to talk to me in English and after a Negroni I ask if I can step on her feet. She obliges me. Good show, good night.