Greece at Last
Date: September 21, 2002

Hello from Igoumenista, Greece.

I hope that email finds you well.

I am seated on the cement steps that lead to the beach. Behind me is my tent and the campground's restaraunt. In the distance the ferry boats continue to arrive at the city's busy port. The cup of coffee I just finished helped me overcome my sleep deprivation. I arrived in Greece a few hours ago on the second of two overnight ferrys. The first boat connected Dubrovnic, Croatia with Bari, Italy. A ferry service directly from Croatia to Greece proved to be nothing more than a rumor. I did not splurge for a cabin. I slept on my air mattress and sleeping bag up on deck. Fortunately both ferrys departed in the evening and arrived in the morning. This allowed me to sleep restlessly through most of the voyages.

In only a few hours I have come to appreciate the distinct difference between Italy and Greece. I killed time between boats in Bari by biking through the Old Town. Laundry hung on lines suspended between second floor windows. Elderly woman observed all form the front doors of their houses. The delicious aroma of Italian food drifted pass and they shouted. They shouted greeting, grocery lists and disagreements from windows doors and street corners. This was always accompanied by expressive hand gestures that seemed to enhance the impact of their words. The Italians also drive with the same intensity. Scooters that sound and smell like chain saws darted among cars that had not desire to slow down. The scene was reminiscent of Mexico. Greece is infinitely more relaxed and the posted laws are little more than a suggestion.

I received wonderful news. My friend Evelynn is combing to visit me in Istanbul. Our hope is to explore different regions of Turkey by train and bus. The other travelers I have encountered spoke very highly of Turkey's beauty ,food and people.

Croatia is where I want to take my next honeymoon. ( No plans to date mom ) I decided this on the Island of Hvar as I ate an ice cream cone in the picturesque port village of Jelsa. Croatia's ancient cities exude romance. The sunsets , moonlight reflecting off the water and outdoor cafes all lend to an aire of sensuality. Still what is dominate is the Adriatic Sea. The coast line between Split and Dubrovnic has countless vistas of deep blue, inviting water and island where the pace is much more relaxed that the mainland.

The negative aspect of Croatia's entrenched tourist industry is the detached demeanor of the locals. They seem interested in only doing the minimum their job requires. Smiles are few and far between. I wasted 3 hours trying to pry information out of the employees of various ferry services. It was similar to dealing with unco-operative 6 year old children. I dealt with my frustration in my usual fashion. I went directly to the bakery and ate a chocolate filled pastry. Chocolate soothed frazzled nerves.

Croatia`s violent past revealed itself to me. On a warm morning after "free" camping on a mountain with a panoramic view of the Adriatic I was in search of drinking water. In the first village of my day's ride I pushed my bike up the driveway of a house. I asked for water and the owner of the house introduced me to his brother who spoke better English. His brother who lives in Sarajevo was vacationing in Croatia. He described his hometown of Sarajevo as a city in ruins. Seventy percent of the buildings have been destroyed and fifty percent of the city's inhabitant have been killed or have fled. He lived in Sarajevo for 2 years during the war. He was evacuated to Germany for treatment of his heart condition. He spoke positively of the Americans in Sarajevo who are assisting in it's rebuilding. He handed me two large bottles of water. On of which was frozen solid. He wanted to ensure that I would have cold water on what he forecasted would be a hot afternoon.

A mere hour later I passed two men with shotguns. They were standing along the road peering off into the distance. I assumed they were hunters. A few kilometers down the same road I passed a third man sitting on the hood of an old Yugoslavian car. Across his lap laid a shotgun. His unfriendly gaze was not on the horizon. It was on the road. He was waiting for someone. My eyes locked onto the end of the shotgun's barrel's as I rode past. I asked myself, " What animal could this man be hunting with a shotgun ?". I had no answer. His ominous presence reminded me of the ethnic hatred that still persist in this region.

I made a coment that I thought I would never utter. One morning as I packed my gear I announced, " I have enough water to bicycle into Bosnia." Life is so unpredictable.

I met my hero when I registered at my campground in Igoumenista. His name is Torstein. He is a 69 year old, spry Norwegian man who lives in Denmark and vacations in Greece. His four children told him to spend their inheritance and he said, " No problem.". He offered me a tour of Igoulmenista. We rode the 5kms into town where he bounded up steps, waved to his friends and with pride showed me where all the best bargains were located. His energy level was infectious. I want to be like him when I grow up.

So from here I will ride inland through the mountains where the roads are superb and the views are spectacular. The 600 kilometer route to Athens is the last of my bike ride. From Athens I will arrange my transportation to Istanbul where I will be a "normal" tourist.

I miss you all,

Dennis