Hellenic Holiday

Somewhat depressing is the fact that I am writing this post, 6 days after getting back to London, but that it feels like I have been back in this tube-strike-ridden city a lot longer. (Yes there is a tube strike - it took me 3 hours to get to work this morning - and yes, I did want to cry when I finally arrived). The fetta has finally left my system. Just.

No matter. Greece, in case you haven't worked it out, was awesome. It is one of those destinations that I had been imagining going to for so long, that when it actually happened, I had to pinch myself to confirm that yes, I was actually there, and yes, it was actually as beautiful as I had imagined, if not more so.

I flew overnight, on a bizarre short-hop which I coped unexpectedly well with, especially given that the crazy Greek air hostesses insisted on gallivanting up and down the fully lit cabin the whole time.

I ferried out to Ios to meet my friend, and found the ferry ride excruciating, as I had barely slept and couldn't get to sleep in the smoke-filled cabin (aaaah Europe - liberation for hamstrung British smokers). But I wasn't disappointed when I arrived. The view from the hostel was divine and in London would be well out of my price range, but not in Ios, ohhhh no.

After a dip in the sparkling jewel-like Mediterranean (beware - it is so salty it makes bleach blonde hair like a haystack) I essentially headed straight for the pool, where I commenced tan-o-rama, drank some beer, fell asleep in the sun. By coincidence Kevin Yost was playing a set there that evening (some of you may know him??) and so as day turned to night, fabulously attractive Europeans of all stripes danced in their bikinis, boardshorts, and if they were Spaniards of the male variety, their alarmingly brief speedo-style jock bathers.

Dinner was a late one, cut prematurely short by my rapid-onset comatoseness, brought on my 2 hours of sleep the previous evening, sun, and beer.

The next day the routine was repeated, without the alcohol as we had to ferry over to Santorini in the afternoon.

A note on Greek ferries - they are often cancelled, and as we discovered, you don't tend to find that out until the last second. Handy. Nonetheless, we got there in the end, only a couple of house later than planned.

The hostel in Santorini was awesome - tucked away right near the main strip - close enough to revel, far enough to be able to sleep afterwards. Santorini is in one word, breathtaking. It is beautiful in that 'yep (long exhale) I'm in the Greek islands' kind of way. Whoever decided to build towns into the side of cliffs before scaffolding was invented was a total madman, but equally, a visionary. The sunset from those cliffs, as those of you have viewed my pics will know, is heart-meltingly beautiful. Pity you can't get a decent glass of wine to drink as the sun goes down.

A note on Greek wine - don't drink it! ;-)

Pottering through the streets of Fira and Oia was a total treat. I tried to get some pics to capture the spirit of the thing, but I failed really. Must be experienced to be understood.

So, I took a few miscellaneous notes (thankfully as I would have forgotten these things).

Caffe Freddo - delicious split-level espresso coffee concoction - drunk cold & sweet. Heaven.

Body consciousness - if only all women had the confidence of European women. Watching them swan about in all their imperfect glory - not only makes you think that they ARE perfect but rubs off on others less confident. Four days surrounded by that even made me forget about my little pot-belly, wobbly upper arms and a bit-too-solid thighs. I've obviously remembered them again now that I am home. But as I am a proud new member of the gym opposite work, wobble no longer shall I.

Angry Greek Men - my tried and tested travel technique is to , when i am unsure or lost, smile sweetly, speak in a slightly higher voice than normal and look as innocent as possible. It doesn't work on Greeks.

A note on Greek male restaurant owners- don't make jokes with them as you sit down to one of their tables. I was forced to gulp down a plateful of marinated calamari feeling like a naughty schoolgirl for trying to apply the above technique, and, god-forbid, attempting a lame joke.

So there you are. You can blame brevity on tube-strike-induced fatigue. Happy to put travel-agents hat on for those of you who want to ask questions, and are contemplating a potential visit.

Mum gets here soon.

I am house-hunting.

Work is weird.

Greece was tops.