Arriving at Athens' port city of Piraeus is always a bit of a bummer. If the Parthenon on the Acropolis hill is the face of Athens, Piraeus is most certainly its arse. Traffic coming flying towards you from God-knows-wheres, foreign ethnicities selling anything you can possibly think of on every corner and generally an area architecture has turned a fat blind eye to. Standing at one side of a pedestrian crossing, Karthik is pushed onto the killer lanes by a woman shouting 'Vame!' (meaning: 'Let's go!') not even a split second after our traffic light turns green. We've obviously become to used to countryside peace and communist attitude.
Communist? Yes! Ikarian is a communist's haven. I don't remember when exactly, but a couple of generations back communism was not too popular an idea with those in charge on the Greek mainland, so they banished all those showing their red side to extravagantly to Ikaria. Result: one island in the Aegean where communism still dominates the political scene today. On Ikaria, you can find more hammers and sickles painted jointly than goats in its hills (and believe me, there's sickening amounts of them!). Lamp posts, newly built concrete walls, tree trunks,... you name it and it's been claimed by extreme left. Luckily for the political health of this island, there's quite a few of us here on base to bring the scale back in balance, including me.
Poster of the KKE communist party
Back in Athens, we spend most of our time being complete tourists, walking from one major site to the other just to be able to say we've been there and done that without really knowing what's going on. A shame really, because there's just so much there to be learnt. Social pressure however is on and I semi-happily fulfil my self-imposed role as sheep in the flock - meh-eh-eh! :) At some point on Sunday though I feel like taking a little break away from the others (mind you, NOT referring to the series 'LOST' here!) and go to the railway station to buy tickets to our next stop, Kalabaka.
For being a 6 million city, Athens' main railway station is pathetically small. Only a handful of trains come in and leave Larissa station daily and for counting the number of tracks, you only need a couple of fingers. Not surprisingly though, quite a few people wish to travel, which is why you're advised to obtain your tickets in advance. Excited about the symbological meaning of the tickets for the first train ride of our rail trip, I take a number for the queueing - 135. I look up to the display showing the current number being served and see the combination 95. My mood sinks to an all-time low.
Barely able to believe there's another 40 customers to be served before me, I count the working counters and can't find more than three. Three counters for advance sale of train tickets for the whole of Athens?! Yes Sir, most certainly Sir! Despite my slight despair, none of the other 40+ customers around seemed to care all that much and just fill the time playing with their komboloi (a string of coloured beads made especially for spending time). Fortunately, I always carry my very own set of beads on me and simply join in. In Greece, you're best of doing things the Greek way. Altogether, the waiting time amounts to a - to my standards - staggering 70 minutes, but I wouldn't regret having brought up all that patience...
Old man showing his komboloi tricks
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