The Psychic Said It Was A Good Idea

Did I Mention Istanbul?

elishacurcio — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 19:01:00 GMT

We have been back in Crete a week now, since our whirlwind east meets west on the Bosphorus adventure.

Istanbul was incredible, similtaniously very similar and suprisingly different to how I imagined it would be. The vibe was kind of like Nepal, or Thailand. It is relaxed, time is fuzzy, the people are hospitable, pushy and want you to drink tea in their carpet shop, all the time. The arcitecture is largely European, all old stuff that I don't know much about but quite enjoy. With some strange symbiosis the city seems to grow clusters of very eastern domes and turets, soaring high and glowing against the blue sky. These are the many mosques of Istanbul. From the top of the Galatia Tower this mix creats a beautiful, if somewhat eclectic, very unique skyline.

Istanbul has its fair share of touts, sure, plenty (NO I DON'T NEED A CARPET!), but it is very clean, friendly, safe ... and the FOOD! Oh man. Love it. Beautiful, classy restraunts, long menues, local and global, everything cooked perfectly and suprisingly cheap.

We only had 6 days to see what we could of Istanbul, and it was a seriously manic 6 days, but heaps of fun. Mosques, of course; the Tower, as I said. A cruise on the Bosphorus, between the Asian and European shores of the city. The Grand Bazar (manic and exciting); Hagaia Sophia (tiled and marbled and arched and domed so high above our heads), The Archaeological Museaum (best museum ever! there was an exhibition of Hellenic, Roman, and related statues like I've only seen in books - The actual ONES I've seen in books. They're amazing. And an incredible exhibition of tombs, and a mummy, and I am no longer at all sorry I missed the Tutikumin exhibition in Melbourne). The Topaki Palace (talk about opulence. There was a diamond on display the size of my FIST).

Anyway, the whole trip was a sensory explosion, and I will be back.

We flew from Istanbul to Athens on the 6th evening. We expected to arrive at our hotel at around midnight. The airport bus stop is only 5 blocks away. But of course we didn't account for riots in our reckoning. Many central roads were closed due to demonstrations in front of the parliment building, so our bus couldn't reach Syntagma, its final destination. So, luggage in tow, we walked. And walked. After maybe half an our (that would be half past midnight)we incounted a carnval of police buses, and a casually clustered army of police officers (I say casually clustered, becuase every police officer we observed in Athens, that night and at every other time, appeared perposely casual, like catwalk models before a hall of cameras). Another block, another army of officers, and beyond them a demonstration in front of Parliment with a riot at its core.

Mum: "Can we go this way?"

Officer/Model: "Yes, just go around. And be careful."

Mum: "Go quickly guys"

Barbs: "Click Click Click"

Mum: "Where is dad?"

Me: "Watching Barbs take photos of the riot."

In the center of the riot teargas engulfs the front line and we hurry off the road, and down the final five blocks to our hotel, hearts racing.

Anyway, after that unnecessarily exciting introduction, Athens was a crazy-manic-poverty-inducing shopping spree. I got my jeans, the only item on my shopping list. But I couldn't resist the colours of the season! Earthy yellows, greens, blues, reds, browns - all my favourits. So also purchased a rather large pile of tops, and a bag.

Mum and I returned to Crete alone for a few days of respite and recovery. Now Poppy is back from Rhodes, dad, Sam, Ang and Barbs are home, and Mike is discovering the true meaning of Beach Party with his friend Stergious in Rhodes.

There is more to tell (isn't there always), like the unfortunate dinner party with the boiled lamb, and the rice in pungent boiled lamb juice, but once again the heat and misquitos are getting the better of me in this dark cave of an internet cafe, and I am keen to brave the heat of the road home.

Photos: Our House

elishacurcio — Sat, 25 Jun 2011 21:47:00 GMT

Week 3, or, Chronic Overcrowding and shoddy carpenters.

elishacurcio — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 20:42:00 GMT

So we all seem to be settling in to our cramped living quaters. I mean, not quite so much screaming echoing down from our courtyard. I didn't even bite anyone yesterday. Not even when mosquito o'clock came around (approx 6pm-10pm: dusk) and I found myself sitting on my synetheic, sweaty bed slapping mosquitos with dads feet in my face and poppy snoring accross the room.

When darkness findally fell, and the mosquitos quit being quite so vicious, Poppy, Ang and I moved our arses outside for a friendly game of cards. It was close all the way through, with friendliness slowly evaporating into intense yet silent competitiveness (Poppy, mostly, I swear) when, SUDDENLY, the power went out. Did I mention it was dark? Well, it was. After a half hour of mad scramble we assembled back in the courtyard with an assortment of torches, some batteries that may or may not be good, and news from the neighbores that it was a strike because the government is planning to sell everything, including power, offshore in order to hack a chunk out of the interest on its debt. A 48 hour strike. We were just starting to come to terms with this, eating our way through the ice cream in the freezer, when, with a shout (from a TV or two left on) and a squeel (from Ange), the power came back on. So much from strike. As soon as I was done wiping the floor with Poppy and Ange (I won by 3 points! Bam), we all went to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that we had power, even if we were all too unconsious to need it.

As for the carpenter. Two weeks ago he was coming on monday. Just so you know, we have very very no space in the house for anything, particularly hanging things. We really really want a cupbord. And the carpenter was hired to build us one. It was a Thursday, I believe, when he said monday, so when he didn't show on monday, we assumed he meant NEXT monday. Being Greece, he didn't show then either. In the evening he called, though, to ask when we would like him to come, which was nice. So he came this morning. Apparently, it is super expensive to get a built in wardrobe built in Greece, but when he quoted he and mum agreed on a price for a wooden one to match everything else, blah blah blah. Being Greece, but not Greek (so should the excuse apply?), lippon, being, in any case, a shoddy carpenter (as, by reputation, they ALL are here), he made a laminate wardrobe, not wood. And told mum that, yes, if she wants she can have wood, for a further two hundred euro (and two weeks, no doubt). What a malaka.

Oh Im gonna call Sophie now, Yia!!

Photos: Village Life Chania

elishacurcio — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 04:36:00 GMT

Week 1

Village Life-Chania

elishacurcio — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 04:04:00 GMT

I had my first swim in the ocean yesterday, SO GOOD. I've had a few problems uploading photos, but I'll try again now. This hot room of an internet cafe is swarming with mosquitos so I may have to make this short and sweet, the vicious little bastards.

Anyway, there is certainly time for a funny little story. A bit of background to begin with - Mike has been trying make friends and/or pick up since we arrived. When we got to the village he became increasingly disheartened. There was only one pretty girl, Tania. She works at the local taverna and the first time they met she wouldn't crack a smile. Not to be detered, Michael returned daily over the next couple of days, having developed a sudden love for horta (vadora, grass). Last night Sam, Angi, Barbara and I joined Michael for dinner at the taverna. Aside from quite a sad incident with a cat, we had a pleasant and delicious meal together. Full and puffing hearterly on our smokes (well, me and mike were), we awaited the arrival of our raki. Raki is a greek after dinner alcohol. It is clear and potent and best served chilled. Ours arrived in a small bottle, accompanied by the traditional fruit marinated in syrup. Ang abstained, as she was already begining to feel unwell (she is fine today and we can only assume it was heat stroke). Michael filled up five glasses anyway.

We sang "Aspro Poti" (Lit: White Bottom, aka empty glass) and downed our raki. The bottle was done, and the last shot was sitting on the table. We encouraged Barbara to drink it. She is pretty funny when she drinks, and I'm sure none of us, at that point, forsore how far it would go. Michael caught the eye of his favourite waitress, who promptly brought us another bottle, then another. Finally, she came over with a 1.5lt icy cold bottle. We found this quite funny, although by this stage we found most thing quite funny. Mike poured us another round before Sam and I begged off. He and Barbs went again, then again. I started to feel like maybe that would do and went to ask for the bill. By the time I returned to the table it was clear the two of them had continued banging them down. I might have joined in for one or two more, now the three of us crying "kokino paputsia" red shoes, or, in Michaels case "aspro koulo" - white arse. I rounded up the euros and went in to pay. I took the bottle, with just three inches swilling around the bottom, inside with me.

While I fixed up the bill, the pretty young waitress asked Monica (the australian owner of the taverna) to ask me Michaels name. It was pretty giggly.

I was still waiting for change when Sam came in to retrieve the bottle for my dear thia and my naughty cousin. When I got back to the table it was pretty clear they were looking to see the bottom of the bottle, so I walked Sam and Ang home (where, and this is a funny story for another time, mum and poppy where entertaining a village friend with whisky and Jagger).

I reckon it was about an hour before Mike and Barbs voices reached us from the main road, then another hour of talking and laughing under the grape vine before things really started to go down hill, particularly for Barbs, poor dear. I'm very sorry to report that she deleted all the beautiful photos I took after she insisted she be allowed to sleep for "20 or 25 minutes, pleeeaase" on the concrete, poor love.

Lipon, I finally killed this bloody mosquito but ive got bites all over my arm, the bastard. Lets see if I can get these photos happening.

Photos: Crete - First Impressions

elishacurcio — Sat, 4 Jun 2011 22:42:00 GMT

Transit

elishacurcio — Thu, 2 Jun 2011 18:15:00 GMT

We arrived in Crete last night, safe and exhasted, after a 30 hour transit. And, just so you know, you CANNOT take booze from Australia to anywhere in the EU. Countries in the EU only except those special sealed bags from the EU. Which was fun. In Athens, when we discovered this, we attempted to check our bottles in, packed in a backpack and all wrapped up, but apparently Olympic Air only takes bottles in a special box with special packing that is not available at the airport. But Agean does check it in. Lot of good that did us. Any way, after much running around, we achieved nothing and lost a couple of bottles. Actually I thought the whole thing was pretty funny.

That and the fact that my Aunty Barbara was seated seperatly from the rest of us on every single flight. \

Anyway, time for a Frappe!

xxx

Before, or: From My Parents WiFi

elishacurcio — Fri, 27 May 2011 23:53:00 GMT

So last week Sophie took me to see a psychic called Vlyka. Vlyka told me a number of things; specifically, though, Vlyka told me to take this trip. And so I am. On Tuesday I am heading to the island of Crete for three months of sunshine and time. I plan on going to the beach and enjoying those hobbies I've been neglecting. I imagine long days of good food, swimming and solitary sketching. Things don't usually go as planned, but I'll keep you updated on my progress.

Ya.

Photos: China

elishacurcio — Sat, 21 May 2011 22:52:00 GMT

China

Photos: Macau

elishacurcio — Sat, 21 May 2011 22:43:00 GMT

Macau

Photos: Japan

elishacurcio — Sat, 21 May 2011 22:25:00 GMT

Japan

Photos: Nepal

elishacurcio — Sat, 21 May 2011 21:25:00 GMT

This Is Me