There Is No Spoon...
Trip Start
Apr 26, 2010
1
8
Trip End
Sep 25, 2010
Masouri, Dodecanese, Greece
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Is that the sound of a man loosening his bowels? Finishing a particularly-satisfying polishing of the undercarriage?
No! It's the sound of zen-like inner peace and relaxation, of such extremity as to make Buddha himself a jealous man.
OK...maybe I'm exaggerating. But what could bring such a level of satisfaction?
One place: Kalymnos
This Greek island lies in the east of the Aegean Sea, 25km off the coast of Turkey. It main attraction for me is that it's one of the world's premiere sport-climbing destinations. On a holiday where I would become restless after 2 days in the one spot, I spent 10 days on Kalymnos doing the same thing, day after day.
And I loved it. A lot.
But let's rewind for a second, so I can tell the story in order.
At the end of the last blog, I'd just finished a week of hiking in the Swiss Alps, and was on my way to Turkey. I started as most do, with a visit to Istanbul. I must say I was impressed with the place, and all the descriptions seemed to hold true. Modern yet ancient. Traditional yet funky. It was also one of the few big cities I'd visited that I felt was 'live-able'. I particularly dug the promenade of musical instrument shops winding its way up to Beyoglu, where you could eat, drink, play, shop, and rock climb (indoors). Sweet guitars, good prices...
However, it was at this point that I realised that I'd become a tad desensitized to the constant sensory barrage of travel. Ancient buildings? Seen them before. Crazy hostel drinking sessions? Good times, but done plenty of that. New and exciting foods? Tasty, but I've had better. It was not a bitter and joyless desensitivity, and good times were still had, but it planted a seed for my future actions.
From Istanbul on the Bosphorus Strait, I caught the 'Fez Bus' around the north coast of the Sea of Marmara to the Dardenelles. The bus, which is a hop-on hop-off backpacker service, was chock-full of Aussies and Kiwis, so everyone headed onto a tour of Gallipoli. Everyone has their own reactions to the place, but my favourite thing was the sense of mate-ship that has arisen between Turkey and the ANZACs as a result of WWI campaign. It's slightly surreal to think fighting a war on opposing sides could bring nations closer together. I doubt it'll happen again in my lifetime.
The next day we headed down the Turkish west coast, visiting the ruins of the ancient cities of Troy and Pergamum/Pergamon. We ended up in the resort town of Kusadasi, which glowed with green-neon hotel skyscrapers. The trap of being on a hop-on hop-off bus is that every second night is farewell drinks for those hopping off, and the following night is welcome drinks for those hopping on. This can give the liver some serious punishment, and weaken you enough to let the dreaded 'Turkey belly' take hold. That's pretty much what went down after a massive night out in Kusadasi, which included the following highlights:
- warm-up raki shots;
- a classic karaoke rendition of Bon Jovi's 'Livin On A Prayer', performed in the Novocastrian style;
- lethal bottom-shelf cocktails, including a milky concoction called 'Sperm of Barman';
- some light-hearted molestation of bar stools
- passing out in the wrong room of the hostel, and waking up in the morning being spooned by a Kiwi;
- trying to go on a bus trip to the ancient city of Ephesus with a brutal hangover, but having to dive off the bus halfway out of town (due to impending spewage), but just passing out on a park bench for an hour instead.
Keep in mind, the above shenanigans were performed in front of some bemused locals, who were out celebrating the end of Ramadan. I'm not sure their celebration of self-sacrifice and austerity was all they thought it could be.
The recovery period lasted several days after this one, as I crept over to the Greek island of Kos with my tail between my legs. A quick ferry ride over to Kalymnos, and I met up with my mate and climbing buddy Nick. And that's when the awesomeness began.
Unfortunately, my Kalymnian paradise doesn't really make a good story, as it was a lot of kicking back, climbing, swimming, and eating - over and over and over. It was one of those "I'm doing EXACTLY what I want to do with my life right now" moments. I couldn't have been more satisfied if I tried.
A typical day in the life of Tim and Nick (and Anna, who arrived a couple of days later):
- Wake up at 9am;
- Ride the scooters down to the breakfast cafe, for greek yoghurt with nuts and honey;
- Scooter ride (with music pumping in the headphones) to the morning climbing spot, and climbing for a few hours;
- Ride back to Manolis' Gyros place, for best-ever gyros and Greek salad lunch;
- Siesta, sometimes preceded by a swim in the Aegean;
- Head out to the afternoon climbing crag, and climb some more;
- Return to the hotel to drink ouzo and shoot the shit with the hotel owner (also called Manolis)
- Well-deserved feed of Greek food, topped off with a few glasses of retsina, and maybe some more ouzo
And then we'd wake up and do it again. As I mentioned, I'd usually get sick of doing the same thing day after day. But instead, I was stoked. It was probably the best time I had of my whole trip, out of many strong contenders.
So on our last day, as I looked up at my final climb of the trip, I had a revelation. Though I still had 3 months to make my way back to Australia, there was simply nothing that could top the last 2 weeks. I was so chilled out and happy, that I baulked at the idea of going back to all-day cross-country bus trips, scorching heat and angry taxi-drivers, stomach bugs and squat toilets. I'd been rocked into little slumber of chill by Kalymnos.
So, I decided then and there to go out on top. Time to head home to Australia, see the family and friends, and recharge the batteries. The world will still be there next year, and my enthusiasm for exploring it renewed. Why stretch out your holiday till you're physically and mentally exhausted, and begging for home. Go out a winner.
Unfortunately, all this thinking didn't serve me well for my final climb, which I totally stuffed up. This caused a messy fall, crushing my leg against the rock, and causing me to hobble for the next few days. This just reinforced my aversion to restarting the backpacking travel, as I wouldn't be able to do much of the mountaineering and hiking I was planning on in Georgia with a bum leg.
So that kicked off a 60-hour orgy of transit, as I nabbed the quickest ticket home. And that's where I am now.
But I never said anything about going back to work!
So hit me up if you wanna hang out - have car, will travel...
Til next year,
Shonk On!
http://www.mp3.com.au/Album.asp?id=8040
