A dusty, graphitized and desolate car park filled with random arm chairs and scattered with dirty nappies faced as we turned out of the dock. I wouldn't have been surprised if tumbleweed brushed my feet. Behind that, dark alleys spotted with teenage groups, mass convoys of cars and motorcycles lining the edge.
Eventually we find a bar. The staff were not the friendliest, our attempts at a little boogie between the dressed up greeks perched at their high bar tables was not much appreciated, but the Heineken was icy cold.
We have three days off in Athens before the long season begins and a morning or afternoon to ourselves becomes a distant pipe dream. Day one, I am ready to explore with my long list of sights to see and spots to hit and one of the crew has hired a mini van. Somebody has discovered that you can bungy jump over Corinth Canal. Today, in this place, I do not have the urge to throw myself off a 200ft drop. I wasn’t swearing off the idea but I know that I am a scaredy-cat (although I am proud to say I did do a skydive in Australia) and I don’t want to push myself to do something until I really want to do it. I debated whether to wander off by myself for the day or join them in hope we might cross one of my places off my list after they had all finished being danger mice.
Eventually we find a bar. The staff were not the friendliest, our attempts at a little boogie between the dressed up greeks perched at their high bar tables was not much appreciated, but the Heineken was icy cold.
We have three days off in Athens before the long season begins and a morning or afternoon to ourselves becomes a distant pipe dream. Day one, I am ready to explore with my long list of sights to see and spots to hit and one of the crew has hired a mini van. Somebody has discovered that you can bungy jump over Corinth Canal. Today, in this place, I do not have the urge to throw myself off a 200ft drop. I wasn’t swearing off the idea but I know that I am a scaredy-cat (although I am proud to say I did do a skydive in Australia) and I don’t want to push myself to do something until I really want to do it. I debated whether to wander off by myself for the day or join them in hope we might cross one of my places off my list after they had all finished being danger mice.
After a lengthy, cramped and irritable car journey (nine of us squished in a seven seater) we arrive at the striking canal. I made friends with Sammy, the guy who bought the attraction to Greece thirteen years ago. ‘If you were not scared you would not be normal’ he replies when I explain why I am the official photographer for the event (the only one out of the group who is not jumping by choice). I take the fact that this guy is not trying to persuade me to jump as reassurance of my decision, only when he tells me it is the third most beautiful place in the world to make the jump, I start to regret my cowardliness. The canal is a divine location, an intention that was thought to overcome the 185 nautical miles that the Peloponnese added to the journey of ships sailing between the Aegean and Adriatic over 2000 years ago. When I see two very nervous girls face their fate, legs shaking as they jump hesitantly and continue to ungracefully fall through the air, It was like a glimpse of what might have been and I trust my decision to keep both feet on the ground, once again. I’ll jump in New Zealand.
Finally all six have jumped and we hop back into the boiling hot car in search of a beach to cool off. Scolding the soles of our feet on the hot stones we strip off our clothes and approach the water. Jellyfish. Not just a couple. A sea of them, literally. I wade through; telling myself there must be less as it gets deeper. I try to enjoy the cold water against my roasting skin but with every little brush against my body, I take one step closer to the shore. We head for lunch were I have an mediocre greek salad, washed down with a delicious shot glass of wine and honey before we all squish back in the car and its my turn to be in the boot - sorry, trunk!
I may have had a better day, had I done my own thing, however it was lovely to see the 21.3 meter wide canal that our yacht would be coming through in a couple of weeks.
Finally all six have jumped and we hop back into the boiling hot car in search of a beach to cool off. Scolding the soles of our feet on the hot stones we strip off our clothes and approach the water. Jellyfish. Not just a couple. A sea of them, literally. I wade through; telling myself there must be less as it gets deeper. I try to enjoy the cold water against my roasting skin but with every little brush against my body, I take one step closer to the shore. We head for lunch were I have an mediocre greek salad, washed down with a delicious shot glass of wine and honey before we all squish back in the car and its my turn to be in the boot - sorry, trunk!
I may have had a better day, had I done my own thing, however it was lovely to see the 21.3 meter wide canal that our yacht would be coming through in a couple of weeks.