Boats

There's something romantic about sea travel in the twenty first century. Maybe it's that it has been reduced to novelty status in the good old US-of-A [you fly to see your friends] or because the boat defines in my mind the nineteenth century [coming to America!] but when we arrived in Piraeus two weeks ago it was gone. Understand that on Hellenic Seaways, you are traveling in a plane that happens to move in the water, not a proper boat. There were overhead compartments.

Hellenic Seaways, with its characteristic hue of red on blinding white, offers a boat known as the FlyingCat 2 that will take you from Piraeus to Spetses in three hours. There is a tiny franchised Everest Coffee-and-Sandwich shop on the middle of the boat, breaking up two rows of airplane-style seating. There you can order Greek Coffee [what a steal at 1.60 per serving*] or buy a bottle of water.**

*A brief diversion on Greek Coffee. I love it. I don't care if it's directly co-opted from the Turkish stuff, but it is so good, so abundant, and so cheap. I have tried making my own at home with moderate success, and have settled for brewing a giant pot of it more along the size of a cup of American Coffee. Phreeeeooooow!

**There is no such thing as tap water on Islands. Never thought my liberal sensibilities re: bottled water is bad! would be so immediately demolished.

When we returned home from Spetses, we were on a Hydrofoil. Kind of like a boat on skis. Actually much less exciting than I thought it was going to be.

This all seemed far too space-aged and homogenized for Sea Travel. It was far too sterile. If you want the proper sea travel experience, you simply MUST*** go to Santorini.

***Mustn't

ANEK lines is a super-liner ferry, which separates the boys from the men. I am once again sorry to inform Rabbi Sofian, who Bar Mitzvah'd me, that I am still flirting between these two categories. There are the rough sea-men who handle your luggage, the wet floors, the pervasive smell of gasoline. I have never been on a boat this big in my life. My thoughts, like a true Howling Fantod, immediately went to David Foster Wallace's excellent essay about cruise line travel. Except there is no luxury on the Kriti II. Economy seating isn't done by lot, or in cheap seats, but in no-seats. There is literally no guaranteed seating space for you on this boat if you travel economy. And as far as I can tell, EVERYONE travels economy. So when we arrived on this enormous beast of a boat, the only open seating was in the cafe. We ended up sleeping on the floor. Cool. Fast forward preview to the return trip, but I saw a guy literally throw himself on the floor to pass out prone on the floor of an aisle of proper seats so he could sleep "comfortably."

Say what you will about Greece's economic crisis and acceptance of IMF funds, I am starting to see a few elements of third-world-country status in sea travel. Only the strong survive, and only the old men and women who shove their way to the front get to sleep on the cushions in the boat cafe.

We were scheduled to return to Piraeus from Santorini yesterday at 3:30 PM and arrive just before midnight. Then there was another strike. Apparently, the sea workers strike like crazy. There are a few dedicated websites to helping us damn ferners figure out when there are strikes. As a result, two full boats worth of passengers had to take the 12:40 AM boat to arrive one hour before class began this morning. There was the full on nineteenth century experience I was hoping for. Literal pushing and shoving to get baggage onboard, to get prime positions on Cafe seating, people passing out in places they weren't allowed to sleep so the crew couldn't do anything about it.

I have been awake for the last thirty hours (you try sleeping on a curled up corner next to a boat window; the pulse of the ship's engines become your heart-rate) so pardon my potentially rant-y tone, but boat travel here is not for the faint of heart.

That being said: hell yes, boat travel.