Kos

October 12 - First day in Greece  AKA Starting off with the wrong foot forward

Well...

I left Turkey in a bit of a rush and didn't plan very well. I'd intended to go straight to Kos, the nearest island, see what was there and, while there, plan where else I wanted to go in Greece.

(I've actually actively started looking for a boat to crew on but I think I might be too late - the season is winding down fast.)

I got up and interneted for a bit in the morning before packing up and heading to the ferry docks. I'd just assumed that ferries to Kos ran all day, but no, they go at 9:30 am and 4 pm... and I got there at 10 am. AARGH. And ferries cost almost twice what a full day boat excursion including lunch costs. Is that possible? I pissed away the day very ineffectually. It was threatening rain and I'd left my pack outside at the ferry office and I was worried about a sudden downpour soaking it so I didn't want to stray too far away lest I had to rush back and save it.

It was a very windy crossing on the ferry and I got rained on in the short walk to my hotel.

I like hostels; they tend to attract other solo travellers and to be very sociable places with common kitchens or lounges or roof top decks where anyone can congregate to chat. I hadn't been able to find a hostel in Kos so I'd booked a cheap hotel room close to the ferry docks instead. Big mistake. It was horrible in the way that cheap hotels are: the promised wifi was broken, there was no hot water, the room was small. Worst of all I had no roommates and there was no space where there was any chance of meeting other travellers. Oh, and did I mention no wifi? My room did have a stove top and fridge though so I walked - in the drizzle - to buy stuff to cook, but then, surprise, neither worked. I went down to the front hall to try the wifi there - no luck - and the landlady talked my ear off complaining on and on about 'the situation' and all its ramifications.

So, due to poor planning, I'd wasted a whole day waiting for a ferry and had ended up all on my own in a small dumpy room with no internet or fellow travellers. Yeah.

And, I found out the next morning, I'd apparently left my favourite t-shirt behind somewhere.

Also the tourist information was closed for the season.

And it was still raining. AARGH.

I gave up on Kos, likely too quickly, parked myself outside the still closed McDonalds for free wifi, found a great looking hostel in Santorini, and, since ferries only run twice a week from Kos to Santorini, chose to go that same day.

Predictably, my landlady still wanted me to pay for two full nights. Which is what I'd booked. But still.

Then I realized that I'd lost my passport.

Yikes.

It was not my best day.

First I found my passport at the ferry ticket office. Then I prepared to piss away another day waiting for a ferry.

Kos it turned out (like everywhere in the Med) had an interesting past. It's the island where Hippocrates lived. Who knew? I visited the very same tree he used to sit and teach under 2500 years ago.

From there there's a bridge leading to a castle. I decided to wander the castle, because, why not.

And that's when I realized where I was.

Kos is one of the closest islands to Turkey.

I'd heard of it on the news before but not made the connection.

I'd come because it was close to Turkey. 

So had thousands of refugees. 

Every day. 

For months.

Looking down from the castle walls were a bizarre and sobering set set of views. The harbour was awash with dozens of derelict semi-submerged discarded boats, hundreds of life jackets, and countless other random bits of flotsam and jetsam. Tents were stacked up beside the castle walls and down along the beach as far as the eye could see five or six deep with barely space to walk between them. And long long long lines of people stood, immobile, waiting to register at the police station, or to receive a welcome bag containing a sleeping bag, a sweater, and a towel, or, I don't know what else. I hadn't realized what being on the island closest to Turkey really meant. My landlady's grumblings suddenly had context. And I felt terrible at how put out I'd been to have landed myself in a small dumpy room with no internet. It had rained hard enough in the night to wake me up, but at least I'd been dry. I have a great passport. I can go where and when I want to. I have no cares in the world. My complaints felt incredibly petty.

A small sampling of the debris in the marina...

A few of the many many tents...

Just the start of the line in front of the police station... it went round the block and down the street...

It wasn't until I was on the next ferry and we were already at sea that I considered I ought to have stayed on Kos, tried to get a refund for my ferry ticket, gone back to my room, found out who could use an extra volunteer for a couple of weeks or even a couple of months...

Volunteering there would be a good thing to do, for both the right reasons and the wrong ones. It would have, if nothing else, been incredibly interesting.

(Having left, however, I couldn't see going back.)

But how will I be able to enjoy myself being a tourist on Santorini when I didn't even think to try and stay and help out on Kos after I'd finally realized where I was?

No. It was not my best day.