Lisbon

After actually managing to catch the plane from Barcelona we arrived in Lisbon.

We were staying at Rossio Hostel run by Marco, a friend of Sam's brother who we haven't seen in three years.

We managed to make it from the airport to the approximate area where the hostel is. We grabbed a map and asked the guys behind to counter to show us where to go "down near the river" so off we went.

Looking at the map it didn't make sense that we should be going towards the river. We headed back where we came from and thought we had found the right street after walking up a huge hill. Again it looked like we were in the wrong place.
So we asked the police and they told us to go back where we had come from. It took us two hours to realise that we had been dropped of 100m from the hostel.

We were really kicking goals that day.

Marco was working that night so we caught up with him then. It was great to see him. He was hosting a tapas night and was cooking chorizo and got Sam to help him. Nervous about Sam cooking alcohol soaked sausage with an open flame. I watched from afar.

The hostel was beautiful, great rooms and comfy beds. Marco's mum cooks everyone breakfast the next morning (the pancakes are sensational!), man is she a good cook.

The next day we wanted to suss out Lisbon so we walked down to the river and checked out the monuments and old buildings.

That night the hostel was booked out so we stayed at Marco's place.
He had invited us to go to a friend's party. A Brazilian girl he knew had just graduated and it was her birthday so it was time to celebrate.

We got a taxi to where Marco thought it was, he said he had been there a few times, but each time he had been very drunk so he wasn't really sure.

That really filled us with confidence.

He asked some people nearby if we were in the right place. One older guy had a long and animated conversation with Sam and I. In Portuguese. He seemed to speak more Portuguese the more we told him we couldn't understand him.

Turns out we were in the right place. We headed up to the party and met everyone. I'm struggling with the two kisses each time you meet someone.

My confusion has led to me accidentally head butting some of the people I've met.. I'm sure they understand. But nobody likes a headbutt.

The party was fun but it was also confusing. Only because most of the talking was in Portugese. Everyone was really lovely.

One guy, a painter named Migel Angelo (yes, really!) was convinced that I was Portugese and refused to speak to me in English.

The party was heaps of fun but the small apartment full o people smoking hit me around three and I went back to Marco's whilst the boys stayed and enjoyed what was left of the night.

Partied till the sun came up..

With the boys sleeping off the night before I had the day to myself to eat Portugese custard tarts and go shopping without the worry of a chap sitting out the front waiting for me.

I went back to Marco's that afternoon and found him cooking eggs and going through the photos of the night before.

Seems they'd had a great night but unfortunately Sam had lost his license that we'd fought so hard to get back in Santorini.

After a night of recovery we headed to Peniche the next day to see Super Tubes, the portugese wave that is on the pro tour.

The tubes were not super, they were not tubes at all. I knew how much Sammy was looking forward surfing.

flat as a tack..

We decided to come back again the next day in the hope that the was some kind of wave that Sam could surf.

The next day there were waves, enough to surf at least. I really tried to take as many photos as I could of Sam in the water but they all look the same, I got Sam at the start and then I got some great shots of some other guy.

I decided to put the camera down and go back to my book.

We took Marco out for dinner to thank him for the wonderful time he'd shown us. He picked the place, from the outside it looked like not much, but the inside was beautiful, ballrooms and murals on the walls - it even had a chandelier. This place was the real deal.

The food was fantastic. Probably the best I'd had whilst I was in Lisbon, washed down with green wine. Perfect.

We went for a walk to see Lisbon by night. It was beautiful, I really really didn't want to leave this time.

We said goodbye to Marco and thanked him for his hospitality and got ready to head to Madrid.

Barcelona

We arrived in Barcelona just before dinner, walking to the hotel we passed a lot of badly dressed middle aged women leaning against walls and sitting on the curb.. I didn't realise that they were prostitutes until one of them grabbed the crutch of an elderly man walking past.. Welcome to Barcelona!

The view from our hotel

After navigating our way through the maze of whores (I never thought I'd have reason to write that sentence) we dropped off our suitcases and went exploring in the backstreets. We had been told do not eat in the main drag. The tourist menus are no good.

So we went to a tiny little wine bar where only a few locals were hanging out and had the best tapas of my life. The food was so fresh, after all those days of pizza and cheese I was in heaven.
We spent the rest of the night people watching in Las Ramblas drinking sangria.

There were so many sights to see in Barcelona, all the Gaudi. But after two days in a row on a bus we wanted to stop learning and relax we walked the streets of Barcelona shopping and taking photos of alley ways.

After doing the same pose in every photo I've decided to mix it up by randomly waving my arms around. Holwell isn't thrilled with the concept..

We listened to Spanish street band Microquaqua who were that good we decided to buy their cd.

Desperate for amazing food like the night before we had our eye out for more tapas. And then we saw the tourist menu (knowing full well that tourist menus are no good) we sat down and ordered the (very cheap) paella special.

It was bad, really bad.
The calamari in mine was green, Sam's had prawns so small we were convinced that they were actually bait.

The moral of the story - THE TOURIST MENUS ARE NO GOOD!

We headed to the beach to recover from what was close to a near death experience.

The beach was beautiful, a nice relief from the heat of the day. Sam even managed to find something that was sort of a wave to body surf.

They were selling all sorts of stuff along the beach, "mojitos mojitos, saaaangrrriaaa sangria" was the background noise, until the police rocked up and all of a sudden the beverage sellers disappeared and became beach goers.

We were going to take photos of the beach but the topless ladies around us meant that we decided against it. Probably for the best.

After the beach we really couldn't be assed walking all the way back to our hotel so we got on a sort of bike powered tuk tuk. Our driver/rider's name was Cheese Bar.. "like cheese and like bar - Cheese Bar"

It was only fair that Sam introduced himself "G'day mate, I'm Wicked, Wicked Dude"

Cheese Bar and Wicked Dude really hit it off.

Cheese Bar and Wicked Dude - Photo: Embarrassed Girlfriend

When we got back to the hotel and I started to think about what I'd write in the blog.. That nothing terribly funny or ironic had happened. And then I checked the flight confirmation for the next day.
When I read the boarding pass I felt sick, I'd booked the plane for the wrong day. We'd already missed the flight - the lesson here is that a. Planning is better than winging it and b. Don't book flights in the middle of the night when you are tired and a little bit pissed.

I rebooked the flights for the morning and pretended I hadn't thrown all that money away with the help of some Spanish beer.

Dinner was at a Spanish/Mexican fusion restaurant that didn't look like much from the street but the food was sensational.

After dinner we joined he table next to us. The table was very multicultural, French, Spanish, Italian, Swiss and us..
I dazzled the group with my ability to locate the toilet in many a language.

We would have stayed longer with the group to chat more but we had an early flight to catch now so we headed back to the hotel to pack for Portugal.

Santorini

Our ferry left at 7am from Piraeus, the port of Athens. Which meant we had to be up nice and early.

We caught the train to the port and this time decided to keep our bags with us just in case we had any trouble like we did last time. Turns out undesirable types sleep in, everyone on the train was perfectly normal and not interested in stealing any of our things..

The ferry to Santorini wasn't super fun. You weren't allowed to go outside, which was a shame. We dropped people off at four islands before we got to Santorini. It was so good to finally get there.

We hadn't booked any accommodation because we'd heard that they offer it to you at the port.

We started talking to a guy named Bill - I just really don't think that is his name. After much negotiation he gave us a cheap price on a hotel on the beach side of the island and drove us there. He asked me if I had come to Santorini to get some colour, because I had none - ease up Bill.

He seemed like a nice guy and when we got to the hotel a grumpy looking middle aged woman met us with the key and escorted us, along with Bill to our room. He turned to us and whispered "She is the boss' Mumma"

We got the feeling that Mumma didn't like us.

No one was at the pool so we thought we would have it to ourselves for the afternoon. Turns out no one else was at the hotel. It was just us.. And Mumma.

We decided that instead of getting some lunch we should drink by the pool all afternoon - I believe that this is where we started to go wrong.

When it was time for dinner (there is no clock on this holiday, time is judged by how many meals we have had - which is why we are getting fat)

We headed to a place on the beach called - Charlie's (I think) we continued to drink and ordered an amazing seafood platter. Then they gave us a free shot of Ouzo - this is where I know we went wrong..

I had four shots of Ouzo and Sam had more. This is not advised.
By this point of the night Sam was behind the bar and I was drinking home made wine with the chef. And I think someone brought their dog in?

One of the waiters drove us back to our hotel which was perfect because I'm not sure we could remember where it was.

It was after midnight when we got back and as we walked to our room we both looked at each other and said "Mumma would not be pleased"

The next day was awful.
I thought if I went for a swim in the pool it would make me feel better - it didn't.
It took us a few hours but we eventually got to the beach. And fell asleep.

We've both decided to stop drinking Ouzo - its probably for the best.

The morning after the worst day of my life I met another employee (read relation), she never mentioned her name (we decided to call her Mumma's daughter) who offered to make us breakfast, it was clear the hotel was not open and we were there by some weird coincidence so I politely declined, she then asked if I wanted a bike/quad bike/tour/car/coffee/tea/are you sure you don't want breakfast?

We decided we would rent a bike and negotiated a good price (we had done our research) well we thought we were doing well until she asked us for coins for the phone to arrange the bike and we saw her use her iPhone!!

We chatted with 'daughter of mumma' whilst waiting for the bike.

"You want me to take you to the airport tomorrow?"
'No, its ok. Bill is taking us'
"Ah Vassili? yes?" - I knew Bill waasn't his real name!
"you married?"
'no'
"you engaged?"
'no'
"oh, I thought maybe you somesing.. But you nusing yes?"
'um, I mean seven years..'
"where you from? Canada?"
'No, Australia..Melbourne'
"I have cousins in Clayton, it's vey beautiful yes??"
'uh.... Yea..'

The bike couldn't have come quick enough.

Sam wouldn't let me drive, can't imagine why...

The chap with the bike was insistent that he take Sam's passport for the day whilst we had the bike and that he would collect the key and return it at the end of the day.

We explained that he could forget that idea and ended up handing over Sam's license, quite sure that handing out your passport isn't a good idea.

We headed off around the island and did notice the bike was a bit shit.. And it got progressively worse but we chose to ignore it. Meanwhile I couldnt stop singing ABBA songs, exploring the island was so much fun.
We came back to the hotel for lunch and thought a rest would do the bike some good (machines shouldn't need to rest - because they are machines!)

We went to see the sunset at Oia where every single tourist ever was, we took some snaps but were nervous that the bike would fail on us in the dark on the way home.

There were a few hills involved on the drive back, which meant Sam had to push the bike up becaue it kept stopping.. At one point I got off to see if that would work and it still didn't (thank god! I would have got a complex)

Somehow we finally got home. And we did get to see the sunset, it was just from the back of our dodgy quad bike.

The bike man was meant to come and get the bike at ten, and return Sam's license. But he didn't show.

The next morning before our flight Sam (forcefully) suggested that mumma's daughter call her friend so he could get his license.. Very thankful that we hung on to our passports.

He got it back in the end, old mate rocked up with a plastic pocket full of passports (Seriously?)IDs and licenses..

Best we head to the airport..

"Bill" came to pick us up and we told him all about the bike and the time that we had. He seemed to think that we'd had a pretty normal experience since everyone from Santorini was strange.. he was from Athens.

After giving us his skype details (?) we set of to catch a plane to Rome.