I did my research for this trip. I swear I did. I booked an array of flights that would get me where I needed to be (not in the timeliest fashion, but at least I had confirmed flights); hostels were researched and booked; I Googled and Googled COVID regulations for Greece (mainland and islands), The Netherlands, and the US until I knew their policies like the back of my hand.
My first "day" of flying would consist of flying IcelandAir to Iceland to The Netherlands to arrive at my final destination: Athens. I would fly out at about 8pm, finally landing in Greece at the same time a day later. As I checked in for the flight, I started dreading my laborious journey more and more with each page and click. As I got to the page requesting submission of either a vaccination card or negative PCR test; I did a double take and realized the word between the two was not an "or". It was an "and". APPARENTLY in all my research, I had not realized that while each country that I was traveling to accepted a vaccine card as the only necessary COVID paperwork to enter their country, Iceland required both items to even layover in their country.
Before I had time to fully panic, I shot off a text to my friend—who is a flight attendant for American Airlines—inquiring of any open seats on their flight in a few hours to Athens. Forty-six open seats. I quickly canceled my other THREE flights and prepared for my—did I mention—direct flight to Athens, arriving at 10am the following morning. Thank you, Sarah!
An undisclosed number of gin and tonics and grams of melatonin later, I arrived in Athens having consumed a semi-edible breakfast from American (IcelandAir gives no free food or drinks so this is NOT me complaining). Next stop: the hostel that I had researched really well.
Full disclosure on this one: As I had been filling out my paperwork for Greece the morning of my flight, I went to look for the hostel that I had booked for the following night. Oh, no record of it? No problem. My mistake. I'll just find another one in five minutes. And I did. And I dutifully read reviews before booking. They told a story of walking tours, bar crawls, and rooftop hangs. My vision for my time in Athens burst into flames as I arrived and saw no people and was immediately told that all tours, walks, etc. were suspended for the time being. Even the bar? Yes.
Well then. Off to the Rick Steves' recommended restaurant, Taverna tou Psyrri, where I could get a carafe of wine and some delicious food to prepare me for what must come next: finding an unbeatable hostel with an opening the day of. This time around I made sure to check the dates on the reviews that I was reading for hostels. Upon reflection, I realized that I had been reading 2019 reviews for the hostel that I had booked. Rookie mistake.
The review that sold me on the new hostel that I landed on was, and I quote, "We were right under the bar- horrible idea. The partying didn’t stop until 3am and that was soooo bad for our sleep. Otherwise location is so perfect and we walked everywhere." Um..... SIGN ME UP. Name of the hostel is Athens Hawks Hostel.
I walked over to the hostel to make sure that it was as advertised. The answer was yes, so I booked a room for the duration of my stay in Athens. And yes, I did lose my money from the last hostel... $15 a night... which is the price of a cocktail in Manhattan... so to say I was not upset is an understatement.
And now came the time to fully enjoy my surroundings via an audio tour by—a person I at times consider my boyfriend—Rick Steves. His app is a must when traveling Europe, especially when you can cross-reference with his guidebook. Add in to-go cocktails (a limencello/gin combo to be exact) as I embarked on this journey? What. A. Delight.
He guided me through Greek Parliament, Syntagma Square, the Roman Forum, Monastiraki Square, and many more sites, encouraging me to stop for a refreshing rosé, shop for jewelry, grab a cheap and delicious souvlaki, or just pause and take it all in; I never once strayed from his guidance.
Dinner was at Xenios Zeus, at the top of the Mnisikleous steps, with a beautiful and tranquil view of Athens. I have very few photos of the food that I ate throughout the trip as every time I dined at a restaurant, due to the atrocious state of my phone—and perhaps because I kept forgetting to put it on charge each night—I was constantly handing the device over to my server to charge. I do, however, have a photo of the view and my essential Ouzo.
Back to the hostel to hit up the rooftop bar and make a friend before the bar crawl later in the night, as Rick would not be able to accompany me on this particular outing. After making some yawn-worthy small talk with the first guy that came up to me, a ping-pong ball rolled over to me from the beer pong game, and I rushed to bring it back to its rightful owners. Was I running away, trying to play beer pong, or just being nice...? Couldn't tell you. What I do know is that I never saw that guy again.
Alternatively, I joined up with a crew of Irish lads along with a couple of American guys that they had adopted. And so, instead of going on what I'm sure was a very well organized bar crawl by the hostel, we found ourselves on a journey into the night with me leading the way. Don't entirely know how that one happened since I was the most recent arrival.
OK, I kind of know how that happened. I called my lovely roommate, Brandon, who had been to Athens the previous week, asking him advice on where to go, and he told us exactly where to go... Also I was probably one of the only people with cell service—which as a female solo traveller is kind of a must.
Following Brandon's recommendations, we headed to Gazi Square; looking back at our texts, I am seeing that he was saying "Giza", which—as you can imagine—was only showing me options in Egypt. The evening encountered a diverse lineup of venues: a rooftop bar, strip club (what did you think would happen if I went out with eight guys), drinking on the street, hookah bar... and of course I snuck a beer back to the hostel when we arrived home at 5am-ish. Photos below.
Day 2! Five hours of sleep later, I hit the street running... well, I meandered over to LUNCH at O Nikitas. Who doesn't like a splash of wine before coffee?
One of the Irish fellows from the evening prior stole my trusty travel hat, so I was off to the shops for a replacement. Quite a simple task in Athens as every tourist from 9 to 90 is overcome with the desire to possess a vacation hat as they roam the ancient alleyways. Limoncello drink and some coffee? Check and check. Off to tour the Acropolis with Rick and my new hat.
This audio tour was, once again, incredible. I don't really know what I expected, but my expectations were somehow surpassed. I've typed out several lines describing the Acropolis, but none of them seem to be doing the ancient ruins justice so take a glance at the photos below and... go to Greece.
Then came the tour of the Ancient Agora. Before planning this trip, I had no idea what the Ancient Agora was, but... I may have enjoyed this tour even more than the Acropolis?
I was just beginning to get my bearings when a documentary film crew approached me, inquiring if they could interview me. I asked what they wanted to interview me about, to which they replied, "Oh, just about philosophy and ethics, really."
"Ah, not really my strong suit," I replied.
"PERFECT," they said.
And then I blacked out. Not physically, but mentally, yes. They asked me questions, and I blabbered on; surely proving whatever point they were trying to make about the average person not knowing enough about philosophy and ethics??? Anyway, keep an eye out for the film starring yours truly.
As I meandered through the ruins, a couple tapped me on the shoulder with inquisitive looks on their faces...
"Are you listening to Rick Steves' Ancient Agora Tour?"
Um, yes...
"OMG. Makes sense. We were like... 'why are we stalking this chick and laughing whenever she laughs?'"
We continued along our parallel paths, interjecting throughout the journey with comments like, "Did you just hear about the guy who used to masturbate openly in the town square?"
Good times.
Then I found the place that encompassed the perfect combination of ambiance, exquisite service, delightful food, and melodious live music: Klepsidra Cafe.
I never wanted to leave, and once again, I was late for the 7pm opening of the rooftop bar at Athens Hawks Hostel. Everyone that I had met the night before had moved on to the next city or gone home, as it goes, so time to make some more friends...
'Twas another evening for the books. Spent the evening on the roof until it closed at 3am. Got a free shot from one of the bartenders because I let him wear my new hat for five minutes. Not a bad deal.
I met a couple of flight attendants (s/o to AA again), and it just so happened that they were only in Athens for a very quick trip for Kaylee's birthday. Did you say BIRTHDAY??? 3am was much too early to go to bed if they were only in Athens for two nights (as was I), so off we went to find a bar.
Upon exiting the hostel, it became instantaneously apparent that none of our usual haunts were open. It was a Sunday, so everyone except the crazy tourists were in bed.
We found some taxi drivers and told them if they took us to a bar that was open, we would pay them. If the bar was not open, we would not pay them, cool? We shook on it.
They delivered. Was the only place open a strip club? Duh.
Was the sun up when we exited this club? Also, duh. We then partook in the breakfast of champions, and then I stumbled into bed for a quick cat-nap.
Avli for "lunch", and then off to the Archaeological Museum. I should have known better than to go here. Whenever I go to art museums, I always skip the "ancient Greece" sections because I find them to be oh, so boring. If I had been running on eight hours of sleep, I'm sure I could have found ways to enjoy this museum—I was listening to Rick, afterall—but I was running on three, so I kept finding random chairs and falling asleep in them. And getting yelled at museum staff for falling asleep in said chairs.
I did what I could, dashed across the street for a coffee, and then headed towards what I knew was the only way I wanted to spend my last few hours in Athens: Klepsidra Cafe.
Upon my arrival, my lovely server from the day before gasped, asking me immediately if I remembered his name. When I said "no", he stormed off, but then still gave me excellent service, apologizing when I did not finish all of my food. Just wasn't that hungry, my man; we are wasteful in the US, and often don't finish the food on our plate.
Back to the hostel to grab my belongings for the journey to Santorini. I sent a quick text to my friends form the evening before, to which they replied, "we just woke up, but look up." It was 6pm.
Everyone says that Santorini is a very sleepy island. Whilst it was no Athens, I found Fira to be a vibrant village teeming with—yes, mostly honeymooners—but, also some girls' trips, families, and other solo travellers. After a bit of exploration, I opted for a quiet evening with book number two of the trip.
Meant to have an early evening, but the views were too pretty, I couldn't find the strength to go to bed. Eventually, I made it back, and this, is what happens when the hat comes off after a day of travel...
Explored Fira in the am, and trekked (aka Ubered) over to Oia. While Fira was beautiful, all photos below are from Oia because, I mean, all the honeymooners stay in this village for a reason.
How many couples asked me, the unassuming solo traveller, to take their photo? About a hundred. I traipsed down the winding roads to Amoudi Bay, strategically sidestepping the inordinate amount of horse sh*t that littered the roads, stairs, alleyways, and anywhere else where you wouldn't think a horse could even fit, but then you realize, they must've.
Per the recommendation of my hostel roommate, I had a wonderful meal at Dimitris on the bay. I may have gotten a bit too relaxed... I opened my wallet to pay at the end, and plop. Airpods overboard. Gone. Forever. It was incredible to be sitting inches from the water, but... there is apparently a price to pay.
Thankfully, believe it or not, I had foreseen this, and I proceeded to pull out of one my three backup headphones.
Off to the sunset cruise!!! Met this awesome couple, Meiline and Tommy, and third wheeled for the entirety of the cruise. Made stops where we could jump in the water and then get hosed off by one of the crewmembers—a task which I believe they enjoyed a bit more than they should have. Spent a lot of time lounging on the net, eating food, and paying €2 for beer because the free wine was packed in water bottles and far too terrible to drink.
After the cruise, Meiline somehow convinced a driver to drive us up to the village, so no leaping over horse sh*t going uphill!!! We agreed to one more drink together, and then, of course, stayed for several more even though I had a 6am wake up call in the morning.
After waking up to the 5th alarm that I had set, I stumbled out of bed, with high hopes that my hat had corrected itself from the beating I had given it the day before by stuffing it into my bag.
My Uber driver refused to drop me off at the airport itself because Uber was illegal in Santorini... how had I been getting rides the whole time I was there then??? No clue. Had to sneak onto the airport grounds though.
Naturally, I was flying Ryanair back to Athens (then on to Amsterdam through a different airline). For all of the flights that I had thus far, it was impossible to check in online because they required either proof of vaccination or negative COVID test. When I had attempted to check in online via the Ryanair website, it had once again stated that I could only do so at the airport.
When I approached the check-in desk, the attendant asserted that it would be €63. I laughed and explained how that was absurd since online check in was unavailable, to which he shrugged and said, "not my problem." I spent about ten more seconds arguing after which I was met with the most unsympathetic gaze, and concluded that this was not a fight worth having at 6:30am.
I paid up and sojourned on to my gate: 6b. The Santorini airport is quite small, as you can imagine, and I was perplexed that my gate was nowhere to be found. After spending an embarrassingly long time searching—by this time my flight was boarding—I realized 6b was, in fact, my seat number.
Was the lack of sleep catching up to me? Maybe a little bit.
Now for the bit of the trip that was the whole reason I was in Europe to begin with: visiting Kevin and Scott in Amsterdam! Upon my arrival to their apartment, Scott said we needed to leave in 10 for their boat. "Not a problem," I said.
And then I managed to lock myself in their bathroom. Yup. Within five minutes of my arrival, I somehow broke the handle and had not brought my phone in with me. Scott and Kevin were both finishing up some work (it was a Wednesday, afterall), so they were each in their perspective offices, not near me. Long story short, Scott heard me banging on the door, and came with his toolkit and rescued me. Did we leave for the boat ontime? Noway. Had this ever happened to anyone else before? Absolutely not.
We did make it to the boat though and OMG, do I LOVE Tipsy Tuna. We spent the evening cruising the waters, pulling up to bars and restaurants as needed for beers and bathrooms.
When planning for my visit, Scott asked what touristy things I would like to do while I was there, to which I replied, "none."
"Cool with just cruising around on Tipsy Tuna for a day, then?"
COOL WITH IT? Yes, I think I can handle that, Scott.
So that is what day two was: ten hours on the canals. Talk about pure joy. We made it a good ways up the Amstel to some small towns as well which was just... gorgeous.
As the work day came to a close, we picked up friends from various docks along the way and got some immaculate sunset views.
Once it got dark, we dropped everyone off, and Scott and I went to go dock the boat. To say this did not go well is an understatement. Scott dropped something in the water (I don't think I ever fully understood what), something he needed in order to dock the boat properly. He ended up deep in slime, headlamp and all, searching for this thing. Thankfully, he had set me up on the canal bank with a beer in hand, front row seat to the spectacle unfurling before me.
Scott finally found what he was looking for, and we were then off to FEBO for some much deserved croquettes. What is FEBO? "Dutch" fast food. Kevin is disgusted with how much Scott and I love the food there. Yes, that is my gin and tonic that I set down to take the photo.
Solid second day. How it ended:
I did have two requests for the next day: Bloemenmarkt and Brouwerij 't IJ. Bloemenmarkt is, in my opinion, the best spot for some free cheese tasting and Brouwerij 't IJ was the last place I was seen alive before the bike crash of 2017 when I lost half of my front tooth.
After that was some beers on the canal, bitterballen, and late night snacks (we had somehow forgotten to eat dinner even though we were at restaurants all day).
We had ended up at a friend of a friends apartment, which was quite fun. Upon leaving, I felt my back pocket to ensure that my phone was secure, and it was. As we neared Scott's apartment (about 45 minutes away as the bike rides), I realized this was not my phone. It was the coasters I had stolen from the last bar of the evening—a souvenir gift for my roommates. Thoughtful, aren't I?
We spent the majority of the next morning tracking down my phone, and upon retrieval, we headed to brunch followed by drinks on the... beach? Kind of.
We ended up at Rembrandtplein that evening (a personal request of mine for which Scott received a lot of sh*t for being at since it is the epitome of touristy). But I love it there, and I think, so did he.
Vondelpark the next day, another favorite of mine.
And now, for some 2017 v. 2021 shots. I think it's pretty obvious which is which...
Right: 2021, a little less time at the brewery, no spilled beer on clothes for this one
Above: 2021, casual bike ride, no nap this time
Flew IcelandAir home that day; purchased the worst and most expensive soup of my life, but still, somehow, had a pretty good, not-so-bad flight home.
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