Red eye flights. All night bus rides. Overnight ferry trips. Travel long enough (especially on a backpacker budget) and an overnight trip is virtually guaranteed. We try to avoid them because neither of us sleep well and we’re wrecked for a day or two afterward. It’s jet lag all over again. Ugh.
The only way to get from Mykonos to Kusadasi is on an overnight ferry. So we drank a bottle of wine with dinner, pulled out the ear plugs and sleep masks, and crossed our fingers the boat wouldn’t be too crowded. We even paid for an upgrade to assigned seats for a guaranteed spot to try to catch some shut-eye.
The ferry didn’t leave until 2 AM, so we hung out in town until 1 AM. We got in the taxi queue to get a ride to the port, a 1-mile ride away, and waited. And waited. And no taxis came. There were 20 people ahead of us in line. Frick, we need to get to the port!
At 1:30 AM, we made the dash. Strapped on the packs and ran-walked-scrambled to the port on a dark road. I was glad I restrained myself when I picked out my backpack – at 42 liters, it’s small for a traveling pack. Mark’s ancient pack is 75 liters, and I’m glad he’s a strong guy.
Sweaty and tired, we made it to the port with a few minutes to spare. Our finger crossing failed – the ferry was packed.
Ready to collapse, we found our seats. Except that one had a bag in it, and the second a softly-snoring figure. If you’ve seen the movie The Goonies, you might remember Mama Fratelli. She’s the bad-ass mother who pointed a gun at her own sons and threatened to puree another character’s (Chunk’s) hand. The Greek version of Mama Fratelli was asleep in our other seat.
It’s late, we’re tired, we paid for the seat, we want to sit down.
So I gently touch Mama Fratelli’s shoulder to wake her up. Nothing. I nudge her again, and she wakes up. I show her our ticket and gesture that she’s in our seat. And she starts mumbling to us in Greek, showing us her cane, all the while not moving. I continue to smile and show her our ticket, she continues to sit and speak more forcefully in Greek. This continues for a few minutes. Stalemate.
Another passenger gets involved. She talks to Mama Fratelli, negotiating on our behalf for the old woman to move. Their conversation goes back and forth. Lots of hand waving. It turns out she has a ticket for a seat, but someone else is sleeping in her seat, so she took this one. Can’t we find another empty seat? The boat is full, not an option. Ten minutes later, after more rounds of hand waving and fast Greek, Mama Fratelli shuffles out.
Yes, we are those jerks that kicked an elderly Greek woman with a cane out of our seat so we could catch a couple hours of shut-eye. And we slept just fine.
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
Bravo for standing up for your right to sit down!
What a trip.
Love, Donald/Dad
Sounds like fun… I say no worries based on the international perspective of the stereotypical American. =)
Keep the stories coming!
I laughed out loud when you brought up Mama Fratelli, thanks! 🙂
It was easier to think of her as the evil Mama Fratelli than someone’s poor little ole’ grandma!
Thanks Dave…curiously, Turks keep thinking we’re Australians! Must be our non-American dress – we left the white socks and baseball caps at home. It sure isn’t our accents or drinking ability 🙂