'Yes We Have A Range Of Colours Sir, Blue or White'

From the Turkish port of Marmaris I caught the high speed ferry across to Rhodes. There for the day it was beautiful if brief. Then onto Santorini in a less than high speed ferry.

One can't explain how beautiful Santorini is because the english language doesn't have words that do it justice and while pictures may tell a thousand words Santorini needs whole books. Seeing the sunset at Santorini is definitely one of those 'see before I die moments'. While there isn't a whole lot to do in Santorini it was worth hiring a scooter and checking the island out if for no other reason than the fact that I found myself on a rather isolated beach with two girls from Kansas and a New Yorker.

From Santorini I caught the ferry to Ios. To the Irish of Ios I say thank you, you were amazing and on that note we have covered that island.

If anyone ever finds themselves hungry on the wharf at Ios I advise them to grit and bear it. A couple and I tried to order food at this cafe but were told that due to the quantity of orders at that current moment the chef was upset and was too flustered to cook any more. When we then sat down with food from the place we were redirected to we were told that we couldn't eat in the resteraunts confines for tax purposes. John Cleese would have been proud. From Ios it was onto Mykonos.

Driving on Mykonos is like playing a giant game of snakes and ladders. With the roads bordered by dry stone wall and being all of one bus width acrss there comes many moments on the journey when smaller vehicles are forced to reverse any gains that they may have just made. Proving what a small world it is I was getting off the bus in Mykonos and I hear 'teesh!!', I look around and there are the Best twins. Very small indeed (the world not the twins that is). Mykonos is a town that was designed to confuse pirates. Incredibly intricate it is a living and breathing maze of white washed walls and cobble stone streets. Picture postcard stuff if you can work out where the post office is. On the topic of postcards I think it says a lot about a place when you actually struggle to find one that doesnt consist of gay porn in some variation. Anyway thats a whole other issue.

On Greek fashion I make one comment. Linen is definitely back in.

I have a tendency to put off the putoffable. This runs to booking accommodation. Lesson 1: It's now July and Europe is travelling. I got off the ferry in Athens from Mykonos at 8 in the evening, giving myself a full 60 minutes of daylight to get the 25 km's on the train from the port into the city and find accommodation. Now this might not sound like a lot but in my infinite wisdom and utter self confidence I had some how convinced myself that it was more than enough and that any mother like voice in my head saying something along the lines of 'Scott you're on your own in Europe, use your head' was just the stress of a months travel surfacing in my subconscious and there really wasn't anything to worry about. As darkness began to fall my sense of direction left the building. Not able to find a room at any of the hostels I had written down and refusing to pay 35 Euro for a place to stay I began to feel like Joseph and Mary. So thinking 'what would Jesus do' I began looking for an internet cafe. To no avail. I did however happen upon a starbucks which are widely known for having free wifi...not this one. Right I thought, time to swallow the pride and ask one of these friendly Americans drinking coffee in the sancuary that US citizens seem to find in their global chain stores. "We'rrrre nuut frummm hiieere' said the girl in a drawnout southern accent. Well no shit I thought, if the fact that your wearing a bumbag and an American flag bandanna didn't give that away already the least you can do is help a fellow english speaker. But no... now I know how Churchhill felt.

Bottom line however is that once again I am an arsey bastard. Pulled one of the best hostels in the nicest area right under the acropolis at 11pm and as I walked in the receptionist high fived me saying 'we have one last bed'. Mission Accomplished.

Athens is a sprawling city with many attractions including the Acropolis, the Acropolis and the Acropolis. After 2 days walking though the busy streets I can say with some confidence that I no idea how this city has lasted in excess of 2500 years and I have absolutely no idea how they coped with the 2004 Olympics.

On my final morning I found myself sitting having crepes for breakfast watching the morning briefing for the local police. Talk about an outfit with all the gear and no idea. These guys seem to operate on the 'more cowbell theory' of traffic control. Standing in the middle of a busy intersection, the local police can be seen blowing their whistles for all their worth with absolutely no effect and in the meantime not only confusing tourists but baffling the driving public. Looking like something out of minority report these guys can make quite an entrance, especially as they have a tendency to travel in packs of 10 or more. Kitted to the nines in moulded body armour and wrap around sunnies they certainly give the impression they know what the're doing. You gotta give it to them... when in doubt, bluff with confidence.

In Athens I picked up my first travelling partner, Katie. Walking the streets of Athens with a stunning blonde beside you is like seeing the male world from the otherside of the fishbowl. If any woman ever feels as though she is in need of attention or her confidence is down I strongly suggest a trip to Athens. For those of you who know me I am not exactly a physically imposing kinda guy, I am however an excellent accessory for beautiful women. Some what like carrying pepper spray, a guy walking beside a girl seems to ward off approaches from strangers. It does not however stop the zoo like attention that the Athenian men are all to eager to give out. On my part I can only say that the Athenian women have a lot to learn in order to match their male compatriots.

It was with great sadness that Katie and I parted was as we worked well together, me having a sense of direction and her having taken greek history class abeit rather briefly and whilst hungover.

If I could quantify the relationship that Greece and I have had it would go like this. We meet in a crowded cobbled street on the island of Rhodes, our eyes meeting and instantly finding true love. Thus began a passionate romance with long walks on the beaches of Santorini and many lip locked sunsets. Things shifted a gear in Ios where we married with a reception time will not surpass. Mykonos was the honeymoon where the whitewashed walls and mazelike streets showed the girl for who she was. However on returning home from the honeymoon to settle down in Athens it was like finding the woman you've married is actually a part time hooker who enjoys the simple pleasures in life including pig hunting and drag racing. We ended our relationship of tv dinners and karaoke on saturdays in the departure lounge of Athens International. An acromonious seperation, the lady on red, Miss Vienna beckoned.

And so ends Greece and the delights of the blue and white only to find the land of uber organisation, hitler, mozart and of course Bruno.