It's all about ruins (in more ways than one)

The post below was written 3 months ago, during our trip in Greece.  The posts following this one will not be as detailed, as this old woman struggles to even remember what she had for lunch yesterday.
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No sooner had we settle back into our normal routine than we sped off to our next "vacation".  I use that term with reluctance because I think in many places around the world, when the kids have to be up from their warm beds and saliva-patched pillows at 6am, they are not known as being on "vacation".  I decisively cancelled one of our morning tours when Soph asked me when she will get to sleep in.  But then YL countered by saying he did not want to be in bed all day.  There is no pleasing everyone when you're the organiser...

So, where did our motley crew end up this time?

Greece. 

The genesis of Western civilisation.

Or, as Ju knows it: the place with a lot of broken rocks. 

At the Ancient Agora in Athens

Several months ago, when I was toying with the idea of visiting Greece, they were already in the limelight, not as the birthplace of Western philosophy and political systems, but as one of the PIGS.  YL was worried that we would be crippled by the ongoing strikes, or the demonstrations would get violent.  Days before our departure, we read about yet another strike, this time by the teachers' union. 

And today, when we left Athens for Santorini, we heard that there would be a major general strike by workers for all forms of transportation, including private taxi drivers.  Our taxi driver said they are probably on strike an average of 45 days a year.  He was a vocal man - like taxi drivers the world over, I guess - who spent the 45 minutes trip to the airport venting his anger at the Greek government, the EU, and civil servants who go "bla bla bla" all day long instead of doing their jobs efficiently.  He animatedly gestured at the empty shoplots along the roads, he shared that salaries have been cut over the last 2 years (starting salaries went from 1000 euros down to 700 euros), and then he laughed at all his own bitter words.  I quietly dug out some change for tips halfway through the sob story (our ride from the city center to the airport is a fixed sum of 35 euros, and we are not used to giving tips since it is not common in France nor it is a habit due to our stingy Malaysian-Chinese blood).    

We had wanted to visit some English bookstores to get some books on Greek mythology, and both shops recommended in my guide book - published in March 2012, just *6* months ago - had closed down.  The rooftop restaurants we visited on 2 nights - those with the coveted views over the Acropolis - were empty save for one or two tables.  So Greece *is* certainly feeling the brunt of crisis, although tourism is still going strong.  But, in the words of another taxi driver, "where is the money?"  (animosity towards the government is a common thread amongst the Greeks)...

But, here in the islands, the doom and gloom on the mainland is a 8-hour boat ride away.  Here, the mood is light, business is as usual, the sky is blue, and life is good.  Or maybe I am just drunk on the caldera view. 

To be continued...