Ch. 47: Seek and Ye Shall Receive. Or Not.

So after Spain, I went to Greece, which was probably the beginning of my existential crisis, of which I'll write more in my next blog chapter. Ah, Greece is lovely. I very quickly began suffering a near-fatal overdose of the colours blue and white, and I ate so much calamari that tentacles grew out of my eyes. I also got very , very, very brown. I also bought a large big pink hat shaped like a bougainvillea tree, of which I attach a picture for all you fashionistas. (Bougainvillea is a very hard word to spell, I'll have you all know!)















First port of call was Santorini. I was last in Santorini 20 years ago, and I'm damn glad I went back because I'd forgotten how unbelievably beautiful and unique it is: a jumbled warren of whitewashed houses, threaded with tiny cobbled streets, high on an escarpment overlooking a sunken cauldera of deep azure. It really is spectacular, and my limited photos don't do it's beauty justice, see the one below taken from my hotel's infinity pool. Yes, those are cruise ships in the bay, far below. (In my opinion, an infinity pool is next to a swim up bar in the ranking of Great Things.)














For the history buffs, here's a juicy tidbit: the volcanic eruption which gave rise to this stunning and utterly unique view was the largest in recorded history, and generated a tsunami 190m high, which wiped out the Minoan civilisation.

Santorini was made all the more delightful by the fact that I was with my good friend Lance Berman. However, he so unnerved me with his never-before-seen chilled-out holiday personality that I had to start smoking again to compensate.














Dearest Darling Mother, I'm attaching a picture of Lance and me on a sailboat, so you have something to give the hitman you are about to hire. Though blame is a bit moot, in fact, because I've already quit again. But goodness, it was nice to smoke again, while it lasted. But, eewwwww, it's gross too.

And after Serene Santorini, off to Man-Mad Mykonos. A more desperate island, I cannot imagine. I stayed two weeks and consequently I can assuredly report that the Biblical promise of "Seek and Ye Shall Receive" apparently does not apply to the hunt for husbands. (Though my great friend Chip (below) managed to find a VERY nice husband and then dispatch of him, which grieves greatly me since I was convinced the prospective husband was A Keeper.) I can't say more; we all promised That What Happens on the Island, Stays on the Island. Shhhhhh!














Oh, but the island is truly beautiful, barren and stony, with a lovely violet light, and my friends were smashing to hang out with. But to be honest, after two weeks running through the same gay routine every day and I was ready to put a pen through my eye - Just For Something Different To Do. I'm sure you understand.

Anyway, the end result of this two weeks of hedonism was an existential crisis so large that I could not even tell my ouzo from my ozone. The crisis may have been helped along by the fact that I inadvertedly viewed what is probably the ugliest painting ever to have been created in the history of human artistic endeavour. (Here's a pic of the abomination.)















I'm tired of writing about Greece, and frickin' frackin' tired of trying to place these photos just so in Blogger so that they look aligned with the text - which they just refuse to do - so now I'm going to give up on writing and formatting and just give you some photos of me and my friends, and some of the pretty sites of the island.