Airports. Soul Suckers.

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Over the course of the past 5 or so months, we have become intimate with many airports ... I think the number is something nearing 20 with 3 more countries to get in and out of before we get home. Take Frankfurt airport, for example; three times we have strolled those hallowed halls, without ever actually having been into the city itself. No mean feat. Copenhagen; we have whiled away many hours on two separate occasions, with a third impending. And Athens airport. Ahhh Athens airport. We have flown into it from Rome, out of it to Santorini, back into it from Santorini and back out of it into Vienna. We have slept in it, shopped in it, become delirious with fatigue and hunger in it, marvelled at the diversity of things to do within it, grown resentful of it for not having enough to do in it, accusatory of its security levels (let it be known cans of dolmades are not even CHECKED to be sure they are indeed dolmades)- ultimately, a deep and complex relationship has been forged, through the highs (discovery of shopping haven) and lows (horror at McDonalds inexplicably closing at 2am).

But, before we could get to Athens airport, in all its glory, we had to get out of Rome. And before we could get out of Rome, we had to kill 4 hours in our campsite (check out being at 10, airport shuttle bus booked for 2pm). In fact, the entire period of time that was getting ourselves out of one ancient city into another, was defined by elongated periods of Time. Five Legs to be exact.

The Five Legs
1) Campsite Wait. 10am-2pm. Hungover. Desperate for a burger. None in sight.
2) Rome Airport Wait. 2.15pm-8pm. Hangover continues. Only pizza in sight, no burger. Burger preferable to pizza. Will hold out.
3) Rome-Athens Flight. 8pm-11pm. No comment. Flight was blur.
4)Athens Airport Wait. 11.30pm-6am. Airport littered with prone bodies of slumbering backpackers, many in sleeping bags. Alternate between inexplicable positivity 'this is going SO quickly' and maniacal patrolling of corridors for something to do.
5) Athens-Santorini flight. 6.30am-7am.

And, upon arrival, a 6th leg was added.

6) Wait For Room To Be Vacated & Cleaned So We Can Check In. 7am-11am.

Some journal entries of that part of my life that is now a pain filled blur:

5.46pm, Rome Airport ... the wait continues. Never found hamburger, was forced to plunder Lowest Point of Hangover without requisite hangover food. Am now much more chipper, not so delirious, but would STILL sell firstborn for a cheeseburger. And a vanilla latte. 1 sugar. Ahhh Americanisation.

11.50pm - Athens Airport - leg 3 of torture extravaganza is over. now, simply have 4-5 hours to kill in terminal before can check into Santorini flight. Passing time singing rousing renditions of Save Tonight and River Deep, Mountain High.

2.18am - Ahhh Athens Airport, how so very intimate we are.

4.35am - Things To Do Whilst Waiting in An Airport
* give yourself a migraine in the perfume department of duty free
* rationalise buying a bottle of pear vodka, then decide against due to all too fresh memory of hangover
* sleep on floor - try not to feel homeless/dirty, instead pass it off as homeless chic/resourceful
* stand dolefully at McDonalds entrance knowing you technically cannot buy a big mac because you are about to lie on the beach for a week in new swimmers, the pants of which are inexplicably and embarrassingly tiny.

3.15pm - Santorini - Princess Hostel - how is this day still continuing? Surely it is Friday, not still Wednesday the 22nd. Surely I am no longer human, instead bizarre alien beamed from one time zone to the other with no concept of rhythms usually considered inherent to being human.

I have to go and make myself a strong cup of tea before I tackle the blissful reward that was Santorini. The Five Leg Torture Extravaganza still gets me, even today.