We sadly said goodbye to the beautiful Santorini as we boarded the ferry for our next stop, Syros. We had decided to stay on Syros since it is not as touristy as Mykonos. On the ferry trip over, they had television screens everywhere showing us a TV show from Scotland about a veterinarian practice. We sat there trying to enjoy a beer while watching animals being operated on and vets dragging newborn sheep out of their mothers. Not the greatest thing to be watching while drinking and rolling over the ocean swell.

It is impressive watching these massive catamaran ferries dock. They motor straight towards the concrete port and at the last minute they drop their anchor off the front and swing the back around while the ramp is descending. The ramp lands on the dock, they herd all the cars, motorbikes and people off and the new lot on in around one minute and are taking off while the ramp is still raising back into position. It’s a slick operation.

We landed in Syros and walked towards our accommodation in the searing heat. The capital city of Syros, Ermoupoli, is completely different from Santorini, but very pretty in its own way. The paved roads lead from the port straight up a huge mountain, leading to a colourful cathedral perched at the top, which can be seen from anywhere in the city like a sentry overlooking the town.

Lidia and I were excited about this stay because we had booked the penthouse suite in our hotel. Obviously, the standards in Syros are way different from most places, because we walked up the 3 flights of stairs to our room (there were no elevators), to find our room was a tiny, pokey little space with a small bed. The only redeeming feature was a massive balcony overlooking the main square and impressive town hall of Ermoupoli. We had to double check the photos to ensure we were in the room we booked. All I can say is some photographers can be very creative. Little did we know that the fun was just beginning with this room. We had barely checked in when the power went out. It was stinking hot, and we had no air conditioning. There was no phone in the room, so I had to walk down the three flights of stairs to tell the concierge (who already knew), then climb back up the stairs to find that Lidia had come out of the room to check what was happening and the wind had closed our door, locking us out of the room. I walked back down the three flights of stairs to get the concierge to come back up with me and unlock our door. We then had to sit on the deck and drink cold beer in order to keep cool and couldn’t go to bed until the power came back on at around 11:30pm.

I locked the deadbolt before we went to bed. The next morning the dodgy key wouldn’t unlock the dead bolt, so we went from being locked out to being locked in! I fiddled and fiddled, and it just wouldn’t work. With no phone, I thought we’d be locked in the room all day. It was a double-door, so eventually I figured out that I could unbolt the floor bolt for the other side and managed to swing both doors inwards with the deadbolt still sticking out. While I was doing this, the power went out again.

We left the hotel and the six of us caught another ferry to Mykonos for the day. It was only a 30 minute ferry ride, and during the trip they played a documentary on the kamikaze pilots of the second world war flying into naval ships and sinking them. I’d love to know who decides what to play on those ferries. I was expecting a documentary on the Titanic next.

Once we arrived in Mykonos, we caught a bus to the city centre. It is a beautiful city, with the typical white houses with brightly coloured doors and shutters. Mykonos is also famous for their old Venetian windmills, and we walked to a place where there are four of them in a row, then walked to a waterside neighbourhood called “Little Venice” where the houses are built on the water. Although beautiful, Mykonos was crazy busy, and we had to shuffle our way down many of the tiny alleyways amongst throngs of tourists. We escaped the crowds and the heat to sit down to a magnificent traditional Greek lunch in a tavern, before returning to Syros, grateful that we had made the right choice in staying there.

When we returned, we were hot and bothered and went straight back to our room to recover. We found the door open. When we entered the room, our power was still out, and the room was stifling. We had cold showers and I had only a hand towel to dry myself with because housekeeping had only left us one towel. This hotel was the gift that kept on giving! We quickly left the hotel to find a bar where we could cool down instead. It was quite windy while we were enjoying a lovely Cretan white wine in a bar overlooking the harbour, but at least it was cooling us down. I had to put my phone on top of the menu to stop it from flying away. Suddenly, a freak gust of wind blew the phone and menu straight into Lidia’s face. Apart from a paper cut on her chin, she was fine. When we returned to the room later that night, the door was open again, but the power, thankfully, was on.

The next morning, we sat down for breakfast in an al fresco café. It bears mentioning that the Greek yoghurt here is so delicious that I think we’ve all eaten our body weight in it. During breakfast, a freak gust of wind blew the menu into Lidia’s face again.

Our ferry to Athens was to leave at 3:30 that day, so after checking out at midday, we headed to a restaurant we had frequented here and sat down to a long, 2-hour lunch of beer and Greek dishes served up to us by Constantinos, who proudly took us into the kitchen to introduce us to the three Greek mamas who did all the cooking.

After lunch, as we were waiting for the ferry in the waiting area, we saw a TV screen which was used to display ferry times. An A4 sheet of paper was taped under the TV. On it was printed “Please do not check the screen for information. Usually it is not correct. Ask the ticket booth!!” It is a mystery to me why they even have the TV screen on if they need a sign to advise you to ignore it, but hey, who am I to argue?

We checked the weather forecast for Athens for the next four days and it was 36, 36, 36 and, you guessed it, 36. The wind was blowing a gale when we left Syros and the ferry ride was very rough. Rob wondered why the TV screens were not playing “The Perfect Storm”. After two hours of rocky seas, we made it to Athens and stepped off the ferry in the baking heat. We were immediately accosted by taxi drivers offering us transfers to our hotel. It was absolute chaos and we had one driver try to stuff our two suitcases and Rob and Caitlynne’s two Atco hut-sized suitcases in a normal sized boot, which was never going to work, so we eventually hired two taxis and took off to the city centre.

Our hotel was in an ideal location, right near Syntagma square, and our room had a balcony overlooking the Acropolis, with the Parthenon standing like a beacon on top.

The next day we rose early and walked to a meeting point to take a guided tour of the Acropolis. We braved the heat and the crowds and walked to the top of this humungous rock on which the three temples are built. The wind was so strong that people were losing their hats everywhere. One lady’s hat blew into a restricted area and I’m sure I heard the whinny of a horse as Rob came riding in like a white knight on his stallion and went to retrieve it for her.

This archaeological site is brimming with history, but I was saddened to hear that in 1687 the Ottoman’s were storing all of their gunpowder and munitions inside the Parthenon when some bright spark Venetian general thought it would be a good idea to destroy it by blowing up this beautiful, historic building, leaving a fraction of its former glory behind.

After this, we visited the archaeological museum, where some of the original friezes remain. Unfortunately, only 10% of them are in Greece because from 1800 to 1803 an English Lord, the 7^th Earl of Elgin, came over during the Ottoman rule and made a contract with them that he could take whatever he wanted. 90% of the original friezes that belong in the Athens museum are instead housed inside the British Museum of Natural History.

That night, we all went on a food walking tour through a funky part of Athens. Our guide took us to several different restaurants, where she proceeded to stuff us with every conceivable Greek dish for the next 4 hours. Coupled with Ouzo and wine, when the tour ended we were more than full. I wore thongs and immediately regretted it when I tripped over on one of the uneven paving stones on the street and fell into an American doctor named Wes. I was grateful that he saved my fall.

On the way back to the hotel, Dennis and Rob were walking behind me when I stumbled again, deftly saving myself from a fall with the skill of a ninja. I was unaware at the time that Dennis turned to Rob and whispered “Get your phone out. It’s only a matter of time before he falls over”. He must have jinxed me because a few short minutes later, my thong caught a bolt sticking out of the ground that was used to secure the baseplate around a metal light post. As I started to fall, I quickly wrapped my arm around the post, in a futile attempt to save myself. I swung around it like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain, then sling-shotted into the air, slapping onto the ground like a wet sack of porridge. After briefly checking if I had broken anything (I hadn’t), Rob and Dennis proceeded to laugh like schoolgirls. Rob laughed so hard that he was doubled over, unable to walk for a couple of minutes.

The next day we walked to Syntagma square to watch the changing of the guards at the tomb of the unknown soldier. This ritual takes place every hour and involves soldiers wearing pleated shirts and fluffy pom-pommed shoes that apparently weigh 15 kilograms each, walking like Basil Fawlty in slow motion as they replace each other to stand guard without moving so much as an eyebrow for the next hour in weather that can only be described as standing in a blast furnace.

We all got together for drinks in our room that afternoon, before heading off for our last meal together. We had a wonderful meal in another traditional Greek tavern, where Lidia ate moussaka that she described as the best she’d ever eaten. There were musicians playing traditional Greek Music and when they started playing the Zorba, we got up, flung our arms around the shoulders of complete strangers and danced around the restaurant.

On the walk back to our hotel we came across a Ukrainian lady playing an instrument called a Bandura. This is an ancient stringed instrument which looks like a cross between a harp and a guitar. She played bass strings with her right hand and melody with her right. It sounded beautiful and after she explained to me how it worked, she started playing Hallelujah. She also sang beautifully, and she harmonised while we sang. It was a fantastic moment. A perfect ending to a fantastic holiday, we said goodbye to Dennis and Linda that night and parted with Rob and Caitlynne the next morning before making our way to the airport for our flight home.