Once upon a time . . .
I had the whole day off in Santorini, beautiful Santorini perched on the top of the cliff . . .
as seen from below before you either a) hike up the mighty cliff, b) ride a donkey or c) take the cable car which is the fastest and least odiferous way to get there . . .
And then again from above. It's a marvelous island.
I spent a relaxing day in the sun on the black volcanic sand beach, eating Greek salad and then sitting and talking with Nicoletta and tattooed Franzescos, who sells his jewelry on the corner where one meets the bus to go back to town.
My work schedule showed the ship sailing at 11 pm so round about 7:30, I caught the bus and sauntered along the edge of town, taking sunset photos of the ship with the rest of the tourists.
So, I'm taking this sunset photo and thinking, "My, that's quite an illusion. It almost looks like the ship is moving . . ."
That's about the time my life went surreal. The ship was leaving and I'm at the top of the cliff taking pictures of it. I dashed back to the cable cars which were no longer running, since the ship was leaving. The lady in the booth yelled, "get in" and ran out to pull the levers, sent me down. I'm watching my ship pull out of the harbor all the way down the hill, thinking, "this can't be happening" and "hey, look, they stopped. Maybe they'll just send me out on a little boat."
At the bottom of the cliff, a man was waiting with a photocopy of my passport and news that I would have to rejoin the ship at the next port, Messina, Italy, in two days. Unfortunately, I was in Greece. On an island. Without a passport. The ride back up the hill was fairly miserable.
I took stock of what I had. I was wearing a purple bikini, a white tank top, sandals and a little wrap skirt. I was carrying a beach bag with my wallet, (a credit card with no PIN number, drivers license, 35 euro cash), camera and, blessed be! my cheap cell phone and all my contact numbers. The phone only calls out in Italy, but the numbers were golden. That was the inventory.
Oh, and I had 800 Hong Kong dollars, left for the staff by a parent as a tip, but that was non-negotiable currency - I hadn't been able to find anyone in 3 ports who would change it for us.
I sat in the port agent's office while they discussed my fate in Greek. First, they found a lovely hotel room for me, right in the main part of town, €60 (ka-ching!) My vote was for the campground down the road where they had little cabins for 15 euro but at that point my vote didn't count.
Truly lovely. Wish I could say I could relax and enjoy it, I did try to, but alas. But I like looking at the pictures of it.
In the morning I was told that to be able to fly or go to any other country, (like the one my ship was heading for), I'd first have to travel to Athens to see the wonderful wizard in the American Embassy and get a new passport. I was booked passage on a high-speed hydrofoil. They tried to include a taxi ride but I assured them the bus would be just fine. On the way to meet the bus, I added a few things to my collection, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb and a cheap Greek tourist dress that just screams, "Hi, I'm an American woman who's been to Santorini!"
It just seemed a little more fitting for an Embassy than a purple bikini.
The credit card was useful, but didn't work for little things like combs and traveling food, but I was still feeling okay with €25 in my pocket.
Until I arrived in Piraeus, (the port of Athens) and the waiting taxi driver, assigned to me by the port agent, relieved me of the rest of my cash for a 10 block ride to an expensive hotel. That's the sad part of the story. I was doing pretty well up 'til then, but that was scary and made me cry. Didn't matter. He still took the money.
And it didn't help that, docked in the harbor, sat a ship that looked just like mine. Woe! That's Millennium there, not my Galaxy.
I called the port agent from the hotel and they took pity on me and sent a person over with €150 to be charged to my credit card so I wouldn't be scared. It helped bunches.
It also helped that I informed the agent that if I had to stay more days, they were to move me to a cheap hotel. When she said she had wanted to make sure it was CLEAN for me, I told her I work on a ship and climb a ladder to get to my bed. I didn't have to mention how they had to spray for bedbugs a couple of weeks ago and how we have to clean our own bathroom if we don't want it to be gross.
The next morning, another kind cab driver took me to the Embassy where in 2 hours time, I had a new, temporary passport for $125. Unfortunately, the driver insisted on waiting for me the whole time as he had been instructed to, so guess what . . . no, my cash didn't go, they charged it directly to my VISA. Having other people making plans for me was the most difficult part of this.
After
the Embassy, which was relatively painless, I went to the Piraeus port agent,
oddly located right beside the Dennis Cafe which I'd been to on a previous
cruise. The people in the agency really did have my best interests at
heart.
This is their dog. I've decided all Greeks have dogs and most of them bring them to work with them. This babe was super friendly, loving the attention I was giving her until I got distracted with flight details and she bit me on the knee just to show she cared.
My next chance to catch the ship would be in two days time, Cannes, France. I had to be quite firm about flying in early. The sweet girl in the office was upset with me. She scolded me. "Who will take care of you there! Who will arrange a hotel room for you!" I assured her that by this age, I've seen a few hotel rooms, France probably has some for me to use and I likely could find one.
This all happened the day after the terrorist incident with the liquid explosives. Since I didn't have any luggage to check, what a concept, I was afraid I would lose my cell phone and camera, but they assured me that doesn't happen in Europe and they were correct. The girl felt sorry for me and insisted, I mean INSISTED that I take the red bag in the photos above so I'd have a roomier carry-on.
One last taxi ride in the wee hours in which I had to squelch the desire to yell "Wheeeeeee!" around every curve. The "50" on the little road signs didn't seem to have much to do with the "120" on the guy's speedometer.
Getting ready to enter security, I carefully sorted out all my electronics to be inspected separately so there would be no question. The Athens security lady looked at me in that way one looks at a child doing something cute. In Paris, the man didn't have the patience, "No, no, no, no" shoved it all back into my bag and sent it through the tunnel. Very different flying from Europe to Europe.
Arrived in Nice the afternoon before the ship, found it easy to catch a bus to the train station, the tourist bureau set me up in a fabulous old hotel 5 blocks away for 39 euro with balcony view of the cathedral next door.
Wandered the streets of France, ate Chinese food, slept really well for the first time in days and in the morning caught the eeeeearly train to Cannes. Who will take care of me? Big grin.
Mixed feelings when I saw my ship in the harbor. A large measure of dread, to the point that I sat on the curb by the beach in the early morning sun getting up the nerve to face them.
It all ended very well. No reprimand, only "Are you okay?" and "What happened?" and a massive number of delicious hugs. To answer the questions everyone shore side now asks, here's the scoop.
It's my responsibility, no matter the typo on my schedule, to be on the ship when it sails. No excuses, the time is posted as you leave the ship for a day in port. The company policy is to dismiss any employee who misses the boat (of course that's subject, I hate to say, to importance of the job) or at the very least, a written warning. I had written an ass-kissing statement taking full responsibility and apologizing to the Captain and bridge crew as well as my staff manager for causing them stress. It can't be easy to leave a crew member behind.
Why no written warning? Because it's also policy to leave the PASSPORT on shore with the port agent. They didn't leave mine because none, none, of the security people, who all know me, could believe I could have possibly missed the ship. I'm the older, mostly non-drinking, really responsible one, couldn't happen to me. They thought there was a glitch in their own check-in system. That's rather flattering, and I happily traded one breach of policy for another.
My manager, was feeling horrible and responsible for the whole thing, and actually repaid me for the wages they docked me. She was so insistent, I allowed her to do so just so we could get passed it. No warning for her either, so all was well.
Next time I left the ship, I had a post-it note pinned to my shirt with the sailing time . . . security laughed, but reminded me to come back every time I left.