Crawl 1: from Athens to Delphi. It took us a good 2 hours to sort through contradictory directions and finally make it to the bus. We caught one at 1, and the ride’s longer than expected at 3.5 hours.
Fly 1: through Delphi. Like sections of the Acropolis transported to a mountain view reminiscent of the Alps. Unfortunately, too rushed to climb on any of said pseudoAlps: we got there at 4:30 and had to catch our bus back at 6. After scrambling back to town from the ruins and a mad rush for some food, we made it on the bus only by literally stepping in front of it to get it to stop.
Crawl 2: the second excruciatingly late bus ride of the day. It departed Delphi a good 15 minutes late and seemed to crawl through the mountains as our flight time drew ever nearer. Crawling at a rest stop as we explore almost gets us left en route, but the bus finally gets back at 9:20, leaving us 1 hour 40 minutes to get from a bus station who knows where in Athens to the airport somewhere in the outskirts, grabbing our luggage at some point in between.
Fly 2: to the hostel for our bags and from the hostel for our flight. Riad nearly took a Camaro to the head by darting across and tripping in the midst of a busy thoroughfare, but slammed brakes and screeching tires limit this near tragedy to a testimony against rushing while wearing $15 Wal-Mart shoes that didn’t hold up too well after Alpine hikes. Our cabbie couldn’t understand the street name we’re saying for our hostel, so we settle for Syntagma, a main plaza within a dozen blocks of our place. The cabbie we switch to at Syntagma made driving an art. His old-school Mercedes-Benz performed like I didn’t know a machine with wood panelling inside could as his perfectly-timed shifts propelled us to the hostel and then the airport with more than 10 minutes to spare before check-in for our flight was to close.
Crawl 3: waiting for our delayed flight. What should have been our shortest span between check-in and takeoff stretched longer than even the most cautious traveler’s safety window normally would because we hit an hour and 45 minute delay. We’re too appreciative of the fact that we made it here in time to really care.
Fly 3: outta Athens and back to London on Easyjet, another lover’s quarrel in our long affair with low-cost airlines. Uneventful, as I was passed out for most of it. Called it a night loving Gatwick Airport, abed on a nicely padded row of chairs.