True Story

Ola!

Life is starting to feel normal once again, my parents are out of my hair (haha), uni is beginning to get slightly tough and I'm just sort of, living in London I guess. When I say uni is getting slightly tough I'm kidding, I have the same amount of assignments for this whole year than I do for one semester at home. No complaints!

So anyway, a brief sum up of my life:

• I tore my quad last week when I fell over at the Sports Initiations party. For some reason there was popcorn on the floor and I had drunk my only enemy, white wine.
• Related story, I went to the Sports Initiations party. It was like a proper uni party, when I walked in to the girls house we went before I was handed a pair of knickers and a singlet, and that and the tights I was wearing was my outfit for the night..... Our theme was circus so we also had our faces painted and I was the 'strong woman' so carried an inflatable weight all night. Until I lost it. I also lost my top hat, but I managed to keep my oversized sequin bow tie, which is lucky because I've worn it several times since. It was a really good night in the end, everyone else was dressed ridiculously as well, so I blended in.
• I've been keeping ties with Australia by listening to Like a Version religiously, I think I've listened to the Bamboo's version of Frank Ocean's Lost eighteen times a day since it came out. I've added the video at the end of this post in case you haven't heard it.
• Special shout out to Joni was is a living legend. On Friday when I couldn't walk she came over (takes an hour on the tube), went to the shops for some frozen peas, took me to the doctor (I used her as a walking frame), sat in the waiting room with me for an hour, took me home, did my food shopping, then cooked me dinner. And that is why I love her.

So that me just about summed up. We're going to see Paranormal Activity 4 tonight to celebrate Halloween! Also, I've added some writing here I had to do for uni- I'm doing a unit called Creative Non-Fiction and this week we're doing travel writing, so I wrote a piece from my holiday. Read on! 

Love Annie 

Before you read this, you have to promise you won’t judge. As the old saying goes, walk a mile in their shoes etc. Although in my case, my shoes had just spent seven hours on a ferry after a sleepless night flying from Krakow to Athens. So to those reading who have done exactly that, judge away, I probably deserve it. To everyone else, keep me in your prayers.

I had hit the two-week mark of my three-month trip travelling around Europe and I was yet to see sun. As the ferry began gliding through the pale blue waters of the Aegean Sea, and the sun began making my pale winter skin prickle, I couldn’t help but get excited. It was time to change out of our jeans, and we were crisping our skin on the deck of the boat before long. Greek men with large bellies surrounded us, as did the type of young, tanned, beautiful women that only exist in Europe. My first mishap of the day occurred on that ferry, when I confidently walked into the bathroom.  When told by someone’s startled Grandpa that I was in the men’s, I assured him the toilets on this boat were unisex, and that he should he desire proof he should cast his eye to the door which shows a unisex cartoon human! Alas, on further reflection, it was definitely a man. I did a sheepish, could-have-happened-to-anyone giggle and got out of there, into the woman’s, where the walls were covered in flowers. Ah.

It turns out that incident would be the most exciting of the whole seven hour ride. It's actually physically impossible to sleep on a deck chair, in case you were wondering.

So, I suppose you could understand our sheer delight when the ferry docked. Ios! Beautiful, sunny, white sand beaches Ios! The Greece people still go to! (Sorry Athens). We made our way through the crowd of signs, accommodation owners who were desperate for those extra €13 a night from travellers will full wallets. “No thanks, we’ve already booked!” we said with our noses in the air. Being quite cocky really. We approached the man holding the “Far Out Beach Club” sign, and told him we’d be staying there and asked where we should go. He told us to follow that group of girls around the corner and hop on the Far Out Beach Club bus. Sounds easy enough. We followed the girls, loaded our luggage and got onto the bus. We had to wait for about ten minutes for the driver, and in that time two things happened. First, Claire announced her opinion that no-one should wear fedoras. Ever. I saw the girl in front of me surreptitiously take hers off. Turns out Claire had seen someone outside the bus wearing one and hadn’t noticed the two large fedoras taking up space in front of her eyes.

The second incident was much more important. I noticed something, “Hey that bus over there says Far Out Beach Club”. “Oh it does too”. “What does ours say”. “Er, nothing I don’t think”.

Good. Fine. No signs anything was about to go wrong.

Our driver arrived, a sprightly young Kiwi lad named Josh who warmly welcomed us to the island. Judging by his sunburn I think the island had warmly welcomed him too, but he was nice and gave us some good tips on where to eat, which is always appreciated. After a harrowing bus ride, we arrived in the village, which is definitely a land locked area of Ios. The beach was, apparently, a half an hour walk away. Far Out Beach Club is a funny name for a place half an hour away from the beach, but we figured oh well, we’re in Europe now, everything here is cra-zay.

So I got my backpack on my back (just for a visual it weighed more than eight rhinos) and walked up and up and up through the tiny cobbled streets of the village, on a constant incline. We finally reached a bubbly, vivacious American lady, who was welcoming us to Francescos! We had a free drink on arrival and everyone at Francescos hopes we enjoy our stay! Yes. Our stay at Francescos...

I slunk back into the shadows, as did Claire. We looked at each other. We both knew this would happen at some point of the trip, it just seemed a bit early and our backpacks a bit to heavy for it to be right now. I heard someone calling to us, “come closer gals, what are your names, we’ve gotta get you to your rooms!”.

Ah. Okay. Claire you take this one.

“Ahem, well you see, we think we may have accidently come to the wrong place…”

“What? Are you not staying here”.

“Um, we’re at Far Out Beach Club”.

“What? Why did you get on the Francesco’s bus then”.

A very poignant and relevant question. I answered as professionally and academically as I could.

“We do stupid stuff sometimes. Plus, um, we’re girls..?”

Feminist I am not, as it turns out.

Claire began explaining further to Kiwi Josh when I saw it. The wisp of a tale. I heard the light padding of its feet.

A cat.

Our first Greek cat. We had decided to keep a cat count throughout our trip. London hadn’t produced much, Krakow a few, but I knew Greece was the place we’d really get our numbers up.

“….and we were told to follow the girls…”

“CLAIRE A CAT!”

She stopped midsentence, as anyone would, to look at the cat. We high-fived with glee, declared this cat sighting number one, then turned back to the group. The two girls with fedoras didn’t seem so offended about Claire’s earlier remark now they realised we were insane.

We got to Far Out Beach Club in the end. We hitched a ride with the manager, a British ex-pat called Geoff, in his Land Rover, the first ever built I think. I was told not to wear my seatbelt as it made him feel weird. “Just hold on girls!”.

To make us feel better, he told us of the group of guys who had booked at Far Out Beach Club but had gotten the ferry to Chios. Instead of Ios.

We took pride in knowing we were at least on the right island.

Like a Version

'Lost'- The Bamboos