THOUGHT I'd take us back to Albania today. How's that?!Where there are more Mercedes Benz' than anywhere but So Cal. In a country so poor, the donkey's have no shoes, you can smell both old money (oil) and new money (guns, drugs?) mixed in with the acid choking from bitumen drenched land.
Once through this tiny and rugged country that still shows many of the scars of the 90's ethnic war, I crossed into a yet older civilization. Greeted by a 60's F 104 Starfighter gate guardian, I was in the land of Alexander,* Spartacus, Hercules and Diana, and of course, Helen.
Quite the contrast, hustling bustling cities, much better quality roads and ruins dotting the countrysides. After a very rainy first day's ride, I'd pulled off at a beautiful Hotel in Preveza. My search for a rain-suit however, came up dry!
Athens is an amazing city, there are no words to describe the utter chaos of traffic that seemingly has no direction whatsoever. A couple of friendly cops advised me to 'just follow other moto's and do what they did, that way I stood a good chance of staying alive!' I did just that!
I sliced through traffic to the head of each line, crossing over into the oncoming lane when necessary, squeezing past mirrors on tiny lorries and cars. Easily out accelerating everyone including the hordes of scooters of every description imaginable, my 600 sailed clear until the next set of traffic lights or roundabouts brought us to a halt. Talk about a WILD AND HAIRY ride! You would not believe it. Athens has been since described to me as "much like Rome... except chaotic"
As if Rome were well organized!
Rounding the hill that the Acropolis occupies, I found a very nice hotel on the west side of the ruins within 3 subway stops. Once the Divvie was parked underground and my bod was parked on the 20 something floor, I was able to relax for a couple of hours and unwind from my E ticket ride through the city. The next three days were wisely spent exploring the city on foot, visiting the Parthenon of course, and spending an entire day in the 35C heat, rubbing shoulders with Hungarians, Germans, Croats, Turks and of course the smattering of Canadians and Americans stopped over on the cruise ships!
I'd walked through plush parks, had cafe at street side outlets, strolled warily by junkies shooting up at clapboard buildings with police in plain site, stuffed myself on pastries, wore out my sandals! What an experience!
Not knowing if I'd be able to leave the city alive... I opted to depart at 4 am on the fourth morning, getting me well outside the urban zone before the "rush hour"** really began.
Following route "1" the E 75 north, I skirted inlets of the Med all the way up to near Thessaloniki, veering
to the disputed border with Macedonia.
There I had a frustrating 2 hour wait while we stood in lines at a building the size of a large outhouse getting insurance for the bike (they wouldn't accept my EU insurance papers) then back to the gate only to be told once again, I needed insurance. In line for yet another 30 minutes, to the same 'gent' who now sold me (gladly I might ad) insurance for myself! Extortion, that's what it was. They had no problem relieving me of 120E... but they wouldn't accept my Euro insurance policy.
Macedonia is the size of a (very beautiful) postage stamp, excellent roads, high speed sweeping curves, mountainous terrain, crystal clear streams and bang! It took me less time to pass right through the country than it took to get into it!!
After some very tense moments crossing into Serbia proper where I was accosted by several security policemen brandishing automatic weapons urging me to move on quickly while adding a jacket and putting documents into pockets, it occurred to me that perhaps in past times, Muslim motorcyclists carrying explosives had detonated many of them in searing fire balls and shrapnel... there is something to be said for hurrying one along while 3 or 4 men pointing machine guns in your direction and yelling at you can do for your urgency!
Passports and documentation packed away, I accelerated the 600 rapidly.
Within miles of the crossing, my heart still racing at redline, the rains began... my mid thirty Athens weather was now low teens, the water having long ago seeped through my Prexports, gloves and riding gear. It was, after all... October.
* Alexander of course was actually Macedonian, hence the disputed territory even today.
** Yeah , right... rush hour.
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