Arriving in Patra, I am apparently not where I am supposed to be. I was under the impression I could get to Zakynthos from Patra. But, no. My luck. Its 11:00 pm, the ferry was 2 hours longer than planned, and the receptionist at the port is telling me I am in the wrong city. “Can you put me in the right one?” I asked, ever so nicely. None of that was going to happen tonight.
I leave the port, find a taxi, and search for a hotel. Found it! After a 7 hour ferry ride to the wrong city, its sleepy time.
I am not an author. To be quite honest, I always hated English class. I write so I may share my experiences and remember the man I met on a bus who treated me to dinner with his family, paying and booking a hotel only to find out its out of business, fake crying in the Athens airport to get a ticket home, or remember the strangers who looked out for me on a bus. Some live, experience, and are fulfilled by what’s in their backyards. I find there is something truly exhilarating about cramming as many possessions into a bag as possible, only to complain you brought too many. This is my life out of a suitcase, hope you enjoy.