House Hunting Gone Wrong

A little background information first:

As some of you may or may not know, I have a very sweet, giving, caring man-child of a husband:

1.    He whistles and sings to his heart’s content anywhere and anytime he feels like it.

2.    He has this way of taking normal words and saying them in a crazy way (meece=mice, yellah=hello, nana=banana, etc).

3.    He almost always says inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times to make the inappropriate time, well, that much more inappropriate.

4.    He has the ability to give life, and a backstory, to the most inanimate objects.  And what’s worse, at the end of his little one-man show you would think that inanimate object is alive and well, has a wide range of feelings and emotions, and may even have a family of its own.  

Sometimes his funniest moments are purely an accident.  Catch my drift?!?

Most of the time, numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4 just embarrass me to no end, but he usually gets a round of laughs from others coupled with the “You are so not right!” routine. I am always left thinking, “What in the hell is wrong with you people?!? Don’t encourage him!!”

While this whole “thing” makes him a load of fun at parties, it only works in his favor with me about 50% of the time, and that usually coincides with times that I am on the verge of going 100% bat-shit crazy. He lives for these moments and references  “tragedy averted”; but just remember that it only works out about 50%, so he’s really playing the odds.

Here are a couple of examples: 

Example 1:  Our home in North Carolina…

Me (putting up blinds): Why the hell am I doing this?!?! You are the guy!! Why does this stupid screw driver suck so bad?!?! Can’t we just pay someone?!?! Why the hell are there so many windows!?!? I may kill myself doing this…just so you know!!!* 

Bat-shit crazy achieved!!!!

Kip (not really listening to me and looking at the million boxes of blinds): Huh? Hey, what is fox wood?

Me: What?

Kip: It says right here on the box… what are fox wood blinds?

Me (laughing my ass off): That says FAUX wood you fool, not fox!!  

Tragedy averted!!

*Side note: While putting up the blinds I did end up breaking my big toe and that Christmas I received a fancy new drill.  Plus, anything “faux” is now consistently pronounced “fox”!

Example 2: In our hotel in Crete…

After a good 30 minutes of figuring out how to change the TV from Greek to English, and then another complicated 15 minutes of rearranging the furniture, TV, and DVD player so both could be hooked-up and plugged-in at the same time…I FINALLY got it and was so happy!! All I wanted was to watch a movie on the damned TV. (BTW, the outlet placement in Greece makes no sense whatsoever to me). I pop in the DVD, sit back and relax, and…

WTF?!!!  Up on the screen pops a message I’ve never seen before.  What the hell does it mean that I am “in the wrong region”? What does that even mean? I get another movie… I am “in the wrong region.” I pull out the hotel’s info DVD provided for us tourists… Yep! It plays just fine. I stupidly put one of my movies back in.  The screen should have just read…

“Give it up!!  You’re not gonna be watching this today!!!”

So, I unplug the DVD player and SMACK IT!!! Yes. I smacked the crap out of it. Over and over again.

Bat-shit crazy reached!!!

I had a vision of me storming out and throwing the damned thing in the pool. Then Kip begins his monologue and politely tells me it is not the DVD player’s fault that it was born in the wrong region and all he (meaning the DVD player) really wants to do is entertain me.  He goes on and on bringing life and feeling to this stupid black box. At the end of his little speech, I laugh it off and almost feel bad for hitting the stupid thing.

Tragedy averted!!

So now, back to House Hunting...

When we first found out that we were moving to Crete, wonderful visions filled my mind. A little something like this:

I saw me waking up in the morning in my kick ass bedroom with white curtains blowing gently in the breeze. I’d go out on my kick ass balcony that overlooks the kick ass water to have a kick ass cup of coffee. Then I’d take Gibbs for a quick walk on the kick ass beach. I’d come back, make another cup of coffee, and sit out on the kick ass veranda and take in the scenery.  After the second coffee I would walk around the kick ass villa and think of something to fill my kick ass day. Maybe I’d go to the market and buy food for dinner, or go and take pictures, or sit by the pool and read a book all day. Who knows, but it’s plan-free and care-free!!! Sounds kick ass, right?   Well, my beautiful visions are now a distant memory.

Needless to say, the house hunting thus far has been less than perfect. With my perfect visions fading away day-by-day, so is my otherwise positive and perky attitude toward the hotel and everything Greek.

We have seen all types of houses and villas in the weeks since we’ve been here.  Places ranging from 3 bedrooms on up to 5 bedrooms. Some houses with lots of bathrooms and some with just one.  Some with a great view and some with an OK view.  Some with a pool and some without.  There are really no two houses alike here.  Hell, some aren’t even finished!!

One in particular was so pretty on the inside, but on the outside you wouldn’t even think someone lived there it looked so crummy.  Another one was so pretty on the outside and I wondered how anyone could actually live on the inside it was so disgusting. Then, we finally got to see a completely finished house with five bedrooms!! I walked in and thought YAY! Then I took one look at the bedrooms…

To call it a bedroom and not a closet is a demonstration of my giving nature, because my clothes wouldn’t even fit in there.  It didn’t take long to realize that Greeks build bedrooms and bathrooms to do the bare minimum. I’d say 90% of the bedrooms we have seen wouldn’t even fit our king-size bed. Some of the bathrooms… I bet even the smallest oompa lumpa would complain that it was too small. (Oompa Lumpa Doopity Do…Greece is a bad place to try and go poo!)

Finally, we did find a kick ass villa with all of the kick ass stuff I’d dreamed of!!  At last!!! I was so excited…until…

We found out we could probably rent the White House for less.  What the hell?!?! Don’t these people know their country is bankrupt? 

Bat-Shit Crazy is Building-Up and Starting to Rear Its Ugly Head!!

So just yesterday we set up another trip to go see a villa with amenities somewhat similar to “the White House”, but this one was at the right price!! I was so excited!! I had been eyeing this place online and was happy to learn that the owners agreed to start renting it long-term (it is primarily a weekly rental)!! Woo hoo!!!  And again…just like one of the million snails on the sidewalk…CRUSHED! First off, while it is in a beautiful place, with an unobstructed beach view, and a pool, in a complex of 3 villas with a shared tennis court… I am pretty sure the dog that lives next door is rabid and wants to eat Gibbs, me, Kip and possibly our DVD player. Thank God it was on a leash. Strike one. We walk inside the front door. I take three steps forward and I’m outside again on the back porch (Gee, thanks for the 2-second tour of the 1^st floor...it’s so spacious!!) Strike Two. I walk up to the top floor, which is the master bedroom and the shower is in the bedroom…exposed!!! Who the hell puts the tub (again, fit for an oompa lumpa) in the middle of the bedroom? Strike three.  After walking around a bit and checking out all three villas, I look at Kip and realize he is actually considering this place.

All I want to do is go back to the hotel, get in bed, and cry. After talks of “could they fix this and that”, we get back in the car and I start to curse the Greeks, Danes, and the English who all had a part in building this place (a little bit of history for you all), all the way down to the photographer who took the pictures to put on the website (can you say “wide-angle lens???”).  I then start to freak out over how messed up these places are and ask Kip if he saw the size of the oven. “Even if we were there for Thanksgiving, there is no way I would even be able to fit a turkey in that damned thing!!!” 

Bat-shit crazy in full-effect!!!

He thinks about this for a second and he realizes aloud that most of the places we have seen have tiny little ovens and then he asks me, “Well, how do all the Greeks cook their turkeys for Thanksgiving?”  

And just like that…

Tragedy Averted!!

Greek Superstitions

By now, I believe you have no doubt heard enough of the trials and tribulations that plagued our international travels to Greece.  And, by the way, thanks for reading and offering your support and laughs.  I guess if we can’t laugh about it, it would all just seem REALLY tragic.  Now that we are in Crete and settled into our temporary home at the Sissy Village (how fitting to have Gibbs living in a place called Sissy Village), I’d like to share some of the good stuff with you…

On one of our first mornings here, I was sitting out on our porch with Gibbs.  While I sipped my coffee and read a book, Gibbs was busy surveying the scenery and sniffing about.  Then our neighbor came over to visit and introduce himself.  He’s a pretty handsome fella that could give any Hollywood star a run for his money.  He starts talking to me and WHOA! WHOA!  I realize he’s said about 1,000 words in a span of about 3 seconds.  At first, I think maybe I’m still jet-lagged and I know I’ve lived in the South for a while and people tend to be more thoughtful about their words (a.k.a slow and steady), but this guy could’ve been a professional auctioneer!  What’s worse, even though I KNOW he is speaking English to me, I find it very hard to understand him.  We, I mean, HE talks for a few minutes and then starts to hone in on Gibbs and begins to ask questions about him.  I now realize Gibbs is the main reason he’s come over to “chat.”  Anyway, I notice a change in his inflection followed by a pause and realize he’s just asked me a question about our “British Bulldog” which makes me giggle as now I expect that if Gibbs could talk he’d sound like Prince Charles.  What also begins to capture my attention is that he ends almost every question with “mate”:

What’s your British Bulldog’s name, mate?  Where do you come from, mate?

I seems I have now met a very interesting ethnic combination of a man.  Half-Greek, Half-Australian!  This may be a common blend, but it’s my first, so don’t ruin the novelty for me!  And God as my witness, I will find a REAL Spartan before I leave here!!

So we chat a while longer and as he goes to leave, I start to say, “see you…” 

AND…

DID HE JUST SPIT ON MY DOG?!?!? 

Yep.  Spit-spit-spit!!! (or phonetically, I guess it sounds more like ftou-ftou-ftou!!!)

Just as my brain is processing this, he very quickly tells me (quickly in that he talks a mile a minute and also quickly in that he sees the “WTF?!?!” look of confusion on my face and realizes he needs to explain himself) that this is a Greek tradition to spit on someone to ward off evil and/or for good luck.  While I DEFINITELY could have used a little spit back in Norfolk before this whole adventure began, I feel like my luck has turned a little bit and let him know that I’m all stocked up on good luck at this time.  He laughs and I feel like I just found my first new friend in Crete!

After telling my sister, Natalie, about the saliva incident, she cracks up laughing and tells me that she’s seen that happen in My Big Fat Greek Wedding.  I can’t believe I never saw that movie—might have been a little helpful before moving here, so I ran out the next day and rented it just to see for myself.  While the movie is somewhat stereotypical, it’s definitely hilarious and now I feel like I’m starting to understand a little bit more about the Greeks, even though I’m still feeling like “It’s All Greek To Me!”  I just wish someone had warned me about how they feel about CROWS here before I arrived (more on that later).

I later come to find out that our half-Australian, half-Greek, spit-happy, fast talking mate is named Thomas.  He may have told me that on that first day out on the porch, but I definitely didn’t catch it!!  Since our first meeting, we’ve gotten to know him pretty well.  He too is living in Crete for work and his wife comes to visit on some weekends.  His wife is also incredibly sweet and nice though she has kind of an unfortunate name that doesn’t really suit her--Myrtle (which sounds nothing like that in Greek, btw). I guess that is her burden because otherwise she is the kind of girl with the kind of figure that makes other girls want to only order lettuce and a glass of water for lunch!!  After hanging out with Thomas a bit, Kip and I debated on what it is that Thomas does for a living.  All the scenarios we came up with were pretty bad-ass!!  In his super fast chat he dropped words like Tanzania, mate, Qatar, Embassy, Mercedes, mate, pilot, president, mate, King, Arabic, Qudafi, mate…. 

Get my drift?!?!?

While we have learned that he sadly is NOT our own, personal Jason Bourne, he is still pretty cool in our book for a number of reasons:

1.    He brings us lots of tasty desserts.

2.    He brings Gibbs his leftovers.  My dog is never going to want to leave here.

3.    He teaches us “bad words” in Greek.

4.    He wants to come to the US with us so he can eat in a “proper” diner and witness a bar fight (clearly he watches a lot of Hollywood movies and American TV shows).

5.    He said he likes us Americans.

6.    He calls me MATE!!

I now have the strong urge to start calling everyone “mate” after talking to him and continue to find myself intrigued.  I am still holding on to the dream that he still might end up being kinda, sorta Jason Bourne-ish.  A girl can dream, can’t she?!?!

Time has not helped the fast talking and I notice that my mind seems to work on some sort of delay when I’m talking to him (part of his Jason Bourne skills is brain control—I’m certain of it) and I can only seem to catch the important words in the conversation—thank God I’m at least able to do that so he doesn’t think I’m brain damaged or something.  And even though I’m still trying to understand what these Greeks are all about, I can’t help but love every second of it!

So, until next time… spit-spit-spit!!!

A few pictures from the "Worst trip I have ever been on"!

                                     Lajes AFB, Azores Portugal

                                                  Best Beer EVER

                                                 Azores, Portugal

                                               My Day at the Vet. Lisbon, Portugal

                                                  Drunk Dog

                                           Athens Airport (my phone died after this)

                                                Making the new place his!

Day Five: Still almost there

Here is where my mind and story get a little fuzzy. Time really has no more meaning for me at this point. I remember having a grilled chicken sandwich and french fries, but I do not remember when this was.  In fact, if you told me I hallucinated that, I’d take your word for it (watch the movie Insidious; a creature from the further may have taken over during this time). I know I slept a little longer, watched some TV in our room, and sporadically checked on Gibbs, who, BY THE WAY, is just loving this whole part of the trip!  It’s a pirate’s life for him!!  But all in all, I still have no recollection of time.

Sneeze.  Sniffle.
We find out we never left last night due to bad weather on the other side by Crete. Better safe than sorry is fine by me.  I don’t need this story turning into Castaway 2:  Wilson Returns! I do know we finally left the port around 8am.  I made a mental note that we left port because I immediately feel the ferry move!

My first thought is that it’s not so bad...

Then it’s bad, but I’m ok...

Then we are really moving and rocking and bouncing.  Things are crashing around me and I start to freak out a bit. Kip tries to calm my nerves by singing the Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald and I have a vivid and spontaneous vision of me throwing him overboard!!!

And then...Oh, yes... the moment you were waiting for…

You know that saying, right?  When the ferry boat’s a-rockin’...Alex is probably pukin’!!!!

THAR SHE BLOWS!!

I make a mad dash to the bathroom as the contents of my stomach come back to say hello.  I could almost swear I saw that sugar doughnut.  I continue to make friends with the toilet and proceed to have a very personal conversation with it for the next 30 min or so.
I make it out of the rocking bathroom (barely alive, I’m sure) and lie on the rocking bed and cry and cry and cry. I am now in the middle of having a wonderful little pity party for myself.

Achooo.
I suck it up (literally and figuratively) and decide I need to see the outside and move a little bit.  When all else fails...Beer can cure what ails you!

Sneeze Sneeze Sneeze.

I spend the next however many hours just wondering around in a slight daze.  Most of the ferry is now smelling like my previous foot problem (did everyone just fart at the same time?!!)...Where’s my Old Spice when I really need it?!?! I would’ve wiped it under my nose like Jodi Foster did with that Vick’s rub in Silence of the Lambs to ward off the smell before she examined that nasty dead body!  But anyway, I try very hard not to throw up every two seconds and pray to Zeus and his gang that we arrive soon. The smells and the rocking of the boat are almost proving too much for me to handle and now I can’t stop sneezing! Perfection!
I think I may have slept again and I know I ate, but that’s about it.

AND THEN………

Suddenly there is a change in the movement of the boat and we realize we are almost there. We are in the bay and I see a dock that is not in Athens.

WE CAN ACTUALLY SEE IT!! Crete at long last. It may have well been OZ!

As I am pulling up to one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen I want to pinch myself to make sure that

1. I am actually here with my little family intact.

2. That I actually get to spend the next few years of my life here.  

And with this I also made a promise to myself that I would not fly or ride this floating contraption any time soon. Do you see the irony in this? (Hint: Crete is an island) So stay safe everyone and you are more than welcome to come visit me here!

Needless to say, we are all here together and I couldn’t be happier.  Gibbs is acting like he is a Grecian Bulldog (might have to fashion him a toga) and is loving his new surroundings!  And as I type this story of mine, with my healthy and very much alive, snoring, and drooling bulldog on my lap, and a loving husband that sings a bit too much,  I know it was all very well worth it!!

Hope you enjoyed it! I am sure to have more stories soon ;)

Day 4: Almost There

Our plane lands in Athens at 5:15am and pulls up directly to the terminal!  This in and of itself feels like a huge triumph!  No walking, no trams or shuttles…right to the gate!  It's the least they could do.  Really!! I partly expected people to applaud my arrival.  Certainly, what I've been through to get here is one for the record books and headlines:
 

"AMERICAN WOMAN AND HER DOG PERFORM SUPERHUMAN FEATS IN TRAVEL TO GREECE"  

As I make my way to the luggage belt I am pleasantly surprised to see that my pup is already there and waiting for me.  At this point, he is again my puppy and back in my good graces.  He is still totally drugged up and sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of his last flight across southern Europe.

I am pretty giddy at this point because any time now my "knight in shining polo shirt" will be here to rescue me and, if he knows what's good for him, take over doggie duties for a bit!! Mama needs a break!!  We arranged that Kip would take the ferry over from Crete to Athens to get us from the airport and then we would all take the ferry back to Crete together.

I am now OFFICIALLY starving and purchase the biggest sugar doughnut I have ever had, and a nice, semi-cold diet coke—to wash it down. Breakfast of Champions.  Does a body good.  So far, Greek food is OK in my book.

Kip arrives around 8am and I am literally almost in tears when I see him!  A bit of relief, happiness, and delirium has taken over me.  My happiness is again short-lived when he informs me that we will have to stay at the airport until 5pm until we are allowed to board the ferry at 6pm.  This is when you know this is true love.  Lesser relationships would have ended right then and there.  Shouts of "how could you do this to me?!?!" would have been heard for miles.  But no, I give in and figure, at least we're all together in this now.

I try to eat again, but I am seriously too tired to chew.   Kip tells me about his past few days and they sound pretty bad too, but my travels beat his any day of the week and twice on Sunday.  I should have offered him a little Old Spice to toughen him up, just for good measure.
 We sit and wait and wait. Every now and again, I reach into the crate and touch Gibbs just to make sure he is in fact still breathing.  Thumbs up!  All good.  We have never seen him this calm, even when he's sleeping (oddly enough), and it is actually nice for a change!

After a few hours of continuing to stew in my own juices…a moment of clarity! HEY! I have my suitcase and clean clothes. Yippee!!!  I go to the ladies room to change.  I grab a fresh pair of jeans and...Oh My God?!?!  What is that smell?!?!   Did the sewage back up into the bathroom?!?!?  No...I just took off my shoes!!  Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I never knew feet could take on such an odor!!  You’d have thought I walked across Europe in those shoes!! I went ahead and threw my socks in the trash and if it weren’t my only pair of sneakers they may have gone in the trash as well.  I give my socks a chance at redemption and toss my Old Spice into the trash as well.  Let stinky feet and old man musk fight it out!!  
Halfway through changing with pants undone standing in the wash closet with just a bra on, an unsuspecting gentleman, who was bringing his young daughter in to use the bathroom, opens the door and gets an eyeful. At this point it's all par for the course and all I can do is look back at him and just shrug my shoulders.

I return to my knight and his trusty sidekick and finally get the courage to ask the time (because somewhere during this trip I lost my favorite Swatch watch).  I'm waiting for him to tell me that it's actually earlier than when I arrived because time has started to go in reverse.  It wouldn't have really surprised me.  Instead, he informs me that it is 12:30pm.  Shoot me now. I feel like I've been in the airport so long I should be paying rent. But I am so thankful Kip is there because he makes me laugh for what seems like the first time in forever.

So as the day ticks on, I examine the bruises on my hurt leg, try unsuccessfully to sleep, blah blah blah… We decide before leaving to head to the ferry, we should wake Gibbs and take him out to do his business. I don't know what they gave him in Lisbon, but all those hours later and he still couldn't put on those flip flops (see day 3).  My boy is a lightweight!  Ha!

Fast forward to the ferry…

We make the ride through Athens to the port—I don't know where these people learn to drive— and TA-DA!!!! There she is… THE FERRY! Allure of The Seas she is not, but it'll do.  Finally, the last leg of this unbelievable voyage is here.

Time Awake: 34 hours give or take time changes   Food Intake: A bunch of crap
I don't know how this whole ferry thing works and Kip tells me he slept on a bench on his trip over.

WHAT?!?!?!

Oh, HEYLLL NO!

I was very sorry to hear that Kip had to do this but there was no way in hell I was sleeping on a bench.  And did I mention that the ferry ride is NINE HOURS LONG?!?!?  I want a bed and I want it now!!!  Kip wisely reads all this information from the look on my face and we upgrade to a sleeping room!!  We are shown to our cabin and Gibbs is taken to his holding cell on the Doggie Deck for the duration of the ride (no dogs allowed in the rooms). We were a bit nervous about how Gibbs would be, but he seemed to be doing better the moment we left the airport.  If he could have pissed on a plane or a pilot before he left for good measure, he might've. At this point the drugs he had were wearing off and he had some food and was almost back to normal minus the huffing and puffing (a large plus). My worries of him being brain damaged had faded away.

 I tell Kip I won’t be able to settle down until we leave because after what I have gone through to get this damn dog so far, I have a somewhat misguided feeling that someone might doggie snatch him…clearly, delirium has progressed to a full case of paranoia at this point.   Don’t ask, I can’t explain it.  I blame sleep deprivation!  Kip says, don't worry.  The boat departs PROMPTLY at 9pm and everything is OK.  One more hour and we'll be on our way.

I go to help Gibbs get situated and put down a blanket and some towels so the prince won't be cold (and you wonder why he thinks he's a human). I go back to the room and decide to take a shower. I tell Kip of my deodorant troubles and he very politely says “Ahhhh, I wondered why you smelled like my father”. Nice. We both take showers using only the liquid hand soap provided at the sink.

Unfortunately, after my shower I have to put the same old clothes back on.  (Today, I am still mad that I had to do this; ALLEGEDLY, Kip asked me a question about needing anything out of my luggage. ALLEGEDLY, my answer was no and Kip had our luggage stored for the duration of the ride.  Clearly, this question wasn't asked or I had taken a temporary leave of my faculties, otherwise, my answer definitely, certainly, totally, would have been a resounding HELL YES I want my luggage!)

I go back one last time to check on Gibbs before we depart.  At this point, there are two more dogs in other kennels.  I look at them and then to my dog and think “Wow!  What a spoiled ass bulldog you are with your water, bone and fuzzy blankets.  Boy, you don't know how good you've got it!”  I put my paranoia behind me and I go to bed.  It is now 9:15pm and we are to arrive in Crete by 5am.

I sleep. I sleep all the way until 3am.  My internal clock is all messed up.  I don't know what day or time my body thinks it is, but it's awake.  I get up and decide to check on Gibbs and get situated to leave the boat because we are almost there and I want off this boat and onto the land of the place that I'm actually supposed to be as soon as possible!

A few things go through my head while I make my way down to the doggie deck:
1…  Wow.  I am surprised how smooth this ride is.
2… Wow. I am so glad I didn’t get sea sick.

Earlier I had scraped my right index finger on Gibbs’ cage trying to fit the pin into lock it and now it was really hurting. This is the ferry cage (aka, CELL), not his crate from home. It is not a very complicated thing, but seeing as I’m totally out of sorts and my mind isn’t sending clear messages to the rest of my body, I struggled.  Plus, this pin had about 20 years of sea worthy rust.  I start to worry about when my last tetanus shot was. At this point, I have no idea what tetanus is or what it does to a person but I am very sure I now have it.  I contemplate tetanus all the way until I’ll find myself outside on the deck!

Ah, Fresh Air!!
I expect to scan the horizon to see if I can see land and I immediately realize we've already arrived!  My next thought is...

“Huh.  This place looks a lot like the port that we left last night.”

I head back to the room excited to tell Kip that we made it to port early. I find Kip is up and getting ready to get off the boat.  I then ask him the question that will seal our fate for the next 12 hours…

 “Is the port in Crete similar to the one in Athens???”

Puzzled by my question, he says no, then asks me why.

(This is where if this was a scary movie you'd insert the dramatic music that comes at the climax when you realize the killer is making calls from inside the house!!!)

I tell him, now very obviously, that all this time we've been aboard and we HAVEN'T… GONE…  ANYWHERE!!!

And did I just sneeze?

Day 3: Start of the longest three days of my life

             I rise bright and early at 6:30am, make some coffee, shower, and do all the normal stuff one would do before a trip. Though this is the farthest from any normal trip I have ever been on.  I feel OK at this point because although it wasn’t an uninterrupted  night of sleep, I at least got a good couple hours of shut-eye. I check out and sit outside to wait for my taxi to arrive at 8am. While sitting there I have a nice conversation with an old retired navy man named Tom. Tom tells me about all his travels and I try very hard to listen to him, but the butterflies start to creep up and that little voice inside me starts to remind me of all the craziness that lies ahead of me. My cab arrives and Tom sends me off with a good luck and a fist bump (he probably thought that was the appropriate send-off seeing as how I smell like Old Spice). In any other situation I would have laughed out loud to myself about the old guy fist bump, but the impending heart attack Gibbs is likely to have at the sight of another plane has crowded my head.

We arrive at the kennel a few minutes later. I shove some pills in Gibbs’ mouth and contemplate taking one myself,  collect my furry package, say our good lucks and good byes and make our way to the airport. I hope so much that he would be asleep by the time we reached the airport. If anything he seems more excited.  Did I give him the wrong pills???  I check-in with no problems and decide to have my bag sent all the way to Athens so I do not have to deal with it on my layover.

Of course, my bag is overweight and it cost 70,00 Euro extra (about $100).  Then, they put Gibbs on the scale!  My delicate little flower cost a whopping 238,00 Euros!!  That’s about $330.  This trip is really starting to add up...one pound at a time!  While we wait to board, we step outside to calm down...Gibbs is very much for this idea.  I’m sure he was hoping that we were leaving!  As we are walking around, everyone points and smiles and loves him. Apparently, Gibbs is quite the looker! He actually even got his picture taken. Move over Lassie!

As time moves on, the breathing gets heavier and heavier and it seems the pills are not doing anything. Cut to me...UH-OH.

They call for our flight and Gibbs is in FULL panic mode. The airport employees see this (he’s like a 4-legged train wreck in process) and help as best they can to allow me to stay with him until the last possible minute. And it was literally in that last minute that I had to sprint to catch the bus to take me to the plane.

We are now in flight and all that gives me any comfort is that we’re only in the air for 2 hours.  That’s 3 1/2 hours less than the first flight, so maybe his reaction to the flight won’t be as bad.  Here’s hoping.  I am offered lunch, but politely decline as it smells like feet (more foreshadowing) and makes me want to gag.

We land in Lisbon and de-plane. The other passengers are all very concerned and checking in with me to see if I have seen Gibbs yet.  At this point he is a bit of a minor celebrity. I say no, and try to make my way to find my crate o’ puppy. I locate the area and wait patiently for my pup. He comes out looking just about the same as when I left him, but he’s breathing way too hard. I knew it wouldn’t be long until he turns into a one big slobbering, gasping mess.

When I was at the Lajes airport, the nice lady told me there was a vet located in the Lisbon Airport (I think she knew I’d need it) and it was just my luck that the office was right where I picked up Gibbs!! Yeah, not so much. No one at the airport knew of this phantom vet, so I’m forced to make my way to the ticket counter of the airline I was using to ask for assistance.  All the while, everyone is staring and peeking in the cage at Gibbs who is starting to foam and wheeze. CUJO!

Now one would think that elevators are a pretty standard piece of equipment no matter where you are. Up and Down. Easy peasy. Apparently, Portuguese elevators are different.  The only way they could be anymore different is if they went sideways. I hit the button for the 4th floor and somehow end up visiting the basement level three times before making it to the 4th floor. When I finally get to the ticket counter, they find the phantom vet’s phone and call. He cannot help me. So, I take a peek at Gibbs and decide I need a vet or there is no way he will make it to Athens still breathing.

The nice, very cute boy at the counter hands me the address of the nearest vet. I make my way to the taxi line and OH MY GOD!! It is a mile long. I think, What Would Myra Do??? I find a young man who in turn gets the Policia and the next thing I know, I am in a cab and being whisked away, off to the vet. No line for me!!

I get ripped off by the taxi driver who must’ve mistaken me for an independently wealthy American, but am too anxious to argue...plus, I haven’t really brushed up on my Portuguese swear words! I make my way up the two flights of stairs with Gibbs in one hand and his kennel in the other. I realize upon entering that we got there at the perfect moment of 2:58pm.  The vet closes at 3 and reopens at 4. Gotta love Siesta! They stare at me and take one look at Gibbs and allow us in.

I’ll start by saying, the ladies I’m about to spend the rest of my day with turn out to be some of the nicest people I have ever met, and of course they love, love, love Gibbs. The cost of this vet trip will probably be the best 50,00 Euros I will ever spend, as I will always remember and be grateful to Vanessa, Rita and Victoria for taking in a grandpa smelling American and her neurotic bulldog.

After my initial moment of going all Terms of Endearment-- GIVE MY DOG THE SHOT!!!!-- it is decided I will stay with them until I need to be back at the airport for our next flight.  They actually end up giving Gibbs a few shots-- of what I have no idea.  And most likely I will never know as there is a bit of a language gap.  For all I know, it could’ve been crack!  I do, however, understand when one of the girls says “coffee.” Yes! I would love some! Bless her heart, she comes back with a thimble of the strongest coffee I have ever tasted. My first, real, European coffee! And also, I am now fully alert!!

We are put in the surgery room to hang out since it will not be in use for the day.
Around  5pm, Gibbs gives up and starts to really settle down and close his eyes. We still have about 2 hours until we give him his new pills for the flight. This is about the time when I start to feel a little antsy.  Time awake: just shy of 10 hours Food intake: thimble of coffee and tiny sliver of cake.

Finally, 7:30 pm arrives and we shove the pills down Gibbs’ mouth. Again, I contemplate taking one for myself!

Now hang in here with me for a moment, I want to set up this next scene:
Have you seen the video of the drunk guy at Coachella trying to put on his flip flop, but just can’t get it?? ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Au_8GMUxVs ) Well, that's Gibbs! He starts teeter-tottering and all I can think is "Thank God!!"  He is a very drunk doggie. After six hours of heavy panting and foaming at the mouth, I'm ready for some peace and quiet. (Note: Gibbs has now been clean and sober for more than 48 hours.  A 12-step program may be in his future).

I lift this very stoned, 65lb bulldog into his kennel and start our good byes. After many thanks and hugs, Rita helps me down to the street with Gibbs in the kennel because his legs might as well be made out of jello at this point.

The taxi man is waiting and we make our way down the first flight of steps with me leading around the corner then...OH NO! I am flying through the air and come crashing down on my hip, then slide a few steps more for good measure.  Rita screams while luckily still holding on to Gibbs’ cage as I regain my footing and get up.  The taxi man and another gentleman see our struggle and come to help.

I shake off what I can and take a peek at “the dog”.  At this point, he is “just a dog” to me and I am pretty sure, in his near comatose state, he is completely unaware of what just happened.  After another taxi is called to come because the dog won’t fit in the first taxi, I am now on my way back to the airport with a hurting back, bruised leg, and a raging envy for whatever drugs Gibbs is on.

Back at the airport, I load my snoring dog on a cart and find my way to the check-in counter. Again, I get the nicest people to help me with this. I then find out it is going to cost another 200,00 Euros ($275) to get the dog to Athens.  Oh, and I also need to take him to oversized luggage for the flight that is now only 2 hours away.


At this point I decide it is time for a beer!! So that’s what I do!! I manage to suck down the warmest Becks beer ever and eat the remaining combos from the Lajes commissary. This is all the “nutrition” that will carry me through until 5:30 the next morning. (Side note: Had I remembered I had them... Yes! I would have totally eaten the remaining combos about 5 hours earlier.)

Slowly, the airport gets quiet and I realize I am on one of the last flights to leave. I make my way to drop off Gibbs to his exit and am told I need to remove my dog so the kennel can go through the x-ray. WHAT?!?! Are you kidding me? No. In fact they are quite serious about this and it’s clear from their faces any sarcasm I was considering would not be well-received.

So now I have to dead lift (and I do mean dead lift) my limp, 65lb dog with my now gimpy left leg, screaming back, and woozy head (warm beer, empty stomach) and carry him for what in my mind was a mile to wait for the kennel to clear x-ray.  So, I sit and wait as a river of drool washes over me (his drool, not mine).  Finally they bring the cage back.  Shocker,  it’s ok.  All clear!  After I put the dog back in the cage, I realize I’ve just had my very first ever feeling of bloodlust.

At long last I am in my seat waiting for my flight that is only a short 55 minutes...

40 minutes...

20 minutes...

15 minutes...

5 minutes away.

Finally!  Headed for Athens. I decline dinner because again, it makes me gag.  I will not bore you with the in-flight details as they will make me sound very spoiled, but SHIT!  That girl TOTALLY took up two seats and slept on my shoulder for way longer than was appropriate!  Just sayin’.

Day 3 going on 4 almost over.  Can’t wait to have my feet back on solid ground.

Day 2: Lampooned in Lajes

I wake up Thursday morning on “The Big Rock” in the middle of the Atlantic and take a very long, very hot shower. I get dressed and head out to see if Gibbs made it through the night. He did. In fact, he is much better and thanks to his tiny dog brain he seems to have put the whole ordeal behind him. How nice for him.

As I am walking around, I stop and finally realize… this place is beautiful!! Under different circumstances, this might be a nice place to vacation. So, maybe hanging out here for a few days won’t be so bad... These thoughts are occurring to me as I’m climbing up and over the biggest hill I've ever climbed. Suddenly, my opinion on vacation destinations changes as I encounter the second biggest hill I've ever had to climb (these hills seem to take on both literal and figurative significance at this time). Earlier, when I said “The Big Rock,” I was not kidding. The hills in this place are insane. If they were any steeper I’d need a belay and spotter to make it over!! So that being said, I make the hike all the way over to the travel center to find out about getting out of this place.

Turns out, the only way I was going to leave with the military was to either enlist on the spot, or wait for a “rotator” flight. Enlisting really wasn’t in my immediate plans, so the rotator flight seemed like the logical choice. The next was scheduled for OCTOBER 19^th !!! - an ungodly TWO WEEKS away!! Short of indicating that I could likely swim to Crete faster than that, I go around the corner and check with the commercial air office (not associated with military).

Here’s what I find out:

-It takes at least 3 flights; Lajes to Lisbon to Athens to Crete (OR, select a flight that flies all around the German countryside--I went ahead and said no to that one)

-It will cost LOTS and LOTS and LOTS of money. I gasp…

A little of the dialogue between Marcia and me:

Marcia: It will be $1,555 for you to fly and whatever the airline charges for pets.

Me: Wow!

Marcia: Why do you care of cost?

Me: Because I have to pay.

Marcia: Why?

Me: It is my fault we are stuck here.

Marcia: Oh. Well in that case let me see what I can do. (type, type, type, click, click, backspace, type, type, click, type.) OK. Now I can do this for you only $620.00.

Me: Well, that’s weird, but much better. Let’s do it (there is a new hope in my voice).

More typing and clicking, and then, just like Snoopy, my little hope is squished…

NO DOGS ALLOWED on flights from Athens to Crete!

I leave the office with my head hanging so low I could’ve licked my toes.

On my way out, I check back in with the military flights and am told, GREAT NEWS! I can definitely leave on the 19^th!! Oh yeah, but they cannot take my pet. I was about to go all Steve Martin in Planes, Trains and Automobiles when he’s trying to rent a car!! I am told to come back after 2 pm. They are going to check around to see what they can do.

I leave the travel office with the thought that I will be in Lajes for at least two weeks, or perhaps the rest of my life, so I go to the commissary to stock up on a few things. I buy snacks, a 12-pack of diet coke, better microwave pizza, a proper razor, a big bag of dog food and the largest red bull I could find. I pack up all my goodies walk outside and immediately realize my horrible error. HILLS! Lots and lots of HILLS! I have to walk all the way back up the top of this rock to get back to the kennel to take Gibbs his food and then even further to get to my room. At this point I was really wishing that Red Bull REALLY DID give you wings! So, I move a few things around and load up my backpack. Like the Little Engine That Could…I think "I can do this" and head on my way.

I make it about half way up and was really thinking that Jeff Probst was going to come out of the woodwork and tell me that the “Tribe has spoken” and was voting me off the island. Instead, thank you baby Jesus, one of the girls that works at the kennel drives by and picks me up and takes me the rest of the way. I almost cry at this piece of good luck.

Gibbs has been moved from the quiet room to the outside with the rest of the dog population. He loves it and is happy. This is really and truly his first taste of what it is to be a dog. Up to this point he always thought he was just a human with four legs.

I go back to my hotel room and unpack my goodies. Really?!? Seriously?!? How in the world did I forget to buy real girl deodorant??? Day two of rockin’ the Old Spice. (Old Spice – The Man Your Man Could Smell Like. Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I’m on a horse.) I cook up my little pizza, watch some more AFN, and relax until 2pm when I head back to travel office.

When I go back, I’m told they are having trouble authorizing me for flights. Super. So, here I stand smelling of old man, hair in knots, sweating and no make-up. I make up my mind that I just want to leave. If I have to charter a dolphin to swim me out of here, I’ll do it. I decide that I am going to take the commercial flight to Athens and then catch the ferry to Crete.

My itinerary is as follows:

Friday:

Depart Lajes 10:30 am;
Arrive in Lisbon 1:30 pm;
Depart Lisbon 11:55pm;

Saturday:

Arrive Athens 5:15am;
Catch ferry 9:00pm;

Sunday:

Arrive in Crete 5:00am!!!

Read it once more. Yes, that’s right…with the time changes and all that goodness…it’s like 40 hours of travel shoved into three days! I’m certain Columbus didn’t have this much trouble, except for the scurvy and (insert foreshadowing comment) rough waters.

Good Times Are Indeed Ahead.

I make all the arrangements, head back to see Gibbs and tell him the good news—WE’RE GETTING BACK ON A PLANE! and try to do a test run with some pills that are supposed keep him calm for the flight. They seem to work… a little.

After my day of hiking, I make my way back to the hotel, set up a taxi ride for the morning, pack my bag and try to relax. I have to be up early, have a long voyage ahead of me, and so I try to sleep.

Day Two: Done.

Day 1: Getting There Is Half The Fun...

The Saga Begins

We begin our wonderful overseas adventure from Norfolk, VA on Tuesday, October 4, 2011.  We're heading to catch our 12:01am (Wednesday) flight to head for Lajes AFB in Azores, Portugal where we'll catch our next flight to Naples, then on to our final destination, Crete. Wonderful turns to crap in about two seconds when we realize we left a piece of luggage in the taxi and upon calling the taxi service, they want to charge us the same fare to return it to us—so much for good Samaritans. So we proceed to check-in for all the craziness that is our free military flight. While we are waiting to board we are allowed to stay with our pet. For those of you who don’t know, Gibbs is a very excitable dog. Even walking a few too many steps will get him huffing and puffing, and if we are lucky, the huffing and puffing is accompanied by lots of drool. Well, we were lucky and got a heaping helping of all 3 just before the flight. Just before we were about to board, the good samaritan taxi driver delivered our forgotten luggage to us and collected his handsome reward, and Gibbs is carted off to the cargo hold for flight. 

So maybe this isn’t gonna be so bad after all. HA!

We are now on the plane and headed 5 1/2 hrs to our first destination. The flight was not very eventful other than I was stuck in the middle seat and filled with anxiety about Gibbs down below in his crate, so I didn’t really sleep at all. We land and de-plane in beautiful Lajes. We are expected to be there for about an hour, so they bring pets off the plane so that we can walk them and such.

Here is where the real fun begins.

Thirty minutes or so after we arrive, we are allowed to go out and see our pets. This was the most pitiful sight I have ever seen. Poor Gibbs is gasping for air, cannot move, and has eyes the size of matzoh balls. He was very close to the end. As Kip likes to say he was making things right with the Lord at about this time.

Then, what seems like all at once, 2 Air Force vets from the base are there to look at this pile of fur that slightly resembles my dog, my luggage is getting fished from the plane, and after a quick hug and goodbye, Kip is back in his plane seat, buckled in and on his way to Naples because he has no other choice but to head on.  Cut to me on the tarmac…Holy shit! We just got left behind!  Now I  know how Tom Hanks felt in Castaway when he lost that damn volleyball! 

So first thing we do is take Gibbs to a local vet in town who proceeds to give him a shot that makes him throw up the 2 gallons of water he sucked down after the plane ride and then fall fast asleep in about 10 seconds flat. We head from the vet back to the airport so I can get my first European stamp in my passport!  

Gotta have some proof this happened, right?!?!

Then:

-drop off Gibbs at kennel to rest.

-get a hotel room.

-check flights out to figure how in the hell I'm going to get off this island (but it's a Portuguese holiday so I need to wait another day).

-make copies of travel orders and dog papers.

-go back to check on Gibbs for last time that day. He is still heavily sedated, snoring like a, well, like a bulldog, with full tongue hanging out.

-back to hotel at about 4pm.   

Time awake: since 10am day before (26 hours) Food intake: 0

At the hotel, I'm unpacking my things and make a horrific discovery…my toiletries bag is somewhere over Europe on the plane I was supposed to be on!! I am left without a toothbrush, deodorant, razor, makeup, etc. I go to purchase these items from the front desk. To my delight the only deodorant left for purchase is the timeless classic,  OLD SPICE. (Hello Ladies.  Look at your man. Now back to me. Now back to your man.  Now back to me.)  Anyway, I can’t tell you what it does to girl's self -esteem to be walking around a military installation with no make-up, hair a hot mess, stuck in thick–ass prescription glasses and reeking of grandpa's cologne.  Oh yeah, that's HOT!

Sleep…sweet sleep.  It's short-lived as I'm woken up by Kip calling to let me know he is stuck in Naples due to strikes in Athens.  At this point, I'm rethinking this whole thing!  I get up and decide to check out what Portuguese hotel food this place has to offer. Finally, I settle on fine, Portuguese microwave pizza, but manage to wash it down with one of the best tasting beers I have ever had.

I settle in and watch the Armed Forces Network (AFN) for a long time (ask anyone in the military about this).  Finally, my eyes are officially closed and day one is officially OVER!