The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,000 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 17 trips to carry that many people.
Posted in Erasmus Life
Some posts take a year to write…
… girls systematically abuse make-up.
… you can meet everyone you know in O2ABC on a Friday night.
…benches are dedicated to the dead (as in the rest of Scotland).
…you don’t want to mess with the police.
…Jesus is waiting for you on the streets every Saturday morning.
…Tony Anthony is a martial arts expert.
…I discovered that potatoes grow branches if you leave them alone in a cupboard for some time.
…you can have all your questions answered if you grill a christian.
…students have a pet fox.
…you have to revise your English.
The End.
THE END !? Almost…
As I only have 3 days left in Glasgow, I might not be able to tell all the stories I originally planned to.
To my defense excuses, excuses and all excuses…
But no need to worry my good people!
The Facebook Stories page, will keep the narrative alive as it has done so far, so stay sharp for updates
on that page.
Φυσικά θα υπάρξει και τελευταίο πανηγυρικό ποστ …
Posted in Erasmus Life
Where is this country heading?
When I was first summoned to vote on on the elections for the Scottish parliament and the UK wide referendum on the Alternative Vote system, I never expected I would actually be allowed to vote. Furthermore, I was under the impression that a country boasting of rich “democratic traditions” would employ strict regulations in order to guarantee the integrity of the results. Fortunately, I had no illusions about the high percentage of the population that simply abstain.
When the day came we had a “flatmates meeting” to decide if and when we were going to vote. We decided that indeed it would be “nice to have such an experience” (sic) but could not go at the same time so we split. Me and J. (the český) went to St’ Mungo’s primary school around 6. The atmosphere outside did not resemble at all my past impressions (maybe because I only have memories of Greek elections). It was Wednesday and people were more occupied with their everyday routines than the extraordinary event of an election and a referendum. The school that was supposed to be our poling station looked deserted on the outside; no people, no cops, no lists with names and stations, no maps of the place, nothing… oh! Wait ! There was something: someone had written something on an A4 sheet of paper but, his message was no longer legible, cause he had the great inspiration of using an underlining marker and leave the whole thing out in the rain(May in Scotland = it May rain).
The český figured out, it was an arrow leading us around the block and over at the back of the building. There,indeed was the poling station. As soon as we walked in our excitement grew. We had already decided that we were going to come clean and tell “the authorities” overseeing the procedure the truth. “We should not be here, no UK.”. A smiling gentleman with a badge hanging around his neck pointed us to the direction of a small table where two ladies with similar badges sat. As we approached, me leading, I had not yet decided how I was going to actually confess the terrible truth and part of me wanted to vote(I think the same stood for J. ). What actually came out of my mouth was “I think there has been a mistake, we are not citizens of the UK and yet we received this“.
The lady’s response was : “That’s ok dear, you will not vote for the referendum. Here’s your voting papers for the Scottish parliament!”. I felt like a child who had just been offered free ice cream. In my hands I had two ballot papers. One for the constituency candidates(small one) and one for the parties(big one). I managed to find two pics of the previous elections, just to give you an impression of how much they are adapted to the needs of the electorate (in the room we were at least 30 years younger than any other voter). There were some really interesting names on the big one. I have to quote : “The Scottish pirate party”, “Christian Peoples Alliance”, “Sottish Christian party Proclaiming Christ’s Lordship” and of course “Ban Bankers Bonuses”.
I will not disclose my vote. I would rather disclose my views on how easy it is to distort the voting result:
Posted in Erasmus Life
Usually after a story-post you have to release a sequel or a prequel. Or sometimes both, provided that you can do so! (Είδες τσαχπινιά ο δικός σου? ε? ε?)
(τρομάρα μας…)
Dani Robaina Rapirsada (no cast is complete without an Espanish guy)
My Brother (I am Greek so I have to include my family)
Alex (because he came in two days earlier)
I, me, myself (Because I can)
The four of us were trying to find a place to visit that met the following criteria:
a) It should be close to Glasgow.
b) It should be OK for a one-day trip.
c) It should be a good example of how pure and green Scotland is.
Well the third one is sooo easy that can even be met in some parts of Glasgow as well! The first two were finally pushed aside by the omnipotent need to wake up “notsoearly”. The final “choice” was the faraway town of Dunoon in the land of Argyle and Bute (now that I think of it, the Ilse of Bute would have been a better choice!). The route included a nice train ride from Glasgow along the south bank of the Clyde to the coastal port of Gourock. As you can see in the pictures the weather was WON-DER-FUL! Even more so because the sun had decided to set around 3 p.m.
One of the things I love about Scotland and tourism is that no matter where you end up, whichever part of this vast country you reach, the first thing you see is
a well organized tourist info point with an overdose of information waiting for you! Luck was on our side one more time in Dunoon, cause the lady behind the counter was bored to death (τα χε ματώσει απο τη βαρεμάρα όμως…) and provided us with 34 kgs of leaflets with info for places within a 50 km radius away from Dunoon (i.e. places we could NEVER manage to visit in one day as we had told her). Only one piece on info was valuable to us : the closest attraction available, a frozen reservoir with a “squirrel colony”(I thought that in a globalized world order there were no more colonies left but squirrels have always had another view on world politics…pff rodents!). On our way to the reservoir we came across a most rare specimen of Scottish culture : Scottish spelling ! Observe in awe.
The reservoir was frozen. The frozen reservoir was no longer a reservoir. Let me rephrase” What once was a reservoir, was now a huge snare drum”… and we were the drummers!! (Then a stone hit me on the head and I can’t recall much of the rest-oh! the weather was bad!).
(τρομάρα τoυς…)
Dani Robaina Rapirsada (because he was successful in his first appearance)
Thalia (because she fits in a bag)
Christina (Loreal)
Katerina (because.)
(μάπα μου βγήκε το καρπούζι)
I, me, myself (Because I cannot και καθότι Έλλην αυτό με καθιστά τον καταλληλότερο)
The trip was successful right from the start. It was so successful that Alex left before it even started…
Ok, we helped him crawl(remember he was injured in the first movie) early in the morning to Buchanan bus station, hopping that he would catch his flight. (You will find out about that in the next episode and after 5,65 hours of commercials). Being tired from our previous adventures we managed to miss the first train to the port of Ardrossan. So our main characters went shopping, since the next train was 2 hours later. Looking back to that point I think, as a director and scriptwriter, I did the terrible mistake of including “PRIMARK” in the script whereas I should have written “ASDA”, or “Sainsburry’s”, or “Co-Op”, or “TESCO” e.t.c. You will soon discover the reason why.
Two hours later and after some PRIMARK shopping, we left central station, reached Ardrosan, boarded the ferry and landed in Brodick. Now I’ll have to repeat one of the speeches I once gave in a masterclass. It is about the term Scottish Island Fever and unfortunately it does not refer to exotic beaches coconuts e.t.c. On the contrary it’s the result of a complete absence of all these plus some other things like : population, frequent commuting network, people, variety in amusement, folks, interest and homo sapiens. 
The Isle of Arran, being one of the places where one can easily contract such a disease, had only three bus services running 4 or 5 times a day ONLY when a ferry was inbound (and at the same time outbound as it does not spend more than 40 minutes unloading and loading passengers and cargo). That means that if you are not staying in Brodick and you miss a bus (or two) you’re late ( ≈ f&^ck in some cases).
In all my glory as the director, I thought I could introduce a little bit o’ twist to the plot. Say loosing the first bus wouldn’t harm anyone, would it? Plus in the meantime we could do some proper shopping for dinner at the local supermarket (probably the only one on the whole island). Problem was that the receptionist of the hostel we were headed to wanted to go to a party (probably the only one on the whole island) and we had to hurry. After doing our shopping we realized that waiting for the bus would take to long and we would never reach the hostel (probably the second one on the whole island) on time.
So three our main characters returned to the ferry terminal (probably the only one on the whole island), because it was properly equipped with heating devices of all sorts and as for me and the crew (Dani), we took a walk across the coast of Brodick. Back in the terminal, our three female characters met a secondary character of the movie, a worker for Caledonian-MacBrayne (the ferry company) and started narrating they’re adventures so far-such patient and brave men does a Scottish island produce, that they dare withstand a Greek girl’s narrative. 
After my return, our good man, suggested that we took a cab (probably the only one on the whole island). Upon hearing the word “cab” again, one of the protagonists screamed in anger: “Why? Oh why could we not have rode the first bus and then gone to a supermaket in (the hostel location) Kilmory!?”. Silence befell the room as our good man behind the counter was turning red in an attempt not to laugh and the director was banging his head against the wall, knowing the unbearable truth. Finally our good man broke the silence,”I’m not sure you know where you have come!” pointing out the obvious, Kilmory a gathering of 7 or 8 houses and a hostel, was hardly in need of a supermarket. Once again as the director, I had failed because I had chosen to conceal information, such as the population of the island, from the cast, in an attempt to make their reactions more natural. The three girls took the cab to get to the Hostel on time (before6or7,I’mnot sureanymoreitwasdarkanywayfrom2.30p.m.) and me, myself and the crew (Dani) waited for the next bus. As soon as the girls left the building, our good man exclaimed “How can you stand being with her!? She was talking for AGES!!” referring to the leading actress(probably the only one on the whole island). Strange it was as the exact same words had been employed before, by the Edinburgh hostel receptionist, in the first title of our series
A taxi ride later some pounds fewer and another bus ride later, we were at the Hostel and our main characters started to feel the first symptoms of Island fever. The front door had not been locked for years (there was never a need for it to be so), silence was absolute, and there was no light outside (I could say “other than the stars” but if “our good man in the ferry terminal” could hear me he would not be able to hold his laughter this time, as winter in Scotland means clouds instead of skies). The only motion in the darkness,was a swing, swinging alone back and forth by the hostel’s fence on a windless night…
Posted in Erasmus Life
How many friends did actually keep their promise to visit you when you were on Erasmus?
I hope you had, at least a piece of, my luck (or more accurately, I hope your friends took advantage of their luck – that is you) and were to welcome more than one or two friends in your humble “Erasmusabode”. I (they) was fortunate enough to host ten people at the same time here in Glasgow, out of which 7 slept in “my place”. “My place”, located within a university owned accommodation campus, was not as spacious as I would have wanted it to be (e.g. my room is/was triangular and small – I still want to meet the guy who thought of a triangular room). Practically that meant that the “common area” or “lounge” would have to be transformed into a dorm(couches, sleeping bags etc).
You would expect that all ten of my visitors would come from the same place, but since this gathering also provided the chance for most members of the Kapakia “gang”, all scattered across Europe, to meet once again, only a maximum of three people came from the same place at the same time. The rest came in as illustrated by the map bellow an unfortunately not at the same time…(photo map pointing to glasgow)
We spend the first two days in Glasgow, walking around town, in the city center, the West end, St. Mungo’s cathedral were we performed random acts of sacrilege-such us removing miniature lamb replicas from the christmas decorations,the Necropolis-where the random acts of sacrilege met a wide disrespect for the grateful dead- and other “places of importance”. Of course when you bring this kind of people with you there’s bound to be a hard dive full of pictures you can’t actually remember why you took or why no one told you anything like”What the F%^$^k do you thing you’re doing there!”.
The third day we moved to Edinburgh for the “main attraction” Edinburgh’s Hogmanay Street party! To my knowledge it was “the place to be” on that night. Ten tickets had been waiting for 2 months for all of us, for this night! We had considered lots of accommodation options (among which was camping at a temperature of -3ºC) and finally settled for a “luxury-hostel”, which was the most reasonably priced thing we could get for one night only(most hostels required that we booked at least three nights). After walking around a wee bit, we had to get enough alcohol to get us through the night. After a rade at a local super market each of us was “armed” with 2 litters of wine plus some beers. The practical problem we were now facing was that no glass bottles were allowed in the street party area. One would think “Ok, get some plastic ones and simply pour in the wine!”, but what if you want to have a bottle of champagne-like fizzy wine, just for the turning of the year? Opening it up before the right time would ruin everything obviously, so the only solution was to smuggle it in. A girl in the group K. offered herself and the spacious area between her legs to hide said bottle. That also meant that she would be walking like a penguin for a little while, with a small possibility of arousing suspicion and having to come up with a nice excuse for the funny walking.
Once inside though she was released from this fizzy burden and could join us in enjoying the party. The main attractions were two or three concerts a ceilidh and some DJs. The only concert we had access to was The Coral. I can’t really say I heard any of what they were playing…
The only problem we had and the factor which eventually undermined the whole night was the shortage of toilets and the fact that they were “far” form our spot. I say “far” cause on any other day you would need less than a minute to walk the distance, but on that day the traffic was thick and the waiting was long and the cold was…cold. So one by one the members of our fine company disappeared and by some stroke of genius the rest of us decided to move around a bit, so us to make it more exciting for them to find their way back to us. In the meantime I also met members of the Glasgow “ErasmusGang” who had come to join the party as well. We managed to finally to gather all ten members of our party (plus a random girl from some central european country), right in front of the toilets :D ! I had the most brilliant idea of moving the group back into the crowd in a train like fashion-so that we would not loose each other, but alas our hero K. was left behind, drunk as she was… (and in need for a toilet seat)
The time is 23:59 and we have just realized we are missing K. I cannot say it was pleasant. It felt like we were some retarded american brides who slowly realize that their dream wedding is not going 101% as planned and rush in a panicked attempt to make everything right on the last minute, before it is too late. As all of you who have already been “retardedAmericanBridesWhoSlowlyRealizeThatTheirDreamWeddingIsNotGoing
101%AsPlannedAndRushInAPanickedAttemptToMakeEverythingRightOnTheLastMinute” know this does not lead to any good. In fact while searching for hes we got separated into smaller groups, which made us even sadder. By the time people had started counting down the last 5 seconds I was with T. and surrounded by thousands of drunk Scots. Thus we did not have the joy of carelessly singing “Auld lang Syne” with the rest of the people. Even thought I was not 100% there I can say it was a very strong moment. Stronger the more cause a Scots guy confessed to me that he had just farted for the first time in 2011, a piece of info that my nose had given me a few seconds ahead(I just hope this experience does not follow me throughout the year!). Oh! there were some fireworks as well :P
Finally after the big fuss was over we managed to meet up again kiss-and-wish everyone a happy new year etc. We returned to the hostel dead.
The list of that night’s casualties includes:
Posted in Erasmus Life
When I decided to go on Erasmus, I also made another promise to myself, my degree and my immediate future: I would gradually quit ESN within the year.
Plain and simple as a statement but not as simple a decision to effectuate(and not to implement). A range of “soft” (non-statutory, fun oriented e.t.c. ) ESN events was making things even tougher. The month is November and the time for ESNs Regional Platforms was drawing close. Since this year I was in the UK I “belonged” to the WEP, which was going to take place in Gggrrroningen in the northern part of the Netherlands. Ok, this was probably an excuse for mr to meet up with some people (like O and H ) whom I had ot seen since May.
Getting there should not have been so hard, right? Once again Ryanair promises to take you close to your destination but not quite there. The usual routine for me is Glasgow Prestwick -> London Stansted (I even have my own sleeping spot in there) -> The rest of the Ryanair-accessible world. In this particular case Eindhoven! Then grab a train to Utrecht, change to Zwolle and then, finally reach GGGggrroningen. The risky part was the trip back to Glasgow, cause it meant I would have to catch the first train at 5 a.m. after the last party of the WEP, in order for me to be on time at the Eindhoven airport!
I arrived late at night, in an absolutely carefree mood (the first signs of me transforming to an “ErasmusStudent”). By carefree I mean that I had no maps of the city, no idea where I’m going or what does the city look like and a bit hungry! Although I could not answer the question “What should I do now?”, cause every information point was closed, I gave a quick answer to “What should I eat now?”, by visiting the only thing still open at 23.30, the station’s burger king. When I, miraculously, reached the hostel the first party was already half way through (though I was too tired to join).
All in all the WEP days were full of new info about ESN activity (even I had a presentation!), interesting workshops (among which the TEIMUN-see photo below) and of course parties! My one and only complaint is about the lunch sandwiches! (I was already in the “ErasmusDiet” and needed something different :P ).
I started loosing track of time during the Eurodinner and so, by the last party (beers = 1€, 10x Jägermeister shots = 8 € ) I also lost half the content of my stomach, plus 40′ precious minutes while doing so. Why were those 40′ precious? Cause they meant I lost the first train and had to catch the next one 50′ later, which in turn meant I had lost both my flights back to Glasgow… Since Ryanair is not a forgiving company, 100 € and 7 hours of hangovered sleep in Eindhoven airport later, I was ready to go back to Glasgow.
What remained were the good memories and friends I got from my visit to Groningen.
