亞歐鐵路北向急行: 六月, 2012: 東方快車第五站希臘，帕特拉斯

I wonder if the five ojisan I met at the port bus stand were inspired to come to this part by one of their own. A certain Japanese writer. A certain Nobel Literature Award nominee who lost out in the end to Mo Yan. A certain Mr. Murakami Haruki. Murakami came to Pratas because, after living in Italy for a while, he started to miss Greece. He also came to Pratas on a ferry, but from Brindisi. But like almost everyone who pass through Pratas, it was never his intention to stay the night (Isn't everyone else). He was on his way to Athen (Isn't everyone else), and it would have been to much of a rush to get to Athen on the same day he arrived in Pratas. He describe Pratas as "pathetically boring.....with just a port and a bus terminal (or train station?).....restaurant food here is similar to those around Ueno station, bad in both taste and service". No wonder those ojisan were in such a hurry to hoop on the taxi (wasn't everyone else).

Murakami wrote about Pratas when he visited sometime in the late 1980s. Have things got better for the travellers in the last two decades. I was about to find.

The bus travel along a coastal road and dumped us at the city bus terminal. On the way, I tried to look out for trains, railway tracks or a train station. If I found one, I probably would have headed out to Athen if there was a train on the same day. I didn't see any. At the bus terminal, backpackers were lining up for the Athen bus. Since I couldn't find a train, I decide to look for a room and stay the night.

The hot weather cut short my search for a hotel. I decided to settle on one after a few block away from the bus terminal. As the receptionist noted down my particulars from the passport, I observed her profile. There was something familiar with her nose and eyelids. What was exposed outside her tanktop wasn't as white, but those facial features were similiar to Greek marble sculpture I have seen in books and museums.

After a quick washup, I went back down to ask if there was a tourist info office nearby. She looked surprised at the question, and told me it was probably closed for the day. But she does have some brochures with map. I ask about buses to take me to those places of interest. Again, she looked surprised:
She: You can walk. It is not too far.

Patras is the third largest city in Greece. But it is definitely not a close third to Athen. I remembered Pusang. It is the second largest city in South Korea. That got my hopes up when I visited, but a number two is usually not a close second to number one. Pusang then, as I remembered, only had two subway lines, while a web of lines covered Seoul.

The Greeks may have been great sculptors and builders of columns and great temples then, but outside today, they were indulging in another artform: graffitti.

The graffitti seems to be everywhere.

But, I saw no sign that the plank-man had cross the Adriatic to Greece.

I pick one nearby tourist site from the brochure, a old fortress up on the hill near the hotel. It was supposed to closed in summer months at 5pm.

Climbing up the steps afford me a view of the coastal city.

But, when I check at the gate, it was already closed for the day at 3pm.

In fact, by now, the street was almost cleared of pedestrians. The traffic we encountered on the way in had also cleared. The road was almost clear. It was like a ghost town.

My theory then was that the budget crisis must have hit the country really hard. Even the supposedly more enterprising Chinese wasn't doing well. A chinese fashionwear shop was also closed for the day. And that's not the only one, from banks to jewelry shop to book shops, all were closed....for the days? Or for good?

The only shops that were open are the larger supermarkets, and tiny newspaper-snacks kiosk. The ice-cream fridges positioned outside the kiosk tempting me on a hot day like this.

I reached the main town square and found a few restaurants open for business. But there were not much business.

One of the restaurants caught my attention, above the dining tables were what look like leather straps with ring, the kind train passengers would hold on to.

Well, that was exactly the restaurant was trying to achieve. Because the restaurant is the "Orient Express". Below the name was the tagline "Always feel special 1981 - Infinity". That means it was around when Marukami visit, but will it last till infinity? Or the euro crisis cut off their credit line and force it to close at the end of the month?

This may a "pathetically boring" part of Greece, but even here, there were archeological sites. Just walking about the residential area, one could unintentionally run into a archeology dig site.

As I worked my way to the church on the brochure, I noticed most of the restaurants were rather quiet. The heat was making one of the waiter drozzy, forcing him to go on a siesta. Some of the staff at other restaurants were already stacking up and putting away their chairs.

On a orange tree-lined street, two bucknaked boys were soaking themselves in a fountain, prompting a old man to come out shouting from a shop, asking them to get out of the water.

Taken from Wattention

The overripe oranges were dropping from the trees and allowed to rot on the ground. I was tempted to pick a few up and eat them.

All across town were signs in Greek alphabets. I am not sure how similar are these from the Russian cryllic script. Like this sign: Medi Pinoy? Medicine for Philipinos?

But I could guess that the words on this marble slab are the months of the year.

At the church, only two teenage boys were braving the sun and riding their BMX on the church square.

There was supposed to be a fish market diagonally across the church, but I reckon it was already closed by now. With this heat, the fish would have already rotted by now. But I could see railway tracks and crossing signs across the road.

I followed the tracks and that brought me back to the hotel. In my hurry to explore Patras, I have missed the train station that was right behind the hotel. It didn't help that the station was rather small, measured against train stations of other European cities.

Judging by the photo in this article, the station in Athen isn't any larger.

I went over to the platform thinking it would be empty. Imagine my surprise when a train (spray-painted with graffiti, of course) actually pulled in. And there actually were passengers. That got my hope up.

In the small waiting hall, the ticketing counter was actually open, with a young guy (no official uniform, of course) behind the window.

I check the time table posted by the window, There were actually entries for Athen.

Maybe, there is still hope of riding into Athen from Patras, if not tonight, maybe tomorrow morning. I check with the guy, and he dashed all hopes I harboured. Those are timetable for the replacement bus services. In fact, there was one leaving soon. He asked me to hurry if I intend to go to Athen.

I guessed this is it. Only thing left is to check around the station and the waterfront next to it.
Beside the station was another railway-themed restaurant, chickens rotating on the skewers in an open-flame oven, grease dripping down onto the flame.

The waterfront probably saw better days.

These days, the street lamps were smashed, and communists party poster hang on the posts.

Similar communist poster could be found elsewhere in town. The economical crisis probably force the Greeks to lean more to the left politically.

On some of the city public buildings, there were signs of recent protest. The facade of the building was fenced off, and red paints were still fresh on the wall.

A poster from an organization that fights for the right of squatters, and occasionally organize protest march. How their cause has anything to do with Mafalda I which no idea. For us in the Chinese speaking world, she is from 《娃娃看天下》, one of my favourite cartoons.