Popping into Pompeii

Again we were given ideal weather for sightseeing. Pompeii was the sight. Hands down, this was the most interesting destination on the Italian leg of our trip. Speaking of legs, Pompeii is located on the shin area of the boot.

In 79 AD the thriving commercial port of Pompeii ground to a halt. At noon on August 24th, nearby Mount Vesuvius erupted. This continued for eighteen hours straight. We know what happened next...sort of. Pompeii was engulfed and covered not with lava, but with ash. Eight feet of white-grey ash settled like snow on Pompeii. Two thousand Residents did not react quick enough and, thus became frozen (so-to-speak) in time. We viewed some of them. Some were praying. Some were protecting their head from the falling ash. On many faces we saw fear. Their eyes were wide and their mouths hung open in unbelief at what was happening. They were preserved, seemingly, at the exact moment their life flashed before them.

It was a town near to Pompeii, Herculaneum, that was buried in Vesuvius' lava. The morning after Vesuvius stopped spewing, its ash, pumice and gas collapsed and rocketed back to earth. The flowing red-hot debris, running at speeds approaching 100mph. In only four minutes the entire city was buried sixty feet in molten rock. When it cooled, it turned to stone, thus preserving Roman life back in the year 79. Those, my friends, are the tragic stories of Pompeii and Herculaneum.

We have our own short pompeii/vesuvius story. To visit Pompeii means to walk in hard to walk places. Do you remember the show Leave It To Beaver? I think it was during the closing credits that Beaver walked down the street with one foot on the road and the other on the sidewalk. Had he done that in Pompeii, I would hope Big Brother Wally would have known something about treating spinals and head injuries. There was literally a two foot drop from the uneven cobbled sidewalks to the chariots-only street.

Walking carefully around Pompeii rustles up an appetite. We sat on the chair-height side walk and ate our picnic lunch. As we ate, we read that Vesuvius was still an active volcano. On average it has erupted every thirty years and it has been sixty since it has last erupted. It is long overdue. After learning this we looked up from our bread and butter to see what looked like smoke billowing out the top! It turned out to be only a perfectly placed cloud, but still. I guess God does have a sense of humour! Nevertheless I questioned our intelligence: We are sitting under an active volcano that is over due to blow, touring ruins from a previous eruption, and thinking how awful it was to get stuck in Pompeii in 79. At the same time, if it really were going to erupt, what a way to go.

The other funny thing about Pompeii are its pets. The ruins are inhabited by several rather mangy looking dogs. They sleep on the streets and in the gardens; well, pretty much anywhere and everywhere, actually. They are completely undisturbed by the hordes of tourists trampling around the ruins. I actually don't even recall seeing any of them awake on our visit. Then again, if some of them didn't twitch in their sleep, I would have thought they were just really well preserved from the 79 eruption.

...Do As the Romans Do!

Top 10 Things to Do...When in Rome!

1. Buy gelato by the tub, as opposed to single-serve cone, and store it in the hostel's freezer for easy and frequent access.

2. Count how many traffic cops are armed with semi-automatic guns.

3. Walk an hour to the Vatican only to realize that you forgot your guidebook and information back at the hostel.

4. Spend the afternoon eating your tub of gelato instead.

5. Wonder how you are ever going to fit into a bridesmaid dress after eating so much gelato.

6. Watch how angry Romans-with-a-car get if they need to slow down to the speed limit.

7. Walk confidently into oncoming traffic with your head up and body braced for impact.

8. When #7 seems impossible, always cross in the wake of a nun.

9. Never have enough small, or exact change for purchases. Watch the cashier huff and puff and proceed to throw (literally) your receipt, purchases or train reservations at you when you hand them a 20.

10. Try to use a magnet to collect the coins from the Trevi fountain. After realizing that euro coins are not magnetic, think again about the hundreds of thousands of Italian Lire the homeless guy was taking out of the fountain for 30 years before finally being caught in 2002 (true story).

Besides thinking of 10 'witty' things to do in Rome, we actually found ourselves in quite an adventure underneath the city. Christopher, a Passionist priest we had met while in Ireland with Gramma (who happens to be the cutest gramma in the whole world!), showed us Rome from a local's perspective. He toured us around churches and gave us entertaining explanations of the sites.

Christopher also invited us to lunch. He fed us a delicious (and huge) hot lunch at the monastery he lives at.

We even had the priviledge of exploring the remains of a second century neighbourhood beneath the church. Some of the rooms even still had frescoes painted into the walls, remaining from all those centuries ago.

We even went splunking! Under the monastery, it turns out, there is an extensive network of caves that is thought to have lead to the Colosseum, which the monastery overlooks. Literally, we went where no tourists had gone before. The caves are not a tourist attraction. Picture going down into a deep, dark, cold cave with a dripping ceiling and crystal blue sub-terranean pool, lit only by a weak flashlight. What an experience! It was such an incredible morning and we really appreciate Christopher taking a day out of his busy schedule to show us around, make us feel so welcome and give us the best meal we've had in months. Grazie, Christopher!

Did you know...the Colosseum's real name is the Flavian Amplitheatre. The Flavian was nicknamed the 'Colosseum' only after a 'colossal' bronze statue of the mean-old-emperor, Nero, was erected out front. Today, the statue is long gone, but the name still remains.

The Colosseum was a 50,000 seater stadium in its hey-day (80 AD). Today, it is just a deteriorated tourist sight (it probably seats about 200). If you decide to see a show tonight, you likely have the choice of a cartoon, comedy, action, romantic-comedy (blah), thriller, drama or horror. There is some variety. The Colosseum also had choice: man vs man, man vs beast or beast vs beast. Its entertainment was...violent. These weren't like a poorly-overdubbed King Kong vs Godzilla movie; these were REAL blood sports. The stadium was inaugurated with a 100-day festival. In that 100 days, 2,000 men and 9,000 animals were killed in front of capacity cheering crowds. Colosseum employees sprayed perfumes around the stadium to mask the stench of blood. Next time I go to the show, maybe I shouldn't complain about the raunchy popcorn butter smell.

The Ninja Turtles in Rome

Before they turned into turtles and learned karate, Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo were artists (and human).

Leonardo's St. Jermome was on display at the Vatican museum, but it was patched. The reason? A shoemaker thought it would be smart to apolster a foot stool with part of the painting. He probably also thought it smart to wear a fannypack.


Raphael painted a pope's bedroom with the 'School of Athens'. It paid respect to thinkers and scientists of antiquity: Plato, Aristotle, Socrates and Euclid.

Donatello left us a wood carving of St. John the Baptist.

It was Michelangelo, though, who took center stage with the Sistine Chapel. The 5,900 square foot fresco was done between 1508 and 1512. Imagine craning your neck, while paint dripped in your eyes, on scaffolding six stories up for four years! You would think that might compromise the quality of the final product. It didn't. In true Italian style, the ceiling was dressed to impress. Or, in the words of Michelangelo, it was radical, dude!

Under the Tuscan Sun

When 'under' the Tuscan sun, it is hot. As soon as the sun goes down, however, it takes with it every morsel of warmth. This was especially apparent at our campsite in Florence. We had cots in a tent. Even when under four thick blankets and a sleeping bag, I was still freezing! It must have been at least -20°C! I really think Italy should consider a more equal distribution of heat throughout the day!

Other than the cold nights, Florence was delightful. From our view above the city, we could see endless red rooves, the Duomo, and hints of Tuscan countryside on the out skirts. Florence was really busy. I can see why people who only visit Italy's big cities may not enjoy their trip as much as they should. In big cities there are always lines (queues), pick-pocketers, crazy drivers and angry Italians. If the big cities are seen in between small towns, though, I find them much more enjoyable. We even splurged into the Uffizzi Gallery, which has rooms of famous pieces like Botticelli's Birth of Venus, Giotto, Titian, Parmaginino (like the cheese) and even the only canvas Michelangelo finished.

Florence, we heard, had Italy's best gelato. Obviously, we had to see for ourselves. Let me tell you about my extensive research. Pistachio is best with less pistachio-ness; the chocolate is usually like dark chocolate, with more cocoa than sugar; if banana is yellow, it is made from a mix (it is supposed to be grey coloured); if it is in a metal tin, as opposed to plastic, it is more likely to be homeade. Store owners let you taste flavours before you buy them (rice flavoured gelato?). Jonathan and I have very different tastes. And most importantly: you can NEVER get enough gelato!

On Our Minds

We are exhausted. Travelling is taking a lot more out of me than I thought it would. I am tired of bus and train 'schedules', my bag, my clothes, walking, Jon's beard, gross showers and, our staple meal: crusty bread and jam. Don't go feeling sorry for us though (I'm sure you weren't) but even though all of the above is true, I am still somehow having the 'time of my life'. I have just come to realize that 'time of my life' is much more of a 'travelling experience' (with huge ups and downs) rather than a perfect vacation. Anyways, in no particular order, this is what I would ask the genie for.


aka. Top 3 Things I (Kristen) would REALLY like right now...

1. A bed that is comfortable with soft, clean sheets, an actual pillow, a duvet in an actualy room (not a tent), which is very close to the bathroom (not a five minute walk in the dark, cold night).

2. Pancakes! or waffles with blue berries from the cottage (well, while I'm fetching blueberries, I might as well imagine being at the cottage too), whipcream, fresh fruit, PC syrup...oh and maybe chocolate chips (yes, ALL of that).

and...(drum roll please)

3. That Jonathan would shave his prickly beard and cut his winged hair...people are starting to look. I think they are going to start denying us entry into places. While we are giving him a makeover, lets give him new, clean, not-too-reeky socks. Sigh. Wow. That was a wonderful five minutes in my head.

Tuscany is beautiful and its small towns are charming. It is also, however, a big pain when you have to use public transport. Different bus companies run to different hill towns, so you can't get tickets or schedules in advance. You have to buy tickets at newsstands or 'tabbachi's', which aren't close to the bus stops. On holdiays and Sunday's you can barely get to a town. It is beyond frustrating it takes four times as long to get places, as buses and trains are infrequent, even on weekdays and often require hours of waiting in stations, clinging to your luggage. Er. Although I probably shouldn't complain as transportation here is probably better than it is back home. I guess it is all part of the 'travelling experience'. You just have to weigh it against things like watching the sun rise over the Tuscan hills. Is it worth it? Definitely.

FannyPacks

More than any other travel accessory, fannypacks are predatory merchandise. Their buyers are the prey. Marketing lures in the unsuspecting vitim. Without ever having bought a fannypack myself, I can only speculate what the typical thought process is leading up to a fannypack purchase.

Risking sounding too much like a pessimist, my first thought is that fannypack buyers, leading up to their blunder-of-a-purchase, are terribly mislead by directing their attention only to the positive features of the fannypack. Score that a success for the fannypack marketing department and a loss for the buyer. The 'selling points' of a fannypack can be summarized as 'somewhere to keep all your valuables close to your person'. Legitimate enough. You can put all your valuables in a fannypack. With the monsterous size of most you cou8ld also put a small dog in there to guard all your valuables.

It is true that your valuables such as your passport (which is skinny), bank cards (skinny) and other important documents (again, most likely to be skinny). What, then, is the problem with the fannypack? Sorry, 'is the problem' implies there is only ONE problem, singular. That was the wrong question to ask. My bad. The proper question should be, 'What are the problems with the fannypack?'.

First, and rather ironically, they are desinged to accomodate not the careful traveller, but the careless one. Fannypacks are large enough to be packed indiscriminately. So, the fannypack owner thinks (i speculate), 'Why should I pare down my wallet and documents to only what is pertinent to my trip? I have lots of room!'. But, c'mon, do you REALLY need your Costco card? The careful traveller leaves all but the essentials at home. Because fannypacks are so large and accomodating, they are also highly visible to everyone. I do mean everyone: you, me, uncle Buck and every pickpocket, gypsy and thief from here to Vatican City. This is another reason fannypacks are predatory merchandise. They cannot be hidden under you clothing like a moneybelt can. Knowing every fannypack is plum full of presents, thieves, I imagine, target fannypackers.

The second problem with fannypacks is that, just as easily as they can be buckled tightly around your waist, they can be unbuckled. Yet another reason fannypacks are predatory merchandise. As if that it is common knowledge that precious credit cards and passports are hiding in there and that they are highly visible and theft-friendly is not enough, fannypacks are also easy to unbuckle. Hmm... The fannypack marketing department conveniently leases this tidbit out when selling their product. But don't fret, fannypackers, if your fannypack is stolen, you can be sure the thief won't sneak into Costco on YOUR card...

Assisi

Let's play the Assisian numbers game!

Ninety percent of Assisi is motivated the dollar of tourism. Ten percent of Assisi is motivated by imitating Christ. One hundred percent of the town is proud of its spiritual past, namely its two favourite saints, Francis and Clare. Ninety percent of the tourisits to Assisi come to experience what one hundred percent of the locals are proud of, but what only ten percent of the town can be considered an authentic descendent of. The other ninety percent of of the town has come into being because ninety percent of the tourists come for the other ten percent. This ninety percent is the tacky exploitation of what only ten percent of the town has true roots in, but what one hundred percent of the town is proud of.

We observed the general store-breakdown of the ninety percent to be painfully souvenir-rific. These shops shamelessly sold shoddy rosaries, St. Francis figures made from cheap plastic to gawdy ceramics to expensive crystal and many other materials, too. Also crucifixes, guns, cross-bows, nunchuks (those were pretty cool, actually), chalices, plates, pope-wine, among other Niagara Falls-quality wastes of money. Another ten percent of the ninety percent were gelato cafes and the final ten percent were pizzerias/ristorantes. Together this makes the ninety percent one hundred percent lamentable and painful.

But the ten percent (which one hundred percent of the locals are proud of) that ninety percent of the tourists come for is not a waste of time. There are many churches that boast architectural feats and many that are architecturally humble. One hundred percent of the churches were visited by us.

We also observed that one hundred percent of Assisi's churches had prayer kneelers. Our knees, however, observed that zero percent of the one hundred percent of churches in Assisi had cushions on their prayer kneelers.

All in all we enjoyed Assisi and are glad that Francis (of Ruette fame) encouraged us to visit the small town. But what about all those numbers, you ask? If we were to process these numbers into a one to ten rating, one being a 'definite no-go' and ten being a 'quit your job and go now!', we give Assisi a 7.2.

Now, class, if there are any questions, raise your hand.

p.s. we know Assisi is not in Tuscany. It is in Umbria.

p.p.s. This is the sign we are looking at right now in the internet cafe. Can you make any sense of it?

Please without use internet you dont use the chair for sit .Eat or anything direction Thanks.


Commenting on the Comments

Well, Dad, I actually wish that that was my laundry hanging out of a window, having been done by some nice Italian lady, and being returned to me fresh and clean, as opposed to the stinky, worn out clothes that I wear EVERY day. Would I ever wear a shirt more than twice at home? No, but here, the shirt still feels fresh if I washed it only two days ago. Honestly, the highlight of my day yesterday was showering. Before I start losing friends, Im going to move on. Hi everyone at the Rainbow Bridge! Im glad to hear you are enjoying my adventures, even if you arent commenting (Doris) Just joking. I am so happy to hear that Jaime had her baby boy! I cant wait to meet little Ty! Finally, thanks for the thesaurus link, Bron and Dave!

Venice is Sinking and I don't Wanna Swim!

For years (since grade 9 geography class, actually) I have hear Venice repeatedly framed as a decaying, dirty and unreasonable expensive city. After treading Venice's tangle of alleyways myself, I can attest that it is a sinking, decaying, water-damaged, outrageously expensive city; but its a great one! Tourism is all that is keeping this puddle city afloat (it is literally sinking, though).

Venice-pricing inhibited us from doing some really cool things, namely a gondola ride. A 30 minute ride would have soaked up more than an entire days budget for us. Gondoliers were a funny bunch. They dressed in horizontal black and white stripes and, atop their heads, they wore the standard stiff-rimmed hats. Watching the romantic, deep-pocketed couples who took the plunge, we couldn't help wonder how jail mate/Beetlejuice uniforms became synonymous with romance.

The patron saint of Venice is St. Mark. I'll give you one guess what the Basilica is called. You're right! Unastonishingly, it is named St. Mark's Basilica. It is a church unlike any church I have ever seen. It was a Western church decorated as if it were an Eastern church. Nearly every inch of the floor, walls, and ceiling told a story through Byzantine mosiacs. Yoda would have said, "Pretty cool, it was." I agree with Yoda.

In the North Transcept I prayed with two saints. To my right laid the body of St. Mark and to my front was a painting by St. Luke himself. In me stirred a sense of fellowship with these two saints. It certainly made for a memorable place to pray.

Italy and The Cinque Terre

I feel as though our blog is in a rut. The lack of comments confirms my suspicions. I am running out of adjectives and we just haven't run into any tragedies as of late that have been blog worthy. Well, unless you count the complete disregard for anything resembling a train schedule in Italy. But I suppose that was more of an inconvenience. Its not like we were in a rush to get anywhere. A near tragedy occurred while climbing over huge boulders on the breakwater from our Cinque Terre town, Manarola. I (Kristen) thought I sprained my ankle. Being the uncoordinated clutz that I am, I slipped on a rock and scraped up my knee, shin and hand. The ankle hurts much less now (whew). But a quick rinse with sea water cleaned the cuts right up and they now only hurt mildly.

So, yes, everything has been going wonderfully lately. The Cinque Terre was incredibly beautiful (honestly, someone send me a thesarus(sp?)(maybe a dictionary, too)). Five small fishing villages are strung together by a hiking trail and an(unreliable) train along the coast, south of Genova. The cliffs are jagged and the villages colourful.

As luck would have it, only the toughest, steepest, most narrow, sweat-inducing path was open while we were there. The next time I go anywhere it is going to be Saskatchewan. I can barely manage the stairmaster nevermind a steep hill of a narrow path in 30 degree weather! I must admit that the scenery was stunning. The villages looked even cooler when looked upon from above. We even walked right through an olive grove. The olives squished between my sandals and feet probably made enough olive oil for my own jar! Back at sea level, we saw schools of tropical fish loitering near the docks and breakwaters.

One of the best parts of our Cinque Terre visit was meeting up with a great Australian couple that we had met back in Switzerland. We ate gelato, discussed our travels and couchsurfing, sat out on the breakwater, swam in the Ligurian Sea, and tried to convince them to come to Canada (B&D: come to Canada!)

To really experience a culture, we have tried to become temporary locals rather than tourists. Sun-drenched Italy, though, presented us with a road block: Italians aren't fair-skinned (read:pasty) like us...they have olive coloured skin. We needed to pick out other, more imitateable visual characteristics to fit in. I (Jonathan, now) found that the best way to fit in (other than speaking Italian, which I don't) is to walk around with the buttons on my collared shirt undone dangerously close to my navel. Speaking very loudly and emotionally, while smoking cigarettes. With this, I have decided to not become a temporary local, and stick with being a tourist and outsider. Do I want to come back to Italy? Of course! To be better prepared, though, I want to study Italians in their element: what better place to do so than in Niagara Falls!

Commenting on the comments:

We should have started this a long time ago. To make up for lost time here are some long-awaited answers. The shoes and sandals (both Merrells) are great! I would recomment them to anyone. Our camera is a Kodak z612 (not a z650...oops). We (Kristen mostly) love it and are really impressed how it has held against the daily wear and tear. It takes a whole lot of pictures everyday! Italians, for the most part, have been great to us. It would definitely be a lot easier if we spoke Italian, however. So far, we love Italy, which is good, because we hear it gets even better as we go south. As for dogs and cats: they are everywhere! People bring their dogs everywhere they go; into grocery stores, on Rhine cruises, buses, trains, banks, internet cafes, restaurants...you name it, we've seen a dog there. Its funny too, because hardly any of them are on leashes! They must have some great dog tainers over here. They can be several feet from their owners and no one takes notice. The dogs just catch up at their leisure. The dogs also seem to be either (1)small, purse-sized ones, (2)Westies, or (3)huge and bear-sized. It is much the same with cats. The only difference is that they rarely seem to even have collars on. There are honetsly cats everywhere. They wander aimlessly, looking for attention or sprawl themselves in the middle of things (much the same as home). Each city also has at least a dozen community cats with their own shelters and food buckets. The cat/dog situation here is definitely unique...and something fun to photograph!

The Cote D'Azur...Mmm...so Sweet and Calorie Free

The Cote D'Azur, which is the stretch of land between St. Tropez and Italy, is not to be confused with Cote D'Or, the incredible Belgian chocolate. Although, if truth be told, they are both equally satisfying. Our home base in the south of France has been Nice. Nice is nice. From there we have ventured to Antibes, Monaco, Villefranche sur Mer, Cap Ferrat, Beaulieu sur mer and Eze le Village. Nice is France's 5th largest city and a convient hub because trains actually stop here. Frequently. I was surprised to learn that the Cote used to be part of Italy up until 150 years ago. Either way, the area seems to be (to me, anyway) french: The buildings and window shutters are brightly coloured; the baguettes are crispy on the outside and flaky in the middle; we are served croissants for breakfast. This tickles with France!

Playing Nice in Nice

For being France's fifth largest city, Nice is surprisingly cute. The old town is picturesque with narrow alley-ways, colourful buildings and France's "Best Bakery" (voted in 1972). There is a wide Promenade all the way along the water called "Promenade des Anglais," literally translated 'English Promenade'. It was apparently made to make the English tourists feel more comfortable back in the day. I am happy to report that it is still effective today.

The beach is sandless. It is comprised of large, smooth, round(ish) stones. I think that it is really neat. The water (the Mediterranean (sp?)) is so clear and blue that it makes me feel as though I am on vacation (backpacking is travelling, not vacationing). The waves crash in, huge and white. When there isn't a child yelling and throwing rocks (like there is now) you can actually hear the rocks rushing down the slant as the wave retreats. A relaxing sound cd should be made from this sound...there probably already is one (minus the squealing French kid).

Antibes Antics

Antibes; about ten minutes down the coast, is where all the big boats hang out. There is, ironically, even more here than in Monaco. Some high-rollers even have their own personal cruise ships. The ships are colossal; complete with their own crew, all with matching uniforms. The view from Antibes is incredible. Because it is mostly in deep water off the coast, there is a different shade of blue. Even cooler than the water colour, though, were the jellyfish swimming in it. There were real, live jellyfish floating around in the harbour! As Antibes is less touristy, and much smaller, it was a nice contrast to a busy morning-market in Nice.

No-Rollers in a High-Rollin' Monaco

Monaco, a separate country from France, makes a statement right from the get-go: the train station has marble floors, walls and ceilings. It has underground paths that lead you anywhere in the city. Monaco is ruled by a prince. We witnessed the changing of his decked-to-the-nines guards over lunch. The streets are cute and narrow and adorned with a light-up Monaco flags. The city, umm...I mean country, is as glitzy as one can imagine. From Palace Hill the prince (and tourists) have a great view of the entire "principality" from Monte Carlo to the fancy, new port in town, Fontvieille. The manicured park had water fountains and flavourful flower gardens. Thanfully, according to strict posted rules, "Childrens play would be tolerated so long that it does not disturb guests."

All the cars are top end, the apartment buildings immaculate and the stores designer.

Rather than paying cover to enter the casino, we went the less obvious route: to the aquarium! It was in an impressive, white building, constructed as a monument in 1910, hanging on a cliff over the ocean. It had tons of tanks of bright Meditteranean fish, all described in English. The aquarium was actually directed by Jacques Cousteau himself for 17 years! The large tank in the middle was two floors tall! There was a tank of baby Nemo's, luminescent jellyfish, sharks, rays and even a sea turtle (cool, Dude!). It was the next best thing to scuba diving.

Walking the (coast) Line in Villefranche and Cap Ferrat

Villefranche is the cutest little French village on the sea. Unfortunately, cruise liners also think so. Three massive cruise ships crammed into Villefranche's tiny harbour and taxied all their occupants into the little city to trample its quiet secludedness. Still, the city has been my favourite along the coast.

From the village we walked out on the Cap Ferrat peninsula. The path was literally a cliff offering dramatic views (and ocean spray) of the waves. Villefranche could be seen in the backdrop (behind the cruise ships) as colourful dots against the bright blue sea. At the tip of the peninsula the tall lighthouse was all that separated us from the open water! We continued along the path past more incredible views, sailboats, yachts, beaches, cactai and swimmers (it is still really warm down here). We walked for about 6 hours in total, but it didn't feel like a lot. We saw scuba-divers, snorkellers, skin-divers, and fisherpeople. Everytime I turned around there seemed like there was another sun-drenched cliff and another aqua-blue tidal wave to cozy up to it. There were stone steps were you could descend down and be level with the ocean. When the big waves came in you were no longer level with the ocean. They would crash their way onto the platform and soak everyting; unexpected tourists included. We, however, enjoyed our lunch just out of the waves' angry reach.

I can't believe people get to see the Mediterranean everyday and live off the sea for their entire life! I definitely wouldn't mind hopping on one of those yachts until January...well if it were heading to Greece, that is!