Motorcycle Mishap in Mykonos

Today my dad and I were reminiscing on one of the most bizarre, scary, and hilarious situation we've ever found ourselves in.

It was one of the cruises some two or three years ago, and one of the ports we were visiting was Mykonos, Greece. Mykonos is a small island in the heart of the cyclades in the Aegean Sea. The island is best known for its party lifestyle and tropical feel, and is home to many world-renowned landmarks, including the windmills (pictured above).

We docked at the port- we being my grandparents, aunt, uncle, cousins, parents and sisters, and began parading down the narrow winding streets of the old greek city. All of the building were white and blue, symbolizing Greek's national colours as well as being a well-known part of Mykonos' culture.

For several hours, my family and I wandered through the streets, being the pinnacle of Canadian tourists. My grandmother, clad in her straw hat, large sunglasses and camera, photographed practically everything (making for a very large scrapbook later). Finally, after complaints from just about everyone as the weather was a blistering 30 degrees; we made for the ship.

However, on our walk back to the dock, my dad noticed a sign displaying moped rentals. Being in my slightly embarrassing vespa phase, I hopped at the chance. The rest of the gang continued to walk to the ship however me and my dad made the decision to rent the bike for a couple of hours. We entered the tiny shop and were greeted by a man with a thick greek accent. We were assured we were getting a great service and, as naive tourists in a strange country, did not suspect anything out of the ordinary. We paid the rate of a couple of hours, were told to fill the gas at the station atop the nearby cliff, and were on our way.

My dad, having only ridden a motorcycle once, was a little shaky. Me, knowing this information, honestly thought I was going to die. However, dad pulled through and we made it to the top of the mountain! We filled the gas as we were told and climbed back onto the machine, excited to begin our journey.

We were planning on driving to see the windmills as they were fairly close to the ship and were apparently a sight to be seen. When we pulled out of the gas station and began driving, we were greeted by an american couple also on a moped. I can't remember if they told us they were going tot the windmills or we just assumed, but we began following them. Suddenly, we appeared on a roundabout and decided to take the second exit along with them rather than the first (which my dad soon realized, as we were in the middle of nowhere).

Following the wrong turn, a sequence of worrying events occurred:

First, the couple decided they wanted to check out a beach resort, took a sharp turn and left us on the desolate road.

Second, the second exit actually lead us to a resort similar to that of the couples: it was private, beautiful, and full of drunk 20-year-olds.

Third, upon leaving the beach resort we began to attempt to back-track. We had gone down a hill to get into it, therefore we had to climb one to exit. As we were chugging to the tip of the hill, the engine of the motorcycle began puttering, causing us to nearly fall down the hill. Eventually the motorcycle cleared and we were back to normal.

As we were trying to make our way back to the roundabout, we must have taken another wrong turn as that roundabout was never seen again. We continued on the road, now looking for any sign of civility to ask for directions. After maybe 15 minutes of further driving, we found another gas station. We parked at the station and my dad called over an attendant. He explained the situation, pointing at the little map given to us by the renting store. "We wanted to go to the windmills, but we took a wrong turn," he said, "I think we're here". My dad pointed to an area of the map, not too far from the windmills. The attendant chuckled and took the map from my dad's hands. He unfolded the map to reveal the other side of the island, and pointed to an area almost halfway across Mykonos from where we had began. "You are here", he laughed, gave vague instructions, and walked away. My dad and I laughed good-heartedly about the situation and began trying to find our way back, without knowing how much worse it would get.

We hopped back on the moped and began trying to find our way to the ship. However, due to the confusing dirt roads of the barren Mykonos (as we were now surrounded by cattle rather than the white buildings) we once again found ourselves lost. As we were driving up a road, now going in the right direction, the motorcycle once again puttered, this time dying completely.

So at this point, we're in the middle of Mykonos, Greece, with no cell service, and no buildings in sight, and a cruise ship leaving in less than two hours. We're screwed. My dad, being the teddy bear he his, pushed the motorcycle (with me, sitting on top of it) up the hill in hope of finding something.

After probably 40 minutes of looking, we find an older looking structure being painted with a bright white coat. Sighing with relief, my dad and I went to the house and the crew paintings its walls. Though the language barrier was clearly evident, the strange men called the motorcycle renting company and the man we spoke to was on his way to the rescue. After another half hour, the man arrived- furious. He and my dad began bickering, as he thought we didn't fill up the gas (which we totally did; the bike was just broken) Nonetheless, the man allowed us his motorcycle on which he arrived, and with his direct instructions, finally arrived back at the rental store. Several minutes later, the man returned without the motorcycle, saying it wasn't out of gas but was broken.

With less than half an hour to spare, my dad and I boarded the ship, and were whisked away to our next destination, kinda traumatized but with a great story to tell.

That's it for this week!

Love, Isabela :)