Toothpaste vs. Tooth Paste

...Know the difference? You better.

A few of my biker friends and I got together in the south, just looking for a reason to get the keg out. They are your everyday, run-of-the-mill, average people - no harleys, skulls or ZZ Top facial hair. Long story short: the location of the event was my grandma's summer cottage. It got cold very soon so we moved the party inside for some poker. Hit the sack time arrived and after lying in my bunk for a while, I heard the bathroom door tear open and the 'leader of the pack' - I guess - stood in the doorway brushing his teeth with his finger? Or so I thought at the time. In fact, he misplaced my toothpaste for a tube of that adhesive seniors use to glue their artificial teeth in and was trying to get it out. Took him a few days...

Is it pork, chicken or fish? Yes.

The first question I'm typically asked, when meeting someone, is "How do you like it here?" I quickly learn it's merely a simple icebreaker to get to question 2: "What do you think about the food?!" As in what the hotel buffet has to offer. To be fair, I did read the reviews. "Monotonous" seemed to be the general consensus. I don't consider myself to be a picky eater but during our stay I did stay away from some dishes, the contents of which were unidentifiable. Yesterday, however, was the proverbial last draw. After waiting a long queue, the "good stuff" was gone. So a Friday buffet lunch with salad bar turned into an all you can eat beanfest *ugh*.

Steering clear of the detached hotel canteen, our next stop, and all stops to meet our dining needs for that matter, was a local tavern. They say you can tell a good tavern by the fact that there are Greeks eating there. If you see only tourists, chances are the meal will be great, but you could probably do better. No climax today. Going for some real food...

Damn you sunburn

Back in elementary school when crayons were an integral part of every student's supplies, I recall my favorite colors being periwinkle and fire engine red. The latter best describes the current state of my skin *sigh*. And SPF 30 sunblock didn't help my phototype double zero cause either. So this is me officially giving up on achieving the ultimate tan. I here the cooked lobster look is popular anyway.

Shade is scarce here. I don't trust the porous umbrellas by the beach or pool anymore so it's either the hotel room or the bar by the pool. Leaving breakfast this morning, just the thought of going up the stairs to reach my room got my taste buds yourning for a cocktail. And then some.

Entering the bar I saw the everso familiar groups of loud polaks and ruskies, as well as the line of czechs by the tap - drinks are free so you have to take as many glasses as you can, or so it would seem that way. The bartender, a pakistani named Ali, quickly runs out of glasses and ice, the water cooler works off and on, ice cream is for kids only. I take my one glass and sit down by a few friends we made here. To my liking, they share my plan of doing nothing. And so we did just that.

Surfin' U.S.S.R.

Apologies to the one (1) reader of this blog (as of July 6) for the wait. In my defence, the road to boredom was lengthy and some of that labor stuff got in the way too. Today marks my fourth day in Bali. Bali Beach that is. Crete. As in Crete Island, Greece. I planned to blog the first day here but I had some phone trouble. I'll get to that bit later.

This trip marks my first attemp at putting my vacation in the hands of a travel agency. It was also the first time I took the "last minute" approach as we booked the trip one day before the scheduled departure. I had my doubts - driving to Vienna's Schwechat airport overnight to catch our very early outbound flight and all I had in my pocket was a piece of paper in German. I was assured this piece of paper is all I need to receive round-trip tickets for two and 8 days all inclusive in Bali, including the transfer from and back to the airport in Heraklion. Yes, I had my doubts.

Everything went so smoothly. The German reisen buro really delivered. The plane took off and touched down on time. Finding the right bus (out of 50 on a parking lot that fits roughly 25 buses and currently under construction) to take us to Bali was a bit of a pickle but we weren't afraid it would leave without us, for every bus somehow blocked another two or three buses. After leaving out an entire night's sleep, the transfer from the airport, however, did not allow me to rest. It's as if the driver had a battle with himself to beat his best time from Heraklio to Bali. After roughly fifty cars overtaken on a double line and a German shephard "resting" in the slow lane, we finally arrived to our hotel.

No sign of economic crises here on the island, on the contrary, the mood is calm, hotels and local businesses prospering. One of these businesses is car rentals. For some of my future European subscribers, renting is hiring. Don't ask me why. On day two we recruited a car, made in France, so we knew it was shit just like anything else from that country - big shout out to my French readers, I love you guys to death! I quickly adapted to the Greek driving style and must say, it can be helpful making three lanes out of one. Motorcyclists don't wear helmets on the highway. That is all. Our Peugeout took us to several attractive spots in the west and also saw some great sceneries on the south side of Crete.

Back to Bali. There are a total of five beaches here, one smaller than the next. They are packed! With Russians that is. Everywhere you go, every pay phone you go by, it's da da da (download on itunes). But I don't mind, the alcohol isn't that strong so they behave themselves.

Almost forgot the juicy bits. Day one. After a quick round trip around the car rentals and souvenir shops to map the prices, I returned to the hotel to my beloved pool and jumped. What a dive! I looked around only to see that no one was looking. Their loss. Belly flops just don't get any better. I swam towards my metaxa with sprite only to find I left my phone in the pocket of my swim trunks. Real smart Jan. After just over two days of grieving, it magically works again. Woohoo. For now.

Off to lunch. No, one more dip in the pool. Check my pockets...

First!

I guess a brief introduction wouldn't hurt. Bare in mind - no clue who I'm talking to right now - this is in fact my first attempt of any kind of public composition (hereinafter referred to as "humiliation"). Hopefully, the sole purpose of this blog will NOT be just venting. Perhaps a tip or idea may appear here if I ever come across anything of the sort.

You may be asking where the name "Piece-Piece Salad" comes from and if not, I'll tell you anyway just to make this entry longer *wink*. Being a part time Czech to English translator, I am obsessed with poor translations and I must say, you'd have to go a bit further to the East to see even worse interpretations. I visit an indoor water park once every year at the end of summer. I only visit the place once a year because it's not that great an attraction considering the admission they charge. Luckily, O2 hands out coupons every year with a buy one entry, get one free discount. Anyway, sitting in the lobby and ready to leave the facility, I swung by the buffet looking to see what was on tap and noticed a nice salad bar with labels written in both Czech and English. I didn't even have to pick up a bowl, cause what I saw was a feast for my eyes and surrounding ears: Piece-Piece Salad (Czech: Salat Kus-Kus) - a verbatim translation of kus is piece but I think they were looking for cous-cous. 

So there. One down.