Greek Island of Lesbos sues over term ‘Lesbian’

by Iva Skoch on

Is this a PR strategy to get more tourists to visit Lesbos Island or do they really care?

Three islanders from Lesbos – Greek island and home of the ancient poet Sappho, who praised love between women – have taken a gay rights group to court for using the word lesbian in its name, Newsweek reports. One of the plaintiffs said that the name of the association, Homosexual and Lesbian Community of Greece, “insults the identity” of the people of Lesbos, who are also known as Lesbians.

The three plaintiffs are seeking to have the group barred from using “lesbian” in its name.

Lesbos should just use the term lesbian to advertise the island: “Lesbos: where Lesbians love men.” Tell me that wouldn’t work.

Man fakes his own death while surfing in Greece

by Iva Skoch on

At first, it sounded like a great, simple idea. The husband pretends he is dead while the wife collects his life insurance. She will send him money periodically as he assumes new identity abroad. It almost happened that way, Czech press reports.

A Hungarian man, Zoltan Rex, and his wife were vacationing in Greece in 2001, when Zoltan “disappeared” while surfing. Of course, the wife and a few friends were in on the scam and played along. The authorities proclaimed him dead after about a year, but they never found his body. The insurance company, however, refused to pay the roughly $1.3M, because they found it strange that a man would take out several life insurance policies and then disappear. (Note to self: When faking death, remember that insurance companies are not stupid.)

Poor Zoltan escaped to Crete, then Italy, and finally ended up in the Czech Republic, where he lived under the name László Boros until his true identity was discovered last year. The plan never really worked the way they intended. His wife lost hope of ever getting the money and got remarried in 2005.

Now, Zoltan’s only hope is either a) reality show, b) book deal, or c) flourishing career in Eastern European politics.

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The first big trip

by Martha Edwards on

I was 21, fresh out of a destructive relationship and going to school full-time when fate stepped in. I was one of those people who told everyone that I loved travel, but until that point, I’d only really gone away with my parents and of those trips had only left North America once. It wasn’t my fault — all my friends were either not into travel or too into their boyfriends to make it priority. And I didn’t want to go alone.

I don’t know what made me stop to read the generic poster on the wall that snowy day when I was embedded in studying procrastination, but I did. Good Times! Student Tour Around the Greek Islands, or something to that effect, it read. The info session was set to start in 20 minutes. I grabbed my books and headed in there. Within a week, I signed up an paid for a 4-week trip with a bunch of strangers.

What followed was a month of wicked fun that was mostly memorable, except when too many shots of ouzo blurred the lines of recognition. Our group was made up of 26 twenty-somethings and two surfer-dude guides who were rarely guiding except when it came time to catch the ferry. We had a wicked time together — full of drinking and dancing and endless side-splitting laughter — and though I keep in touch with few of my travel mates, our time together won’t soon be forgotten.

My point is this: For me, this trip was the perfect foray into the world of solo travelling. I gained confidence, and I gained a love of travelling, all without having to worry about eating alone or being chained to people’s expectations of me at home. You see, travelling with a group of strangers is ideal — you’re independent, but still not entirely on your own. I learned a lot about travelling in those four weeks, and I learned a lot about myself. I learned that when necessary, I can navigate the curvy streets of a foreign land and make the bus on time. I learned that I can get along with anyone. I learned that I can budget. I learned to break out of my comfort zone, and I learned how rewarding that can be. In short? I realized that I am a traveller, not just one of those people who claims to be one.

Thanks, Greece.

Athens: Cars, Cars and More Cars

by Iva Skoch on

Americans have a reputation as car-loving people. I would rephrase that. Americans don’t love their cars. They need their cars. They use and abuse them. They don’t love them with passion like, say, the Italians or Greeks. Where else do you see men lovingly polish their old Fiats on a sunny Sunday afternoon? Most Americans wouldn’t treat a Porsche with such affection.

I just got back from Athens last week. The car-inspired street fight aside, I was generally surprised what a car-culture Athens is. Everybody drives and parks wherever they want. There are hardly any sidewalks or pedestrian zones, let alone parks. You certainly don’t feel welcome or safe as a pedestrian. If you ask me, it is a mistake that they accommodate drivers so generously.

This NY Times article talks about some of the civic groups trying to fight back by placing stickers on illegally-parked vehicles that the police seem to ignore. They also point out that Athens has the highest per-capita car ownership in the European Union: 450 registered cars per 1000 residents, which is close to the US-level of car ownership. Of course, Greece is a lot more congested than the US…hence the gridlock. Yet, their public transportation is great. I don’t get it…

Comparing the food in Athens and Rome is unfair. But still…

by Iva Skoch on

Without realizing it ahead of time, I toured two of the great ancient empires this week: Rome and Greece.

I am in Athens this week and–aside from witnessing a street fight–I have had a good time. Part of the reason is that I am a foodie, and I love Greek food. Fortunately, most of my friends and travel buddies agree that a large part of the appeal of traveling is “the search for the next great meal”.

Last week, I was in Rome for a journalism conference. Cancer-reporting is probably not what you want to hear about, so I will stick to writing about food. I swear it is simply not possible to have a bad meal in Rome. Every little trattoria will be able to offer treasures that make your mouth water instantly. I would say the service is better in Rome that it is in Athens, and so is the bread. However, I love what the Greeks can do with an octopus…grilled, fried or marinated. It is always delicious.

I wonder which of these two cuisines is better for you. You don’t see very many fat people around in Rome or Greece…