One Week Down.

Sitting in Athens having a quiet night in. First chance i've had to sit and reflect after cramming as much as possible into my days in London.

Flight from London was long. My feet grew about 2 shoe sizes but after 14 hours to Abu Dhabi (do not watch the movie 'Paul Blart Mall Cop' and another 7 to London (do not attempt to re-watch 'Paul Blart Mall Cop' presuming you were too tired to appreciate it when first viewed) i was there. A plan contrived with a peach in a container of sardines (with nick packing boxes) was finally in place.

Checked into "the Generator" on Monday afternoon, investing my trust in the rave internet reviews of anonymous travelers. Disappointed. That is all.

However, this was a faint black mark on an otherwise flawless report card filled out for London.

A day spent in Camden Town was a huge highlight. This quaint punk-oriented town, formerly a stables, is as colourful as it is cool. Stores selling spiked leather collars were not for me. The markets offering any cuisine you can dream of for 4 pounds were brilliant.... regretfully, i ate stale bread thieved and further fouled by warm tuna from a can. A walk home along the river and through Regent's Park yielded photos of old punts and a squirrel. Camden will be hard to beat.

Brighton. A beach town brainstormed by royals. If you feel the urge for sand (pebbles) and sea whilst in England there should be no other place considered. Unless of course you hate quaint pubs, fish and chips, beer gardens on the promenade and enjoying all the above mentioned pleasures on the beach where it's light until 10pm. Which you don't. If you do happen to be one of the bizarre few..... the winning blow will be the entire store devoted to Lego. Enough Said.

A 22nd birthday hyped up for weeks at the expense of Clarkey's sanity. Expectations that could only lead to disappointment.... Unless you spend a day strolling around Oxford with some of the best company money can't buy and cap it off by heading to Fabric for 3 levels of eclectic dance music. Happy birthday self.

Another night in the mouse-sauna they attempted to pawn off as a hostel room in London and it was time to fly to Athens. A cab ride at 3am, eggs at 5am and a flight at 650am and my body clock was officially in need of repair.

Culture Shock is the best way to describe the first few hours in Athens. Caught the wrong bus, got charged 15 euro for a 5 minute cab-ride with a man who spoke Greek and expected me to respond and was warned upon arrival that the area I was staying in was rife with pick-pockets, junkies and sex-workers. Tension eased once I started wearing my fashionable money belt (bum-bag) and safely locked my room. After seeing the humbling, ancient wonders of Athens and enjoying a traditional long lunch with a view thrown in for desert I am ready to head to the islands tomorrow and commence the next phase.

Bliss.

Alive and well.

Fearn Zunk.