Reflections of IOS | SOI fo snoitcelfeR

aegean, airlines, athens, beaches, greece, mykonos, santorini, travel in Greece

Starring the long and odd swimming pool at Erego Beach Club!


…and a statue that features a partial likeness of the island’s homegrown poet, Homer!


…and water that looks like this!


so without further a-blue,


have yourself a read. And yeah, it might take a little while…what did you think this was, some kind of party?


Okay Lindsay Lohan, You Can Go Home. Now.

aegean, annoyances, athens, beaches, europe, lindsay lohan, mykonos, overrated pseudo-clubs, pop, santorini, scandal, spoiled brats, travel in Greece

Editor’s note: this overdue rant putting little Lindsay in her place, wherever that is, was originally meant for television, but the Internet lasts longer, and requires less make-up.

Forget about the rumors of cocaine and drugs (ok so, where I went to high school we didn’t really think of coke as a drug, but that’s life in what was to become Kardashian country, Calabasas), or the fact that Oprah probably isn’t on speed dial anymore.

When you grow up in Southern California you get used to seeing spoiled brats, often blond, who will never know an honest day’s work in their life, read a few lines from an awful script and then end up hosting SNL, diving into a pool of their own vomit on a roofdeck hotel bar on Sunset Boulevard or possibly both. In any case, you’re in it, you’ve seen it, you’re not impressed.

So when the President of the United States of America, Donald J. Trump, calls an irritating, flake news website like Buzzfeed “a piece of garbage” you have to think he has sh*t like this in mind: buzz1

First of all, that isn’t dancing (and that’s not really DJ’ing either. I’ve been to Ibiza, folks).  It’s a few carefully scripted moves designed to be posted on Instagram and then picked up and picked over by pieces of Internet “garbage” like Buzzfeed. Also, I thought I heard some DJ fake-screaming “this is how you party in Mykonos!!” Friends, this is not how you party in Mykonos. And by the way Lindsay, I think Bea Arthur called, and she wants the evening gown she wore to the 1973 Emmy Awards back. (If you like, I can point you to some great Greek fashion boutiques. They’re not in Mykonos.)

Now check this out this gem:



Totally serious? Wow. Because if you take your measure of Greek island street cred by judging footwear, then you know as much about Greek islands as Pope Francis (miserando atque eligendo!) does about heterosexual sex. Get out! Now!

Cross-check and verify, was that fash spazz attack for reals?


Kinda looks that way. #Sad. And then, LO-HAN and behold,  there’s THIS:


So it’s ok to bag on your underlings’ footwear but then show up for a shoot in a transparent sort of whatever dress? Let me guess, her production company is the same outfit behind Keeping Up With The Kardashians, right? Actually, it is. As Aphrodite just turns away and shrugs…and how about this…would this make you shrug or perhaps formulate some other kind of gesticulation?


Was that Part Two of that whole Lindsay-stands-by-Harvey-Weinstein thing? Oy vey as Pope Francis might say, if he were Jewish. Speaking of Jews, Tiffany Trump!! Did you see the one about the night Tiffany Trump (who may or may not be able to spell the word Jew, even if she isn’t one) partied with Lindsay one languorous summer night at her “beach club” on the wind-swept ATM on crack that is Mykonos? If you believe that stomping ground of great journalism, E Online, the party was “a fundraiser for the victims of the Greek wildfires.” Sure. For another digital disaster, it was a fundraiser to “prevent wildfires” in Greece. Right. You can be sure the Greek treasury was just bursting at the seams following a night of charitable debauchery starring Lindsay Lohan and Our Girl Trump. They probably had more euros than they knew what to do with! Wow!

Lindsay Lohan doesn’t have to fight for the right to party. If anyone can put up with Hollywood for more than a year without pulling out their hair extensions, more power to them. But did you know that the best parties in the Greek islands aren’t on little Mykonos? The place is a money pit, and strictly Micky-mouse. The basic rule of Mediterranean indulgence is if Saudi “princes” are in tow, honeybun you’re on the wrong rock. I mean, check out this one:


And I’m not even going to tell you where it is, because I don’t have a club to promote. Some of us have to focus on our acting.

–Antoine de GRANT

































aegean, athens, beaches, greece, Uncategorized

Things you notice in Athens at 5:34 in the morning on a semi-random Tuesday in August. Or maybe Wednesday.

(probably a hot day, anyway…)

I smell bread.

I see a seagull.

That car is going way too fast.

Does a motorcycle really need to make so much noise?

Who still jogs?

A policeman slathering on suntan lotion rather languorously.

It’s too early to contemplate the use of the word languorous.

The Algerian Embassy is across the street from a hotel-by-the-hour. There must be a Greek word for a hotel where you pay by the hour. It probably sounds nicer in Greek. Only rarely do these hotels turn up on Not that I looked.

(Greek hour hotels look positively intriguing next to the ones you used to find in lower Manhattan before the hedge fund managers took over.)

Evzones in the zone, zone, zone. No tourists monkeying around with them at this hour.

Roosters are crowing (is that what they do?) in the National Garden. This is normal?

Six green parrots flying over the garden treetops, a trace of sun lights up their wings. Whose birds are these? Also, I want one.

I don’t care how spiffy you look at the bus stop mr Athenian Lawyer, your overdose of aftershave is my next sneeze, and man I’m out of Kleenex

That is the Temple of Hephaestus up there, but I am on a metro car down here. There must be a church somewhere too, because a passenger makes the sign of the cross, but we are straddling the Agora, seems to me what it represents commands more veneration than organized religion.

I command more caffeine. No one is listening, so

…the clapping shut of the metro compartment doors gets louder in function of the frappes one has not had time to sip.

It is not yet even  7am. Someone has just approached me with a friendly What’s up dude?

Do I have ‘California native’ written across my forehead? Then I need a bigger hat.

Man, I say without saying, I don’t care if you’re Kim Kardashian or Jesus Christ, do not approach with me with anything before 7am, unless of course it’s a free guest pass to the Lohan Beach House in Mykonos.

“Hey dude” I muster. Can I go pretend to go back to sleep now? Because I just realized I haven’t really slept for about the past five weeks. Athens and sleep mix like Greeks and Turks at a costume ball: uneasily and at random.

So, I will be looking for a ferry going to an island that begins with the letter I.

I will stumble toward the boat, so hot, so exhausted and my eyes are already tearing because though it is still just slightly after dawn, the sun is already way up and the air is a toxic metropolitan poison, let’s admit it. Smoke, fumes, yuck. The gods must be smoking, and I’m the fucking ash tray.

Gate E9, is it?  Piraeus. Piraeus, my Piraeus, the mighty port and my unknowable ancient brother, who I embrace even though she only ever embraces the sea, filakia, filakia…sea kisses etc. and suddenly the philosophical/daydream part of the journey ends:

“Ticket please.”

(the ticket is given)

“This is not your boat.”

(this is not my day?)

me: “This ship is not going to the island of I.?”’

“To Mykonos, Mykonos! You boat, over there!”

(U-boat? now I’m really in trouble..)

It is now 6:55AM, and I am still not up, but I am inching out of Athens. And I am counting on Seajets to carry me the rest of the way.

So take care Piraeus! I’m going to take a few more heavy steps, as necessary, in this Hephaestean heat, this anti-caress, because I’m going to see V. on the Island of I.

(even if it takes a submarine)

(even if it is, and goodbye to the secret, this island)


Special thanks to Seajets.


Flights to and from Israel’s Ben Gurion Airport Briefly Suspended

airlines, israel, jennifer aniston, secret, telaviv

Due to a military incident involving Israel and Syria, flights into and out of Ben Gurion International Airport were briefly suspended Saturday, Israeli media reported.

Immediately following the incident, in which an Israeli F-16 jet was shot down by Syrian fire,  civilian airspace over northern Israel was shut down.  The flight suspensions at Ben Gurion, much to the south of the Israeli-Jordanian-Syrian border area, lasted less than an hour.

Some 90 percent of travelers entering and leaving Israel do so through Ben Gurion. During the Gaza war (called Operation Protective Edge in Israel)  in summer 2014, the FAA issued a ban on flights to Ben Gurion that lasted 48 hours, however the airport was never officially closed. Missiles fired from Gaza came close to the airport prompting some airlines such as El Al to alter their flight paths until a cessation of hostilities.