EXCERPT FROM A GCHAT CONVERSATION WITH BYRON, WHICH I HAD AT 2 AM WHILE I WAS CRYING AND FEELING ALONE IN GREECE:
Sophie: I'm super sad and I'm in Greece. What should I do?
Byron: Have you and your sister gone to the bars and tried to get laid?
Sophie: NO. Is it too late?
Sophie: I'm smeary and cry-y. Should I clean myself up or is that a good look?
Byron: I think with Greek men, from what I hear, either would work.
Byron: You're in Greece! If you don't make out with one Greek man, you'll regret it!
EXCERPT FROM ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITTANICA ONLINE:
Many visitors to Greece are struck by the sight of legions of cats roaming the streets, dozing in the sun at archaeological sites, and loitering around tavernas looking for a handout. This is so common that many travel sites remark on it and offer advice to travelers about what to do when approached by stray animals, which they claim are generally healthy and unthreatening. Some find this a charming aspect of the travel experience.
EXCERPT FROM WIKIHOW: 4 WAYS TO GET A DATE:
Try not to be too picky about who you date. Give people the benefit of the doubt. If you're having trouble finding people to date in the same old spots, try something new! You never know where you might meet that special someone
SHORT DESCRIPTIONS OF ALL THE MEN I HAVE MET SINCE I HAVE BEEN IN GREECE, ALL OF WHOM I HAVE CONSIDERED MAKING OUT WITH:
Sergio: I met Sergio outside a Taverna, where I immediately learned one of his major character traits: this guy LOVES fish. You name it -- cod, tuna, sardine -- really, I mean it, ANY kind of fish. He was outgoing and smooth, and very handsome (glistening, black hair; gigantic eyes). The problem was, he didn't seem to care all that much about me as a person; he just kept sniffing my pockets, looking for fish. I mean, seriously. Who keeps fish in their pockets? Also, he was a cat.
Daemon: Daemon was really shy. It took him a LONG time trust me enough to show his face to me, but I could feel his presence (and I could hear him in the bushes). Eventually, when I stood still for long enough, Daemon came out, cautiously. When he did, I was stunned: he looked like a model. I mean, he was clean, young, and flexible (you should have seen the way he stretched in the sun). But then, the moment he realized I was watching him he hissed at me and climbed under a dumpster. Also, he was a cat.
Pan: Oh MAN. Pan was a FLIRT. I was at a magazine stand just minding my own business, and Pan walked RIGHT UP TO ME wanting to know everything about me, in the sweetest, most loving way possible. He was attentive and kind; the sort of man who just wants to give his love away, expecting nothing in return. I feel a little bad I rejected him. I don't mean to be so shallow, but he was, like, super-old. He had a nasty cough, smelled like rotting cardboard, and was missing an eye. Also, he was a cat.
Risto: Risto, who I met while I was working out in the park, bit me basically the moment he met me, which I'm into. But then he rejoined a band of slutty teens, and he bit all of THEM, too, in public, which I am not into. Also, he was a cat.
Farris: There was almost nothing redeeming about Farris. He had long, gangly hair that scraped the ground. He yowled late into the night, phrases no one could understand. He defecated in public, all the time. But he fed all the stray cats in the neighborhood, so I considered him. You gotta love a man who has a real and genuine love of animals.