Flashback 02 - The Final Chapter - A Full Moon, Sharks and a Bangkok Blowout

Hong Kong to Bangkok summer 2002 – Part 7

(See Part 6)

We arrived in a hectic Bangkok bus station still a bit shaken by our last night in Cambodia and, before entering Thailand, a hellish road with a hangover. I can't say what it was, but I immediately felt at home in the big city. Full of bustle, smell and noise, but not in an intimidating way. Bangkok felt very approachable and certainly gave us a good time.

Predictably, we took a tuk tuk to the Koh San Road and booked a tiny dingy room above the craziness below. Cockroaches abounded and the walls combined the ability to hold floor to ceiling stinking rot, while being so thin I could feel the place shake with every thrust as the guy next door got lucky.

The Koh San road was everything I expected and more. Part "backpacker wonderland", complete with buckets and Beer Chang t-shirts, part engaging cross over of cultures. Great street food, crazy bars, flashing lights and people in the mood to have fun. It was exciting and eye opening. Of course there were the overly touchy lady boys, sometimes barely distinguishable from the Thai girls (the giveaway being the voice), but also a whole array of other Thais and people from across the world to mix and get a bit wrecked with.

We did manage to escape the bubble to explore the city. We wandered around bustling street markets, got lost around back streets and searched out Buddhist temples, with my highlight being Wat Pho, where I got an exceedingly painful massage (who would have thought that such a small lady could cause such incredible pain).

Needless to say we had a great time and jumped on a train two days later in no better state than when we arrived.

THE FULL MOON PARTY

It was a steaming hot overnight train ride. Stacked in narrow bunks, we did not see much of the good portion of Thailand we passed on our way south to Surat Thani. Awaking in a daze soon after sunrise, I did at least get a glimpse of tropical lushness in the first light before we arrived.

Then stacked on to a boat across the crazy blue sea, a short stop in Ko Samui and then we arrived with the crowds in Ko Pha Ngan. We were (nearly) all there for the same reason. The legendary Full Moon Party.

Tales of the event percolated through travellers chat across the region and it was almost inevitable it would become the the last big chapter in our trip. Like it or lump it, we had to give it a go.

The Full Moon Party has been taking place at the beach of Hat Rin since the mid 80's. It is fair to say that the area surrounding the beach is spoiled. A mash up of never ending cheap beach huts, bars and snackeries. We though had a good bunch and made more than the most of it.

You could feel the atmosphere build as more and more people arrived in the day's building up to the big night. By the time of the big night, the place was bursting at the seems with thousands upon thousands of people wanting to get wrecked until dawn and beyond (I understand well over 10,000 that night). Along with the pumped atmosphere there was more than a little nasty undercurrent, with stories of undercover police and bust ups abounding.

I spent the first half the night with Felix, Tom, a couple of Italians and whoever else we bumped in to. Starting with the more laid back bars overlooking the beach as the sun went down drinking milkshakes, before moving to the strip behind the beach for buckets of Thai whisky and Red Bull and then being sucked in to the epic-centre of the giant rave on the beach. 

At some indistinguishable point in the night, the whole thing went up a notch of messy and one by one the guys I was hanging with disappeared (the last time I saw one of them was walking past as he lay zonked out on the beach watching a random couple copulate in the sand... each to their own). 

I found myself on my tod, stumbling between the the beach and trips to the strip to pick up another bucket. The night took a random turn when I was bear hugged from behind by a tall blonde German. To my surprise he called me by my name and, a short moment late, I recognised him. It was Thilo, the awesome, quirky dude we had met in Yangshuo and travelled with through south-west China!

We hit the beach and raved until dawn. As the sun rose, we found ourselves on a platform, covered in UV paint, dancing with strangers and ushering the sun out of the sea. It had been a good night.

BOTTLE BEACH AND SOME SCUBA

I slept through the next day, awaking briefly to get nourishment and take a squizz at the level of carnage all around (a lot!). The next day Felix, Tom and I cleared out and got a bus and then a boat to as far away as we could get on the island from Hat Rin - Bottle Beach.

Nestled in a stunning bay on the north of the island, Bottle Beach was the antithesis of Hat Rin. A score of small, palmed fringed huts stretched out on a beautiful sandy beach, equipped with hammocks, backed by palms, thronged with tropical noises and surrounded by forest. There was no road in, no TV, no internet, no hassle... 

Needless to say, we had some serious down time (only briefly interrupted by the biggest spider I have ever seen rustling the mojo of my hut - I was saved by a broom). I recall hours chatting with Tom about the depths of morality, staring out to sea, half alert to passing naval boats. One even came to shore - to the half horror of many of the occupants of the beach hastily hiding stuff under their huts - but it ended up just being a friend of the family who ran the huts. We had a beer with them, lost to them at foosball and high-fived them on the way out.

Best of all was after dark. Each night we kicked back under a throng of stars like I had never seen, imagining the scope of the universe and listening to Incubus' rendition of "Wish you were here". Truly great times.

After five days Felix and I very reluctantly moved on. Our flight back from Bangkok beckoned and I wanted to get in some scuba diving. With many a hug to those we left behind, we took the small boat out of Bottle Beach, bus across the island and then ferry north to the island of Koh Tau.

While Felix kicked back on Thai cushions by the beach, I mixed my time between tacky videos and serial dives, completing my PADI Advanced course. We visited some great dive sites, including Sail Rock, with its 12 meter vertical chimney swim through. The diving was exhilarating. Along the way I met loads of flamboyant corals, shoals of a myriad of fish, black-tip reef sharks, a turtle and a whole other array of great sea life. 

Perhaps my favourite dive was a night dive in a sea of teeming with phosphorescence. You could literally shoot a bright green Street Fighter "harduken" with a double punch of the hands. I back-rolled and soared through the sparkling water. Added to the sensation of weightlessness, it was a surreal experience. Exploring with the torch, I discovered the red eyes of hundreds of crustaceans hiding in the rocks and, with a chill, the green eyes of circling reef sharks.  

BANGKOK AND BUST

Chilled, tanned (OK... burnt) and adorned with fisherman's trousers, we made the long reverse journey by boat and train half the way up Thailand back to Bangkok. By arrangement this time, we met up with Thilo again and had a final big blowout in Bangkok. 

It was the quintessential Bangkok backpackers night out, starting with buckets on the Koh San Road, moving to another random district for a very odd club and finishing with a mad cap tuk tuk ride across the city just before dawn. The driver was certifiably nuts. Almost certainly on amphetamines, he laughed as he put down peddle to metal and did a mini wheelie, running straight through red lights at break neck speed. We missed other traffic by a whisker. Thilo and I screamed for him to stop. Felix, who I thought had finally lost the plot, was screaming for him to do more. I can only suppose it was a final forlorn attempt to win the ultimate man contest (oh you remember that Felix don't you!). 

And that was that. With yet another killer hangover, our great adventure had come to an end. 

In two and a bit months we had made it from the Hong Kong to Bangkok, via landslides, cave treks, the first mosh pit in Chinese rock festival history, gun pointing border guards, midnight storm swimming, the shits (multiple times), motorbike crashes,  mountains and the Mekong, dens of iniquity, the largest temple in the world and finally some chill in Thailand. To say it was an eye opener is a cliche, but also a whopping understatement. I loved every god damn minute of it.

THE END...

Flashback 02: Crazy times in Cambodia

Hong Kong to Bangkok summer 2002 - Part 6

(See Part 5)

Somewhere on the murky, brown waters of the Mekong, we left Vietnam and entered Cambodia. Our thin, narrow motor-boat, laden with packs and people, ran on and on in the heat, until stopping at the most arse end of nowhere feeling border post I have ever passed. A collection of rickety shacks on stilts rising out of the mud, and a whole lot of emaciated chickens pecking around the "Border Area Quarantine Station". Nonetheless, a heavily uniformed man checked our visas, stamped our passports and waved us through. Back on the boat we sped on to the capital, Phnom Penh.

AN EYE OPENER IN PHNOM PEHN

After a long, steaming hot couple of days boating through the Mekong delta, we were looking forward to putting our feet up in the city. What we encountered had a bit of the feel of the Wild West, mixed in with long relaxation sessions, kicking back at our hostel decking on the lake.

Before I get to that, a quick word on the Khmer people. From the moment we arrived until our departure, every single local we met was welcoming and wonderfully friendly. I have never encountered such warmth anywhere else in the world and that, above all else, is why I fell hook, line and sinker for this country. This may in part have been a classic case of a country being extra welcoming after years of isolation, but it must also result from the inherent culture. I loved the place and especially the people.

Back to the Wild West. In many respect I found Phnom Penh a pleasant, comparatively chilled out city (at least by SE Asian standards). We took some enjoyable walks, perusing the markets, strolling the streets up to the river and by the palace. We also saw sizeable shanty towns and some serious poverty. Cambodia is a very poor country, recovering from years of turmoil. 

The crazier times occurred at night. To call the nightlife seedy was an understatement and it was a real shock to a green 20 year old boy. 

As with much of the region, the bars were frequented by scores of prostitutes, trying somehow to make a living. After making it clear that we were not interested in their services, we hanged out with the girls playing pool and chatting about our respective lives. They had a tough time. Many of them were from small villages, taken away from their families at a young age to ply the trade to the profit of others. It was clearly a precarious, difficult life, and you could see how the older girls were hardened, throwing on the extenuated smiles as old western guys passed, before dropping them in a flash

The most shocking part to me was the age of many of the girls. One night, we followed others to a club called "The Heart of Darkness". It was sickening and we did not stay long. Old white men picking up very young girls. I will never forget this old fat man with a beard who resembled Father Christmas, with a girl on his knee who did not look more than 12. These bastards travel half way across the world to do things that they would be ashamed of and locked up for at home. I was later told Gary Glitter frequented the place. Enough said. Disgusting.

At this time Phnomn Penh seemed to attract a number of travellers pushing their limits to sketchy and beyond. As well as girls, this involved copious amounts of drugs. Our nightly ritual involved asking two Canadians blokes at our hostel what they were partaking in that night. They were taking advantage of the ease of getting illegal and prescription drugs to try everything and anything. The one that took me aback the most was rohypnol. They were bloody date raping themselves. Strangely enough they remembered nothing the next day.

Our nights would end sitting out on the deck, chilling out and reminiscing on the strange place we found ourselves. One night I fell asleep there, to awake to my feet being destroyed by mozzies. I counted 26 bights on foot. It was excruciating and, for days afterwards, putting my feet in my boots at was sick making.

THE KILLING FIELDS

We took a day trip to the Killing Fields. In case you are not aware, from 1975 to 1978 Cambodia was the scene of one of the most deplorable regimes in the history of mankind. The Khmer Rouge and their leader Pol Pot took inspiration from Maoist China and sort to impose an extreme view of communism. Along the way they were responsible for the death of an estimated 2 million people, around a quarter of the population. Their purges included minorities and intellectuals. Infamously, speaking a foreign language or even wearing glasses could be enough for a death sentence, being clear signs of deplorable intellectualism.

We found some "guides" who took us to one of the most famous Killing Fields, just outside of the city. We got their on mopeds, desperately trying to hang on the back along the bumpy roads. By the time I arrived, I was not sure if I wanted to be there.  

Now grassed over, we walked past the pits where humans were slaughtered. Men, women and children. A guide from the site explained in some detail how, who and why. All aspect were shocking, but perhaps the why most. Ideological evil. At length we made it to the memorial. Rising high was a tower topped by a pagoda type structure. It had glass doors and, as we approached, it became clear what is housed. Skulls. Thousands upon thousands of the skulls of the murdered. I wanted to be sick. 

Afterwards we went to the remnants of the prisons, where internees were tortured for information before being murdered. You could still see the chains. Somehow it made me feel hollow to see the depths of humanity so close up. I was close to tears.

On departing, our motorbike guides asked us if we wanted the optional add-on to the tour. "You want to shoot guns?". Believe it or not, tourists regularly follow up seeing the horrors of the Killing Fields by going to shoot some stuff. I understand that AK-47s are the standard fair, but anything is on offer if you have the cash. The going price was USD 200 for shooting a cow with a  rocket launcher.

Strangely enough we declined. I could not think of anything I wanted to do less at that moment then to shoot something. Sickening. Why would someone want to shoot a gun after witnessing a memorial to genocide?

ANGKOR

After the best part of a week, we left Phnom Penh, headed for the renowned marvels of Angkor. We travelled by speed boat. Up the river and then right across the Tonle Sap on what felt like an epic voyage. Sunburned and a bit worse for wear, we crossed half the country, travelling some 300 km hanging on to our rucksacks amongst the spray.

It was a fantastic journey. Hour upon hour through the thick, muddy waters, passing locals fishing in their narrow boats, thick jungle, padi fields and houses. The Tonle Sap is a remarkable lake, expanding with the seasons from 2,500 km squared to some 16,000. We were in the midst of the wet season and at it was so vast that points I could barely see either bank. We were skimming across a sea of brown, the engines screaming, the spray sprawling.

At long length, we arrived in Siem Reap, the dingy town which is the staging point for one of he wonders of the world. The ruins of the ancient city of Angkor.

The surrounding region was host to the great capital of the Khmer Empire, at the height of its power from the 9th to the 15th centuries. The remains of the city are vast, and once held a population of up to a million people. Most of the structures are now gone, built of wood, but left behind are the skeletons of over a thousand temples, from rubble to the largest religious monument in the world.

A fair portion of the excitement of visiting Angkor is the surroundings. Much of the area is covered by thick, sticky jungle. We spend 3 days scrambling around the dirt roads on the back of mopeds from temple to temple. We felt like Indian Jones or Lara Croft. We were free to roam all over the amazing structures, while heeding warnings to not walk far into the bush, due to the millions of landmines that still litter this torn land.

Highlights for me included riding through the great ceremonial gates, topped with giant heads, and climbing around the trees that have literally enveloped Ta Prom, roots sprawling over the stones as the forest fights back. We must have visited 20 plus temples. They kept on coming, full of grandeur and wonder. It was not only the scale, but the detail, with nearly every stone covered in careful carvings.  Originally Hindu, and latterly Buddhist, we found an array of gods and peoples strewn all over the temples. It was intoxicating.

Taking a walk across the grass (to avoid the bush with a landmine sign), we had a rather jumpy encounter. A small snake reared up ahead of us and hissed with menace. Not half a meter away from us, I jumped two back as it struck out to bight. A close escape. We moved on to yet another temple buzzing.

The crowning glory of Angkor is Angkor Wat. Quite simply the most remarkable temple I have seen in the world. Over 800 years old, surrounded by a 5 km moat, is a vast complex of walls and galleries, rising to a series of extravagant crenellated peaks. It is a whopping 65 m tall and is simply overwhelming as you cross the moat and pour into its innards.

We had the luxury of spending hours at the temple. In the late afternoons it was nearly empty. So much so, that I spent a lazy hour flipping between sleeping and the view, lying back on one of the upper terraces. It was a thrill every time I glanced out to the jungle and beyond.

On our last afternoon, we were drenched by the heaviest rainstorm I can recall. Soaked to our pants and beyond. Even our passports were drenched, ink worryingly running on the visas. We rode through it screaming wildly on the back mopeds, before it mercifully stopped and we we rode and then climbed up to Phnom Bakeng. 

Another impressive temple, this time atop a hill, providing a vista of temples rising out of the steaming jungle, fields and the remains of the vast reservoirs built by the Khmer. By half coincidence (we had been trying to meet) we bumped into Rachel, the NZ wicker witch who we had travelled with us through China and North Vietnam. It was a stunning place to catch up. Chilling out, looking out over a green world doused with the fire of the sunset and, of course, Angkor Wat itself.

THE WORST HANGOVER OF MY LIFE

To cap our amazing couple of weeks in Cambodia, we went out for one final big night out in Siem Reap. Somewhere along the way we met a Czech guy who, at least at first, seemed very friendly. He bought out some special Czech fire water he had been saving in his backpack and we downed it. Hitting the bars rather cut, we started to notice a less positive side. 

The guy would make odd, negative remarks about the bar girls. Insinuating bad treatment of them. He hooked up with a prostitute and, while they were sitting, was rude and pushy. This concerned both Felix and I and, when the Czech had gone to the bar, we quickly warned her and urged her to make a runner. We paid her USD 10 (double what she was due to be paid by him) by way of recompense and begged that she stay away from him. She left and when he returned we made some excuse and pushed on with the night until dawn.

Walking back to our hostel at first light, we saw her slipping out his room. Perhaps a lesson there, but at least she looked OK.

An hour later and we were on the 12 hour bus over to Thailand and on to Bangkok. Not long after embarking the hangover kicked in. I do not know what on earth was in the Czech stuff (or god knows what else we were drinking), but I was violently sick. A headache beyond hell and guts full of acid.

What I remember of that road was pure agony. Quite possibly the worst road I have ever gone on, divots, pothole after pothole and skiddy mud. It was bloody hot, humid and just wanted to crawl into a ball and leave this world. According to Felix, I moaned on repeat, smashing the perspex window that was my only sanctuary. Serves me right.

Finally, thankfully, we made it to Thai border. Perhaps out of sympathy for the destroyed looks on our faces, the Cambodian guards ignored the unreadable date stamp on our visas and let us through. What lay ahead was smooth, tarmacked roads and one hell of a weekend in Bangkok. Cambodia, had though been one hell of a crazy time...

(Go to Part 7)

Flashback 02: Tombs, tunnels and tailors - Vietnam North to South

Hong Kong to Bangkok summer 2002 – Part 5 

(See Part 4)

I was quite sad to leave Hanoi. A truly fascinating city, full of a myriad of sight, sounds and smells. Somehow, despite the endless motorbikes, it retains a charming chilled out quality. A really intoxicating mix of old colonial mansions, chaotic markets, baguettes, noodles and old people doing early morning lakeside tai-chi (

A long route lay ahead of us, all the way down the coast of Vietnam, across Cambodia and into Thailand for a flight back in 5 weeks. We had to get moving (we being Felix, me and Rachel, a NZ wicker witch we met in China).

DRAGON BOATS AND THE DMZ

Our next destination was the old capital of Hue, some 700 km down the coastline. It took us two days on buses with an overnight stop. The road wound in and out from the coast. There were some very beautiful sections, especially by the ocean and, inland, more padi fields than I could count. Sustenance was maintained through noodles and some unidentified food at dingy bus stop-offs, one of which frequented by some awesomely friendly kids.

In Hue, Felix, Rachel and I squeezed into a tiny room complete with some seriously impressive wall rot and head out to explore the city. Right in the middle of Vietnam, Hue has been the chief city of various dynasties for centuries, leaving some really impressive sights. We were in luck, it was a national holiday, with two great benefits. Everything was free and, as we took a boat down the perfume river, we were greeted by the spectacle of mass dragon boat races.

We toured around a number of temples and palaces, including the Imperial City of the Nguyen emperors. Each of the sites was impressive, but I was particularly taken aback by a mausoleum covered with reverse swastikas, a symbol of Buddha bastardised by the Nazis.

The next day we set aside for the DMZ. Hue is in central Vietnam and very close to the front line between North Vietnamese and South Vietnamese/US troops, demarked by the DMZ (de-militarised zone). It was a very humbling day. So many Hollywood movies have focused on the hell hole of fighting in "Nam" and how it screwed up American troops. Our guide rightly focused far more on the what it did to the Vietnamese of both sides. The war left well over 3 million dead with the majority being civilians. Astoundingly horrible.

Our guide took us to the tunnels where Viet Cong and civilians hid out. One hole in the wall was labelled the "maternity ward". We then trekked along a section of the Ho Chi Minh trail (the famed Viet Cong supply line that was bombed to hell by the US, but somehow maintained), failing to hold ourselves back from singing the associated Robin Williams ditty. 

At length I spoke to the guide, asking his views on the conflict. While he was fiercely critical of the Americans, he explained that US involvement was only one part of a much wider conflict against the French, Chinese and amongst the Vietnamese themselves. To my surprise, he said he no longer had an issue with the Americans, but hated the Chinese - "the Americans fucked us for 10 years, the Chinese have been trying to fuck us for 500".

TAILORS, A CRASH AND THE BEST BAR

After a night out a shaving some guy's hair off, I got the shits pretty bad. Almost recovered, we took the journey not too far south to the charming city of Hoi An. For the first time since Yangshuo, it was a place I really chilled out. We mainly stopped off for the famed tailoring. The cities specialists would make anything you want for a ridiculous price. 

Not one to generally care about clothing, I still left with an extra 4 kgs of weight on my back, including  a nice tailored suit for $40 (2 sets of pants as well), 2/3 metres of silk for my girlfriend and the silliest trousers in the world. I kid you not that the legs had 1.3 metre circumference each at the foot, "Jimbo" embroidering and hidden pockets.

Felix and I hired mopeds for the first time in our lives from a friendly old Vietnamese lady. It was exhilarating speeding around the surrounding padi fields, dodging potholes with a big grin. Predictably it did not end well. Felix confused the throttle with the break, spurted forward, skidded, spurted, stopped and then lurched forward into a lamppost. He took a bit of a knock and the bike a big scrape. On handing it back to the old lady, Felix received a big slap in the face. We paid for the damage, but she was understandably incensed by these stupid westerners.

Hoi An also had the most surprisingly wonderful bar I have ever visited - Tam Tam. No doubt that view emanated in part from a month of drinking shitty beer from small plastic chairs, but this place felt perfect. Worn leather chairs, big fans, perfect ice cold beer and a not too dodgy pool table. Perfect.

SAIGON AND ON TO THE DELTA

After a full night session, with a killer hangover and the shits, we jumped on the 6 am 13 hour significantly bumpy bus south to Nha Trang. It is fair to say it was not a pleasant ride, although I do recall probably the most stunning section of coast road, squeezed between cliffs, beaches and the open ocean.

We had left Rachel in Hoi An and were now travelling with Matt, an accountant who had packed it all in for a while. A day chilling by the beach and we jumped back on a bus south to Ho Chi Minh City, the former Saigon. 

I found Saigon hectic, crazy, noisy, polluted and hot. I also had a great time. We spent a few days seeing the sights and drinking with locals until dawn. The latter mostly involved gallons of beer and ice (at approx USD 1 for 7 pints), small plastic tables and chairs by whizzing traffic and conversation about everything and nothing.

We could not but go to the Museum of American War Crimes. It was shocking. Alongside pieces of hardware, were sickening photos documenting the results of the bombing of civilians with napalm. There were even jars showing fetuses deformed by Agent Orange. It was all too much, No wonder I found the Vietnamese wary of foreigners. They have been screwed over like very few nations on earth and are understandably proud of their hard fought independence (not forgetting the atrocities that both North and South Vietnamese committed themselves). Such a complicated and difficult history, that I felt I had barely scratched the surface of. 

After 3 weeks, our time in 'Nam had come to an end. We grabbed our bags, loaded into a car down bumpy, windy roads to the Mekong Delta and jumped on a long, wooden speed boat. We raced through the deep brown channels past banks of reed and palms and failing to spot river dolphins. It was stinking hot and humid, but a real experience. Our final stop was for lunch with a nice family on a small island, before speeding up the Mekong to one of the most "out there" border posts I have ever been to. Cambodia and some crazy times awaited.

(Go to Part 6)

Delfinia stin Hellada!!!

The decimation of nature across the globe is tragic. Ecosystems that have flourished for thousands upon thousands of years are crashing all around us as man takes in an unsustainable, reckless manner. One of the biggest issues is the loss of apex predators, keystone species that are fundamental to the maintenance of complicated food webs and the biodiversity they entail.

The oceans are a particular case in point. Shark, pinniped (seals) and cetacean (whales and dolphins) numbers are in most places a fraction of what they once where, with a corresponding loss to the wider environment. It is in part springing from this depressing context, that I took such utter unabridged joy from a spectacle while swimming with my family off Evia (Greece).

A wonderful time making rock mountains and searching for crabs in the shallows with my son was interrupted by an excited shout from my wife and arms pointing further out to sea. I dragged my head out of the water and heard the word "Dolphins!"

I scanned the sea, and yes, there was one, 50 meters out shooting across the bay. Then another, then another. Before I knew it there were dozens of dolphins breaking the surface like whack-a-mole. While my son moved back on to the beach to show his brother, I excitedly swam out towards the dolphins and rest of the family.

A pod of at least 30 dolphins came straight past us heading north up the coast. The closest ones can't have been more than 20 meters away, clear against the misty mountain backdrop. As if it could not get better, some of them started breaching. I can barely describe how exhilarating it was. My joy burst out and I found myself calling to the wonderful creatures. Better than that, I could hear the palpable excitement bubbling out from across the family, with my daughter giggling and boys' shouting "dolphins!".

One of the boys had the composure to get out my phone and film a short clip of the action from the beach. That his thrill shows itself in fingers on lense and camera jumping around only adds to the clip for me. I am so happy that my kids can still experience such wonders of nature. 

Future generations may not be so lucky, unless we take concerted action to halt and then, where possible, reverse the destruction now. Seeing pods of such size in the massively depleted waters of Greece gives me hope. While so much is gone, all is not lost...