FLIGHT FROM ATHENS TO MYKONOS - KOREAN AIRLINE TICKET - STUDENT TRAVEL AIRFARE.
Flight From Athens To Mykonos
- A Greek island in the Aegean Sea, one of the Cyclades
- "Mykonos" is the third single from indie folk band Fleet Foxes, from their 2008 EP Sun Giant. It was released in the UK on January 27, 2009, by European label Bella Union; in the format of 7" vinyl as well as a digital download, and peaked at number 53 on the UK Single Chart.
- Mykonos (???????) is a Greek island and a top tourist destination, renowned for its cosmopolitan character which attract large numbers of tourists. The island is part of the Cyclades, lying between Tinos, Syros, Paros and Naxos.
- In the Mykonos restaurant assassinations of 17 September 1992, Iranian-Kurdish opposition leaders Sadegh Sharafkandi, Fattah Abdoli, Homayoun Ardalan and their translator Nouri Dehkordi were assassinated at the Mykonos Greek restaurant in Berlin, Germany.
- a formation of aircraft in flight
- shoot a bird in flight
- Shoot (wildfowl) in flight
- (in soccer, cricket, etc.) Deliver (a ball) with well-judged trajectory and pace
- an instance of traveling by air; "flying was still an exciting adventure for him"
- The capital of Greece, in the southern part of the country; pop. 3,096,775. A flourishing city-state in ancient Greece, it was an important cultural center in the 5th century bc. It came under Roman rule in 146 bc and fell to the Goths in ad 267. After its capture by the Turks in 1456, Athens declined to the status of a village until chosen as the capital of a newly independent Greece in 1834
- A city in southeastern Ohio, the seat of Ohio University; pop. 21,265
- a town in southeast Ohio
- A city in northeastern Georgia, the seat of the University of Georgia; pop. 45,734
- the capital and largest city of Greece; named after Athena (its patron goddess); "in the 5th century BC ancient Athens was the world's most powerful and civilized city"
- a university town in northeast Georgia
Journal Entry for July 10, 2004:
Peter Chopra arrived in Athens an hour or so after I did. But he’s Indian, a Resident Alien living in San Diego who has the complexion of a terrorist. While my passport was not even checked upon arrival in Greece, his was pored over. The Company hadn’t advised him to arrange a work visa beforehand, and since he was without one, Customs officials decided to hold him in a cell. For eight hours they held him, and then they sent him on a flight to New York City where he stayed for another week while the red tape was tinkered with. His story was a great subject of conversation here before he got back.
He arrived on 4 July to much praise and pity, and with more optimism than could have been expected. His Hindi accent is heavy (I grin every time he says “pur-chase-ing”), but is also laden with the Southern-Cali mellow tone, and because of this and his deep laugh he reminds me of an old friend. His work ethic is typical for an immigrant, and I am glad that we are partners in the office.
In the office we go mad. Already our nickname is “The Red Bull Brothers.” Nobody understands the CBORD hell but those who work with it, just like we can’t understand the chefs’ trials. We get out later than everyone else and because of this have few opportunities to socialize with anyone but each other. Peter and I have both developed a love for €1.60 gyros kotopoulos and €1.50 Heinekens and we go out of our way to find new places that have them, singing our gyros song all the way. He is Gyros, I’m Koto, and we’re looking for our Poulos. I joked that when we find her I’ll have the tzaziki sauce ready. Funny ha-ha.
At work we immediately agreed that since the system was so confusing to us, we would cover each other’s back. So far our agreement has worked to perfection. The idea also carried outside the office. Yesterday (9 July), he had to go to the police station to get some official stamps for his work permit. They really do give him a lot of grief over here because of his color, but he’s quite gracious with it all. In Delhi, he comes from a respected family (his father is a professor of economics), but here he is the object of much discrimination. The first time he went to the station they gave him the run-around and sent him back to the office to make copies of documents, not having the decency to do it themselves. Welcome to Greece, right? He came back, flustered and sweaty from the ordeal, and for the first time was noticeably irritated with the situation. He had only 20 minutes to make the copies, get back to the police station, take care of the visa issue, and make the 5:15 at Omonia Square. If he missed the train, the next bus at Kiffisia wouldn’t arrive until 9:30. We’d spent all day packing up the office, preparing for the move to the Village, so things around the joint were already hectic and ramshackle. I gathered up his things while he made his copies, and we were out the door at 5.
It was like Run Lola Run. We sprinted down Stadiou Ave. in the hot Athens sun, dodging beggars, gypsies, heroin mimes, kiosks, cars, motorcycles, sidewalk potholes and machine-gun toting, cigarette-smoking policemen with baffled expressions across their faces. We made it through Omonia Square unscathed. Peter stopped for a second to remember that he’d forgotten where the station was. Omonia can be confusing that way, particularly since, like the rest of the city, it’s undergoing massive renovations. I gave directions to a Japanese tourist who was looking for an internet cafe, sending him down to the madness of Agora, remembering later that I’d glimpsed the place in the opposite direction. Oh well. After that debacle, I had to run up to strangers going “poo ine police? Poo ine police?” I only hoped that the locals wouldn’t send us on a vast side trip, like when I went looking for the USB cord and was directed quite happily by a succession of Samaritans into the hills. They pointed Peter and me down one street, down another, and by some miracle we actually found the place. Unfortunately there was a line. I checked the time. 5:08. No time to wait. “Go!”
Peter looked at me like I was crazy. He finds it very difficult to be rude.
“Just go! I’ll handle them.” And we cut ahead of the Athenians, who went into a furious uproar. They came towards us, gesturing madly, screaming at us and pointing to the back of the line. I turned and put my arms up, loudly explaining the situation, that we’d been here three times today already, had been turned away each time, and if we weren’t accepted this time would have to wait until tomorrow in the city with no place to stay (one of them translated for the rest). Of course no one was buying it, but the stall had given Peter a chance to slip into the Captain’s office, which meant I was left to the wolves. “Signomi, signomi,” I repeated, and then started handing out cigarettes. They quieted after that.
Peter came out of the Captain’s office after only two minutes. His w
Our Airbus 320-200 from Mykonos to Athens ( October 2009 ).
Our Aegean Airlines flight to Athens from Mykonos after staying 8 days on this beautiful island! ( October 2009 ).
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