Before I could head off into the town, I had a bit of paperwork and internet stuff to do, and found myself boarding the shuttle bus at about 11:30.

Now, all I have to say about Heraklion itself, really, is that its a city pretty much like any other. The taxi driver dropped people off assuring us that this is where we could be picked up from, and I started walking. As I say; apart from the Greeks themselves, who look different and dress slightly differently, and certainly talk differently (obviously), this could have been the centre of Manchester or Derby. I headed for where I assumed the waterfront would be, to take some photos and video.

Another thing that struck me about the place was how many mopeds there were - hundreds of 'em, all weaving in and out of the cars, and although I'm sure someone must have had right of way, it was rather difficult at times to figure out who. Pedestrian crossings, I'm sure, are there for nothing more that decoration, because no matter how long you stood at the roadside and waited for traffic to stop, it just never seemed to. Most people just hurled themselves into the road and weaved their own way through the traffic, along with the mopeds - no wonder they all seem to walk around with worry-beads in their hands! Not everyone, but many of them - I only saw men with them, and most were older men, but not exclusively. In fact, the city-bound taxi driver had some, I noticed, which he kept between his knees and fiddled with every time we were stood in stationary traffic. I know they were worry beads, because I saw them on sale outside several shops, where they advertised personalised worry beads made while you wait.

According to the map we are provided with on ship (not terribly accurate most of them, but a useful source of information for the occasional, short-term visitor), there was an internet cafe situated somewhere down near the harbour. As it had been a while since I'd had the opportunity to, hopefully, update my blog photo, I decided to look for it. Eventually, I found it, tucked away down a side alley, barely close to where the map said it should be. From the outside, though, I wasn't sure if it was open or not. It had dark, tinted windows to prevent you looking in, and it looked very spooky and seedy indeed. But, hey, I was a man on a mission, so I walked through the front door...

Inside, it was dark, and there were banks upon banks of computers, many of which had mainly young men sat at them, playing all manner of whizz-bang computer games. The cocophony of lasers, explosions, zapping, bashing and wooshing sounds combined with the heavy rock soundtrack blasting out from somewhere gave the whole thing a surreal quality. Trying to look cool (I still had my shades on), I walked toward where there seemd to be a counter and whipped out my USB gizmo. I asked the young lady in charge there, as best as I could, if it was okay to plug my USB flashdrive in and upload a photo. It seems, no matter what language people speak, at least USB and Flashdrive is universal, and she understood exactly what I wanted to do.

So, in this wierd, science fiction style gamers sweat-shop, I finally managed to upload a photograph of me at the pyramids - see left!! Cool huh?

After achieving this, I realised there wasn't too much left of interest here. I purchased another couple of gifts from a souvenir shop, and headed back to the taxi pick-up point. After hailing him, the driver asked me if I was a passenger. I said yes, then started to correct myself and said I was a lecturer on board. He looked anxious and said "Passenger or no?" I said Passenger, and he motioned for me to get in. As I was the first, he would have to wait, he explained, until 2 or 3 more came along, and I said that was okay. The next two people to arrive, wanting a lift back to the ship, were two musicians from the Saga Ruby Orchestra. He asked them, as they climbed into the back seat, if they were passengers or crew and they said crew, at which point he said no, no, he was not allowed to carry them and asked them to get out. I turned and said to one of the blokes, "but you're a passenger aren't you?" and kind of winked at him, to say IF YOU WANT A LIFT, YOU'VE GOT TO SAY YOU'RE A PASSENGER without actually saying it. The musician started to cotton on, but it was too late, the taxi driver refused to take him, saying he'd had specific instructions which he would be in serious trouble for if he didn't carry out to the letter.

Everyone on board has a white (credit-card-type) card, which gives them access to their cabin, is used when purchasing drinks at the bar, and in fact is used here, in the computer room to enable you to access the internet. Crew members' cards have their photograph on them, passengers do not, they just have name, cabin number details and a bar-code which is scanned whenever you leave the ship and is scanned again when you return to the ship, thus enabling them to know precisely who is, or who isn't present. Now, I can't vouch for the musicians, but I do know that lecturers contracts with saga specifically say that their status on board ship is PASSENGER.

This afternoon I have work to do - it's a sea-day tomorrow (we set sail for Palermo in Sicily, at 1800 hours), and I'll have a workshop scheduled for the afternoon, so I have some preparation to catch up on, and studio-sketching from some of the photos I've taken over the last few days. This afternoon I've agreed to have a table tennis game with Dolci, a woman from one of our opposing quiz teams, and a veteran of cruising. I've played her before and she seems quite good - I'll let you know if I win, later!