Greece's air of confusion

The new airport in Athens will greet arrivals for the 2004 Olympics

Kieran Cooke

Do countries and people change?

At four o'clock in the morning, standing at the glittering new Athens airport, it seemed Greece had transformed itself.

A long line of shiny taxis waited. In the old days, at the shabby former airport, passengers would arrive to a fug of officialdom and cigarette smoke to find one battered vehicle being argued over by a crowd seemingly on the brink of a collective heart attack.

Many is the time I was trampled upon - usually by an old lady dressed head-to-toe in black who only the most foolish traveller would dare to cross.

Taxis are easy to find at the airport

In the golden morning light the taxi sped to the port of Piraeus.

The driver quickly put me right about the emergence of a new Greece.

"The airport was built and is run by the Germans." His tone was not complimentary. Both hands were taken from the wheel and slowly revolved. Eyes were shut and brow raised.

"Those Germans,they are too efficient. No fun."

Waiting to sail

At Piraeus, normal service was resumed.

It was almost a relief to see, as in the old days, a crowd - never a queue - besieging the ticket office.

There was that magical whiff of chaos and confusion in the air - the feeling that anything could happen - and it probably would.

I got on the boat.

And waited - and waited.

A crackling announcement. There was a lightening strike by coastguards.

The boat would not be leaving.

Amid shouting and plenty of ripe gesticulating, back to the ticket office, to shove and refund a fare, then join another scrummage to buy another ticket for another boat.

This happened three times.

Finally, after six hours, we sailed out of port.

Sailing from Piraeus

The Greeks have sayings or phrases for most occasions: "Eginay hammos" which means there was turmoil - confusion, a muddle.

It can apply to many situations - not only ferry travel.

It is said, not in criticism but with an excited air - the idea that you just haven't lived if there's not a bit of shouting and yelling - a bit of sheer, adrenaline pumping chaos.

Based in Athens, I did find such excitement, on a day-to-day basis, difficult to take - particularly when it came to travel matters.

No problem

Enter as saviour what every foreign correspondent needs almost more than a notepad - a good travel agent.

Nik Demertzis worked out of a small, dark office, up a none-too-smart stairway in the centre of the city.

Born in Egypt, with family in various parts of the globe, Nik had a worldly air about him.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, was a problem.

A ticket to London when you've been told the flight is chronically overbooked?

No problem.

A taxi driver who will take you through the night to Bulgaria?

A visa for Libya?

A room in that overcrowded hotel?

Somehow, Nik had connections. He always knew someone who owed him a favour.

A cabin to Crete

Once, after I had left Greece, I rang up Nik to ask if he could book a cabin on a boat to Crete.

"No problem Mr Cookie," said Nik down a crackling line to London.

"You go to the boat, you go on board and you see - what do you call that man? - ah, yes, the purser.

And you tell him "Nik sent me." Now repeat after me. "Nik sent me." I did.

"Bravo," said Nik. "Everything is fine."

Arriving at the boat, everything was far from fine.

Ferries ply between the Greek islands

First, the struggle up the gangplank with hoards of other pushing, shoving passengers. Inside, chaos and confusion, that Greek "Eginay hammos" was evident in a big way.

Sacks of luggage tumbled everywhere.

Passengers, veins pulsating on their faces shouted at one lone official dressed in sailor white.

An old lady, yes, all in black, gave me a shuddering elbow in the solar plexus.

Polite queries about my cabin proved useless.

After several minutes I decided on more stirring action, pushing my way through the mob to within shouting distance of the now profusely sweating purser.

I bellowed. "Nik sent me."

Olympics ahead

It was as if Zeus himself had just appeared.

The purser paused in mid-gesticulation. He took me by the arm and pulled me through the crowd.

A door was opened and on the other side was pure heaven. A quiet lounge, facing out onto a brilliant red sunset.

People were sipping evening drinks and reading newspapers.

Greece is the venue for the Olympics the year after next. Officials say everything is under control and on schedule.

The locals, staring at holes in the ground that might - or might not - become stadia and swimming pools - are more sceptical.

Whatever happens, Greece would not be Greece without a healthy helping of chaos and confusion.

But there again, maybe Nik - the trusty travel agent - might be put in charge. Then, I'm sure, there will be no problem.