After hard partying in Ios my backpacking friend and I were looking forward to a quiet stay in Santorini and went to bed early. Waking in the night to find a strange man sitting on the chair by my bed I was terrified. Worse still, I couldn’t move or even utter a sound. I tried frantically to move and eventually, with super human effort, I finally managed to move a foot and at last open my mouth to scream before running out of the room yelling at full volume: “There’s a man in my room and I don’t know who it is.” I was naked and didn’t have much trouble getting the attention of a group of French men at the restaurant next door. The gallant Gauls grabbed a stick, jumped over the small wall separating us and raced into my room where Karen was sitting in bed silently. The men soon came out again shrugging their shoulders and saying: “There eeees no man inside.” “Where did he go?” I asked Karen. She handed me a sheet and spoke slowly: “I didn’t see any man, Annabel.” Then I burst into tears wailing: “I think I’ve had a bad trip.” Our French heroes made their excuses and fled but Santorini’s a small island and we kept bumping into them. Then it was my turn to flee as they sniggered and pointed at the crazy English girl. Never mind the real dangers of traveling, it seemed like the biggest threat was inside my head. It’s a shame I’ve lost contact with my old travel friend now but some memories last forever. I bet they still remember their old friend Tripper.
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