I've never been in a grocery aisle like this in Canada, I mused, strolling along the Athenian meat market's wet concrete floor. Beyond a stack of sheep heads, I could see tables piled high with a scaly riot ofumfragrant sea-foods, dead and alive. As I looked closer, scanning the tangled tentacles which sprawled across a nearby squid table, I realized something important:

I was falling.

Not in love, but down.

This is awkward, I concluded, skidding to the floor (did I mention it was wet?) amidst a chorus of oh's!‚ from onlookers.

I'M FINE,‚ I announced, leaping upright. A wet swatch spiraled along my shins, mingled with white particles which reminded me of crushed ice. I didn't want to perform a klutzy brush-off dance right there, so I scuttled outside and continued walking. Twenty minutes later, I paused to inspect how the swatch was drying.

Those white bits are still there.

Bending, I picked one off my shin.

It was a fish scale.

I've literally been walking around Athens for 20 minutes with my shins covered in fish scales. That WoULD happen.

So, what glorious goal had sent me sliding over slippery surfaces in (no pun intended) Greece? It was the next phase of my mission to backpack 360around the world in 180 days documenting Christian students' university experiences. And fortunately, my interviews with local Christians went much more smoothly than my market excursion. But you might say, they were just as meaty.