Original URL: http://www.theregister.co.uk/2006/11/02/igf_blog_wed/

IGF: The good, the bad and the psycho cleaners

If you want to get on in Athens, steal a waiter uniform

By Kieren McCarthy

Posted in Media, 2nd November 2006 01:41 GMT

The Greeks drove me to it. Last night, under the cover of conference quietness, I sneaked into the Apollon hotel store room and stole a waiter uniform. I’m not proud of it, but I am proudly wearing it today one for simple reason - I want my own coffee and water, and I don't want to have to wait 10 minutes for it to be served to me.

It's amazing quite how much animosity a Greek waiter in a posh five-star hotel can portray with his eyes but I was at then end of a full blast when, already late for a workshop, I circumvented the sophisticated system of standing in a three-people-deep scrum waving empty coffee cups, by trying to reach around and fill up the cup myself. I thought that since he was pouring a water at the other end of his domain, he wouldn’t notice or care. Not to be.

Greek service continues to befaddle me. Getting the bill takes longer than cooking the food. And despite the express promises of the hosts that they would make quick grab-food like fruit and sandwiches available for busy delegates - you have no choice if you want food than to sit down to a restaurant meal.

It's become treasured knowledge that the bar (and restaurant on the first floor) of the hotel opposite - the Amarilla - serves food fast. So yesterday a secretive stream of conference folk legged it across the road, braving the rain in order to be able to eat before they had to head back in to a meeting. It's a serious problem: I literally did not eat anything from 8am to 8pm on Monday because I didn't have an hour to spare during the day. On the Sunday, I didn't eat lunch until 4pm.

Cranky

I also know for a fact that a much commented-upon put-down by a panelist earlier this week was because they hadn’t eaten and felt cranky. After they had eaten, this person proceeded to apologise for the remark to anyone that asked why they had said it. I found out because I was planning to highlight the comment in an article. Having suffered the pangs of hunger the same day, I have self-censored myself.

You want a conspiracy theory? The club sandwiches in the main hotel bar area - the fastest food in the hotel with an average 20-minute service (minimum time with scoffing: 45 minutes) - cost 15 euros. Yes, 15 euros. And you can’t even grab it - it has to be held on a plate, speared with a toothpick in a desperately effort to hold it together. Take that pick out and you can add another five minutes.

Why the obsession with time? Because at any given time, there are three workshops going on and a main session. There is one gap for half-an-hour between 1pm and 1.30pm but apart from that it is straight through from 9.30am through to 7pm. Because there are four things going on, you are forced to make snap decisions - and then, having sat in one workshop for 15 minutes and realising you have probably chosen the dullest of the four, you then have to up and leave and try your luck elsewhere.

I can go on and on like this, typing away while words drip in my ears but it might be useful to do what every meeting needs to do: be punchy.

IGF pros

IGF cons

Stephen Spielberg's Duel in a Greek hotel room

I should mention here by the way that I have somehow ended up in a long-distance battle of wills with my hotel’s cleaner. It all started when I got back to my hotel room, on Saturday, and found that I didn’t have the two large towels (I only really need one, but that was one more than I had).

I went to reception and asked if I could have two towels. I should have known something was up when all he was interested in was the room number. No promise the deliver them but he made sure he had the right hotel room. The towels never showed. I dried with the small hand-towels and decided to let it go. But the next day, although the big towels were there - the bath mat had gone.

I had a strange sense at the time that there was something funny going on here, but I put it down to paranoia. Until the next night. The towels were there - all of them. Except when I went to dry myself after a shower in the morning, I discovered that the big towels are in fact hand towels, hanging to look like big towels. Now, what cleaner accidentally puts small towels on a rail that they have stick big towels on for months?

Still not convinced? At the same time I first mentioned that I didn’t have any large towels, I complained that I couldn’t open the glass doors to the balcony - I needed fresh air. The night before I had literally attacked the catch with a knife in a fruitless effort to get an the chair outside with a nice view of the hills in the cool night air. Couldn’t get it open.

The next night, I try again. Nothing. And I wasn’t pussy-footing about. I systematically tried every combination of locks and pulls and they all failed. Brute force nearly saw me put my hand through the glass. And then I noticed... the chairs and table on the balcony had been rearranged. They had been in the middle on the balcony, now they were pushed up against the left wall.

I’m not sure how to say this but: a psycho Greek cleaner is playing mind games with me! And believe me, after 12 hours in a conference centre talking about Internet governance, that is not a comforting prospect. God only knows what I will discover tonight. I am taking some protection.

Wired and wild

I got it! I finally got a wired connection up the front for the official blog watcher. It has taken three days, conversations with the organisers of the conference - both United Nations and Greek - a discussion with the hotel’s conference manager, three arguments with Greek technicians, two arguments with Greek TV (sitting on a far Ethernet exchange) but finally it was Patrick Foltstrom - the man from Cisco who rebuilt the hotel’s entire wireless network and so earned the respect of the Greek technicians who finally did it.

I was told flat-out that there was no way I could get an Ethernet cable for the 10th time. I took the engineer to Patrick. “If there is one person in this room that needs to have access to the Internet it is the person who is watching the blogs online - he is this man.” I came back from lunch - and there it was. I have never been so happy to see a Cat5 in my life. ®