I felt like Odysseus as I set sail in a traditional Greek fishing boat on my first epic sea voyage from Athens harbour to the port of Alexandria in Egypt. I was delighted to be able to sit out on deck and finally be forced into relaxing — the hardest decision I had to make was which trashy novel I was going to read first.

My body was totally worn out from a week of all-night toga parties and constant sightseeing. Even my shoes had fallen apart from the hectic dawn until dusk schedule.

Fascinating myths and legends of the classical Greek ruins, the West’s oldest and most ancient monuments, combined with the endless exotic islands and beautiful azure beaches, had inspired my trip in the first place. Dressing up in a hotel sheets and making a complete fool of myself had not. Somehow in the overwhelming heat a cotton, white sheet was the perfect outfit for keeping cool, but not for being seen as cool.

Since I had studied classics at school I had dreamed of going to the place where the Olympics originated and classical art abounded. So I was extremely sad on that wind-swept morning to be leaving Athens and it’s mad bouzouki music, outdoor tavernas selling Souvlaki by the bucket full, and the capital’s endless range of hip night clubs. Most of all though, it was the mysterious and moody Orthodox priests trailing long dark robes and disappearing into the endless maze of back streets which would remain etched in my memory forever.

For me the Parthenon, a religious centre and military fortress in its time, was the most remarkable ancient ruins I had ever seen. They weaved a spell from the moment I entered the Beule Gate. Their charm and grace was ageless despite the huge tourist numbers and large amount of scaffolding propping them up. Both compelling and fascinating, they were large enough to hide the enormous numbers of backpackers who melted away behind the broken-down temple stones and rubble strewn across the ground as one entered the main arena. It was also the perfect place for the stray Athenian cats to play hide and seek, before curling up and going to sleep.

The Acropolis was much wider than I first expected, so preparing for hours of sightseeing means wearing a damn good pair of running shoes, because despite much of it being cordoned off there is fair amount of climbing to do to see it all.

The architecture, particularly the Parthenon’s, is an optical illusion in size. From afar it looks like it’s bending under the weight of its pedestal, but the closer one gets to the classical ruin, the more it turns into perfectly straight lines.

It felt even more forbidding and awesome looking back at it from the tiny fishing boat bobbing along on the Aegean sea. Its tiny temple of Athena stands out like a beacon on the edge of the cliff, welcoming all those who alighted on the Greek shores. It watched over everyone who set off in search of new adventures on the high seas.

The Doric-columned Parthenon with its elaborate surrounding frieze known as the Virgin’s Apartment keeps vigil over Athens, protecting the capital from its enemies. I returned to the ruins many times discovering something new and out of the ordinary on each occasion. The pedestal with its elaborate carvings told many a tale of the bygone era, although sadly some of the endings and middle bits of the frieze are missing.

Pieces were stolen by Lord Elgin and taken to England for so called safekeeping, making understanding the ancient stones extremely tricky with so many vital pieces of the plot missing. The only real option to fill in the gaps is to pay a visit to the British Museum when you get back to London.

As the fishing boat went full speed ahead, Athens quickly became a dot on the horizon and then vanished altogether. It was great travelling with the locals, instead of going on the exorbitant five-star tourist ferry. Contrary to what the guidebooks say there are plenty of boats going to and from Egypt and the captains are always happy to take a few tourists at a fraction of the price of the ferry. One friend got a lift on a millionaire’s yacht and another was paid to work as crew on a boat.

Fishing boats might be a lot slower, but what’s the rush anyway? Some of the charms of travelling with the locals is stopping at different islands along the way to sell the fishing boat’s morning’s catch in the local market and to swim with a pod of dolphins.

In fact, when we finally docked in Alexandria, it was a real shock to be back in a big bustling city. The bouzouki street music was replaced by the Muslim call to prayer. Restaurants served burnt black fish and Shisha water pipe tobacco smoking in cafés had replaced drinking cheap red wine. The women walked around in veils and by nine in the evening they had all vanished into the safety of their homes.

Egypt might have been a short journey by sea, but it was a massive cultural leap that required more than just a sheet to cover up.

Fact File

Money: Credit cards and travellers cheques are the most flexible currency in Athens. The main office is on 2 Ermou Street, PO Box 3325. Times to visit the Acropolis: Monday to Friday during summer. Visiting hours are 8am to 6pm on Saturday and Sunday. Holiday hours are 8.30am to 2.30pm. Student cards will get you in half price. Your ticket includes entry to the Acropolis museum, which includes the original Caryatids of the Erechtheum so don’t throw it away.

Getting from Greece to Egypt: Go down to the docks at the Piraeus in Athens or telephone the port authority to find out what boats are in and then haggle.

Cheap accommodation: Athens International Hostel is on 16, Victor Hugo Street. While Youth Hostel Association membership is a must, this place has plenty of cheap rooms, including sheets.