A protagonist's notes

I threw whatever I came across into a suitcase - without even looking. I just picked up anything clean and on top of the drawers. I filled the large one mainly with jeans (and added three or four ties for the Patriarchate (residence of the Head of the Greek-Orthodox Church) and formal events). I thought of taking my rucksack as well - half empty. At that moment I couldn't think at all of what I would need. I've been in Istanbul before and it is humid. I took plenty of t-shirts. A few more people would be coming a couple of days later, so I could just tell them to drop by the house and pick up anything I had forgotten. The second rucksack was a good idea. I would be foresight. If they brought me any more clothes there wouldn't be room for them in the suitcase. There was no way I could find the time to buy a new one. I wasn't nervous. I was tired. I came home from the party at 3.00 a.m. There was no time to rest after the trip to London.

After continuous travelling you get a new sense of time. You go from one place to the other and concentrate the impressions in your mind - you begin to have the feeling that your days get bigger in order to include destinations, flights, airports, people. It's like your memories get over-crowded - I think that's what happens to me lately. Maybe that's why I keep photographing all the time. I'm leaving this afternoon.

There were lots of people in the airport. It was touching to see so much enthusiasm on their faces. Sometimes I observe them and make scenarios: what kind of people they are, what their homes are like, where they live, the route they follow to come and see me, what they talk about in the car, where they'll go after. I pick out some faces that stay in my mind. They are references, images that I keep.

I took a book to read during the flight but didn't open it. The plane was one of those small aircrafts of the Olympic Airlines, filled with members of the delegation. I'm in an intermediate state between tranquillity and anticipation

I couldn't imagine there would be so many people at the Istanbul airport. It was a very warm reception. I didn't expect the Turks to be like that.

At the Patriarchate you feel like you are in a different dimension. It feels like time has stopped and you are in a shelter. I remember the wooden roof, the paving... I want to be there again. When you're there you feel like a different person, overwhelmed by a unique sense of serenity. His Holiness is exceptionally affable, he doesn't make you feel uncomfortable - I don't think he follows some strict protocol. He has a sense of humour. He did ask for one of the t-shirts I sign. He treated us to some "vanilla submarines" (traditional Greek candy) which I hadn't had since I was a kid.

Due to contest security I had to have four bodyguards, like every other participant. I met them. They were very polite, they seemed excited that they were assigned to the Greeks.

The hotel was decent. It had been booked for the delegation. Perhaps, if I had a choice, I would prefer the "Chiragan" - it is located on the most beautiful spot in Istanbul with a view of the Bosporus. There's also the "Four Seasons", luxurious as well, which is constructed in the old jailhouse (this combination of luxury and prison is somewhat odd, I'd be curious to see the rooms).

Istanbul has not changed. It gives you the impression that it is one of those extraordinary cities you cannot imagine they'll ever change - not in a lifetime anyhow. It's like decades don't count here. You are overwhelmed by the city - I think this is the right expression. You cannot get over it, walk around and cease to gaze, cease to be surprised. Nothing you see here reminds you of anything you've seen before. No matter how much you have travelled, you feel as if Istanbul is unlike anything you've ever seen. You feel intimacy but you also get entranced by something mysterious. You have a sense of the Orient extending endlessly beyond Bosporus and you just stand there lingering, half European and half Oriental. A unique smell seems to come from the Orient. Somewhat like spices.

I had taken a small blender with me from Athens. I thought that the fruit juice in hotels isn't always that fresh. It is left in the refrigerator. In the morning I took a glass of cold milk and threw it in the blender with some fruit : bananas, apples, pears. One day I ordered some beaten eggs - they were a bit runny. I didn't try that again. It was the only bad taste during the whole trip.

I kept giving interviews continuously. Five or six a day. I've forgotten how many. The questions were almost always the same.

The Turks were very eager and supportive, they impressed me.

I didn't have any time to eat out. I was always eating in the hotel. They made a delicious roast chicken, stuffed with peppers - I think - and rice (I needed some carbohydrates).

At the rehearsals I was a little worried about the floor. It was made of a peculiar plastic. It was slippery. I'd have to get used to it - it wasn't a major issue.

I felt as if I was too busy all the time. At night I fell asleep in seconds. I slept well. With such fatigue you don't ever suffer from sleeplessness.

I went to that Turkish TV show. It is highly rated and the hostess is very popular. I had been told she was one of the prettiest women in Turkey. She's cute, blonde, around 40, with gorgeous blue eyes. The interview was live. Right when I had started feeling comfortable, she threw the most unimaginable line to me: "When Ricky Martin was here, I touched his bottom and he got angry". Then she told me something like: "Can I do the same to you?" Or something like that anyway. I was shocked she told me that "on air"... I answered that I could wait until the show was over. The Turks, I guess, are not that conservative, at least not as much as I had thought.

We went to the party held by the delegations of Greece, Cyprus and Malta. The media were by now overenthusiastic. I was optimistic. More than ever before.

The people's response was unique. Spontaneous feelings, which they try to express, to make you feel like one of their own. It's awkward to describe these things. You only understand it if you live it.

During the last rehearsals everyone was nervous. We were to have a dress rehearsal before the semi-finals and another one before the finals. The others were trying not to show their stress, but I could tell. Evangelinos (the choreographer) was very tense.

We had dinner with Dora (the mayor of the city of Athens). Quite brave of her to come.

At the dress rehearsal before the semi-finals, while I was doing the back flip, my earphone dropped off over my head. At the moment I couldn't figure out what was happening, it was a matter of seconds. I couldn't tell if it was the microphone, because I could not hear myself, but I kept going. I sung the last chorus not being able to hear a thing. I thought I had to find a way to keep the microphone and earphone in place. With safety pins maybe...

We went on a cruise on the Bosporus along with Sertab. She had her niece with her, an adorable little girl who spoke English very well - as if she had been raised in England. Sertab was very easy and sweet, but she completely changed attitude as soon as we began to talk about business.

At the semi-finals, I saw countries that I was sure would be in the finals, left out. When all the envelopes but two were opened, I thought that it was just a matter of luck, and either we were in one of the two left, or something had happened which I could not explain, one of those things that can go wrong and you don't know why.

I wouldn't give any more interviews. I wanted to concentrate. I woke up, took a shower, had breakfast alone. I was invited to a morning TV show. The no1 in Turkey. I decided not to go. For the last few days I stayed in my room as much as I could. I had lunch here. I wouldn't do a thing until it was time to go. I felt like I was an athlete again: absolute concentration and tension. I lay for several hours in the armchair of my room. I kept thinking what I was going to do that night. I saw myself on stage. I couldn't get this image out of my mind. I was trying to imagine the tiniest detail.

On the bus to the stadium everyone was in a very good mood, a strange euphoria triggered by optimism when you know something good is going to happen. When we arrived we sung the national anthem all together. I don't know who started it. I guess it started in a moment of silence. It was staggering - I'm thrilled to remember it - I'll never forget it!

At the time of the contest I don't remember talking to anyone. I was being photographed all the time. It didn't annoy me. I was feeling calm, but very focused. It's the adrenaline that causes this strange inertia. You can move and be absorbed by your thoughts.

I walked onto stage and I didn't see the flags, nor the audience. You wait for the first note of the song and you sense the audience. You neither hear them nor see them. I can't tell which sense is most involved. You know they're there and you can feel their excitement, without being able to see or hear them. It gives you a unique euphoria.

I was completely confident about everything. At that moment you even look at the camera automatically. Because you know what you have to look at, you don't think. It's like you're checking on a list but you are also certain at the same time. Did the flames light up? Even if they didn't it's not a big matter. The girls' costumes came off, that was the main point, because it was closely related to the presentation of the dance routine. From then on I knew everything would be fine. I had attached my earphone and microphone with safety pins and so I knew they wouldn't come off.

As soon as I walked down the stage I knew I had done the best I could. Whatever was possible. From then on, all I could do was wait. I was happy, strong. I got the message from everyone. The technicians, the people of the delegation. It was like decompression had started. Then you begin to change and think that you got what you wanted.

I went to the dressing-room. I picked up my cell-phone. At times like these you know everybody has called you, has sent messages to encourage you, to show you they support you. You feel the need to call someone and ask: "How did you like me?". I called Rebecca.

I had the desire. I wanted the greek entry to do well - besides the part concerning me and my own presentation. When I heard the first 2-points from Austria, I realised for the first time that maybe what I had in mind was not the case. For a brief moment I panicked. It is in such moments that you get the information altogether. For the first time I considered the parameters. I couldn't hear the ratings of the others. I knew that most of the contestants were very well-known in their own countries - top artists with minor exceptions. Ruslana is the corresponding Vissi (one of the top Greek female singers) of Ukraine - yet I had never gotten into the calculation procedure. I was asked how I felt about the 12-points of the other countries and I couldn't answer because I was hearing only my own rating. The 3-points, the 4-points, all of them. As if the sound in my ears pumped up only at the instance I heard "Greece".

I believe I always do my job well. I knew that if I did it well again it would have an impact. I didn't expect it would become such a big deal. I didn't expect that if I went to a big event like that I would be received with such enthusiasm... Before the contest I had been so focused and in the tight schedule of continuous interviews. I couldn't exactly see the picture. I was told that in Greece the song was playing everywhere. I heard it and took it as another piece of information. I could not perceive the size of it!

I think surprise in such circumstances equals to shock. To a very heavy burden. A pleasant burden. I'm not complaining. Maybe now I feel that they demand more of me. I haven't changed.

My bodyguard Mehmet was very touching. He gave me an emblem that is sacred to them.

There are moments when you have second thoughts. I woke up with this empty feeling. I know everything changes. In show biz you can launch to the top and also plunge down easily. No matter how much you feel in control, you should realise that, but you don't always have the composure to analyze. I wasn't disappointed. Nor sad exactly.

I had a bitter taste. More intense the next morning. Then I felt better. I talked about it. "To us you are the best", they told me. That's going to stay with me. Everyone is very positive. Lenient. Perhaps more lenient than I'm used to be with myself.

Magazine, NITRO, June 2004