Maria and I had our early morning flight back to Athens, completely sleep deprived and clutching cups of coffee as our lifeline that would see us through the day. Once at the airport we took the train to our old Athens hotel. Once there, we had a continuation of the same issue last time- they refused to allow our travel agent pay for our hotel. Maria and I resigned ourselves to a phone charge before I gave in and let them charge my card…no matter that I had already paid my travel agent the money. They wouldn’t take my Discover card, saying that their machine didn’t take it. I pointed to the receipt from last time that said otherwise, but their inability to be accommodating had them politely refusing to allow any respone but “no” now. I bite my tongue and paid with my Visa.
We fell asleep and woke up in time to go out to eat dinner, like real Millenials. Our late nights of partying with Greek gentlemen were coming back to haunt us, “Remember me?” We decided to eat dinner on the rooftop of our hotel, which had an incredible view of the Parthenon, alight with bright lights and glowing in the surrounding darkness, high in the mountain. There wasn’t a better sight in this city. Despite the frequent injustice of paying for water, it was another truly amazing night in Greece.
My photo was terrible, so I enjoy this stolen but properly cited one:
i.
We spent the night enjoying the view, paying entirely too much for WATER, and enjoying our meal. Since our sleep schedule was off, we headed to the room and watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding on Youtube. It made so much more sense after being in Greece ourselves, moussaka, everyone being named Nico, the list went on. We finally fell asleep, to have one last day in Greece. ONLY ONE!
The next morning we were in a mad rush to be on time to the train station to go on a tour of the beautiful city we had neglected the first night we had been in Athens and the previous night before when we had chosen sleep over sights. Alas, it was not to be. We missed out train, close enough to see the doors shut and it starting to pull away. No doubt saying lots of colorful and child-appropriate words, I decided we would catch up with the tour group and join late. Maria was game, and we waited quite impatiently for the next train.
We arrived in time to watch the tour group begin to walk to the Tomb of the Unknown soldier, a rather unpleasant-seeming woman leading them all. She refused to let us join, said we were supposed to pay online and not in person (um, where? The pamphlet had not mentioned a website.) Feeling defeated, we walked away, wondering how on Earth we would see this historic, magnificent city now.
Onto the rescue, was a young woman handing out pamphlets for the Red Bus every major city seems to have. She offered it cheaper than the other woman (who had denied us anyway, but it was ok, we were in a better place now and deserved someone better) because I was a teacher. Not only would we be getting transportation around the city on a very hot day, but we would get a free tour that would be starting in an hour! Lucky us!
Before we left we observed the changing of the guard. I always find such dedication to duty impressive and patriotic, I wished I had joined the Navy or found a way to serve my country that way. Instead, I’ll continue dealing with the snotty teenagers and forcibly educating them. “You WILL love to read!”
Interesting costumes, eh?
The bus that might as well have been a luxury limo with a sunroof, led us through downtown Athens that we had barely squinted at when driving on a scooter through throngs of cars. We glimpsed the magnificent museum holding centuries of artifacts and history, statues of famous Greek actresses, government buildings, ancient houses, busy fish markets (those are still a thing?). We passed churches, the Temple of Zeus (of which I have a terrible picture, with those damn telephone lines obstructing our view), and Hadrian’s Arch.
Onto our tour!
Unfortunately, not enough people turned up for our tour, so we sat with the tour guide, an enigmatic man with a hooked nose and of course, glasses. You couldn’t have a Ph.D. without them, right? He hopped up when the clock hit the prescribed number, and began talking about the history of the region, and led us on a walk, talking all the while and giving me vivid flashbacks to my beloved History classes at UT Tyler. At one point, reaching the site of an ancient place of gathering and voting of the Greeks, the first democracy, I lost my breath. He pointed out Alexander the Great had stood at this spot. I made a shocked, yet thrilled groan of excitement, and Maria shot me some side eye and said, “calm yourself,” and “are you having an intellectual moment over there?”
As our Intellectually Sexy tour guide pointed out, most tourists never come to this location, unaware of the significance it holds. If one were going to visit Athens, they must visit the Pnyx, and stand on that hill overlooking the city, surrounded by the dust and dirt of so many ages, the same dust that was between the toes of those early Greek voters. Bits of pottery littered the ground, one from each age in Greee. Our tour guide picked a few up and told us what millenium they were from, before discarding them into the dirt again.
From there our I.S. Tour Guide took us by a church, pointing out the pagan and Christian symbols that had merged on the outside, how one world had merged with the next. He took us to a ancient side people used to believe was the prison of Socrates before he was forced to commit suicide. It was actually an ancient fertility site, Philopappos Monument on Philopappos Hill. He gave us a great image of women coming there at night and howling like wolves, and drinking the water form the natural spring inside, supposedly granting them fertility.
From that tour we said goodbye to I.S. Tour Guide and hopped on a Red Bus headed to the History Museum. We only allowed ourselves two hours before we left, to make sure we could still make Acropolis. The sun was lower, and the light was incredible as we headed up the steps to the top of the hill.
The area was covered with a blanket of fellow tourists, traveling for hundreds of miles to see the Parthenon, sadly damaged by the Ottomon Turks in the Great Turkish War against the Venetians. It is still a magnificent sight to see, and I’m very glad to have been able to travel there.
Upon our return to the hotel, we got ice cream, which I don’t remember getting but the picture I have of us eating it and the relief from the heat we got. We felt our trip had been one of the better ones, and I would be sad to leave Greece.
The next morning, we tried to go swimming one last time (every time we had tried the water had been too cold despite the heat of the day continuing) and were disappointed one last time.
We packed up our luggage and ate one last lunch, before heading out of our hotel. We took the train to the airport, the same as we had gotten from it before, but this time, the train was late, and stopped before the last stop, so we had to book it to the airport (and me with my luggage handle that refused to come out). We almost didn’t make it in time. We rushed through the airport, dodging people stupidly standing in the middle of the walkway chatting and oblivious to traffic, and made it to the gate in time. My luggage was flagged, so they searched it, making a mess of my clothes and making me worry we were going to miss our flight. Each flight attendant was disconcerted with my red, sweaty face, and told me everything was fine. Yet, when we reached our terminal, the flight just started boarding. We very well could have missed it.
The flight back wouldn’t end, stretching on in an impossible length of time. Two little, blonde, and friendly Canadian boys were seated to the right of us, both named respectively Leo and Alex. Now we had children to distract us instead of a couple obsessed with cheese. The boys laughed at the lines of caution from the flight attenants, reminders of exit doors in the front and in the rear. “In the rear,” they sniggered. “Are we in Toronto yet?” No, their father answered, they were in Munich. The boys were entertaining with their commentary and the little French phrases they would say. I was sad to see them go once we got to the Toronto Airport.
Of course Maria and I had to eat at a truly Canadian joint once there, Tim Horton’s y’all! Maria texted Trey and begged him to clean his car seats of the perpetual dog hair before coming to pick us up. We got on our last flight and reached the US. Once there we had to go through customs, and when an Asian woman asked me to help her check in on the machines, I walked her through some of it. After another asked, I had to hurry and check in myself before I was mistaken for a worker.
When we finally stumbled out of the airport in Dallas, there was Trey waiting for us. I slept on the way back and woke up to find us in the Walmart parking lot. We went inside for basic provisions, and were greatly embarrassed to be seen with Trey because he insisted on driving a cart around the store.
Five minutes later, we were at Maria’s apartment, and I fell fast asleep, grateful for the journey, but glad to be back in the good ol’ US of A.
i. Michael, Dr. “Parthenon at night.” Pixdaus, Pixdaus Ltd, pixdaus.com/parthenon-at-night-by-dr-michael-architecture/items/view/163701/. Accessed 19 June 2017.
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R.J. Proffer 