“Is that Theseus’ boat?” I asked. “No, I don’t think so,” Jaime replied. “How about that one?” “No.” “That one?” “Probably not.” “What about that one way over there, no wait, that’s just a tiny island…”

Containing my enthusiasm on our way to Athens was an unmanageable task. We had booked tickets to Greece on a whim a few weeks before, partly because of the ridiculously cheap tickets, and part because if we booked one before the deadline, we got a free one-way ticket anywhere. So, six weeks after booking them one cold February day, we stepped into the hot Greek sun and soaked up paradise. Our big fat Greek vacation had just begun.

Our first steps into Athens left a bit something to be desired, on a hot and smelly bus, we traveled for an hour into the city, passing all the beautiful sites to see, mostly automobile dealerships. However, once arriving in Syntagma Square in the beautiful downtown area, we were enchanted and would remain so until stepping foot back into Poland five days later.

We quickly settled into Zorba’s hostel (chosen because of the name) and set out for our first adventure, supper. On advice from the guy at reception, we headed out to Monastiraki, the metro station that would lead us to the Plaka, where we were supposed to be able to find great food. We exited the pristine metro station and followed our noses to the smell of great food.

Everything on the menu looked fantastic, as the waiter came for our order, we asked about the stuffed vine leaves. He quickly adverted our attention to something else and kept repeating ‘you-vill-like-it.’ Yes, we replied, but what’s in it. ‘You-vill-like-it.’ Jaime continued to inquire but we kept receiving the same answer. “I’m sure I will, but what’s in it?” he asked again. ‘You-vill-like-it.’ We finally just gave up and ordered it anyway. Before it arrived, we had another chance to glance at the menu and I realized that the waiter wasn’t saying ‘you-vill-like-it,’ he was saying ‘yuvarlakia,’ the name of the dish. When it arrived, regardless, we definitely liked it.

We walked about the market with full stomachs and finally settled in to Café Metro for a tea. Unwilling to resist the temptation of dessert, we ordered baklava (a must) but alas, they were out, we were instead presented with two of the most delectable sweet buns oozing with honey and nuts, it was like eating gold. I knew that I was definitely going to like Greece.

After a restful night’s sleep at our hostel, we set out to take on the Acropolis. As it happened, it was Greek National Day so we got into the Acropolis free. After a grueling hike up the hill, we stopped by the Areopagus, a rocky overlook allowing you to soak up the sun while gazing over the best of Athens. It was fantastic. The sprawl of the cityscape was unimaginable; we looked at the compact sandy houses and the sporadic columns of old ruins with a sense of amazement. Sun beating down overhead, we were warm and happy.

We made our way up to the Acropolis, bemused by being in the heart of civilization as we know it. Thoughts of Homer’s ‘Odyssey,’ of Greek mythology, and of Plato’s ‘Republic’ flashed through my mind as we climbed the steps through the Temple of Athena Nike. I had a glance at the Theatre of Herodes Atticus before moving through to the Parthenon. There is nothing to feel but dwarfed by the Parthenon, both physically and spiritually. Centuries old marble and intricate sculpture left you feeling much younger than you did when hiking up the mountain. We stopped by the Erectheion, a temple where six statues of nymphs once held up a canopy, only five now remain, it seems Lord Elgin in the early 1800s did a little souvenir shopping at the Acropolis taking a statue, chopping off some friezes, and stealing Athena’s marbles. The staff at the British Museum took the marbles and scrubbed them until they were a pure chalk white, accidentally scraping off the paint that once adorned these marbles. The Acropolis Museum made sure that you left knowing that Lord Elgin was a thief.

Our day ended with a brief walk around the Ancient Agora, marketplace of ancient Athens, where Socrates used to debate and demonstrate. The agora was closing though, and our day had to end here prematurely. We went for a souvlaki and headed on to the National Gardens.

We returned to the agora several times while we were in Athens, mostly because of its subtle beauty. However, I found it difficult to relax there. One of the most curious things we discovered at the Acropolis was the presence of men and women walking around with whistles. When you got too close to something, they would whistle at you. The agora however was much worse than this. There are somewhere close to 600 rules that make no sense. Singing is forbidden in the agora, as well as eating, drinking, smoking, and taking indecent photographs. I also discovered a few more. As we sat down on a rock to rest and take in the surroundings, a whistle woman came by to inform us that we could not sit on the rocks; we had to sit on the designated benches. We kindly moved on and spent a good two hours watching whistlers scold people for minor offenses. It was really quite amusing.

However, the fun ended one day when we were sitting on a designated bench and I kicked off my flip-flops and reclined on the bench to take in the sunshine. I thought it would prove to be an excellent way to relax. Unfortunately, reclining on benches is also against the rules and I was again scolded for improper postures. At the same time as this is transpiring, the Japanese couple on the bench next to us proceeded to have a three-course lunch, drinks, and smoke cigarettes. They could have stripped down and done the jitterbug and wouldn’t have been whistled. Why then, had I become the victim of whistle discrimination? I told Jaime that is was awful hard to relax when everything you do is wrong.

On our way out, I half expected to be scolded for walking counterclockwise around the agora on a clockwise day or for standing too long to look a monument or for a plethora of other ridiculous reasons. Someone once said that the farther north you go, the more rules there are. The further east you go, the less they make sense. As made careful movements toward the exit, a man walked passed with his dog… and I was yelled at for reclining on a bench. Go figure.

The great thing for us about Athens was the heat. We had just come from Poland and we were absolutely enthralled by being able to go outside, just to go outside and enjoy it. As such, we spent two fantastic afternoons just laying in the National Gardens reading or napping; it was bliss.

On our first afternoon in the National Gardens, I had kicked off my shoes and rolled up my pant legs to be able to wiggle my toes in the grass. I tried to talk Jaime into doing the same, and he frankly looked a bit frightened. I told him: “Roll up your pant legs! Take off your socks and shoes! This is toe freedom!” He could only retort, “but I’m British…. We don’t do toes….” Finally, after some coercive maneuvers, he was taking those first steps into toe freedom-dom. It was beautiful. With the weather perfect and the grass green and beautiful, with glorious trees overhead, relaxation just came so naturally.

Our whole trip was an exercise in relaxation. We had great food, saw incredible sites, and were able to just relax with no agenda and no schedules. We could watch sunsets from Lykavittos Hill or spend hours over a cup of tea. We could kateifi and baklava until the late hours and begin each morning with cheese pies in the sunshine. All we had to do was arrive and everything else seemed to take care of itself. From the beach to the park, museums, temples, and monuments, we really had a magical time.

We were sorry to say goodbye on that last day, sitting in the airport, covered in the last of our cheese pies. It really wasn’t goodbye though, it was see you soon. We boarded our plane and headed back to Poland with our big fat Greek memories to keep us until next year.

Quote for the Week:
“Why isn’t there a special name for the tops of your feet?” –Lily Tomlin

Latin Phrase of the Week:

Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?
Is that a scroll in your toga, or are you just happy to see me?

And one for whistlers everywhere…
Caesar si viveret, ad remum dareris.
If Caesar were alive, you'd be chained to an oar