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Greece- first view

Tuesday, May 12th, 2009

September 2007

I wonder what Greece will look like from the air. I’ve got a vague image of blue-blue water and rocky, green land, and white ruins on a hilltop overlooking a city.

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I’m in Greece now! In the plane, I watched the scenery slide by— beautiful green islands covered with fluffy white clouds and surrounded by beautiful blue water. I couldn’t pick out the Acropolis from the air, unfortunately. Then I took a bus into the city, then a metro towards the hostel, then walked. Greece, or rather, Athens, is different than I expected. It reminds me more of Morocco (Tangiers) than anywhere else. It’s not a “pretty” city, it’s pretty dirty, but it has character. I’ve caught glimpses of the Acropolis on our walk to dinner. Very impressive ruins at the top of a hill. Can’t wait to see them later.

It’s very warm here. The hostel is on the corner of various ethnic areas of the city. There’s an open air food market nearby. The air smells of spices— just like it did in Morocco. Jen and I went looking for a grocery store down our small street, and soon it felt like we weren’t in Greece anymore! The signs were in an Asian language, then in Arabic. The streets, covered in trash, were filled with hordes of dark-skinned men shouting foreign languages, speaking together, etc. It felt crazy! Like we had entered another world. So the hostel’s in a very interesting place. I like it.

I just remember looking over Greece for the first time in awe— this is the infamous Greece! Home of Homer, of Achilles, of all those famous heroes I’ve read so much about. This was the fearsome nation– great naval armies once covered these seas. This was the birthplace of the Greek gods. It’s rather intimidating, plus all signs are in Greek, few in English. It’s the first country I’ve visited (aside from Morocco) not to use a Roman alphabet. I love it here so far.

Written in a green notebook while traveling

Tuesday, May 12th, 2009

Sept. 07

Flying above the ocean at night, there’s nothing to see outside my window except the occasional tiny cluster of lights indicating a lone ship. Instantly my mind descends, to the rough chuck-and-slap of water against the boat’s sides. The night watchman walks with soft feet, checking the bearings, the engines, the bilge, then up on deck clutching a warm mug of coffee and breathing slowly beneath the arching starred sky, the smell of the sea on the breeze, the soft rocking of the boat, the creaks in which it speaks. Nothing else is like nightwatch on a boat.