Matching Tracksuits

We made it to the required attractions here in Athens; we visited an island; we drove up to Delphi and experienced the charm of Arachova. It’s been go! Go! Go! We’re tired, and today was a day to relax. Do we go to a beach? Do we head to an island for more discovery? In the end, on L’s urging (she’s picked most of our adventures, and she’s chosen excellently), we went to Lake Vouliagmeni just south of Athens. We considered renting a car, but who wants to drive in Athens again?

“It would take an hour and a half by public transport,” we told the kids, not sure whether or not it would discourage them. It did not. “That’s fine.” So our journey today was a typical city journey: we walked a few blocks to our Victoria (Βικτώρια) metro station where we took the metro a few stations to catch the 122 bus down to Vouliagmenil. We weren’t the only ones with that idea, though, and soon the bus was positively packed as we crawled through southern-Athens traffic.

“This gives you an idea of what it was like for me to be a student in Krakow,” K explained to the kids

Once at the lake, we discovered what the Garra Rufa fish do: they’re also known as doctor fish or nibble fish, and they do just that. Within moments of entering the water, I looked down to see they’d completely covered my legs. Once I eased into the water completely and relaxed, they swarmed my arms, my chest, my back. It was strangely addictive.

We ended up staying there for hours: none of us really wanted to leave.

When L began picking out places she wanted to go (this Athens portion of our trip is, after all, her graduation trip), the ruins at Delphi were very high on the list. At first, I was opposed: it’s at least two hours out of Athens, and I wasn’t fond of the idea of driving in Athens. I had no firm reason why; it just didn’t sound pleasant. It was just a feeling I had. After all, “chaos” is as Greek a word one could ever imagine. Still, she kept talking about it, and I relented. (Truthfully, it really didn’t take that much: I’m a reasonably confident driver, and while I’d never drive in many countries–India comes to mind–I knew it wouldn’t be all that bad.)

We headed out today after breakfast. While K and the kids were in a pharmacy getting something for the itchy bites plaguing L (and strangely enough, no one else), I went to the car rental place just a block away and started filling out the paperwork. As we headed out to the car, the representative asked casually, “You can drive a manual, can’t you?” Of course, I can drive a manual, and yesterday on Aegina I drove a manual. But there’s a big difference in driving a manual on a small, sleepy village where the biggest challenge was ridiculously narrow streets. Narrow streets pose no challenge for a manual transmission. Hilly terrain with lots of stop lights does indeed pose a challenge. It’s not a big deal once you’ve gotten the hang of the clutch in your car (just how loosy-goosy is it?), but to acclimate yourself to that clutch in a busy city where stop lights hide on poles on the corner of streets — that did not sound enticing. 

We made it through Athens and to the quieter roads of the countryside, but it was indeed a stressful driving experience. Scooter drivers and motorcyclists split lanes constantly, which is technically illegal, I read, but one would never know it watching their behavior. There were portions of the road where there were no clear lane markings, and where I drove it appeared to be a three-lane road whereas just in front of me, it seemed like a two-lane road. Once we made it to the quieter streets, it was a bit better, but double middle lines apparently mean nothing to Greek drivers, and the people being passed casually pull onto the shoulder to get out of the way. 

Though I was initially less than thrilled about driving two hours (with morning traffic, it was more like three hours) to get somewhere while on vacation, I came to appreciate the opportunity it offered: we were able to see parts of Greece that we would never have seen otherwise. We passed through small villages and quaint towns. We saw how ordinary Greeks live, even if only a glimpse. It also gave us freedom: when we found a town — Arachova — we thought charming, we were able to work that into our return plans as a dinner stop and a place to get out for a lovely walk.

Delphi itself was, as so many things here are, overwhelming. The thought of how much work it took to create something like that in a time when there were only the simplest of machines is almost overwhelming. How could they do something like that? And then the silliness of why they did it: the Delphic Oracle needed a special place to commune with Apollo and tell his priests his will using what I inferred was glossolalia. In other words, she spoke gibberish and the priests “interpreted” it. That sounds a lot like modern Evangelicalism, which is depressing: it means we as a species have outgrown this silliness in almost  2,500 years.

On the way back we stopped in Arachova for dinner. It was a stunning little town. “We should learn Greek and retire here,” K suggested.

We wake up exceptionally early: 11:00. PM — body-time. We’re seven hours’ difference and trying to acclimate to the new time. Yesterday’s long day gave way to an exceptionally short night (or so it felt). Hopefully after today, we’ll be fine.

When we began planning this short Athens adventure, we planned the big sightseeing day as our first full day: the Acropolis. We can see it from our apartment; we walked all around its base yesterday evening while exploring Plaka (so many maître d’s inviting us in for dining: street-side dining, rooftop dining — I felt I was continually saying, “No thank you, we already ate”). Today, though, is the day we actually visit the site.

We start with a light breakfast — pastries we purchased on the way back to the apartment last night. The best was the cheese and spinach that K and I shared, the one K mistakenly called chocolate last night to the bemused horror of the shop attendant. I’m sure it went through her head to play along and sell our son the “chocolate” pastry and then imagine the reaction. It went through my mind. We eat on our terrace, which has views to all the antennae and solar water heaters that cover all the roofs.

We’re staying in an older part of town. The taxi driver warned us that it is not the safest neighborhood, but I think she was being the overly-cautious (perhaps somewhat xenophobic — there are a lot of immigrants in this neighborhood) babcia (what’s “babcia” in Greek? Γιαγιά I learn) she was. (A γιαγιά taxi driver? First I’d seen. She took calls during the whole journey, and during each conversation, she sounded like the γιαγιά she clearly was.) When we returned yesterday evening, no worries at all; when we got up, we heard all of them heading out to work like the usually-hard-working immigrants they likely are. I think γιαγιά was exaggerating.

After breakfast we head to the Acropolis: we ordered tickets weeks ago through a third party because the package included a five day metro pass as well as admission to the Acropolis, the Acropolis museum, and a lot more. We reserved tickets for 8:00. When we arrive, the attendant tells us our tickets are for one in the afternoon.

“That’s not possible. We made reservations for 8:00;” we protest.

“But the ticket is for 1:00,” she says pointing to the spot on the ticket that indicated the time: 1:00 PM indeed. So we go from “We’re about to enter the Acropolis,” to “Jeez, what do we do for these five hours? The logical option is just to switch afternoon and morning plans, but our afternoon plans were so loose and free because we thought we’d be coming off the Acropolis, tired, sweaty, ready for something easy and pleasant in the afternoon. Still, what else could we do? So we go to the National Gardens (lovely), then head to the parliament building to watch the changing of the guard, followed by the Panathenaic stadium, the ancient Agora, and modern lunch.

The whole time I find myself thinking about how we made reservations for 8:00 but they registered as 1:00. At first I reason it had something to do with the time difference: “Stupid website somehow took into account the time difference and registered us for 8:00 our time.” But that doesn’t make sense: we’re seven hours different, not five. Where is the difference five hours? Between South Carolina and England, the country that runs the website we used. “That must be what happened,” we reason.

When it’s time to head back up to the Acropolis, we buy more water (we never seem to have enough) and decide to go back via the metro. Unlike the morning, it’s relatively empty, but with the wait times at each station (we had to make two line changes), we end up arriving fifteen minutes after one.

Already riled up, I start muttering under my breath: “If they don’t let us in…” Of course, they do, and of course, we’re amazed with what we see. The main building is of course a temple to Athena, making it sort of the Notre Dame of ancient Greek religion — or rather, the opposite: Notre Dame is the Parthenon of Christianity. Perhaps in a few more millenia, people will be visiting cathedrals like we view the Parthenon now: relics of a bygone time honoring a deity we can’t imagine worshiping. (Are there any who still worship Athena and the other gods? A quick search reveals that Hellenism or Hellenic Polytheism does still exist, but they’re a religious curiosity at this point. Perhaps Christianity and Islam will be the same?)

After our visit, we head back to the apartment to refresh and to relax for just a bit before heading out to dinner. That is, everyone but me: I start working on pictures, which will be especially challenging this trip. I thought I could do everything through L’s iPad, which I guess I could, but I ran into some initial hiccups yesterday and ended up doing all the photo editing on my phone. Long-ish story. It has its benefits: I’m not willing to spend so much time editing on my phone, so I’m more selective, and there will be a lot of unedited pictures I can play with when we get back to the States. But it adds a step to the workflow, and it’s really aggravating working on such a small screen for editing. The second challenge is the new camera, rather its batteries: they take forever to charge, and they die quickly. I’ve never had to be so conscientious of my battery life when photographing. We have two batteries, but we should have brought a third. First world problems — one must keep things in perspective.

For all intents and purposes, this has been one, long, sleepless day. We left for Atlanta around 9:30 Sunday morning and arrived in Athens around 2:00 local time.

Add to it the fact that I barely slept at all in the plane from Atlanta to Frankfurt, and took only the shortest of naps when we arrived in Athens and it’s fairly obvious why I’m about to fall asleep typing this.