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Endearment I still felt weird. I wondered if it was because we had set our schedule to be back next summer and only had six months left with still so many places we wanted to see? I was feeling rushed again. Anxious. A fortress sat atop a mountain amidst a surrounding landscape of dry grass. We decided to pass on the ride up to it. It looked as if it would be grueling on a bike. We settled for an inspection through binoculars. Much easier on the legs. We viewed the temples in Corinth. It was difficult to imagine what the original buildings looked like in all their splendor from what little remained. I observed the ruins through the fence, not wanting to pay to see tons of broken rocks up close. I took a picture over the wire fence and was happy. Sharon wanted to inspect the ruins up close and asked me if I wanted to go with her. When I declined, she said, "Why did you come here if you don't want to see anything?" While I argued that I could see just fine from where I was, two Americans pulled up in a rental car. The woman got out of the car and, without saying anything, walked swiftly past us down the hill. Paul pointed his video camera towards the ruins. "I can see them just as good from here," he said dryly. "They sure want a lot to look at a bunch of old rocks," he added. Ah, male bonding. Someone else of my mind set. I loved it and grinned stupidly. Sharon looked as if she were going to run and catch up to the woman. "The wife and I just had a go around and we're barely speaking to one another," the husband said as way of explanation for Anne's hasty departure. Their Greek vacation wasn't going well. "You've seen one pile of old rocks you've seen them all," Paul said. Another cultured American trying to endear himself. "It's just a bunch of old rocks," he repeated. I could tell Sharon didn't want to hear that. She had been spending her free time trying to convince me that this was the most spectacular stuff-being the cradle of western civilization and all. Paul told us they had paid an exorbitant price the other night to stay in a freezing hotel room. There was snow where they were. After leaving their cruise ship, they got lost going out of Athens and ended up in some mountains where there was little else except monasteries built into the rocks. He complained they hadn't found anyone who spoke English. "Where did you stay last night? Anne enquired on her return. "In an orange grove a few miles back," I answered. "It was probably warmer in your tent than our hotel room," Paul commented. "Those hotel rooms are really freezing. We had to go and ask for more blankets and told the owner to turn on the heat. 'It is on,' he said. Even with the extra blankets we were still frozen. For the amount of money we were paying, I thought the least they could do was turn the heat on. If they can't heat the places properly, then they shouldn't be open." They took our picture with the old rocks in the background and Anne asked if there was anything they wanted us to take back to mail home from the States. "We'll be back a lot sooner than you will be," she said. "We're flying home tomorrow." "We can't stand it here," Paul confessed. "Our daughter told us she loved Greece. Maybe it's different for the young people in the summer." We searched out grocery stores and were directed to one by an English speaking woman. Someone Paul had apparently missed. The folks in the stores were friendly and helpful. As I looked at postcards, a woman from an outdoor restaurant approached and asked if I would care for a cup of coffee. Someone else Paul had missed. I saw a couple more signs: "Homely Baking." I wondered if their motto was: "Our bread is ugly." And Soft Drings. They were always so close. Those one or two letters made all the difference. Banana splints. We found the "water plug" the locals directed us to halfway up the mountain. After filling our water jugs, we camped in an olive grove on the hillside beneath the Agora. I could see the temple and the sea below Old Corinth. The field smelled like Rosemary. Hopefully our tent would be fragrant by the time we left. Anything would be an improvement over the musty smell it acquired while rolled up wet for five days in Padova. On cue, as we laid down to read what did we hear? Tinkling sheep bells of course, and that distinct shepherd's call and bird whistle. The shepherd either thought we weren't worth investigating or didn't see us. We were spared the hand waving and straining of our brains to understand Greek. Settling down to sleep, I noticed there were packs of dogs barking. After we had dropped off to sleep we were rudely awakened by loud voices, slamming car doors and Greek music blaring from a car radio. I was so disoriented I couldn't figure out if it was morning or night. Was I hearing revelers or happy olive grove workers? The racket lasted over an hour, then they must have thankfully run out of Ouzo and went home. I fell back asleep. Visions of small Greek children we had seen during the day danced through my head. "Hello!" they awkwardly pronounced as giggling shyly. The bolder ones shouted "I love you!" and blew kisses. Apparently Hollywood had inundated small Greek villages as well. |
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