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Athens With heavy traffic all through the night we didn't get much sleep. By 6:30 a.m. the twilight glow from the city had brightened slightly. We packed up and headed for the port. After a few wrong turns in rush hour traffic we managed to find the ferry terminal. It was the busiest port I had seen in my life. At the freight docks, ships were lined up waiting for their turn to enter the harbor. At the ferry dock seven lines had huge boats anchored. With all the traffic and general hubbub we had managed to come in the back side of the ferry terminal. On route we passed a shanty town of gypsies, appearing to be mainly Albanians and Yugoslavians camped on the abandoned railway tracks. Clothes were strung, as well as various other belongings, along the tracks. Faces were emerging from the backs of vans, car seats and makeshift tents. Children played amongst the rubble as morning rush hour passed. After leaving our bikes at the ferry terminal and making inquiries into ferry routes, we took the Metro into Athens. The trains were cheap, clean, efficient, packed. We were deposited near the Acropolis. Our first impression of Athens was positive as we liked the stands of fresh baked bagels hawked by the street vendors. I expected Athens to be gray, dismal, dirty and polluted. It was. But it was much more as well. Interesting shops lined the flea market selling everything from marble chess sets to steaming donairs. I bought a new generator for my headlight. In kind of an ironic twist, the new generator was made in Italy. We wandered around for a few hours just watching the people and gazing at the wares. A disheveled man with a table cart piled high with different spices and nuts passed by. The Acropolis was perched high atop a hill in the center of Athens. After deciding to forego a visit to the Egyptian embassy (the travel agent assured us we would be issued a visa on arrival), we meandered up the hill. Narrow streets filled with old houses and even older looking Greek women marked the way. Cats sunned themselves in honeycolored rays atop crumbling walls. The view from the hill was spectacular. We looked down the steep hill at the gray mass of Athens. Everywhere we looked there was more gray smog. The Acropolis's entrance fee was as equally steep as the climb had been. I complained vehemently and balked, but Sharon guilted me into paying it. "I'm never coming back to Athens," she said, "so you had better go now." Too bad we hadn't been there the day before-I discovered that on Sundays, it was free. That made forking over the thirty bucks even more difficult. Sharon said it was one of the top five sites in the world and was worthy of the price tag. I moped around the archeological site continually repeating that I felt ripped off. The Parthenon looked just as good to me outside the fence as inside. I couldn't even go right up to it as they were doing reconstruction work and had it barricaded off. I didn't know half enough to appreciate what I was seeing. "Four hundred years b.c. Wow!" Sharon said. The over two thousand year old ruins made little impression on me. "A pile of old rocks. Yee haw!" I said. Sharon mumbled something about "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." There was a half coliseum that made an interesting picture that I couldn't have taken from outside. But it still wasn't worth paying for. We walked through the museum and I was thinking "What crap. There are better examples in the free London museums." Oh well, I left my footprints beside the Acropolis. I would have to think of it as a charitable donation to the restoration project. That made me feel better. After touring the Acropolis, we climbed the hill and sat where the apostle Paul preached to the Athenians. It had a commanding view of the Parthenon. An American approached exclaiming "Wow! This is great! This is the most fantastic thing I have ever seen!" He paused and looked at us, "What is that anyway?" We told him. He snapped a photo and left. Sharon said, "What Americans lack in knowledge they more than make up for in enthusiasm." Our return to the Metro consisted of a route dictated by food suitable for sampling. Doughnuts, gyros, subs, cookies, coke and fruit stands lined our path. I had a pita gyros and still felt out of balance. By the time we boarded the packed Metro both Sharon and I were heavily laden. It was an uncomfortably crowded ride back to the port-with the exception of the few seconds Sharon and I had the entire train to ourselves. Everyone else disembarked per instructions while Sharon and I ignorantly remained put. "Hey, I think we have to get off," Sharon said glancing around the suddenly deserted train. Two Greek youths got a laugh at our expense. Back at the ferry terminal, I almost bought tickets to Haifa, Israel instead of Khaniá, Crete. I didn't realize it until the ticket seller wanted more money than what the woman had quoted me that morning. We saw the effect work had on one. The perky woman we had spoken to earlier in the day provided a graphic example. She looked as if she had been drug through a wringer backwards. She wearily motioned a nod in our direction. It was sad to see. Waiting to board the ferry a strange guy came over and said he wanted to practice his English. I think he was some weirdo faggot and got in close then kissed us both on our cheeks with his rough unshaven stubble. That was some English. Sharon was not impressed. We boarded the ferry at five and thankfully they had showers. I felt much better after I was clean. We sat in dock watching the other boats leave. The Greeks, as usual, were smoking up a storm. They were even smoking in the non smoking seats. Sharon and I took our sleeping bags out on the deck into the open air. It was easy to tell the tourists from the locals. All the tourists were in short sleeves and the locals were wearing down jackets. |
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