Flying from Seattle to Athens, we changed planes in bleak and rainy Amsterdam. I realized that miserable weather at a transfer city makes me wickedly happy. Let it rain in Holland…we’re flying to Greece for two weeks of virtually certain sunshine.
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On the plane, people asked, “Where are you going this time?” It was fun to answer, “I’m taking one of them Rick Steves’ tours.” I’m always impressed when planning to make a meeting halfway around the world with 15 minutes to spare, and I get there just as planned. Anne and I checked into Hotel Hera and joined our tour group on the rooftop — a view of the Acropolis and welcome drinks in hand. Last time I was on this rooftop, it was bare concrete with rickety plastic furniture. I was the driver/guide of a minibus tour…a true adventure, with the blind leading the blind. Now, it’s a different Greece. Like the city itself, the hotel has enjoyed a complete makeover. It was still a Rick Steves’ tour…but with a plush and shady rooftop, a scholar guide (Colin Clement) and me on vacation with Anne. I joked with Colin that it’s easy to be an impressive guide in Greece, because brilliance is relative and rare is the American tourists who has a clue about Greek history. Colin was worried I’d be bored. I was wondering what it would be like to be off-duty, with no real agenda other than to enjoy myself. My mom could never sit down and relax with company, and I struggle with my “mother-guide complex” (e.g., audio concerns when Colin was giving his intro talk). Colin stressed punctuality, and how we will actually leave people behind who are late for the bus. Someone cracked, “What’s the difference between a tour member and a hitchhiker?” The answer: “Five minutes.” Colin prepped us for the experience. If you ask for a “no smoking” section, they’ll sit you anywhere and remove the ashtray. Someone asked for a doggie bag on his last tour, and the waiter took the remains of their meal away, and brought it back in a sack, proudly announcing that he put other people’s leftovers in as well, so that the dog would have a real feast.
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Talking with members from our group, it was clear: retired people want longer trips, working people need shorter trips. Two retired couples were fresh off of our Turkey tour, combining that and our Greece tour for a month-long visit. And, for many, this two-week itinerary was a stretch. The delightful pedestrian lane that now circles the Acropolis hill is symbolic of the great changes in Athens from the last decade or so. We strolled it with the local paseo crowd. They just had an election yesterday. I asked a local the results, and he said, “Good for owners, bad for workers.” Wandering through the city, you still feel the heritage from the 2004 Olympic Games. And even from the Para-Olympics. A small industrial elevator riveted to the face of the Acropolis’ cliff now makes that ultimate historic hilltop accessible to all. While that’s great, I have to admit I have a problem with the grooved inlay cut into every sidewalk. In hopes of enabling people who can’t see to get around the city with their white canes, they cut up every sidewalk and inlaid grooves to guide the canes. In practice, crazy obstructions make following the grooves impossible. The result: a city painfully in need of charm has new sidewalks which happen to be the ugliest in Europe. Athens, once so congested and polluted, has made huge strides. But it’s still intense and congested. It seems there’s about one blade of grass for each of the city’s 3 million cars. For a taste-version of “pinch me I’m in Greece,” I needed two things: a souvlaki pita and a local yogurt. Wandering the old town under a floodlit Acropolis, munching my souvlaki rolled in greasy pita bread, is like a ritual for me. And to cap that, I drop by a dessert place for a yogurt, and patiently drizzle honey on it as if I’m scribbling “Yes, I’m in Greece!”
