I know the origin of the saying, “it’s all Greek to me.” Or is the saying, “it looks “it sounds like Greek? The Greek alphabet is indecipherable at first glance. I took a 3-hour bus ride from the port of Patras to Athens. We drove in to Athens through the port of Piraeus. We passed lots of strip clubs. The Lonely Planet book from 1999/2000 wasn’t wrong about this part of town.
My worst fears were realized when the bus driver (who, btw, didn’t like me and didn’t speak English) left us off without directions about where to go. It was approximately 11:30 pm at this time.
Luckily, there was a subway station nearby and a map indicated that I was near the city centre. I easily found the Acropolis. I walked up a dark path and was a little spooked. I relaxed on my back on a stone bench and was incredibly comfortable. I should have stayed there longer. It turns out it was an upscale, gay neighborhood. I walked up closer to the Parthenon and got as close as I could.
I walked around a bend and found several paths going down through various types of trees, brush and rocks, all the way to the Plaka neighborhood. It was a very large hill. I had an amazing view of the city. It reminded me of the view from a cemetery near my old house in Glover Park, Washington D.C. I could hear local kids riding around on motor bikes. I spent some time looking for a spot to take a nap, but after a bit I got cold. I descended down the paths then a maze of narrow roads.
I found a major business area and church. I slept on a bench and got cold again. I spent the rest of the night freezing, laying down for a few minutes, freezing, cursing the fact that I didn’t get a hotel room, thinking I should have known better. I ended up in a huge plaza below the building that houses the national parliament.
I got to the airport early and had had time to buy a wedding present and a two more books. Sitting down, I struck up a conversation with a bunch of Americans. It turns out they were Keila’s aunts and cousins.
