Ants and Apollo

Ant scramble @ Acropolis

The Spanish word for ants is hormigas. Thao and I used this word with great frequency during our sightseeing stops because the sheer number of people clambering on / over / around the archaeological sites resembled an anthill. Always most apparent from a great distance or at a high elevation, sometimes you turn the corner and there is just a flood of them waiting for you. Yes it’s fun to share great wonders of the world with your fellow humans .. to a point. Please promise me if you yourself are a tourist you will go forward from this post with one important thing: respect. For other people, buildings, ruins, sites, guides, guards and just about everything. Behave yourselves! Travel karma is a witch.

Delphi has it’s own fair share of ants. We start early but are still hounded by the tour groups. We start at the museum which is full of votive offerings and other statues uncovered from the site. Eavesdropping on tour guides we learn a bit more than what is offered by signage and entrance pamphlet. The signage here is very text heavy and our eyes are crossed before long. Drifting from statue to statue we make our way to the Charioteer – the most famous piece in the collection. This is the remnant of a sculpture which was previously a man on a chariot drawn by four horses. All that remains are several pieces of the legs and the statue itself, with a handful of reins. Apparently he was buried and preserved over the years – from approx 467 BC to 1896 when he was discovered on site.

The ruins are beautiful, but I think half of the appeal is the natural surroundings. The columns of the Temple of Apollo are striking with the mountains in the distance and the valley below. The stadium is simple, and after the long trek uphill I admit to being slightly disappointed. The theater pales in comparison to the one we saw at Epidavrus, and now that we’ve seen several we move on without much interest.

We take our bagged lunches from a local shop down to the Temple of Athena, parking the car nearby for a quick departure. The Temple of Athena is populated by several Spanish tourists demanding photos and a photogenic black and white cat who poses gracefully in front of the temple’s columns. She looks over her shoulder as if to say, I don’t know who the hell you people are but this is my place and you are blocking my sunlight.

Leaving Delphi at 1 p.m. we arrive to our hotel in Athens at 5 p.m. We drive past a whole collection of random things while traveling on the old national road (secondary, toll-free). These include goats climbing on a car, a tree decorated with water bottle ornaments and strange exits and forks in the road that appear to lead to random lots, not to Attica. When we finally spill into Athens after another stressful drive, we are ready to pass out. We try to motor through the afternoon powered by ice cream and souvenir shopping. Once again we turn to shrimp saganaki for dinner and rely on our food coma to get us through an evening full of church bells.

Thursday morning I wake up to the sound and smell of someone mowing the lawn and am temporarily disoriented. The sun is shining and for the first time in days it is warm enough to walk around outside. We have decided to forgo Sounion and will spend the day in Athens. Unfortunately our morning is not nearly as stress free as we had hoped, as we spend over an hour looking for the Cocooun Urban Spa in Exarhia. Despite several phone calls to the staff, we walk approximately 1-2 kilometers in the wrong direction and end up taking a cab back. Even the driver doesn’t know where we’re going, so Thao puts him on the phone with the salon. We can’t tell if Greek is angry or just loud (like Spanish) – but we ultimately end up on a small side street in front of the spa, 30 minutes late. They honor our appointments for signature facials, and we unwind for awhile.

After finally coming back into the center of Athens, we descend on a French bakery called Paul’s for lunch. Our chicken curry baguette, cold vegetable pizza and mille fiuele are served with a nasty attitude that is only surpassed by the tastiness of the food. We post up at the Numismatic museum (aka old currency place) – where a small garden cafe gives us a table in the sun and two cappuccino freddos. We spot a fellow diner who looks like he’s wearing the fake nose / black mustache / thick glasses disguise .. but he’s not. Our hotel has a rooftop terrace, so we haul our dessert to the top and sit in the sun, deciding to take the metro down to Piraeus to explore and ultimately to locate a fish taverna for dinner (always thinking of food, as you know).

The tracks take us past the Olympic Stadium (“Peace and Friendship”) and deposit us near the water. We watch a chaotic entrance / exit of a giant ferry accepting / depositing both cars and people. The smart cars zoom in first and the scooters careen onto the ship without killing anyone. But the trucks haven’t even exited the boat yet .. does no one have any patience? The pedestrians are storming the gate as though the ferry will pull away at any minute, and cars filled with Easter presents and suitcases line the dock waiting to make their approach. We walk out past the cruise ships that are larger than buildings and once again walk farther than we originally intended. Today we will take 3 cabs, the only ones we’ve taken during the entire trip. One, to the spa. One, to rescue us from the wrong end of the port. One more, to take us back to the metro stop after dinner.

Zea Marina is a posh area full of yachts and well to do Greeks. We stop at Flocafe for wine and beer before moving on to a fish taverna whose name we can’t pronounce. Intimidated by fellow diners with numerous plates on their tables we commit to several dishes: Greek salad, stuffed grape leaves, shrimp saganaki with ouzo and grilled stuffed squid. Fat and happy we slump into a taxi after dinner and head to the metro stop, listening to a Greek mass on the radio. Once on the metro we forget that we need to switch trains and sit quietly while the train starts to travel in the opposite direction. Correcting our mistake we hop out at Syntagma Square and take a brisk walk home past skateboarders and cops, passing out in the midst of putting in my earplugs.

Friday is my last day in Greece, and I am headed for the airport around 3pm. It is Good Friday and the cathedral bells have been chiming all morning. Thao’s Greek friend picks us up and takes us to Mount Imitós over 3,000 feet above the city. It is easily one of the most serpentine roads we have driven on, but the view from the top is worth the nausea. The city of Athens spreads out before us from sea to mountains and everything in between. It is outrageously beautiful, and we stand there shivering quietly while the wind whips around us, trying to take it all in.

We enter the city again in hopes of finding a kebab but fail miserably. Chocolate sorbet saves the day, and we make a trip through Ermou street so I can pick up some airplane food from the street vendors. Later in flight I am grateful for the sesame ring and coconut stick. Is a layover such a bad deal if I get to have gnocchi for dinner in Rome? It is when they switch our gate at the last minute and then delay our flight anyway. Arriving in Barcelona at midnight I am exhausted and anxious to find a place to sit for the five hour layover I have ahead of me. I would love to photograph the kid at the ATM who is wearing a backpack and carrying a sombrero, pushing every button possible. It is part of the concert of late night airport noises: whirring floor cleaner, security guard’s squeaky sneakers and quiet chatter in other languages.

Saturday dawns with my approach to Sevilla, and I am back at home and in bed a few hours later with almost 600 photos to upload. Greece is already a memory and I am looking at the calendar wondering where the time went.

If you’re interested in seeing our route, here are the basics. Photos in the next post, I promise!

Toll free is the way to be

Monday means a return to Athens via Mycenae and Korinth. In celebration of National Monument Day we luck out with free entry to the site (normally €8). After reviewing the bus schedules to Delphi for the following day, we decide to keep the car. The ability to come and go as we please, stopping for a beautiful church here or a curious sign there – so worth it.

Mycenae is enveloped in tourbuses and crawling with French kids presumably on an excursion. We wander through the ruins detouring each time they cross our paths, loud and oblivious to the fact that other people are trying to read signs or take photos. I am at my limit when I am forced to clear my throat in an effort to encourage a young girl to please remove her feet from the sign I am trying to read. The sigh she heaves is larger than life, as I am an incredible inconvenience.

Korinth is sad and devoid of English. In typical fashion, Thao and I provide great entertainment for the locals who are blatantly curious about the petite Asian and tall blonde. We dip into a bakery for some sustenance, forgetting our intention of a leisurely lunch by the water.

Motoring on to Athens we attempt to find the Korinth Canal, a four mile long stretch of water that is barely wide enough to permit freighters. We nearly fly right past it and screech into a parking lot. Walking out onto the bridge we see a bungee jumping set up and raise our eyebrows at each other. But it’s far too windy and far too cold.. or at least that’s what we tell ourselves. The walls are over 300 ft and they were built over a hundred years ago by the Hungarians. Grabbing two freddos to go from a roadside cafe, we commiserate with a family from Texas who are traveling with a group of 8. The frazzled mother details a stressful day of unsuccessful sightseeing, and I admit we just came from where they were trying to go. We take solace in our cappuccinos and our trusty maps, bidding them a good journey.

We go toll free on the way back into the city, and the view is stunning. An enormous expanse of water stretches alongside the car, and mountains flank our other side. The word we use the most while driving is “fake” because the natural beauty is so mindblowing it can’t be real.

Our vocabulary changes significantly and becomes a great deal more colorful as we descend into Athens. Unbeknowst to us, a political rally is taking place in Syntagma Square, resulting in a incredible snarl of traffic and hostile motorists. After a white knuckle drive through the city, we park on some random corner and stalk to the Hotel Metropolis. It is pure karma that a private parking space for guests exists in front of the building and we drop our things only to go back to the car and begin again. Standing with the city map spread out on the car, a kind English speaking gentleman asks us if we need help. I could kiss him. We are equally fortunate when a policewoman at a catastrophic intersection answers my questions and points us in the right direction. Thank god for people like these.

We dive into pasta and salad at an Italian restaurant and come up for air only after plowing halfway through two desserts. At this point we would not be disappointed if we never saw another map or ruin ever again. But we will, tomorrow.

it’s all Greek to me

This past Thursday I embarked on an eight day trip to Greece with my dear friend Thao. It started with a long travel day which is never my preference but when the price is right, that’s what you have to do. Starting at 5:30am in Sevilla I went on to Barcelona, Rome and finally Athens. There was a moment of panic in Barcelona when I looked on the departure board for my connecting Alitalia flight and it was nowhere to be found. I had to haul it over to Terminal 2 which involved a five minute bus ride and several kilometers, so be advised if you’re flying into or out of El Prat! In Rome Fiomucino I was relieved to escape the cacophony of my flight full of Spanish teenagers on an excursion. While waiting for the third flight I listened to a young couple speak several languages to fellow passengers and eyed a serious looking man with a Yosemite Sam mustache.

Arriving in Athens I took the metro into the center, the car fit to bursting by the time we arrived at Syntagma Square. I made my way to Hotel Kimon where I met Thao and we immediately got down to business: where to eat? A local recommended one of his favorites: Oineas, down a tiny street, brightly decorated and bold. Nestled under a heat lamp we dined on a Cretan salad that was out of this world – creamy feta, fresh tomatoes and crunchy whole wheat croutons. Although disappointed with scrawny lamb ribs, we finished with a bang: phenomenal meille fieulle with white chocolate and fresh strawberries. We splurge on a bottle of ouzo and both decide it is far more bearable when watered down. The waiter gets a chuckle when we stop into the gelato shop next door for an additional dessert. Don’t judge!

Friday morning finds us rising to church bells in the distance. Under a cloudy sky we head toward caffiene and sustenance. At a nearby bakery called Bretons (?) we turn circles between display cases full of treats, finally settling on one savory & one sweet: spinach pie and apple pie. I have my first cappuccino freddo and almost die of heart palpatations brought on by the strength of the espresso. It is here I decide that the Greeks must be preparing their foods with habit forming drugs.

With a pep in our step we careen through touristy streets aiming for the Acropolis. We settle onto the stone in the Dionysos theater and let the sun warm our bones here in a structure that dates back to fifth century bc. The Odeion theatre is stunning in size, built by Tiberius Claudius Herodes Atticus in second century ad. In the summertime they still hold concerts here, and I hope to return one day for a performance.

Crossing into the Propylaia our thoughts of gods and goddesses are peppered with .. tourists. They clamber over the marble and stone like ants on an anthill and I wonder when respect for old things evaporated.

The crowds thin out at the Parthenon and the view is simply awesome. Stormy clouds provide a dramatic backdrop and motivate us up the steps under the threat of rain. A huge crane hangs over the Parthenon, operated by a man who looks like a toy in comparison, holding a giant remote control. Inside the Temple of Athena, a woman sits plugged into her ipod, paintbrush in hand, executing painstaking restoration work. Her punk haircut and Arian features stand out in stark contrast to the ancient surroundings and I watch her work for awhile, fascinated.

We break for lunch after a walk behind the site, and the neighborhood reminds us of the whitewashed Albaicin in Granada, Spain. Our taverna lunch is delicious, starring grilled vegetables and various dips.

The Acropolis museum is two years old at this point, and looks curious from the top of the Acropolis – what is that modern building of glass and metal? Explained – the museum was built to mimic the shape, size and layout of Parthenon so that when you view the excavated pieces, their original place is noted. This is not apparent until you watch the video on the third floor, or read the pamphlet from the desk. The museum is working on restoring the ladies from Athena’s temple and there is a live action video of their progress. The six Karyatides were removed in the 1970s and are being repaired and cleaned. Their smaller sisters are the korai, 75 of them were brought down from the Parthenon and now reside in the museum.

Athena is everywhere and so are her owls, symbols of wisdom. Greek mythology lessons are coming back to me with the descriptions of the pieces. I also finished Rick Riordan’s series “Percy Jackson and the Olympians” in March and his descriptions of the deities make me smile when I see their sculptures. Where is Poseidon’s Hawaiian shirt?

We have dinner at Thannaius dinner – our first attempt at soulvaki. I think I’m partial to it’s cousin the kebab, but damn the tzatzigi (sp) is to die for. Baklava to go from some other place close to the hotel and we compare the texture to that of the Americanized version before drifting off to sleep.

Saturday, on to Epidauros and Nafplion.