Touching down in the Greek capital I was excited yet filled
with nervous energy. While hastily planning this trip my original places of
interest seemed ideal. Cyprus, Athens, Cairo and Turkey. What I didn’t
anticipate in the lead up to my departure was political unrest in Athens, violence
in Cairo or the deadly earthquake in Turkey. We promptly removed Cairo from our
itinerary and cautiously planned our trip. Exiting the large airport terminal I
was immediately blasted with a very cool, almost chilly breeze, surrounded by
hundreds of people catching buses & taxis and all my worries fell away. I
was in Athens and I was going to find me a Greek God.
You would think someone, vastly travelled in worldly
adventures such as I, could make it out of the airport relatively unscathed. But
public transport has always been a weakness of mine and one responsibility I
gladly hand to my travel partner to take care of. In this case that was not a
wise decision. Having bought our bus tickets to the city we stand in line, in
the now chilly breeze, and wait until bus arrives stop #4. While waiting, I use
the reflective glass of the airport terminal to people watch everyone walking behind
me. I catch the stare of an older man on the bus and don’t look away. The glass
is like a mirror yet he doesn’t seem to mind. I turn back around to face him
and in doing so see the bus number sign we had been patiently waiting under for
at least 20 mins in the cold. Bus stop #3. Giggling like young children, not like
the delirious travellers we are, I think ‘if we can’t catch the right bus out
of the airport how will we survive the city?’ I don’t think about it further
and my giggles follow us up and onto bus #4.
After a couple of wrong turns from the subway station we
enter our backpacker accommodation. As we try and check in we are met with
blank stares. We are in the wrong place (of course) and need to walk a few more
blocks. Here we meet the manager who hails from the village of Perth. That
knowledge alone makes me happy. On the way up to our 3rd floor room
I see there’s a Sports Bar on street level beneath us and that they have a
karaoke night that night. I’m mildly interested but my travel partner is not.
He immediately starts rattling off things like ‘It better not be too loud’ ‘we better
not be able to hear anything up here’ ‘I hope it doesn’t keep me up late I’m
tired and want to sleep’. I don’t bother, drag my suitcase into my room and
start plotting my day.
My only thoughts are ‘I want to see the ruins!’. After settling
in we immediately start off for the next adventure. We are staying in Plaka and
to my surprise we are right next to the one and only Akropolis. We wonder
through a dainty street filled by cafes and tourist stores. We stop to get a
hot drink and I consult the map. On the
inside is a detailed map of the city and on the outside there are details of
useful services where we are staying, bus information and a very helpful ‘Speak
Greek’ section. I casually peruse the list of sayings to see if I recognise any
and my eyes strain on one particular phrase. Yinonte espisodia? I ask to Scott. He looks at me and shrugs and I translate
for him – are there riots? Hmmm I’m
suddenly not as carefree as I was a moment ago if this is considered one of the
top 10 phrases a tourist should learn.
With the Akropolis in sight from almost any angle, we set
off for the Akropolis Museum. The entry floor to this magnificent building, I
quickly realise, is all glass. After a quick gasp I realise why. They are
excavating ruins and preserving them simultaneously. The museum is built on top
of ancient ruins and constructed in a way to both house and showcase them to
the public. It really was beautiful. Not one to have the patience to visit
museums, I quickly realise I could have spent a whole day here. The history of
it all struck me and left me speechless. Trouble follows were trouble goes....
so of course after taking my first few photos to preserve and remember this
amazing experience we (and I mean me) are hunted down by the security detail
and told to promptly put my camera away.
After that we go on a mission to find a little wine bar
Scott remembers from his previous visit. We find it and I’m glad to know it is
not too far from our place. We go in and meet the Greek man behind the counter
and take a seat. Over the course of our Athens experience he becomes known as
my Greek boyfriend. We try some wine and after awhile it all starts to taste
the same. Scott has a better pallet than I do so I just order the same one
while he continues to try others. Before we know it, this little wine bar is
filling up quick and we are joined by many on our table. Here we meet two girls
from America. We chat and laugh and get to know each other. After 10 to many
vinos, Scott stands up and suggests we move on to a raging karaoke party at our
hostel. I just stare at him in disbelief at the words he just said but follow
the group regardless to the fun and horror that only karaoke can offer.
He steps into the tiny Sports Bar and I find none other than
every AFL team scarf hanging from the wall. I think to myself ‘I am so far from
home but never really gone’. The G & Ts start flowing freely and
with all self respect left happily back in my room the fun and games begin.
The next morning we are slow to get started but we get some
breakfast on the go and start our trek towards the Akropolis. The climb at
times never seems to end but the higher I climb, the more breath taking the
views of the city become and the more I feel like I’m tumbling back in time.
The reconstruction of the structure is still underway but what has been done so
far took my breath away – again. There were hundreds of people making their way
to and from the Akropolis. Scott and I split up and I took in every bit of
scenery I could and didn’t want to return to the world below.
The following day I went on a hop on hop off bus tour of the
surrounding areas. I visited such places as Panathinaiko Stadium, Parliament
House and gardens, Museum of Ancient History and of course the Temple of Zeus. I
explored alone, wandered the garden squares and watched the changing of the
guard at Parliament House. I had watched something similar at the Kremlin in
Moscow and at Buckingham Palace in London. This procession, I suppose you would
call it, was just as fascinating as the two others that came before it and their
guard uniforms just as traditional.
Scott and I explored Zeus’ Temple on our own the following
day. To touch 2000 year old stone was an amazing feeling. There were sections
roped off and prohibited to the public but that didn't stop me from feeling the
cold hard stone that had been placed there centuries before me. Before I knew
it, my time in Athens was coming to a close. We went to our favourite
restaurant in that dainty little street and saw our Papou for the last time. He
took us in and looked after us like any grandfather would. We made our way to
the airport and checked in, ready for my next adventure in Turkey.
I felt nostalgic when I left the terminal and boarded by
flight. I had already visited my family in Italy and now felt the same familiar
pull to this country. The people were beautiful, they understood the meaning of
family and my Italian heritage seemed to agree that I belonged.
Walking down to the gate, I had my boarding pass in my hand
along with my Italian passport. It had been a long day and I was ready to rest
for a few hours on the flight. I entered the plane and handed my boarding pass
over as usual to show the flight attendant my seat number. ‘Yassas’ she greeted me and I did not feel the need to correct her.
‘Yassas’ I responded, just in time
for me to hear her say ‘Hello’ to
Scott behind me. Maybe my Italian heritage showed more in me than I thought.
‘When in Rome’ I
thought..... oh well, Greece.
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