Arrival in Athens
April 12, 2009
The acropolis a half an hour before closing was preparing to say good night. The sun created a haze and Katie’s flip-flops skidded on the smoothed stone. I thought of the lessons I had once taught of Pericles, the Parthenon, Aspasia, DEMOS, city-states.
“I am here.” I uttered, much like the day I stood in the middle of the 2nd pyramid in Cairo, as I looked at Belzoni’s name inscribed 3 feet high and 4 feet wide along the inside wall of the sarcophagus. I checked my heart’s feelings and my mind’s wanderings.
It was as if nothing had changed. I felt unchanged and a little numb, as I was trying to actually “feel” the place. It wouldn’t be until the next day looking at the description of ostracism and the chards of pottery used to cast the votes that I would again think of power and government.
We walked by "restaurant men" who had brochures, who called out sales pitches which very much resembled Italian pick up lines. Finally, we found our way to a small restaurant, on a side street, with no one harassing. We stopped under the glow of its outside lighting to peruse the menu and after seeing the New York Times had reviewed it, we walked in.
The wooden table in the corner was soon filled with a carafe of a very mild and light red wine, as we quickly decided to order any dish that sounded appetizing. I picked a dish that claimed was the Drunkard's favorite, which I thought was fitting considering how I felt from a day of traveling and site-seeing after Amy and Mike's birthday celebration the night before. The plates came and we all shared. We learned that we enjoyed tzatziki, a light yogurt, garlic and cucumber dip for bread.
After dinner, a little tired, we headed back to our hotel, "The Electra Palace" which was nestled in the Plaka district and walked to the 4th floor, whose large rooftop deck bragged of the most beautiful view of the acropolis at night.
The acropolis a half an hour before closing was preparing to say good night. The sun created a haze and Katie’s flip-flops skidded on the smoothed stone. I thought of the lessons I had once taught of Pericles, the Parthenon, Aspasia, DEMOS, city-states.
“I am here.” I uttered, much like the day I stood in the middle of the 2nd pyramid in Cairo, as I looked at Belzoni’s name inscribed 3 feet high and 4 feet wide along the inside wall of the sarcophagus. I checked my heart’s feelings and my mind’s wanderings.
It was as if nothing had changed. I felt unchanged and a little numb, as I was trying to actually “feel” the place. It wouldn’t be until the next day looking at the description of ostracism and the chards of pottery used to cast the votes that I would again think of power and government.
We walked by "restaurant men" who had brochures, who called out sales pitches which very much resembled Italian pick up lines. Finally, we found our way to a small restaurant, on a side street, with no one harassing. We stopped under the glow of its outside lighting to peruse the menu and after seeing the New York Times had reviewed it, we walked in.
The wooden table in the corner was soon filled with a carafe of a very mild and light red wine, as we quickly decided to order any dish that sounded appetizing. I picked a dish that claimed was the Drunkard's favorite, which I thought was fitting considering how I felt from a day of traveling and site-seeing after Amy and Mike's birthday celebration the night before. The plates came and we all shared. We learned that we enjoyed tzatziki, a light yogurt, garlic and cucumber dip for bread.
After dinner, a little tired, we headed back to our hotel, "The Electra Palace" which was nestled in the Plaka district and walked to the 4th floor, whose large rooftop deck bragged of the most beautiful view of the acropolis at night.
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