Greece 2 Is The Word!

Hey, it’s even funnier the second time!

So I finally got to the Acropolis last week with Jenny and Bruce. All that lovely debris. (Quoting “Ah Paris” always makes me think of my friend Michael, because when we met for the first time at an audition 19 years ago[!!!!] he sang that song. And I know he’ll be reading this so “Hi Michael!”) It was amazing, surreal, and awe-inspiring, even though it’s almost completely covered in scaffolding. It’s odd to think that after its days as a temple to the goddess Athena, it was used as a cathedral and later as a mosque. I guess multi-taking isn’t a 21st century invention.

When my ex RD and I were in New Mexico and walking around the ruins at Chaco Canyon, he said he felt an almost palpable human presence – like we were intruding in someone’s home and any minute, they could walk through the door. That’s what the Acropolis felt like to me. It was very eerie. Even walking up the ancient hillside road, treading along the same path as Athenians had trod thousands of years before me, I almost felt guilty. There were signs everywhere that asked the tourists not to touch the marble. However, I found my right hand inexplicably and without conscious thought leaving the pocket of my Levis 501s (which I bought at a flea market in Civitavecchia for 10 Euros) and reaching out to stroke the ancient walls. I didn’t tell the friends I was with I did this. (Although I guess they’ll know now, if they read this. Besides, we all know those signs don’t apply to me.). And there it was. The connection with Greece that I had been searching for ever since I came. It was almost as if Athena herself had willed my outstretched hand to that wall, knowing the energy and the power I would sense. It was tremendous. However, with about 2000 other interlopers parading around as if it was their God-given right to touch the marble, I soon became angry. Who did these people think they were? This is my sacred place! This is my Goddess-temple/cathedral/mosque/tourist attraction! Begone ye wicked overweight American tourists complaining of your weak dollar and over priced bottled water, else the wrath of Zeus fall on your baseball-capped heads!

I’ve calmed down since. I feel bad that I touched the marble. It was selfish of me, and my acidic oily fingertips have probably now caused that wall to disintegrate. But it allowed me a connection, a window in the soul of an ancient land and people that I have for so long yearned to see and discover.

This marvelous day ended on a very amusing note. We saw the Changing Of The Guard in Syntagma Square in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Although I know it is to be a solemn event, I couldn’t help but giggle uncontrollably. It was unmistakably like John Cleese and his Ministry of Funny Walks. It was time to go back to the ship.

Greece Is The Word!

Ha! How clever am I! (Insert crickets chirping.) Anyhoo…

Ever since I can remember, I have been a hellenophile. (And Spell-check has just informed me that ‘hellenophile is not a word. Who cares.) In my grade 7 geography class with Mr. Cottam, I remember putting together this elaborate 2 poster board project on Greece. I went to several travel agencies and got brochures with colour pictures of beautiful beaches and sprawling hillside villages of white square houses. I consulted many encyclopaedias and travel books. I knew every Greek god and goddess and their super power (this is because of the “Deities and Demigods” handbook from Dungeons and Dragons. If you ever want to know how many hit points Zeus has, I’m your guy!) And this was waaaaaaay before the Internet. Kids today have it easy! I remember this project hanging at the back of the classroom for several months, and I would occasionally just go up to look at those pictures of Santorini, Crete, Mykonos, Athens, Olympia and Lesbos. (Ah, Lesbos. The word always made me titter. The word titter makes me titter. Especially in combination with the word Lesbos). Some day, I said. Some day. Fade to black.

Well, that some day was last month. I had already visited the Land Of My Ancestors, and was suitably impressed. I was charmed by Palermo, marvelled at Pisa, and amazed and enchanted by Venice. But what I really wanted to do was to see Athens. Luckily, my friend Photi (who is Greek) sent me a wonderfully informative and chatty email about what to see, where to go and what to look out for. I just wanted to walk around and get the lay of the land. So from the port of Piraeus, I walked 30 minutes to the train station, paid my 80 cents, boarded Athens’ very modern and quiet subway, and headed forth to my date with destiny!

I liked Athens. I had a very nice time walking around the Plaka, with it’s narrow winding streets and charming little stores and cafes. I saw Hadrian’s Arch and the Temple of the Olympian Zeus, which was quite remarkable. I walked through this big park and saw a really odd zoo with stray cats and turtles. I didn’t get to the Acropolis, but I figured that I’d be back. In short, I had a really good day.

But…

I kinda wanted some sort of mystical experience, an epiphany if you will. I expected to commune with Greece. But I didn’t. Maybe I was expecting too much. Maybe my hopes were too high. I felt a little defeated, deflated even. I was very melancholy for a little while.

However, a few days later, I rode a donkey up the side of a cliff to Santorini, and I was captivated by a picture postcard Greece, with its beautiful beaches and sprawling villages of white square houses. I was back in Athens yesterday, saw the Acropolis and was awe-struck. So, Greece, you haven’t let me down. It just took me a while to let my defences down.

In ship news: There was a crew party last night with free beer and pizza. There was a karaoke contest, a body building contest and a drag queen contest. I was tempted to enter all three…