Runaround Bob

 Orthodox Church

In the shadow of the Acropolis was a quaint Orthodox Church. It was tiny and old and looked wonderful. The Athenians were flocking to the shops and cafes nearby.

I walked around the Church to capture it from all sides. Quite a gem.

Standing next to the Church is a young man with guitar, singing at the top of his lungs....

Ask any guy that she ever knew...ew...

Keep away from a runaround Sue....

It was almost surreal as I gazed at the icons, and the Parthenon...and listened to the words of the American 1950's Rocker, Dion.

Me and museums probably have a shelf-life of about two hours. I love being in them, but after 120 minutes I am ready to bust out of there. Yesterday proved no exception, I thoroughly enjoyed the two hours I spent in the National Museum of Archeology. For me the most surprising was that back in the 1880’s some famous archeologist discovered yet another civilization beneath the rubble of the already-known and long-gone civilizations buried there. So, I begin to wonder, what civilization is buried beneath THAT level of excavation? It’s rather like trying to conceive of an end to the universe, and yet it goes on and on.

Also, I took note in a guide book that many ancient Greek artifacts were carted off to London and Paris by their people and put on permanent display in those great cities. In the museum yesterday there was a large display of Egyptian relics which some Greek discovered and hauled back to Athens. If you want to see your own country's ancient history, you gotta do some traveling to track down the museums in which they reside. I guess Egypt is OK with the artifacts being here. They helped sponsor the permanent exhibit. There was one exhibit of something or other which was sponsored by “the generosity of an American Lady.” Quote-unquote. What is that all about? That may be the biggest mystery in the National Museum.

If I can only spend two hours inside a museum, on the other hand, I can spend countless hours wandering the city. The cars, traffic, shops and dirt fascinate me. And for your information, traffic flows pretty well, with minimal horn-blowing. And parking is a breeze. If there is a spot on the sidewalk, go ahead. When you are on you motor cycle or Vespa, if you can weave around cars, and can go on a sidewalk or even a pedestrian only walkway, go ahead. On the pedestrian walkway, you drive slower and try to look concerned, even pained that you have to drive your Vespa on that path. Maybe even say that you just drove your 86 year old grandmother up to her apt door after a morning at the butcher shop so she could make soup for Sunday dinner. Drive the cycle anywhere!…this is Athens. Though….we did see the cops try or actually ticket a distinguished looking gentleman who had parked his luxury auto next to some cycles next to a little shop. Cycles…OK. Luxury cars…no.

And the bonus of all this real life is that while walking Athens, keep your eyes alert so that around every corner you might be able to look up and see a bit of the Acropolis. (Kind of like San Francisco Bay where all you do is walk and see what your view is of the Golden Gate Bridge, and then when you get on the Golden Gate Bridge you look back and see all the places where you previously viewed the very structure on which you are standing but now ignoring cause you are too busy looking at where you have been. We’ll get to test that theory today when we finally climb up to the Acropolis and look back over the city and will no doubt search to see where we have been while standing beside and ignoring the Parthenon.)

Saturday was sunny and the locals were out in force. We stumbled upon the main shopping/strolling district of the Athenians. A million people wearing black, women in spike heeled, knee high fashion boots, twisting their ankles on the cobble stone streets. Everyone of them sitting in cafes drinking coffee (not impressive coffee either) or beer and smoking. Everyone smokes in Athens, there is a sign outside of town which tells you that you can’t stay in Athens for more than three days if you don’t smoke. It’s against the law to abstain from smoking in Athens, tourists get a three day exemption, and after that they are issued a pack of Marlboros, a drivers license for a Moped and an hour's worth of lessens on parking the Moped in pedestrian walkways.

Walk the streets where the Athenians stroll, then cross over onto the tourist mecca around the Acropolis. Different worlds. No local self-respecting Athenian would be caught walking the cute winding streets of the tourist area. If an Athenian child wandered from his parents into the beautiful streets of the tour buses and boutique hotels, the parents would first find the local authorities rather than go themselves. They would then sit at the nearest Athenian café, outside the zone, smoking (and looking chic) waiting for the National Guard to mount an expedition and retrieve Junior from the distress of the jewelry and T-shirt shops.

We took a left turn in one of the avenues because about a block away we saw what looked like a farmers market. We were close. It was a butcher’s market. There must have been a football-field length of butcher after butcher winding through this area. The Athenians were shopping. The butchers were haggling. A few tourists such as ourselves were caught in the frenzy. We watched one older women inspect carefully, like a dentist would a root canal, the heads of five skinned lambs?, goats? (complete with eyeballs) which were on display. I made a mental note to NOT enquire about any soup which I might eat in the coming week. If it tastes good, just keep quiet.. There is such a thing as too much information about the cuisine.

And finally speaking of such. Here we are in one of the premier cities of Western thought and culture and would you believe that the restaurants of Athens make terrific French fries? Who would have thought? (I am an American and I know things about French fries if nothing else. And it takes us right back to the original topic of…shelf-life. By the way…their Gyros rock too!) It sort of brings a whole new meaning to the term “Cradle of Civilization.” Indeed, it is.

Peace, Bob