Athens – the Acropolis

I’m working directly from WordPress this time, so typos will find me. Be patient. In 10 years it’s like it never happened.

That photo above is the view from where I planted my rump at the end of the Great Acropolis Adventure. The bottom of the image is a bit of Agora – the old city. The top of that is THE HILL I CLIMBED for the only time in my life. I’m going to get real here. I’ve been in training for a couple of months to get myself up there. At the condo down south I’ve been making myself do the stairs at least twice a day plus 2.5 miles of walking. Today clocked in at about 12,000 steps and 30 flights. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to be pouring another glass of wine when I’m done here. Truly, if you know me, you know how I’ve struggled with the fitness thing. I won’t claim to have rocked this, but dang it, I got it done. (My right foot is screaming, but I’ll figure that out over the summer.)

But about last night… I traveled a decade on my own while Tom was working. The work was his happy place and the two or three travel outings I managed each year were mine. So it’s a bit of an understatement to say I like to do things my way. For food I roam around until I see a menu and price that I like. Tom’s leaning towards the travel books right now, much like I did to start. They are reliable, but you might find yourself surrounded by more tourists than locals. So last night we ended up hiking about forty steps to land at the single most touristed restaurant in all of Athens. Opa!

(Before I continue, I survived or I wouldn’t be writing this.)

So after the 40 steps that were narrow between the tables of the half dozen restaurants, and after I accused Tom of him wanting me to die so that he could enjoy retirement alone (surely you know that’s me being dramatic and not the actual truth), we made our way to the steps near the restaurant. I asked Tom to be certain that we were at the right place. The door dude (part hustler, part fixer) assured me we were and shoved a business card in my face. We were.

Did we have a reservation? No we did not. I had asked earlier that day if one might be necessary, but the travel companion said no. As a good tired wife who had just ascended 40 steps huffing and puffing in public might do, I offered my best scowl in someone’s direction.

No problem. Mr. Door Dude had us seated indoors in a moment. Indoors is where you get all the music. That is okay because I wasn’t much in the mood for talking right then. And yes, they had a house wine by the carafe. And oh look! There are mussels in tomatoes and feta cheese. And so we settled in. The food was good, the music was good; the dancing by professionals was a surprise, but good. We enjoyed both the performers and the crowd for the first twenty minutes. An hour later, we’d had enough. But the restaurant had kind of forgotten our table of two by then, and it took no fewer than eight tries to retrieve a bill and pay. It was more than the typical European dining encounter. I’m thinking that we must have cursed the waiter’s child at birth and he was reluctant to be in our presence. We eventually made it it back to our AirBnB, and life was much better.

This morning I had coffee in my pajamas. This is a big deal, because hotels don’t allow such luxuries, and this is the only apartment rental we’ll have for our trip. Truly, that’s something to consider when you travel. If you are fond of the occasional morning in, you’ll need to plan for that. Tom did make me toast eventually as he wanted us to be on our way, and he knew I’d be happy plopped on this bespoke-designed sectional until noon.

We went to the Acropolis Museum first as our travel buddy suggested yesterday. Then we headed for lunch to a restaurant with WiFi so we could buy etickets and avoid the line. That restaurant outing required both vaccine cards and IDs, and since that was a first in Greece it took a bit of time for Tom to find his ID online. I had mine as a photocopy of my passport. I lost that somewhere between the restaurant and the Acropolis, so my mugshot is floating around the trash of Athens.

(First note: what to put in your pocket in big cities. Do not stuff your wallet with cards that will be difficult to replace if pickpocketed. Do not roam the streets with your passport, but do take a copy. And I’ll need to do a piece on cutting losses someday. I was not happy about that passport-copy snafu.)

Anyway, the equivalent of 30 flights of stairs later I am taking photos of Tom in his Milwaukee Bucks Antetokounmpo jersey (a Christmas gift from the youngest) in front of the Parthenon and I’m dancing around pumping my fists chanting, ”I did it! I did it!” (Not really, but I demanded a high five.) I have plans for that photo of Tom, by the way. I’ll update you as to how it all turns out.

After the Acropolis we searched for the entrance to the Agora and failed. The one we found was closed, and the other was so far away we wouldn’t make it in time, but Tom tried anyway, and I planted myself at a nearby patio table, bought a beverage so they wouldn’t throw me out, and took the photo at the top of this post. Tom eventually joined me, and though neither of us used our bonus ticket to see it up close, we did find ourselves walking by it all from a few feet above on our way back to our lodgings.

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Life at home. So here I am, catching up with you and doing laundry in the tiniest washer/dryer combo that I have ever seen. Laundry is a necessity instead of a luxury since we both flew carry-on for two weeks. And you better believe you’ll be reading about that soon.

Tom ran to pick up souvlaki take out. These tasty little wraps were 3E each. I’m going to figure out how much arnica is necessary to give my right foot some relief.

And, there’s a laundry problem. Oh gosh! Another story for tomorrow.