Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Pnixin' it up

So, for any women traveling to Greece at any time ever, please take my advice.  Unless you want lascivious stares from every single man whom you pass, regardless of age, height, or unibrow status, don't wear a dress.  Ever. 

Today, I decided I was feeling festive, and since one of our options for the trip in the future might feature colder climates, I thought it might be one of my last chances to wear a dress I really like.  Bad decision.  Everyone from the doorman through random pedestrians was oogling me.  It was worse than the normal amount of staring, which, as Gill says, is quintessentially European in character.  Luckily, we decided on an activity which didn't necessarily put us around many people.

Not much traffic in the caves

At least, there hasn't been in a while

These steps are too hard core for me
We went to see THE GRAVE OF SOCRATES!  I was half-expecting harp strums and the heavenly glow of early morning light to illuminate the area, but they must be running low on funds these days.  Either way, it was freaking awesome, and not worsened in the least by the fact that I wore flip flops.  For hiking.  Why is it that I always wear inappropriate shoes for outdoor activities?  Some sub-clause of Murphy's Law.

From His grave, we took a walk to the Pnix (birthplace of Democracy; no big) and took some more pictures.

A dove, who apparently didn't want to be in this shot.

Another centuries-old church

A pretty flower-bearing tree

The Pnix, and a great view of the Acropolos

Another shadow picture, because I can't resist!
All the walking was lovely, and it felt good to get a little sun on my legs.  My pedicure is shot to hell, and I felt a little guilty showing my toenails in public with my feet in such a deplorable condition, but what can you do?  Besides, all the scary Greek men weren't staring at my feet.  Athens is enormous, and full of Italians, and schoolchildren, who are almost as loud.  I realized that I must sound pretty racist, but let me clarify: I don't hate all Italian people.  Just the assholes who come on vacation here and are loud in inappropriate settings.  I don't hate all Americans, or all schoolchildren.  You understand.

From the Pnix, we walked to an ancient neighborhood, where all the old philosophers had summer homes back in the day.  I can't actually remember the name of the place, but I have some pictures, so here are those.

Another self-portrait, with huge-ass Athens spreading out in the background

Graffiti is the young generation's donning of the previous generation's mantle




I don't know what the giant circle is, but I didn't step inside, just in case.  o_0
As I was taking pictures, Gill and her parents continued to walk.  I looked up, and they were gone.  Like, disappeared into the woods.  It was Prague all over again, except this time in the hills of Athens, with a beating-hot sun, and no water.  Just having identified Aron Ralston's main problem as stubborn, unthinking hubris in the face of life-threatening situations, I noted a distinct similarity.  I'm constantly being left behind because I get distracted by something, and then I'm SOL.  I wandered for a little bit of time, found a balding half-naked gentleman with a large backpack, and then Jim came over a hillock with a mandala bathing him in the golden light of divine benevolence. 

It was about lunchtime, so we walked back in the direction of the Plaka, and sat down for four Greek salads, a bit of calamari, and sparrows everywhere.  I'm not a huge fan of feta cheese, but the olives were nice, and I did enjoy the tomatoes and olive oil.  We walked back to the Plaka, I picked up a hairbrush to replace the one lost in Prague, and Judy bought some olive oil for home.  I contemplated more souvenirs, but remembered the severely limited space in my backpack and refrained.  Back to the hotel from there for a siesta, during which I finished 127 Hours Between a Rock and a Hard Place (no surprise ending, though he does get a bit smug at the end), and napped for about an hour.  Then, it was time for dinner, because all we do is eat.  I changed, and we went into the bowels of the metro.

The metro was fairly clean and non-threatening, and not being in a dress minimized the stares, but I still held on to my bag with a vice-like grip and stared down anyone who looked like they were making advances at it.  Then, we walked to the restaurant, and drank an entire litre of ambrosia (honey wine-yum!) and I ate squid, which I will miss outside of Greece.

At least I'm not the only crazy-looking one this time!

Unrelated shot of some graffiti I liked

My squid :D
I haven't bonded with Athens the same way I did in Prague, but I literally walked up and down that city at least ten times.  I spoke something like the language, and it felt like it could very easily become home.  In Greece, I feel separate from the goings-on, even though I can read the Cyrillic alphabet and understand bits of phrases when they're spoken slowly.

The poverty here is outrageous; almost every meal, we're accosted by a small child playing the accordion with a large, buck-toothed grin.  Once, we were offered to buy a needle-threader by a strange man when seated in a cafe sipping cappuccinos that cost the equivalent of about eight dollars.  I feel bad, of course, but I have to ignore them and pretend they don't exist, because any attempt to reason with them, or explain that I'm a poor student and therefore would like to hold onto my money to eat for the next month will fall flat in the face of their stark and pressing need.  I feel guilty almost hourly here.  I'm curled up in a lavish hotel room on clean sheets with everything I could ever want at the tips of my fingers, and some people make their way to the center of town to beg for their living.  At least in Prague, the begging was confined to one or two incidents total if you stay away from the Charles Bridge.  I've loved my time here, but am ready to move on.  Maybe I'm just getting used to the road.

And now's the part that I admit I've been writing this entire post under the influence of about four or five (lost count) cups of honey wine, and I really should be getting to sleep because it's time to wake up in about four hours.  Whoops.  Anyway, good night from the birthplace of Western Civilization.  New location tomorrow, so get ready.  It's going to be AMAZING!

3 comments:

  1. The graffiti is nice, I think it's a nice little accent to the progress of humanity. And bright colors are pretty.
    Although, to be fair to the Greeks, that dress DOES really show off your legs. And didn't Greece just go through an economic collapse within the past few years?

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  2. What does showing off my legs and economic collapse have to do with men making lewd comments right as I walk by? I can hear them. It's creepy.

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  3. Well, obviously they're just very vocal about their approval of your appearance! Take it as a complement! :) (the economic collapse was just an observation regarding the poverty you were talking about; completely unrelated) (^-^')

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