What I learned over the course of a week in Greece, is that it's not easy being a single, solitary man in the land of Zorba. Nor is it easy being an aged Dell left carelessly in a dilapidated Gyro joint in the center of Athens.
I had a terrible time getting from Turkey to Athens on the train. The first section of the trip was well fine - a sleek two-berthed cabin allowed for a perfect night's rest, especially when it follows an afternoon massage in a Turkish bath. But getting into Thessaloniki and finding out that there were no spaces left on trains going from Greece's 2nd largest city to its capital was disappointing. So too was finding out that the train ticket I bought was supposedly transferable, yet non-refundable. But nothing to do as a lone traveler in these moments but sigh, and pull out more plastic for the long bus ticket to Athens.
The bus trip was nice enough - the blue calm waters of the Aegean framed a tropical splendor that I had long anticipated. I think we went through the area where the Spartans held off the Persians.
When I got there, I suffered simultaneously from a momentary lapse of judgment, a spike in hunger and expanding bladder. After walking into a dodgy restaurant, I left my laptop and luggage by my table while I ran up to use the men's room. When I came back, my laptop case was gone. What a moron I was.
Only thing to do is to sigh, and think of how that's one less thing I need to haul around Europe.
But the next day was better. After some pleading, I did cash in my unused train ticket (it turns out it is refundable after complaining), I booked a ferry to the islands and had a nice day exploring Athens.
Athens' sister city should be Osaka. They're both concrete messes hiding archeological gems and radiating pure heat from their dull gray radiance. Each should bulldoze a large swath of their downtowns in order to restore a portion to their ancient, narrow-streeted brilliance.
The crumbling marble of the Acropolis was every bit as lovely as I had always dreamed. My oh my what a place it must have been at the time of Alexander.
I walked for a bit by some featureless, rather boring ruins at the bottom of the Acropolis which used to be the heart of the ancient city of Athens. I was about to leave bored, when I looked over and saw a sign which stated that I was looking at the exact place where Socrates imbibed hemlock.
Among the things I learned while in Athens is that someone who looks just like my brother Matt lived there about the time of the Roman Empire. Strangely though, the statue is absent the ancient Greek letters tatooed on its ankle, which would indicate a certain lapse of judgment that the statue apparently never suffered one night after running around the pubs with his fraternal order.
Given the chaos of Athens I made no small rush to make it out immediately to the islands. The island of Santorini is where I was bound and it was a nine hour journey out and back on the Blue Star Ferry, which boasted deplorable food and chain-smoking Greeks but phenomenal views of the sometimes lonely and extremely desolate, yet often populated islands.
I remember reading how Mark Twain called the islands something along the lines of "hideous." While I would certainly disagree that the islands were ugly, they were more lifeless than any other islands I had ever seen. Nothing stirred on the desert cliffs of the treeless barren rock. It is astonishing that these islands were the seat of civilization for so long so long ago.
Santorini is simply spectacular. No where in the world had I ever seen such stark beauty on an island. And not only did the natural world wow the wonder that one all ready feels on gorgeous ocean paradise, but the towns, especially Oia, where I stayed, seemed to frugally fit the dramatic landscape. Clean lines, tones and color. Domed abodes. Rooftop patios. Over fed cats lounging on sunny porch steps. Steep stairs to the sea and impossibly comfortable narrow passageways. It is a place where all structures seem to perch, hang or cling like slumbering clouds on seaside cliffs.
Life on even a touristy destination like Santorini has remarkable moments that probably reflect what life has been like for quite some time. For example, I watched an old man donned in a speedo briefs emerge from the water near a small village on the outlaying island of Thirasia. He was wearing a snorkel and mask, and having speared an octopus, brought it to shore to slam it against a rock a dozen time before carrying it to his restaurant grilling friend nearby. Then he sauntered back into the water to find more prey.
My brother and his wife Meg spent their honeymoon here more than a year ago. It turns out, nearly every other couple did and continues to do so as well. Marveling at the multitudes of paired humans drifting around at sunset, amorously wistful, many questions whisked through mind. I wondered how many children have been made on these cliffs alongside the sesame-covered peanuts and the paintings of cloth-covered windmills.
So Greece is for lovers. And right now, I don't feel so much like one, especially since I hope that whoever stole my old Dell has strained his back from lugging around that monstrosity and it has infected his memory stick with all the old wicked viruses that were scurrying all around Slavic cyberspace.
