"So I will get the bus in from the terminus still?" I had never driven in Athens, thankfully. It requires a strong, brave constitution.
"Yes that is the best situation."
I caught the bus into the city. It always made me smile when I saw the neoclassical Parliament building as the bus headed to Syntagma square. It struck me that the buildings were very built up and modern, flanking such a historical area. All the grief and euphoria that had been experienced within this historical hub was from ancient times and whilst I understood that it was the heart of the city, I always thought that the building was not sympathetic with its spirit. I headed to the Bank to cash in some of the traveller's cheques I had bought. The Banks were always modern glass fronted, quite clinical buildings. They oozed cool processed air over polished marble surfaces. I approached a free counter after waiting a while. Armed with my old friend in multiple denominations I was let loose.
My love affair with Athens was firmly established in 1997 and it was almost a pilgrimage to head up the Acropolis every time I visited. It's a steep climb, but the museums and little boutique shops I stumble across during the visits made me happy. The only conflicting struggle I had was my phobia of statues. Part of that phobia was the faceless shadows that hung around them, and what's more, they were always cloaked in darkness surrounding the museums they were contained within.
From every angle the Acropolis draws you up to it. The ascent was equally interesting because of all the street artists such as puppeteers that line the way to attract coins from the tourists. Walking through the Plaka the sprawl of buildings was punctuated with the odd beautiful Greek church. There seemed to have been no town planning and the construction placement made no sense to me. The glazed windows and interesting fonts on the shops caught my eye and of course the architecture. Most of them spilled their wares onto the streets, geared towards the tourists, with souvenirs and tacky trinkets, especially the Satyres. There's a tinge of reminders of the Ottoman architecture projecting into the close, clinging to the outside the buildings in the form of a mashrabiya. The Plaka was a haven for boutique jewellery shops, tshirts, littered with tourists trying to get their bearings in the warren of streets, with leather goods and sponges, hats and postcards to divert them. Frontage hung with canopies to provide welcome shade and the odd cafe wafted its coffee aromas, pastries and even Souvlaki kebabs into the walkways. Waiters tried to coax me in with their silver trays in their hands, pointing to tables clothed in white tablecloths. Crazy paved steps had a sprawl of wooden tables and woven whicker seats tucked into them, with ash trays and serviettes and serviette wrapped cutlery, ready prepared. Wirey dark green leafy trees provide the shade. I am reminded I'm in Greece with white painted kerbs and tree trunks. There was also the familiar post office logo next to where the postcard venders were. At every turn I got a glimpse of my destination. Cars lined up like bricks along the narrow walkways and the walls were washed with the odd ugly graffiti. Motorbikes had been parked in pavement thoroughfairs. They would be impounded in edinburgh for parking like that. I was in my element.
I spent a few hours on top of the world, admiring the views and travelling back in time. I still can't cope well though with the museum. The six maidens that are integral pillars are copies installed at the Erechtheion temple. The originals were inside the museum, imprisoned there for protection from the hostile pollution filled city. They repelled me (as did the lighting, surrounding them) beyond all comprehension.
Athens, Rome, Istanbul - they are all Capital cities of note for a reason.
I found my way back to the bus terminal and came across Alex heading back from a run. The entrance to his flat on the third floor meant that anyone had to be buzzed in. I was glad to come across him. He grabbed a shower and I collapsed, exhausted with all the walking around the city, flaked out like one of the many statues I'd admired, on the bed.
Alex came in whilst I was talking to Ioanna. He announced "I've arranged for us to meet at the Plaka for dinner." They eat late very often and went for a stroll afterwards. "To be seen." I hunted out my little black dress. I'd bought a diamante bracelet and a black hairslide with pave set crystals in a costume jewellery boutique in town. I had black satin beaded sandals to match. It was a great excuse to make the effort as usually I was on my own in the evening when I was working, or at my friend Quig's. I did feel sorry for Ioanna though as she was never invited to join us.
I was vegetarian so there was always space for ice cream.
I'd passed the very restaurant we'd walked into that evening. The waft of Greek Kebabs drizzled in lemon, barbequing filled my nostrils. The food was really tasty. I ordered Greek roast vegetables with a fresh Greek salad. Heavenly feta and olives with the plumpest of beefeater tomatoes arrived and was dropped down in front of me, bathing in sunkissed oil. It created glistening pools of oil dotted tomato juice that I mopped up with bread. The bread was refilled on the table, sliced and devoid of spread. There was Gemista (stuffed peppers) and dolmades (stuffed vine leaves) with corn.
"I never get over the fact that you have sugar on your corn rather than butter."
"That sounds horrible!" Vassilis commented and shook his head. I cut off some of my corn and stole some butter and dropped it on his plate in protest. Grudgingly he put some in his mouth and looked at me approvingly. "That is surprisingly ok!" He smiled.
"I know!" I smirked. Vassilis was sat, intimately close to me. He was working hard to secure my interest. His interest was shallow and obvious. My interest had left the country in that respect. But that didn't hinder Vassilis, and if he had known how I felt I'm sure we wouldn't be going through the motions like he was now.
The conversation flowed and we moved onto the discussion of coming of age. The cultural differences were shared with me again by Vassilis, who spoke with an authoritative confidence in the subject. He shared with me that it's a common practice that a family member is approached to help a man lose his virginity. (I wondered if they got paid for it but didn't like to ask!) Greek girls were normally virgins when they get married. I had a glass or two of wine polished off with Fig ice cream. It was 11pm by the time we finished our meal. I never normally eat so late.
Some men appeared and started visiting each table like bees collecting nectar. They held a bucket of fleshly cut florist ruby red roses, with tightly packed petals, neatly organised and with glossy dark green leaves. They were in prime condition.
Alex handed one to Katerina. Vassilis chivalrously handed one to me. I thanked him graciously. It was a very pleasant evening. We headed 'home'.
The following morning Alex asked, "So what's the plan today?"
"I thought I'd go and visit the Benaki museum and continue my love affair with Athens!"
It was very self-indugent and then I relaxed in the National Garden and then back to the Alex's. It was a wonderful city break getting to know my good friend again.
"I thought about what I could get for Alex's Mother by way of thanks. She always looked after me so well.
I found a flower shop and picked up some fragrant colourful lilies for Alex's Mother. I had been wandering for some time and I was tired. I then realised I was lost. Things were a bit chaotic with the underground because of all the work for the Olympics preparation. The street was so busy. I stopped a man, armed with my bunch of flowers and asked him in Greek,
"Συγνώμη, Από πού μπορώ το λεωφορείο παρακάλο....? "Excuse me, from where do I get the bus to the bus terminal please?"
As always he answered me in English and cut into my laboured, rusty Greek. "Are you lost?" he asked and smiled.
"Yes!" I smiled back. "I am a bit. If I can just find the bus stop I'll be fine. I'm a bit hot and tired."
"I can take you." he replied,
"Oh I don't want to trouble you."
"It's no trouble, I am going in that direction anyway!" He had obviously learnt English in an American school.
We walked together and I had to be really careful that the flowers didn't get bashed. The streets were full of people going about their business at home commute time and the pavements were full. As we walked I noticed that people all had dark denim and either black or white t-shirts on. It was like a uniform allocated to the Athens populous. This gentleman looked more like a historian, with his loosened tie, buff shirt, trousers and moccasin shoes. However in general men were comparable with the weather, both at home and here. Men of a similar age to me were warm, charming and welcome and rather beautiful in general. At home they too reflected the British climate.
"Where are you from?" He enquired.
"The UK." I replied. "I am visiting a good friend of mine and these are for his Mother for looking after me."
"Oh that's nice" he commented.
"Here you are, the bus goes from here." We had reached the bottom of the street.
"Oh I wasn't far then!" I was relieved that I could still trust some of my navigation.
"Would you like to get a drink later?" he asked.
"That would have been lovely!" I replied, a bit taken aback, and completely flattered, "but I go home tomorrow and we're spending the last night with the family tonight for a get together meal. I'm so sorry."
"Well lovely meeting you and have a pleasant evening."
"You too and thanks again, Ευχαριστώ πολύ!"
Before I knew it I was returning home on a plane and waving Alex goodbye, with a very heavy heart.