Zeus' Bolts= Greeced Lightning

For roughly half of my college career, I have lived on Langdon St., one of Greece’s plethora of American subsidiaries.  While the aforementioned avenue isn’t the most cultured or authentic of Greek colonies, its residents assuage any lack of authenticity by prefacing many of their utterances with “my, big fat”.  One luxury afforded to this Neo-Greek community is the possibility of temporarily leaving its bounds to continue studies in a far away land.  And while away from the colony, one can make a hajj to the motherland.  This week, I was fortunate enough to make such a pilgrimage.

Because my stay in the Land of Israel has been extended several weeks, during which my class schedule remains somewhat barren, my friend Roee and I decided that our days liberated from class work would best be served in Greece.  A few weeks ago, we planned the trip, allowing for two and a half days in the historic metropolis of Athens and another day in the picturesque isle of Mykonos.  We took a sherut (shared taxi) to Ben Gurion Airport on Tuesday morning at 3 AM and boarded our flight to Athena’s commonwealth at seven.  Our flight touched down at nine, and we embarked on our big, fat, Greek journey.

Thanks to my time spent in Europe with Sydney Wolfson, traveler extraordinaire, I have grown quite adept at navigating my way around a city’s landscape by way of metro.  The city of Athens often catches a lot of flak from tourists who object that it isn’t that aesthetically pleasing.  Before I object to those allegations, I’d like to point out that I believe that this city puts well over half of its total income into its metro system.  Not only is it incredibly quick and easy, but each train, and each station, was remarkably well put together, clean, shiny, new, the whole nine yards. 

After the metro spit us out at Omonia Sq., where our hostel was located, we quickly found a sunglass stand and spent only a small Bobby Ray band on a pair of faux Ray Bans (see B.o.B’s “Ray Bands” for the reference).  With the sun’s rays banning our full visual capacities san the Bans, we intuitively purchased them.  They also proved a good investment because with them on, you can’t see past my shades (see B.o.B’s “Past my Shades”), and with sleep ever elusive, they proved to be quite effective at masking the bags beneath my eyes.

Upon arriving at Hotel Efesos, our inn for the night, we refreshed ourselves and metro’d to Monistiraki Sq., for a bite to eat.  We sat there for a bit, enjoying people watching and soaking up the Greek sun.  As our next day would begin with a ferry to Mykonos, and because we were not fully acclimated with our surroundings nor were we fully cognizant of the most expedient route to the ferry, we set out on a two hour, heavily stressful wild goose chase to obtain all of the necessary details of the trip.  We ran like Jesse Owens and Usain Bolt, the fastest of Olympians.  Tempers flaring, we eventually garnered such information and decided it best to cab to Rafina, where the port was, before sunrise.  Across the street from the ferry we would find our tickets and ensure ourselves sufficient time to acquaint ourselves with the area and board the boat.  After our anxiety subsided, we transcended back into vacation mode and took the metro to the prize of Athens, the Parthenon. 

Within the confines of the ancient Greek Acropolis lay a multitude of ruins, edifices constructed to engender favor with the Olympian and Titanic deities.  First, we encountered the Theatre of Dionysis, an amphitheatre where many of the acclaimed comedies and tragedies were held.  Amid a mosaic of remnants of ancient life, we ascended a steep hill that seemingly led to the heavens.  At the apogee of the mountain stood the Parthenon, the greatest of all Greek constructs.  With its towering spires and monstrous platform, the illustrious complex stands as one of the great wonders of early-historic life.  These ancient democrats built the temple as a worship place for Athena, who emerged victorious over Poseidon’s piercing trident and obtained the city’s namesake.

After leaving the Acropolis, we headed down to its museum for further insight into the mystery that was left in the wake of its creation.  Besides offering a wealth of knowledge, the museum also offered air conditioning, and because the city was scorching hot, any place with circulating Freon was an apt place to take refuge.  We left the museum once our thirst for knowledge and refreshments had been quenched, and sat down at a nearby restaurant to spend some euros on some gyros.

It was still light out when we decided to call it a night.  Our alarm would be set for 4:30 AM the next morning so that we could catch the ferry.  But before knight fell, we played a quick game of chess (as we had done by the Parthenon), before we arose at the crack of pawn.

Our cab transferred us to Rafina bright and early, just early enough to see the sun rise over the mountains when we arrived at our destination.  The ferry was a titanic ship and reminded me much of the cruise ships I had sailed on in my own antiquity.  Parking ourselves next to a window, a façade of blue tides and green mountains graced our lines of sight for four hours.

After a smooth, but nearly sleepless boat ride, we anchored at the isle of Mykonos.  Tel Aviv is often referred to as “the White City”.  Indeed, there is a conspicuous absence of color that layers the buildings of Tel Aviv, but if “the White City” is an apt name for it, then “the White _____ (Island, Village, or insert any other appropriate locale)” is a well suited nickname for Mykonos (and most other Greek isles I suspect, at least from what I have seen from pictures).  Unlike the “the White City” that Daniel Burnham constructed over a century ago, there was no devil there.  There are beaches.  There is sun.  There is relaxation.  I suppose though if el diablo did manifest himself on the island, he would have taken on the form of the relentless mosquitoes whom I will expound upon later.

After busing to our hostel, we relieved ourselves of our luggage.  Roee, reluctant to immediately partake in any activity other than sleep, took a few hour siesta while I sat out by the pool that our hostel housed and set out on a mission to finish reading Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. After considerable time and book pages passed, I heard the beach calling my name.  Upon getting Roee to his feet, we walked over to sand land (which was literally adjacent to our hostel).

In photographs and films, certain aspects of scenes can be accentuated so as to offer an audience an ideal aesthetic experience.  The Aegean Sea, however, had not been photo-shopped or doctored in any way, and its natural beauty far surpassed any scene one could hope to see on a postcard or the Travel Channel.  If it should be said that one has never really had a hot dog until they’ve come to Chicago (which is true), then I had never seen the color blue until my time spent in Mykonos.  For hours, we laid there reading, snoozing, and swimming, and by dusk, I had turned a great profit: a nice tan and a new novel and author to add to my list of favorites.

When day became night, we took a bus into the commercial area for a night on the town.  Mykonos is often considered the party island of Greece, and our experience in the city did nothing to defer that reputation.  Before hitting the club scene, a late night gyro was in order.  Because I did not spend enough time in Oslo, we went to a club called Skandinavia Bar.  The nightlife in Mykonos is really hoppin’, and the greatest pleasure of the night (other than the gyros) was the people watching.

Because sleep had evaded us for the last couple of nights, we headed back to the hostel somewhat early.  With a few drinks in us, we fell asleep with relative ease, but our attempt to rest was soon thwarted.  Our hostel was more of a campsite, our room a bungalow.  And inside its walls, one had a much more difficult time distinguishing it from a sauna than deciphering Coke from Pepsi during the Pepsi Challenge.  That was only problem number one, and may have been the less arduous of the two.  

Possibly more rigorous than sleeping in a steam room was sleeping with the swarm of mosquitoes that feasted upon us.  Their merciless infliction of affliction made the possibility of sleep but a fiction.  If that room was hell, then the collective of blood-hungry mosquitoes was the devil in the White City.  But even with the innumerable constellations of inflamed bumps that bulged from my entire body the next morning, I have very fond memories of my time spent in Mykonos and thoroughly enjoyed the island.  Anyway, our efforts to feign ignorance to our predators were to no avail, and at 4:30 AM we opted not to donate any more blood and instead watch the sun rise over the mountains.

Before our great star took its place in the heavens, we laid down on the beach.  With iPod in hand, I flipped on REM so that even if I could not obtain it unconsciously, at least I could listen to the audio version.  But even without sleep, Mykonos proved a relaxing and pacific excursion, and at 1:00 PM, we ferried out from the isle en route back to Athens

Between the ferry and the bus ride from the Rafina port back to the city, we got back to our hostel around seven that evening, quickly showered, changed, and refreshed ourselves before enjoying another night on the town.  First, we went out for a bite to eat just outside of Monastiraki Sq., where we found a great, little restaurant.  The food was good, but its venerable qualities were more a function of its optimal location, just below the Acropolis.  With the sun setting, we had a surreal view of the ancient forum. 

As dinner concluded, we paraded about the city, stopping at one bar for a glass of scotch and another for a beer.  Ya, I live the life.  Both watering holes featured a presentation of the Euro Cup.  In this particular match, the Land of Tapas uprooted the Land of Guinness.  Although it blatantly pales in comparison to real football, watching futbol in Europe is pretty fun.  After leaving the bars, we returned to the hostel and were finally extended the freedom to doze off into an early summer night’s dream. 

Friday was our last day in gyro country.  Out of the hostel by 10:30 AM, our first stop was the National Archaeology Museum.  There, we witnessed a time capsule that encapsulated many of early civilization’s greatest feats, from tools, to jewelry, to art, to architecture.  Halfway through our tour, I thought I saw a familiar face about to exit the vicinity.  “Is that Liora?”, I excitedly asked Roee.  At once, Liora Jaffe turned around, at first a bit befuddled, but quickly pleasantly surprised. 

Liora, along with two other girls from our study abroad program, had been traveling around Greece for the last week.  We were all aware of each others’ travel plans but realized that our itineraries would most likely not coincide.  There would be no overlap with Melissa and Ilana, the other girls with whom Liora was traveling, but because she was staying behind an extra day in Greece before a solo trip to Turkey, there was the possibility that our paths would cross with Liora.  Still, with no way to contact each other, the opportunity for our paths to cross was negligible.  After exchanging greeting and the details of each other’s experiences in Greece thus far, we parted ways but planned to meet again in a few hours to go sightseeing together. 

After completing our circle around the museum, Roee and I left for Monastiraki Sq. and grabbed some food.  A nearby crepe stand sated our appetites, and I was quickly reminded of my days in Paris.  Kitty corner from the square stood a little shop called “The Poet Sandal Maker”.   My friend Kait had recommended to me that I stop by the shop if time permitted, and since time did permit, I took a look in.  I have never owned a really nice pair of sandals before, and so when my eyes caught the enormous archive of artisan footwear that decorated the walls from floor to ceiling, intrigue took hold of me and I browsed through the catalogue.  Pantelis Melissinos, the proprietor of the sandal stand, is the third generation of ownership.  His grandfather had founded the establishment long ago, and as time elapsed, a full list of whos-who, such as John Lennon, Barbara Streisand, Sarah Jessica-Parker, and Jill Biden, had purchased this famous footwear.  I decided that I would rather fancy sporting a pair, so I chose which design I favored most and returned half an hour later once they were formed from scratch.  Liora, who we met up with during this time, flipped open her wallet, flopped some money on the table, and chose a pair as well.

With the open-roofed shoes in our possession, we exited the store and quested after the ancient Agora.  Learning that we would need more time there than we could let pass, for Liora had to leave shortly after to catch a plane to Istanbul, we instead chose to see the temple of Zeus.  Although time and the human condition had eroded the juggernaut’s pagoda since its inception, the temple stood as yet another testament to spectacles originating from the human intellect and materialized by human hands.  While there, I was half expecting to see Greeced lightning, but we neither saw nor felt and John Travoltage.

After Liora was forced to relinquish us from her company, Roee and I were left to do some last minute gift shopping.  In a downtrodden economy such as Greece’s, one would not expect the country’s most heralded attractions to close before five, but they do.  This was ok, as gifts were a necessary component of the schedule.  One token I had personally yearned for since the trip was planned was a copy of Plato’s Republic in Greek.  In Paris, I acquired a French version of Voltaire’s collected works, and so I figured that the Republic would be a cherished asset to my personal library.  Desperately, I had searched far and wide for Plato’s grand work.  At last, I made it to the largest of Athens’ bookstores and finally set eyes upon the treasure.  Once within my grasp, my mission was accomplished.  Our week came to a Greek end, and it was time for the weekend. We returned to Hotel Efesos, collected our luggage, and made our way back to the airport. 

As I complete this entry, I am sitting at the Aroma Café near the Hebrew U campus.  My European circuit will have to take an indefinite hiatus.  Still, I have ventured to that continent four times over the last three months, spending at least three days in five different countries.  I am astounded by the wealth of knowledge and wisdom I have come across throughout my travels.  I cannot begin to describe how lucky I feel, and I couldn’t ask for more.  The countdown has begun until my reunion with my family.  Right now, it’s at eleven days.  How exciting!  May life always be so sweet.

L’chaim

Zac