I should have known better (Athens)

I should have known better – a Beatles song to commence our second day in Athens and a portent of things to come.

After 12 hours sleep we felt human again. I exchanged a few messages with Glenn, they were off to see the changing of the guard. We were going to walk to the Parthenon and soak up the local colour along the way. The maps were consulted carefully at breakfast although as we stepped out through the hotel doors we weren’t particularly confident.

As I remarked yesterday the streets are narrow and dirty, there is rubbish everywhere, graffiti where ever you turn, weeds growing through the cracks in the concrete and dirt and animal droppings force you to watch where you step. The buildings in our part of town were decaying on the outside, most in need of some sort of repair, all desperate for a fresh coat of paint. It just adds to the feeling of a city that is hanging onto past glories by the thinnest margin. Parts of the gutter are made of marble that once would have been white but is now degraded and blackened through years of neglect. Street stalls hawking useless items jostled for places on the footpath (where it was wide enough) outside shops selling Tag Heuer watches. Now that is juxtaposition.

It was hot and a little hazy as the sun burned down from a cloudless sky. Despite the heat, it lacks the bite of the sun in Australia. We walked in the shade where we could and stopped frequently to check the map. By accident we discovered the food markets and wandered in to have a look at the seafood – fresh and great prices.

As we neared our destination I was surprised by the number of shops selling lawn mowers, irrigation systems, brush cutters and edgers. I hadn’t seen a garden or a live blade of grass since we arrived in Athens.

At the end of the street the area opened out and above it was the Parthenon. The Acropolis is an impressive piece of rock and in a different age would have had a massive castle imposing itself over the surrounding countryside. However the Ancient Greeks chose it as the site to worship their gods. The area below the Acropolis, as would be expected, contained numerous tourist shops selling everything from giant penis bottle openers (apparently a reference to Pan – although I don’t think he used his to open a beer) to fresh fruit to tourist trash to clothes and everything in between.

Nice sunglasses

We stopped briefly to look around at the shops and the ruins of Hadrian’s Library before we recommenced our quest for the top. Curiously, in such a major tourist zone there was not one sign to direct us to the Parthenon. Jayne asked a guy who was handing out tour brochures and the response basically was, walk up the hill and turn right. It wasn’t quite that simple but it was good enough to get us there. Well, to the queue anyway. I should have known better, surely we could have pre-purchased. Too late now. I know dear reader, you will be horrified but I joined the queue. In the sun. It only took 30 minutes to purchase our tickets.

The crowd was not insignificant and many of them were a part of one of the many guided tours. Although we were tempted to join a private tour we considered, at the time, that this would not be our only trip up to the temple. So, we moved off on our own and chose the areas that were less crowded.

The Theatre of Dionysus

Overall, we were underwhelmed. There is no doubt that the Parthenon and the other temples built on the Acropolis were impressive, but there were no signs or plaques, no audio-guide and nothing to make it a real experience – aside from you own imagination.  The real question is whether to restore or maintain. We have seen Roman ruins in areas of southern France that cater far better to tourists. We have seen better-restored remnants from the Greek civilisation in museums in London, Paris and New York. In fact, one area of a wall was obviously under repair and we expected to see a sign saying, “acquired by the British Museum”. Nice word acquired, I think it’s code for stolen during colonisation or war.

In keeping with the relaxed attitude that is Greece, there were no real paths to follow. This was compounded by the natural rock breaking though the surface, marble that had been polished smooth by thousands of feet. Slippery is an understatement and I shudder to think what it would be like after rain.

Another temple seen from the Acropolis

After the obligatory photos we sweated our way back down the mountain, finding as much shade as possible. It was time to re-hydrate. Back in the plaza and into the first air-conditioned taverna. Food? No, just drinks, two large draught beers. I learnt in Spain that nothing re-hydrates like beer. I sent Glenn a text as we cooled down and he and Donna appeared a few minutes later and we stayed in the cool catching up and swapping travel stories.

We headed off to explore the surrounding area and the Plaka, finally finding a dress for Jayne to wear to the wedding on Friday. It was late afternoon by this time so we selected a taverna for late lunch/early dinner and settled down near to the cooling mist spray. After the bread and tapenade it was octopus and squid. We swapped the beer for wine because they didn’t have draught beer and watched the world go past for the next couple of hours.

Eventually it was time to return to the hotel. I had studied the map and selected a slightly different route on the way back. The sun had lost intensity and the light was not so harsh, so caps and glasses were dispensed with and placed in the back pack. The streets were less crowded on the way home, the markets had closed and the street vendors were beginning to pack up for the day.

In twenty minutes we were back at the hotel enquiring about ways to get to Koroni. They were going to contact the taxi company so we could compare prices. In the meantime we decided we would go up to our room and change. As we got into the lift I leaned against the wall and the bottle of water in back crackled. Jayne said, “What was that?” and I leaned back and did it again and then turned to show her the pack back. “Brad, the pack is open. Your phone is gone.”

Inside the room I emptied the back and indeed my phone was gone. My phone that also held my licence, Amex card, Qantas cashcard and AMP Bank access card. Not happy. It was only that morning that I had decided that it was more likely a pickpocket would get my wallet rather than my phone so I move our Qantas card – that contains all our cash – into my phone case. The phone was in the small outer section of the pack. I’ve always believed it would be difficult for it to be opened without me knowing. I should have known better. The frustrating thing was that because of the narrow footpaths Jayne had walked behind for all but the last 200m to the hotel. That was how close we made it to home.

Back down to reception - we needed to borrow their phone because our room phone couldn’t dial international. All cards cancelled. Amex informed me that they had attempted to use the card within 15 minutes of it going missing but the transaction was declined. No harm done except the major inconvenience of cancelling cards and having them re-issued in Australia and of course, we have lost the ability to contact anyone unless we have wifi – and even then it’s through email or Facebook.

While I am sure we look like tourists, I have travelled through many places where this sort of crime is prevalent and have not lost anything. In fact, we are more likely to be stopped and asked directions and that has happened in a number of countries.

As I conclude this post faithful reader, I return to a segment that will be familiar to you, “stupid tourist comment of the day”. Today’s comment needs to be spoken in an embarrassingly loud voice with an American accent. It went something like this, “WOW, they’ve been renovating since the 1980s. This must be really old,” he said of the Parthenon.

Until tomorrow.