Andreas has a kind smile that he shines on me when he excuses himself and settles in to the seat next to mine over by the window. He will shine that same smile the few more times before this flight is over and he will touch my hand gently and when he says, "Beth, I mean it, you will love Greece." I believe him. I would believe anything he tells me.
Andreas is Greek but he grew up in Africa and now lives in Maryland. He has just sent his third child off to college and he is going to meet his wife in Athens and then up to Volos where they will build a house and retire… someday. This is the first time he is away from his children and I can tell that he misses them. Andreas tells me about his family and how he loves to cook and how he treats his dog like a fourth child. He is charming and warm and I am happy.
Andreas tells me that the father of Zeus was Chronos - meaning time; and his mother was Dea - meaning matter. Time and Matter create Zeus, the god of all gods. This is where I am going.
Andreas says the last time he flew to Greece he sat next to a baby who cried for most of the trip and stole food off his tray. I assure him I won't take his food but I tell him I cannot guarantee that I won't cry. He laughs but I know I am serious, it's been an emotional journey so far.
Earlier Holly texted me a reminder to hold off on the Xanax until I got on the plane, which I do obediently and then I pop a whole and a half in my mouth and settle in to talk with Andreas until I pass out. I wake up in time for breakfast and descent into Athens, perfect.
Turns out I did manage to get everything done that I had hoped to get done on my first day in Athens. Bought temporary phone, wireless hotel in the internet but I completely forgot to bring a USB cable for my camera so I cannot load photos onto my computer or post them. I will have to get one tomorrow and hope they have a computer supply store in Milos.
I begin to fade in the hotel room in the afternoon so I take a walk to find the Omania Square metro station for the train to Pireaus which I intend to take early the next morning. It is only a few streets away and I investigate how to buy a ticket and where the escalator is to get my bag down the stairs and I live in an illusion that I have successfully gained control of a small bit of my future.
I've no idea what time it is but I am walking towards the Acropolis. Omania Square was as busy as Columbus Circle but the quiet, winding streets of Athens are peaceful. The stress of the last few days and weeks have melted away, just like Janet Gaynor said would happen. I still don't know what time it is or when I last ate food. There is something scary lying in the middle of the street and I just have a feeling it’s something I ought to avoid. Still I wander up the narrow deserted street towards what turns out to be a dead kitten lying in a pool of it's own blood. It’s eyes are open and it’s soul is gone. The kitten reminds me of my fear yesterday and the days and weeks before that.
I am taking a rest in the shade at an archeological site at the foot of the Acropolis that just happens to be here on my walk. I am feeling happy and thoughtful and finally here. Breathe. A Greek man sitting on a folding chair in the middle of this site tells me life is super beautiful. I must have been wearing my game face, frowning, trying to look like I belong, as usual, but I smile back at him and he says, "Smile forever!"
I thank him in Greek, "Efkaristho."
"Smile all the time!” He laughs.
Losing myself, or getting lost in Athens; I am not sure which one.
I pretend to mark my path repeating the names of stores in my head as I pass down the streets, and that odd sculpture in the middle of the fountain, and the old church with the broken window. Memorizing street signs is useless. Omonia Square is a landmark but I am forever away from that area now. The road to the hotel is down from the Acropolis, that's all I know so I keep moving down. I won't look at the map yet, it's folded a dozen times and safely tucked into my bag. The concierge drew a little circle around the hotel intersection. "In case you get lost" he said, "And a good person will show you the way."
Andreas is Greek but he grew up in Africa and now lives in Maryland. He has just sent his third child off to college and he is going to meet his wife in Athens and then up to Volos where they will build a house and retire… someday. This is the first time he is away from his children and I can tell that he misses them. Andreas tells me about his family and how he loves to cook and how he treats his dog like a fourth child. He is charming and warm and I am happy.
Andreas tells me that the father of Zeus was Chronos - meaning time; and his mother was Dea - meaning matter. Time and Matter create Zeus, the god of all gods. This is where I am going.
Andreas says the last time he flew to Greece he sat next to a baby who cried for most of the trip and stole food off his tray. I assure him I won't take his food but I tell him I cannot guarantee that I won't cry. He laughs but I know I am serious, it's been an emotional journey so far.
Earlier Holly texted me a reminder to hold off on the Xanax until I got on the plane, which I do obediently and then I pop a whole and a half in my mouth and settle in to talk with Andreas until I pass out. I wake up in time for breakfast and descent into Athens, perfect.
Turns out I did manage to get everything done that I had hoped to get done on my first day in Athens. Bought temporary phone, wireless hotel in the internet but I completely forgot to bring a USB cable for my camera so I cannot load photos onto my computer or post them. I will have to get one tomorrow and hope they have a computer supply store in Milos.
I begin to fade in the hotel room in the afternoon so I take a walk to find the Omania Square metro station for the train to Pireaus which I intend to take early the next morning. It is only a few streets away and I investigate how to buy a ticket and where the escalator is to get my bag down the stairs and I live in an illusion that I have successfully gained control of a small bit of my future.
I've no idea what time it is but I am walking towards the Acropolis. Omania Square was as busy as Columbus Circle but the quiet, winding streets of Athens are peaceful. The stress of the last few days and weeks have melted away, just like Janet Gaynor said would happen. I still don't know what time it is or when I last ate food. There is something scary lying in the middle of the street and I just have a feeling it’s something I ought to avoid. Still I wander up the narrow deserted street towards what turns out to be a dead kitten lying in a pool of it's own blood. It’s eyes are open and it’s soul is gone. The kitten reminds me of my fear yesterday and the days and weeks before that.
I am taking a rest in the shade at an archeological site at the foot of the Acropolis that just happens to be here on my walk. I am feeling happy and thoughtful and finally here. Breathe. A Greek man sitting on a folding chair in the middle of this site tells me life is super beautiful. I must have been wearing my game face, frowning, trying to look like I belong, as usual, but I smile back at him and he says, "Smile forever!"
I thank him in Greek, "Efkaristho."
"Smile all the time!” He laughs.
Losing myself, or getting lost in Athens; I am not sure which one.
I pretend to mark my path repeating the names of stores in my head as I pass down the streets, and that odd sculpture in the middle of the fountain, and the old church with the broken window. Memorizing street signs is useless. Omonia Square is a landmark but I am forever away from that area now. The road to the hotel is down from the Acropolis, that's all I know so I keep moving down. I won't look at the map yet, it's folded a dozen times and safely tucked into my bag. The concierge drew a little circle around the hotel intersection. "In case you get lost" he said, "And a good person will show you the way."
I remember that I haven't eaten since the plane breakfast of croissant and coffee and now it must be near six in the evening. There are dozens of tavernas to pick from and the only difference I can figure is the view.. I don’t know how to choose so I just say, "Yes," when a man asks me if I am hungry. I wonder just how lost and unfamiliar I look here. Oh, how I dislike seeming unsure, I’ll have to add that to my list.I order spinich pie and Greek salad. It is a long walk back to the hotel, wherever that is. There are lots of gypsies wandering around. A woman sitting on the ground pretending she doesn’t have any legs is begging for money, no one gives her any. I saw her legs when she folded them under her skirt. A young girl tries to sell me a fan, but I refuse. I'm keeping my bags between my legs while I eat; it's the New York still with me. I just have water and fantasize about rewarding myself with a glass of wine on the rooftop bar at the hotel when I find my way back.
In Athens some women wear high heels and take the cobblestone streets like pros. I like this city!
I am thinking about all the tension the last few weeks - excitement, anticipation, terror, anxiety, not all of it about traveling out of America, not all of it solely about me. Hours before I left New York Eric suggested I stop saying, "I'm a wreck." Which I did and amazingly stopped feeling like a wreck. I don’t know who is smarter, him because he had the idea or me because I listened.
Spinich pie is good. Dead kitten is sad. I am at the base of the Acropolis eating a lovely meal. There is a nice breeze and a sweet perfume smell which comes and goes for no apparent reason. I wish I could describe the smell of Athens but I cannot pinpoint it myself yet. The air is light and seems clean.
It's eight in the evening. I am back in the hotel slowing down on the rooftop bar with a glass of red wine. The sun is setting to my right and the Acropolis is straight ahead and seems farther than it felt to walk it earlier. On the way back to the hotel a man asked me directions as I approached Omania Square Everywhere I have even gone people ask me directions; even on my first day in Athens.
I was able to help him with my trusty map. I do get oriented pretty quickly; it's that desperate need for order and control. When I pulled out my map he identified me as a tourist and told me he came from Manchester, England. His accent had hints of Indian or Pakistani. I felt something unusual in his grip when he shook my hand but did not look down. After a few minutes I snuck a glance and noticed he was missing three important fingers on his right hand.
He says his name is Kuki (pronounced Cookie) and he launched into a long story which included the tale of how he lost his fingers as a child when he and his brother were playing ball. His brother accidentally pushed him, Kuki lost his balance and fell into some sort of machine and his fingers were mangled and then amputated. He touched my head several times when he wanted to make a point that a thirst for intelligence combined with the desire to create or make something are both diamonds which together form a third diamond. “And that is The Diamond of Life.”
Kuki seemed lonely and wanted very much to keep company with me. I politely agreed with him about his life diamond theories and after about twenty minutes on a corner in Omania Square with busses blowing exhaust fumes in my face and throngs of people swarming across the streets I finally excused myself. It was when I tried to make my leave that he asked what I was doing in Greece? For how long? And how big was my group? I evaded the questions and wished him well. I don't think he meant any harm but I was mindful of the turning atmosphere of the neighborhood as dusk began to roll in and how the man in the lobby of the hotel warned me to stick to the main streets at night because the area is filled with drug dealers in this part of town.
It if is eight o'clock in the evening on Tuesday in Athens then it must be three in the afternoon in New York City. The sun has set below the horizon and the sky is a greyish-pink. I am drowsy and do believe it's time for sleep, I have a seven thirty ferry from Pireaus to Milos in the morning.
