Do you know why I chose to start my journey in Athens, dear reader? Well, technically, I started in Milan, but that was for EasyJet... No, I’d just finished reading a wonderful book called Sophie’s World, which could be roughly described as a four hundred page summary of the history of philosophy, set to a magical storyline. And, surprise surprise, commencing in ancient Greece. A truly extraordinary work. So, having developed a healthy interest in Western history and thought, I placed some chronological emphasis on my travel plans.
I marvelled like Sophie as I climbed the marble steps to the Acropolis (where the phrase “cradle of Western civilisation” wouldn’t leave me alone). I had a wonderful time imagining Socrates applying his Socratic method as I meandered through the Agora. Then, as I stood in front of the temple of Apollo at Delphi, I had a good giggle at the thought of people getting married or going to war over the words of a woman high on underground gas fumes. Some oracle.
A cruise soon followed to the three picture-perfect islands near Athens. The weatherman was right for once, thank Athena for that. 36ᵒC and sunny!
First stop: Hydra, the only Greek island without cars. She offered us a dip in the warm turquoise waters of the Mediterranean Sea followed by a spot of sunbaking. Again, there seemed only to be women travelling alone as I enjoyed an icy-cold beer and heavenly fried feta with an American and two Brazilian girls. Then came Poros, a life-sized post card of palm trees, white buildings, and local shops brimming with colourful swimwear and bold beach hats. And on Aegina, we visited the monastery of St. Nectarios and the pistachio plantation to taste one of Greece’s finest exports. Always accompanied, of course, by a coffee frappé.
When asked for my ‘best European memory’, this next incident comes in at a thrilling number three...
Walking home one night after a visit to the Gazi district (the hottest night scene in Athens), my Canadian friend and I get quite lost. Not exactly ideal at four in the morning. So, too stubborn to call a cab, we proceed to execute his cunning plan of climbing up the nearest hill to locate the Acropolis. What we actually find is a beautiful park. Nice. And an unleashed guard dog. Not so nice. We take one look at his glistening fangs in the moonlight (that may have been a figment of my petrified imagination) and decide that ‘fight’ is out of the question. And I swear, at the speed that we exited that park, monstrous canine at our ankles, we may as well have been flying. Thank goodness for adrenaline. When the barks finally faded into the distance and our heartbeats dropped to double-time, I turned to my friend and started laughing. He laughed back breathlessly, then stuck out his arm. “Taxi!”
Walking home one night after a visit to the Gazi district (the hottest night scene in Athens), my Canadian friend and I get quite lost. Not exactly ideal at four in the morning. So, too stubborn to call a cab, we proceed to execute his cunning plan of climbing up the nearest hill to locate the Acropolis. What we actually find is a beautiful park. Nice. And an unleashed guard dog. Not so nice. We take one look at his glistening fangs in the moonlight (that may have been a figment of my petrified imagination) and decide that ‘fight’ is out of the question. And I swear, at the speed that we exited that park, monstrous canine at our ankles, we may as well have been flying. Thank goodness for adrenaline. When the barks finally faded into the distance and our heartbeats dropped to double-time, I turned to my friend and started laughing. He laughed back breathlessly, then stuck out his arm. “Taxi!”
Greece was also a chance to overindulge my sweet tooth. I wonder what my dentist would say to “a baklava a day keeps the doctor away”. My constant shortage of two-euro coins is thanks to the Greek donut (or Simit, in Turkish) stalls adorning every street corner, and no fried, sugary dough was ever too greasy or sweet to escape my greedy fingers. And don’t get me started on the lamb, moussaka, pita bread and Kalamata olives. Oh, my...
