six hours in Athens

Dear Ocean readers, what can I tell you about Athens that you don't already know? What images would bring it alive for you? ...would capture the element of surprise?

Let me think back to what I expected from this day: I expected trouble. Athens, I read, is not as it once was. Athens is chaos, demonstrations, disruptions. Athens is petty thievery. Athens is crying and unraveling at the seams. Athens is a place to be careful -- with your wallet, with your inattentiveness, with your expectations.

That, coupled with Ed's general indifference to cities kept me up at nights. Is it even worth it?

My memories of Athens are kind: I'd been there several times, but the last visit was nearly forty years ago. Forty years ago! A spec in the passages of time. An eternity in the space of one's life. I'd walked the Acropolis when one was still permitted to meander between the pillars and take enchanting photos of a face peeking between the chiseled marble. I ate moussaka at cheap tavernas and looked dreamily at the faces of young Greek men, thinking them to be somewhere between exquisite and forbidding.

So how do I visit Athens now, with Ed? Doesn't he maybe have a touch of the Greek? In his profile? I should have let his hair grow out, because that is so... Athenian cool.


Let's take one thing at a time. First, the departure from Lesvos. A fairly early one, but our hosts are up and serving us breakfast. I had a chat with the owner who is trying to rebuild this business after a bad year of a bad staff providing poor service. It left its mark. Reviews were terrible, business contracts pulled out. He's trying so hard and one thing I'll say for our small little hotel in Mytilene (the Olympias) -- they really put effort into service. Whatever it lacks, it does not lack a willingness to help in any way. So we left with many handshakes and with wishes for good luck in the years ahead.


The small prop plane from Mytilene takes off on time.





Looking out, I can tell even without the forecast that it will be a brilliant day. Athens, whatever else it does for us, is going to deliver the blue skies.Wonderful blue skies!

We land by 9:15 a.m. and now we have to consider our options. We're traveling with a backpack each and an additionally a computer shoulder bag for me. We also took a collapsible day pack for excursions. So how do we navigate Athens with minimum bulk, given that Ed will be leaving late by ferry and I'll be leaving late by plane? (This is by choice: he wants the overnight sea voyage. I just want to get to Crete with little hassle.) I ask at the airport if I can check a bag early. Yes I can. How many bags for free? One.

Well now, my pack is small and Ed's pack is half empty. We squeeze mine into his and check the now fat double pack as one. I sling my shoulder bag -- stuffed with my computer and a pair of Ed's pants that just did not fit into the double pack. Ed takes the little day pack and loads it with his computer and jacket. We'll be seeing Athens with only these encumbrances. Not bad!

We hop on the metro into town. Well, not entirely: it's not running to the airport today. So, it's the train to the metro, then the metro and finally we emerge on Constitution Square. This is where all the Greek demonstration happen -- I tell Ed.

Are there any today? Of course there are.





We meander through the Plaka streets (the old village-like section of Athens) -- packed with cafes, tavernas and souvenir shops, but still charming and especially on this quiet day in January, where a man walks his dog bundled in the cutest canine sweater.





We pause for a coffee (and a pastry for Ed: put us together and we form the perfect midmorning snack).


 



 


But not for long. I'm anxious to get to the Acropolis. The more I look at the sky, the more I understand that we are in for a treat.

And here's the greatest treat of all: as we enter the gates of the Acropolis, we see that the Acropolis is nearly empty.

Nearly empty! It's one thing for Ephesus to be empty -- you have to go out of your way to get there. But the Acropolis?? Where have all the people gone, the hoards, the antlike progression of humankind that I associate with visits here? The sweating, shouting, cheese saying, plugged to headsets, following a leader, following mom and dad, following, leading, sitting, standing, all those people, where are they? Not here, not today, not at the Acropolis.

(Travel in January. I highly recommend it.)

I wont go into detail as to what we saw -- which temple was from which century BC, ruined, demolished, rebuilt for what reason -- it's a fascinating history, but you don't want to hear it no matter how excited I am by it today.

And I am excited. This is a huge difference from when I was here last. I am now, in my older years considering the past in different ways.

Here are favorite photos from the day. Know that we entered from the south side -- it's a nice, slow amble past the Theater of Dionysus...



Ed, bottom right, as usual


...before plunging through the (empty) gate...





... to the sight of all sights -- the Parthenon.






...which is currently in some form of restoration. Still, those beautiful columns, always more pronounced, majestic in the sunlight, standing tall before us and as we sit back and gaze up, thoughts of how much can happen in 2500 years...






And of course, there is the stunning Erechtheion...





(Forgive me for posting the next photo -- I found someone to take our pic and it is what it is -- Ed and Nina, in front of... but notable for our computer bags which we carried all day long.)






And let me not overwhelm you with names and stones and temples and such. Pause with me to look out at Athens. It's spills toward the mountains capped with last week's snow, toward the sea and the port of Piraeus, from the orange Plaka roofs to the white everything else...





Okay, just a little more from the Acropolis. Bear with me -- it's all so beautiful. I tear up more than once and Ed grins and says something inconsequential like -- it's alright, just to get my goat. So consider the freshly restored Temple of Athena Nike..





And one more look at the Parthenon (dedicated to Athena Parthenos, patron goddess of Athens).





Alright, alright, alright, I'll stop with the photos. But let me say again -- it was a sublime set of hours for us, for me. Never to be forgotten.

Not that it ended right then and there. We used our multi-ticket pass well. We spent time at the Agora, and the museum of Athenian history at the Stoa of Attalos... Oh! skip the words. Just look at a handful of photos:













...and I have to include Ed's favorite -- the Temple of Hephaistos. (Because he is contrary and I had told him that many think of it as the lesser temple, because it's so squat and ungraceful compared to the columns of the Parthenon -- so of course, he found reason to admire it over and beyond all else. That's him -- standing and admiring.)





As the afternoon wears on, we are done and yet we are not done. We stroll in the neighborhoods around the Acropolis and stumble upon another site and we plunge into that as well. Weaving in and out of antiquity. Until we can weave no more.

By late afternoon we really are done. Our attention turns to food. Ed would like something neighborhoody and local. That's hard in Athens. I wouldn't even know where to start my search. I suggest a walk through the Plaka, even though that's nobody's neighborhood -- it's a place of restuarants and taverans and cafes alright, but I don't know that many people actually live in the Plaka. Still, I remind Ed that people go to the Village in New york to eat, even though they don't live in the Village. So consider the Plaka the Village of Athens (please, Greek people, do not wince at that).

We look for smaller places that are crowded enough to indicate popularity but not so crowded as to be overwhelming (and smoky). We stumbled upon Alain Parodi's Eat at Milton.

Now, I do not know who Alain Parodi is, but when I ask the guy at the door if their food is good he looks rather aghast that I should raise any doubts. The food is certainly not cheap. But we were in big city: we were harshly reminded of that when we ordered, in the morning, one espresso, one soda and ate one pastry and wound up with a 10 Euro tab (our entire dinner, with wine yesterday was 19 Euro). So we look carefully at the prices now and conclude that if we stay with the appetizers and pasta dishes and avoid main courses, we're okay.

And we are, and the food is superb. Sardines over peppers, salmon over beets and then, for me, risotto with squid and calamari and mussels.













We linger a long long time after the meal. The people watching is good (consider this set from France. Their group identifier is the red scarf.)





But also we don't really want to explore the city anymore. It's as if someone turned on the faucet too quickly and now things have to settle down within.


Evening. We had only one more thing to do: find a bakery so I'd have cookies in Crete and Ed has cookies on the boat.





And after, I get on the plane and after a 35 minute flight, land in Crete and Ed gets on the boat and...well, he's still into his 9 hour boat ride.

Me, I'm in our tiny four room b&b: the Mama Nena. I'll just say this about the Mama Nena (named after the owners' grandma): it may well be the loveliest little hotel we've ever stayed in (at incredible prices in the off season and for longer stays: at 6 nights, ours will be a longer stay). For one thing, when you throw back the windows of the bedroom, you see this:



(just before sunrise)


Inside, the space is lovely, very warm, orange warm.













Soothing, quiet, except for the faint sound of laughter from a taverna by the water's edge. It's a nice sound to fall asleep to. So, good night, readers, good night, Ed, out there on the waters of the Aegean! May your dreams be simple and sweet.

winter!

I'll take it, this winter season, here on the Greek isles, but geez louise, could you have warned me? I'm not prepared for a windy high of 34. And freezing temps up in the hills.

It took only a few hundred steps this morning to realize that this wont do. (You can't see the wind in this protected harbor of the town of Mytilene on the island of Lesvos - or Lesbos, or Mytilene, the island goes by all three - but note the clarity in the air: it spells brisk!) I need something more than my sweater and my lightweight fleece. A cap! If 30% of the heat escapes through your head, then the purchase of a cap should do just fine: I'll settle for being 30% more warm.





I buy one for 5 Euros and it has the proud logo of Thinsulate on it and I love it to pieces -- until I lose it later in the day. Never mind. Winter on the islands promises to be a one day affair.

We are well rested and ready to go. We show up at a small office of Billy's Car Rental. I mention the agency's name because Billy is quite proud of it: he has it stamped on each car he leases out. (It's on ours as well.)




Business is slow for Billy (who, BTW, hails from Australia) and so the rates are good and indeed, we can keep the vehicle until tomorrow and drop it off at the airport just minutes before we depart for Athens.
We leave at 8:40 in the morning.
Good, drop it off at 8:20.
That's tight!
No, it's not. Alright then. 8:10. 

Mytilene has a very small airport. Two flights in, two flights out each day.

We follow the route along the coast. Ed drives and I really try very hard to believe that I will survive the terribly winding and the precipitous climb up the hills (mountain?) that separate one shore of the island from the other, but truthfully, I am doubtful.

When we hug the shoreline, the views are stunning -- greatly aided by this brilliantly crisp day. When the sun pops out, the waters are azure, turquoise, navy -- all of the above.










It's like Scotland, or Portugal, or Sardinia or any other country with a hilly terrain and a beautiful, rugged coast.






Except that there are reminders: it's Greece. The country with the funny alphabet. The place where a person can speak to me in full beautiful sentences and I'll understand not a single word.





Eventually we come to a village (Mantamados) reputed to be a place of pretty pottery and good cheeses.  I'm not surprised about the cheese. The hills seem sheep friendly and in fact we pass a herd -- with a lamb so perfectly white and sweet, that he may as well be a poster baby for an Ester card.





The pottery is fine as well, but we do not pause to examine it closely. We are not in a shopping mode. Especially now, just halfway into our rambles through these regions.





But aside from the cheese and the pottery, there is also in Mantamados the business of the olive oil. As I noted before, we are in the middle of the olive harvest. You should know that Greece produces by far the largest share of the world's olive oil (close to 45%). And it uses almost all of it for home consumption. We've seen our share of harvesters in Turkey and, too, in Greece. But we've never seen what happens to the olives once they're picked (and I understand that if you're going to squeeze the oil out of them, you have to do within hours after harvest, because they start to spoil very quickly once they're plucked off the branch). In Mantamados, we stumbled upon this:






It was immediately apparent that we're looking at a small olive oil making plant. Here, look closely:






We walk to where a farmer is offloading his sacks of olives. (There are many groups of filled sacks and each batch has a scribbled bit of paper with the name of the farmer on it.)





There is a door to the factory...





Should we go inside? Why not! They'll throw us out if we're in the way. (In the States, I cannot imagine being allowed to poke around a factory uninvited. For one thing, there are issues of liability.)





They don't throw us out. Most of the dozen or so men ignore us. One or two nod, then return to their work. An older guy comes over and tells us a lot of things, but he speaks in Greek and we can't grasp the meaning of any of it.


 


He points to this, to that and eventually shows us how he uses the dried, pressed pits and remains to make a fire and here he is making a lunch for himself. Would you like some sweet bread? Surely that is what he is asking because he slices off two pieces of bread and gives them to us.





There is something very old about this place and at the same time, not old at all. Most of the men here are actually not doing any physical work. They're monitoring one thing or another. Measuring. Consulting. It's all about the oil.





We've rubbed shoulders with the employed here. May their legions grow (unemployment stands at 26% in Greece right now.).


We leave Mantamados. But not before stopping at a tiny bakery with very simple cookies. A few for the road.






And we continue the climb up the mountain and then down again to the northern shore of the island. We stop first at a very tiny fishing village - Skala Sikaminias. All the boats are in and I ask Ed why this would be so. The skies are blue, the air is clear... Yes, but the winds are strong. It can't be easy to fish on days like this.





(Here's the one very special self-timed photo of us -- with me in the cap. Before I lost it.)






And again we climb up the hills and the air is cool as anything. We'd been warned that there may be frost up high. Indeed!





I tell Ed that he most certainly must drive slowly, what with the ice in the hills. But I only say it once (or twice). I don't want to hear those words, spoken briefly but definitively -- you drive.





And finally we do our last perilous, serpentine descent, down to the lovely coastal village of Mithimna.









We read that this is one of the island's favorite summer destinations. It can't be for the beach -- it's insignificant. I try to imagine what it would be like here in the summer. Warmth -- there's that. Many people come for the constant sunshine. The sea breezes. The good food. But it's not the place where you'd see hotels line the shore front. The village is clustered up and down a hill. At the base, there is a port. In the distance - mountains.





A fisherman comes in from the now calmer sea. He sets his nets here, close to the shore.





And then he pulls into the small harbor. Ed grins at the way habits form: if you're used to steering your boat with your foot, this is the way you'll be coming into port.





It's early afternoon and we're undecided as to food. Eat here? It's pretty deserted, even though a few eateries appear to be open. One couple walks boldly toward the door of a small taverna. We follow.

And it is a wonderful little place. We sit to the side (to avoid any cigarette smokers) and this gives us a chance to consider the other guests. The mayor of the village (we're told). Two fishermen. A wife (my take on it; Ed says - girlfriend).





We order just one salad and I pick two smaller fish.





The owner is Australian (married to a Greek)! She's been here for decades and she knows her fish (and salad) prep well.










We are delighted with the bread and cheese spread too and Ed asks her why she only served this for us -- not for the others.


 


Oh, they come here all the time. They don't want bread with cheese spread. They only want their loaves to eat with their food. And their ouzo (the Greek drink of choice, everywhere, all the time).
Ed asks her -- so what did your husband do to convince you to come to Greece?
She laughs. It wasn't hard. Besides, my parents were Greek too.

People's migratory habits are very complicated.

An excellent meal and the cheapest of the lot (19 Euro, wine and soda included)!

We get into the car, we climb up, we climb down. And now we're by a gulf that is wide, creating almost a salty lake on the island. Here, in these low lying areas, you'll see immediately the sea salt production (Lesvos is known for this; in fact, most Greeks think of Lesvos as the place for olives, ouzo and salt).

We take a small detour down a dirt road, in part to see the salt...





...and also because there are birds here -- fantastic birds that seem to love these saline marshes. Including flamingos, all dipping their heads in search of dinner. It's a memorable moment.





Okay, one more hill to climb and this one is not especially high, but it is a north facing hill, with a beautiful forest and here we come face to face with the one winter day of the year in Lesvos.





The islands rarely see snow. But last night, there was a light dusting of snow.


And now we're in Mytilene again. Our last night here. (A quick run to the bakery for cookies...)


 


Tomorrow, we have a somewhat complicated day. We take an island hopper to Athens. Then, in the evening, I fly to Crete. Ed takes the overnight ferry and meets me there the next day. So, if all goes well, I'll write from Crete next. Winter's behind us. Spring's around the bend.