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May 18, 2007 I started cycling as a means of transportation in 1989, when I was living in Santa Monica, California. Summer of 1990 found me in Athens, Greece, at a time when I was by no means a seasoned cyclist. I still held notions such as how bikes never get flat tires and how bikes are so narrow you can't possibly be hit by a car. Anyway, down in Kalimákion, a district on the south side of Athens, I met two medical students from Oxford University in England who were planning to cycle from Athens to London. At that time, I had never cycled more than 30 or 40 miles in a day, and never on a cross-country route. Inspired a little by their ambition, I decided to cycle from Voúla, a suburb of Athens, to Kórinthos (the Biblical 'Corinth'), a neighboring city, at a distance of 65 miles. It took me all day. I'm slow. With 50 pounds of baggage on the rack, I'm lucky if I top out at 8 mph. I stayed overnight in a camp in Kórinthos, then cycled back to Voúla. It was hardly really worth it, I thought. Anyway, back in Voúla, I decided to continue to Soúnio, a town at the tip of Cape Soúnio, the peninusla below Athens, famous for its Temple of Poseidon. The distance was only 30 or 40 miles, but the highway was so tortuous because of the numerous ranges of hills around there that I was cycling in circles and up and down. It was also very windy, which slowed me down. I recall passing through Vouliagménos and Varkizá, two wealthy suburbs of Athens. The beach in Varkizá was about two miles long, and festive with the striped awnings of kiosks and restaurants. Facing the beach stood mansions with high walls overhung with vines. I passed through Anávyssos and two or three other small towns on the way. On a hot Sunday afternoon, with the thermometer reporting 105º F (41º C), nothing moved in Anávyssos. The town was dead as a doornail. Eventually, I found an open-air refreshment stand and stopped for a soft drink. I was hoping the locals would come over and strike up a conversation. But that simply isn't the Greek way. They seemed to be mildly annoyed by my presence, but didn't refuse to serve me. The beach there is deceptively inviting. But the shallows have stones and shingle, and public restrooms are unheard-of in those parts. I finally got down to Soúnio at sunset, and got a bare glimpse of the temple, which at the moment was overrun with German tourists. I stayed in a camp for 900 drachmés, then about $5, considerably steeper than most such camps, which went for 400 or 500 drachmés. It's nothing at all for Greek families who are vacationing to sleep in camps rather than motels, what with their economic situation, and this suited me fine. I recall that on the way back, I passed through numerous orchards of olive trees, easily recognizable with their gnarled trunks and downy silvery-green leaves. There were produce stands all along the road, with tomatoes, onions and whatnot, which was surprising, given the poverty of the soil, reminiscent of Arizona. In one place a saw a Gypsy camp, though I didn't realize it at the time. Only later did I read about Gypsy camps in the vicinity of Athens. I wanted to approach, but I had $18,000 on me, and didn't want to risk being robbed. I considered hiding the money and then approaching the camp, but I finally opted just to skip the caucus. Later, I passed through Laúrio, a town in the center of the cape that was the site of slave-worked silver mines in antiquity. Somebody had to bring home the bacon for Aristotle, Plato, Euclid and the other esthetes of the day. The countryside was so wretched around Laúvrio and Keratéa, another town I passed through, that I wondered how people made ends meet. In the morning, I could see dark men in khaki clothes drinking thick black coffee and smoking smelly cigarettes out in front of adobe sidewalk cafes, devoid of even a blade of grass. An ancient man was out on the highway with a vinyl bag picking up about .01% of the trash that had accumulated on the sides of the road in who knows how many years. Finally, I got back to Vouliagménos, where I got a flat. My first flat. I didn't even have a spare tube or a pump, so I had to walk the bike to Glyfáda to get it fixed. ------------ About the author Thomas Keyes: I have written two books: A SOJOURN IN ASIA (non-fiction) and A TALE OF UNG (fiction), neither published so far. I have studied languages for years and traveled extensively on five continents. Email: udikeyes@yahoo.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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