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Jan. 29, 2005 Around July 1, 1990, I boarded a Boeing 747 at LAX in Los Angeles, transfering 5 hours later in New York to another Boeing 747 that would fly me to Athens, Greece in 12 hours. Arriving at Athens International Airport at about 10 on a Saturday morning, I got on my bicycle with my tote bag of black duck strapped to the carrier, and rode out towards town. My Greek was very limited. I had gone through a Greek grammar and read one novel a couple of years previously. Usually when I go somewhere for an extended stay-- I was thinking of a year in Greece--I like to be better prepared linguistically, but the decision to take the trip had been made on the spur of the moment. A couple of hours later I found myself in a square in a suburb of Athens called Nea Smyrni, with a Greek dictionary, a local newspaper and a map of the metropolis. After a couple of hours of deciphering, I got my bearings and headed for the water. I ended up in Kalamakion, another suburb, on the Sardonic Gulf of the Aegean Sea. I camped out right on the beach for a couple of days, though I had plenty of money, as I was thinking months and years ahead. However, someone told me that if I continued to camp out on the beach, there was a good chance I'd be arrested, and he recommended that I head south a few miles to a camping site maintained by the EOT, the Greek Touring Organization. Before I found the camp though, I came upon another public beach, with a shower, and with a secluded corner where I could sleep. The police did finally discover me there three weeks later, but they didn't arrest me. So I decided to go stay in the EOT facility after all. This cost 500 drachmes a day, about $3 then. The camp, with frontage on the sea, had toilets, showers, coin-operated washing machines and a grocery store. The best part though was that you were 'legitimate'. There are four beautiful towns all in a row that stretch over about 10 miles along the Sardonic Gulf south of Athens. They are Glifáda, Vóula, Vouliagménos and Varkizâ. My camp was in Voula. Then-Prime Minister Konstantinos Mitsotakis, as well as actress Melina Mercouri, a candidate for mayor of Athens at the time, lived in Glifada, which could be called the Greek Beverly Hills. There, on the waterfront in the morning, you can see the small craft moored or sailing on the nearby waves, and now and then a big ship in the distance. A divided highway runs right through the four towns and on to Sounio, where there's a temple of Poseidon. Eucalyptus and rhodendrons are planted on the shoulders and the median strip, and the edge of the highway lies so near the water that I wondered if I wouldn't go careening with my bicycle into the sea. Here and there you see a pretty Greek Orthodox Church. Right off the highway there's an excellent beach in Vouliagmenos. Free public beaches in Greece can hardly be called improved, but pay beaches like this one are great, with private showers, good restrooms, ice-cold drinking water and beach chairs. Varkiza has some truly stately houses, with high walls with overhanging vines, that face the two-mile beach there, dotted with refreshment stands festively canopied with striped awnings. Past Varkiza, you're in the open country, negotiating rocky hills. I did cycle down to Sounio once, 30 or 40 miles south of Athens. On the way back I passed through Lavrio, where the ancient Greeks worked slaves to death mining silver. This place is inland, in terrain so barren that you wonder how a civilization ever sprang up there. Dark, hairy men in khakis sit out drinking black coffee and smoking in front of adobe restaurants in the morning there today. I also saw a Gypsy camp. I was thinking of introducing myself, but gave up the idea, fortunately perhaps. I read shortly thereafter that a Gypsy youth had killed his father by crushing his head with a stone. It was a ten-mile ride from Voula to downtown Athens, where you find the Acropolis, the National Archeological Museum, the National Historical Museum, the Byzantine Museum and others. Today little remains of the Parthenon, just some worn colonnades cabled off amid rubble. Recalling the glory that was Greece is a matter of having a good imagination. However, the Parthenon is on an eminence that commands a marvelous view of greater Athens. And the slopes leading up to the Acropolis are filled with curio shops, studios, restaurants and cafes, all very cheerful. The National Archeological Museum is the place for Grecian antiquities, but I preferred the National Historical Museum. At that time I had hardly heard of the Greek Revolution, which took place in the 1820's. This was a life-and-death struggle against the Turkish rulers of the Ottoman Empire. There were further revolutions throughout the century, and Greece did not assume its present shape until the end of WWI, under the leadership of Eleftherios Venizelos, Greece's most noted figure of the 20th century. The Historical Museum has memorabilia from the Revolution, as well as illuminated Greek Bibles and oil paintings of the Greek patriarchs. Later on, when my Greek improved, I would read several books on modern Greek history. Ancient Greek history is a known quantity, modern Greek less so. Some Greek writers have an exaggerated idea of the esteem the world accords the Greek Orthodox Church, as if it were the 'godfather' of Christianity, when, in reality, 95% of the people in the world have never even heard of it. When I was there, a Greek monk with a grievance against his monastery set a forest fire that raged for weeks. There are numerous medieval monasteries scattered about Greece, but transportation was a stopper for me. I did see the monastery at Elevsís, west of Athens, when I cycled to Kórinthos, where St. Paul sent his Epistle to the Corinthians. Down in Glifada, Voula, Vouliagmenos and Varkiza, the locals, who are mostly wealthy, educated people, realize that they should be polite, and if you ask directions, they'll answer. But that's as far as it goes. They're not genuinely friendly. It's much like being in Bal Harbor or Santa Monica, in the US. When you get into the inner city though, especially if you're on a bike, you can count on being regularly reviled and insulted by drivers and pedestrians. One old man actually hit me with his car simply because my bag had grazed his fender as I slipped past him at a stoplight. Three or four teenagers trying to pass me downtown called me every filthy name in the Greek language just because I happened to be in their way. One day five youths on motorcycles started circling me and taunting me on the waterfront in Glifada till I started throwing lemon-sized rocks at them. Basically, if someone in the inner city approaches you, it's to mock you or complain about something, or to beg. It's guaranteed it's not to say hello. Even Greek priests will just walk by you without answering, if you ask directions, for example. That's their Christian humility! Yes, I love Greek music and I love the Greek language, but I'm not very keen on Greeks all in all. Of course, there are exceptions. Anyway, it was experiences like those I mentioned that decided me to leave Greece in just three months, instead of staying for a year. I flew to Egypt and that's where I met the kind of people I wanted to meet. I should have just flown straight to Egypt in the first place, skipping Greece entirely! ------------ 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 Tell a friend about this site! ------------ 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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