Rasmenia

Five years. Five years since I’ve worn a dress. Five years since I’ve had my feet in a shiny new pair of girl shoes, standing next to a crazy French man in a funky pinstriped suit with a pink ribbon in his hair. Five years since we stood there next to one another, in la mairie du 18éme arrondissement in Paris, listening to some very official-looking guy who rattled on in French.

I barely spoke any French at all then, but it seems that very official-looking guy was jabbering on about wedding vows. I didn’t really understand any of it, but apparently, we got married that day.

I think so, anyway. I really have no idea what Fancy Sash was talking about.

I’ve read that the typical gift for a five-year anniversary is wood.

Fucking wood? Sure, wooden things are nice, but, um… no thank you.

Usually, on our anniversary, we’ll go away for the weekend, or pick a really nice place for dinner because Olivier & I really dig a nice quiet atmosphere where we can be alone. Also, we really, really like dinner. Ok, food in general.

This year was no different. Well, it was slightly different. We were in Greece, after all.

We woke up early, got ready & had breakfast at our hotel. We stuffed ourselves with more of the thick, creamy deliciousness of the Greek yogurt & thick, dark Greek honey. Then we were in the metro that took us closer to the Acropolis.

As it turned out, we couldn’t have picked a better day to go. March 25th is Independence Day in Greece, so all of the historical sites were free for the day. We just strolled right in without needing to get any tickets.

Olivier & I stopped to check out a few sculptures at the entrance, then made our way slowly up the southeastern slope of the Acropolis. Within a few minutes, we arrived at the Theatre of Dionysus. The cool part is, it’s not fenced off, so you can walk right in & sit on the limestone seats.

We continued on, passing ruins of the Sanctuary of Asclepius & the Stoa of Eumenes. Just before we reached the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, we of course met up with another one of these awesome Athenian dogs.

We continued on, passing more ruins until we finally reached the top of the hill. Climbing the steps, arriving at the place where an enormous statue of Athena Promachos once stood. On the north side, next to the fallen ruins of the Old Temple of Athena, stands the Erechtheion:

Which was impressive. By impressive, I mean staring slack-jawed with awe & wonder, trying not to have a total geek-gasm in front of all the other tourists.

I almost managed to keep my geeking mess to myself… until I found myself standing in front of the Parthenon. Standing there, looking up at this thing, it was one of those surreal moments where you feel kind of like you’ve been magically inserted into a movie set, or a photo in some travel guide.

One of those moments when you look up at something & feel so very small. When you see what human beings can accomplish, how long it can last… & you start to ponder just how little you’ve accomplished & just how temporary you are.

You know that feeling? It was kind of like that.

A subtle reminder of what slackers most of us really are.

With all of the history surrounding us, all of the awe swimming around in our slack-jawed heads, we did what any two sane people would do: asked a stranger to take a photo of us being dorky tourists.

A person can geek out on something for so long before they have to move along to get their nerd on elsewhere. We took our time to make our way back down the slope, enjoying the view from the top, overlooking Athens. Once we reached the bottom, we only had to walk for a couple of minutes before arriving at the Acropolis Museum, which had also waived the entry fee for Independence Day. Score.

The museum is still quite new, having only opened in 2009. The really bitchin’ thing about this place is that an ancient Athenian neighborhood was discovered underneath the site of the museum & has been incorporated into the museum’s design. As you approach the entrance, the glass flooring lets you see the ruins of the old neighborhood below.

Inside, there are several sculptures & other artifacts from the Acropolis & visitors can watch a cool little movie explaining the history of the Parthenon from the time of its construction up to the present day. This actually pretty interesting because maybe you didn’t know, but the Parthenon has been through some serious shit – the Roman Empire, Christians, Ottomans… Venetian mortars. Serious. Shit.

But, anyway… like I was saying.

What the hell was I saying?

Oh. Right. Five years. This was still our anniversary, after all.

We had made a dinner reservation the day before at a nice place in the Plaka, which is the old part of Athens. It’s the area just under Acropolis, so it is quite touristy. But, we weren’t in the mood for off-the-beaten-path. We were all about a nice, mooshy, sappy, lovey food fest with plenty of wine & ouzo. This was just the place.

The restaurant, Ελαία, (Elaia) has a rooftop dining area & we had a view of the Erechtheion as we drank our booze & ate our food. It’s now one big blur of ouzo, salty cheese, lamb & tarama. I would provide photographic evidence of this outing, if it weren’t for the fact that all of the photos taken that night look like total shit. This is likely due to a combination of poor lighting & good ouzo.

We decided to skip dessert & instead stopped for some gelato on our way back to the hotel. We took our time, strolling around, being all tourist-like, stopping now & then to peek inside a shop. It didn’t take long before another one of those Athenian doggies came along & decided to walk along with us for several blocks before he got bored & ducked into an alley.

By the time we returned to our room at the Apollo Hotel, my feet were screaming. Calves & lower back, aching. I was sore & exhausted as though someone had kicked my ass, then stuffed me full of meat, booze & gelato.

It felt AWESOME.

But all day long, until we had finally passed out for the night, I couldn’t help but wonder what all of those structures & sculptures that I had been surrounded by all day must have looked like when the Acropolis was thriving, when it was crawling with Athenians & worshippers instead of tourists.

Sure beats a piece of wood.

It was almost midnight when we jumped on the bus at the airport in Athens. The ride from the airport to the city was long, but the bus moved fast, whooshing us past hundreds of signs written in Greek that we couldn’t understand.

A little while later, we reached the terminus & stepped out on to the street. Standing there to greet us: a man in a suit with a soul patch. The silvery-metallic sheen of his hair, the same as his suit. His purple shirt was unbuttoned way too low – like, Bee Gees low.

Minus the rad hair, of course.

“Taxi?” He leads us across the street to his car, throws our suitcase in the trunk.

I crawl in the seat behind him. Olivier gets in next to me. Soul Patch, he gets in & his seat is reclined so far that he’s almost laying down. Thanks a lot, Soul Patch. We tell him we’re going to the Apollo Hotel on Achilleos street. He lights up a cigarette & starts rocking out to a Scorpions song playing on the radio. I decide that I don’t really care for Soul Patch.

He asks where we’re from. “France,” Olivier says. “Just outside of Paris.”

We drive past a car with a hooker leaning in the driver’s side window. Then I notice that there are hookers everywhere, walking up & down the street, standing on the corner, smoking in doorways & I briefly wonder if the Apollo Hotel will have those fancy vibrating beds.

We would later figure out that Soul Patch had driven us out of our way, making the drive a bit longer, thus increasing his fare & allowing us to enjoy the scenic route. So, no fancy vibrating beds.

Even though the beds didn’t vibrate, we had no problem passing out.

The Apollo Hotel isn’t fancy, but it’s comfortable & clean. We woke up & stuffed ourselves with Greek yogurt & covered it with thick, Greek honey before heading out for a lazy day of exploring the city.

We strolled through the Zappeio Gardens. This was where Olivier really took notice of just how many orange trees there are in the city. He had a hard time containing his excitement & ran over to one of the trees to snag himself a juicy treat.

“You know, if I were a hobo, I think I could be happy here, surrounded by all of these beautiful oranges.” He carefully tucked his prize away in his backpack.

Then I saw some ruins poking out over the tops of the trees.

“We have to go look at that!” I pointed. “There’s some really neat shit over there! NEAT SHIT!”

After walking for about 5 minutes or so, we found ourselves at the Temple of Olympian Zeus.

Really neat shit.

We paid our 2 Euro & went through the gate. We saw dogs laying in the sun & a little farther, a couple of dogs sniffing one another, deeply engaged in serious doggie discussion. As we walked through the ruins, we passed more dogs along the path than human beings.

If there’s anything Olivier loves more than free citrus fruit, it’s dogs. I began to worry that he might swallow his tongue, or pass out from an overdose of pure joy.

After we had absorbed all that we could from the temple ruins, we walked over to the National Gardens of Athens. Here there are cute little gazebos & fountains, a miniature zoo, a café & a small duck pond. We didn’t see as many dogs, but there were some cats & peacocks hanging around.

Oh… & there were plenty of orange trees. This was the moment where Olivier just couldn’t take any more temptation from the fruit dangling in front of his face everywhere he looked. He reached up, grabbed one & started peeling it. I watched as it squirted sticky juice all over his hands. He put it in his mouth & a split second later, spit it out. He looked down at it the half-chewed remains on the ground.

“Not ripe enough. I’ll save my other one for a few days. My hands are sticky.”

“I am a good wife. I have wipes,” I said, feeling like a hero.

We meandered through the small zoo until we happened upon a bird that had a smaller bird on it’s back, pecking at it & chirping as the bigger bird ran around in circles, flapping its wings & shrieking in horror. Some little kids came by, pointing & laughing. You know, because nature is hilarious & kids are mean.

All the walking & hilarity eventually takes a toll. The heaping piles of Greek yogurt & honey we had for breakfast lasted a long time, but now we were starting to look at the wildlife in the park in ways that were making them nervous. We ended up at the Hard Rock cafe, because… well, what’s more touristy than shoveling a sandwich into your gullet at the Hard Rock? (Not to mention that Hard Rock’s potato skins fuck all other appetizers in the face. IN. THE. FACE.)

After we had stuffed ourselves & were feeling fat & happy, we decided to do some more exploring & wandered around the hill below the Acropolis. We passed by the Roman Agora & would have gone in, but during March in Athens, museums & historical sites are closing at 3pm. We came ambling by at around 5 or 6pm, so were shit out of luck. But, we did take several photos from the outside of the perimeter.

Not surprisingly, the Roman Agora isn’t closed to all visitors after 3pm.

Eventually, we grew tired of exploring for the day. We strolled through the Athens Flea Market & decided to stop for a beer. A trip to Greece would have been a total waste if we had not at least tried a Greek beer.

Personally, I prefer ouzo.

Sitting at a little table outside the bar, on the edge of the flea market, we snacked on olives & sipped our beers as we watched shoppers, tourists & beggars passing by. Occasionally, someone would stop by our table in an effort to earn some spare change by playing an accordion, or trying to sell us packages of Kleenex.

“I think we can skip dinner,” I said. “Besides, we have kind of an early start tomorrow to go see the Acropolis & the museum.”

“Yeah, I’m not hungry, either.” Olivier took another sip of his beer. “Anyway, if we get hungry, we have some crackers in our room & one dubious orange in my backpack.”

“Comforting.”

“It is,” he agreed. “It’s dubious, but it was free.”

I couldn’t argue this, so instead, I suggested heading back to the hotel & picking up some street food on the way back for our late night noshing. We walked to the métro station & stopped at a Koulouria vendor who was set up at the entrance of the station. Just imagine a big piece of warm, delicious bread stuffed with Philly cream cheese & covered with sesame seeds. That’s what we bought. Olivier put them in his backpack, along with his dubious orange.

As we turned to leave the vendor’s stand, we passed something that caught my eye. When I looked at it, I couldn’t help but light up, feeling a swell of hope in spite of living in a world that is rapidly devolving into Idiocracy. What I saw was proof that here, in this country steeped with a rich history of great thinkers & artists – some of the greatest minds ever to have lived – that these great thinkers of Athens were still alive, that the philosophers are still out in the streets, creating & sharing big ideas.

Important ideas that we’d all be better off paying attention to.