Simply Athens
I didn’t want to go to Athens. I had my heart set on Paris or Prague, but the flight times, layovers, and finances being how they are I had to settle on the path of least resistance. Athens.
Although it wasn’t my first choice, I think it may have been the wisest. The moment I arrived in Athens I could picture living a life there. My hotel was in the Lykovittos neighborhood which is akin to the Upper East Side of Manhattan with a bit of 5th Avenue swank to the south and artsy Village to the west. I sat in a park watching children play and continually ask for the waiter at a small cafe for glasses (that’s right, glasses) of water. He patiently filled each glass, handing it to tiny, smudged fingers that demanded a drink.
I learned the Metro fairly quickly by memorizing the first letter of each of the last stops on the red and blue lines. I got on at Evangelisma and switched lines at Syntagma. I scoffed at those relying on the wall maps for help.
At night, I roamed my hotel’s neighbors for ATMs, phone cards, and a grocery store where I could buy batteries. I also found a tiny Greek restaurant with a coughing, drinking chef. My pasticio–pasta, beef, cheese, and bechemel–kept me company as I watched men in suits walk by and well dressed women carried shopping bags into their apartments. It was a simple trip, but one that I needed to teach me that the simple path may be the best.
