The plane ride to Athens was perfectly smooth until the last ten minutes when there was the worst turbulence I ever experienced. It felt like Zeus was using the plane for a salt shaker. The huge Cumulus Nimbus clouds outside the tiny window were the same ones that must have surrounded Mt. Olympus. I had to do something to stop the plane from crashing. I needed to sacrifice a virgin quickly, but my boyfriend Alex was the only one near me, so we were doomed. Are you supposed to pray to the Zeus or to God when your plane is approaching the runway at Athens Airport? Choosing the wrong one could be fatal.
Every man who worked at the airport looked like Pericles, or what Pericles would have looked like if he sat around watching too much TV and drinking too much Uzzo. They weren't in as great shape as him but each man had that same regal profile which thousands of years hasn't softened. For the first time in my life my nose wasn't big enough to compete.
The cab ride to our hotel took 45 minutes and I kept looking for the Acropolis the entire time.
“ I thought I would see it by now.” I told Alex, a little disappointed.
“ Don't worry. Be patient.” He told me as we got out of the cab.
When we got in the hotel room and put down our bags, he told me he was warm and looked around the room. “ Gary, open that door and see if it actually leads to anything.”
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| "Oh my Zeus!" |
I dragged myself away from the view and we went to eat lunch. Then Alex and I came back and 'pulled a Paris' again by sleeping the entire afternoon instead of going to any museums. My new temporary philosophy about traveling and museums is that 'if you can see it inside a book, why go inside a building.' I'm sure I'll look back on this in a few years and think it's ridiculous, but for right now it's very convenient when you're feeling too lazy to hop from museum to museum. When we awoke from our luxurious lamb-induced nap, we stepped out onto the patio and found the entire Acropolis lit-up like a sports stadium with a night-time game. Nothing else was lit around it and the huge, heavy stone floated in the sky.
We didn't want to wait for the morning to climb to the Parthenon, so we left the hotel and just started walking uphill. The streets leading to the Acropolis were the original ones designed more for foot traffic than for cars, but one wonders how many merchants lined these small streets in ancient Athens as compared to the restaurants and tee-shirt shops now. After all, having the Acropolis with all its temples and amphitheaters, Athens must have been the world's first tourist trap.
After turning a corner onto the first of these streets, we didn't make it five feet without the owner of a rug store calling to us.
“Guyz, guyz! Come here. This first stup. I am Theo. See my rugs. Drink glass of wine whit me. Then you see Partenun.” He came between us and put his arms around our shoulders. “ You go Myknos after Ateens, right?”
“Are we that obvious?” I laughed.
“ It's gud. The gay we luf. No Muslims here. You do whatever you wunt. Everyone free here. Dat is Ateens.”
The Muslim line was just the right hook to get us into the shop. Before I knew it, we were being poured glasses of white wine, being introduced to his father and his nephew, and shown rugs. I was on guard and leary, but Alex was already drawn in. The whole thing was a little arousing to him, reminiscent of the classic French porno filmed in Turkey by Cadinot called Sex Bazaar, one of Alex's favorites. “ This is perfect. I was going to have to buy one in San Francisco after I have my old carpet torn up.”
“Zan Franziz-Go!” Theo toasted. We all clinked glasses, including his father, who just grinned and had no clue what any English meant.
We didn't have a clue what any of the Greek being spoken meant either. I hoped they weren't saying anything bad, especially anything anti-gay after acting so inviting. Theo showed us different style rugs and explained the meaning of each. There was the tree of life, the shield of Athena, and the footsteps of wisdom.
I asked if he had one for the 'missteps of ignorance', which only Alex understood enough to laugh at. Theo gave most of his attention and his wine to Alex who he could tell was going to be the one to possibly do any buying. Theo sensed correctly, and Alex had his Visa Platinum out before the third glass was poured. The transaction felt as fast as a mugging except for the fact that we were sitting in a shop having wine. It just goes to show that a handsome, pushy Mediterranean can get Alex's wallet out of his pants almost as fast as a handsome, pushy Mediterranean can get Alex out of his pants.
“I promise we won't stop again,” Alex swore as we left the shop after giving Theo the shipping information.
We kept climbing upwards on streets that turned into stairs that turned into plateaus that turned back into stairs that turned back into streets, all lined with more stores and restaurants with obviously no regard for any regulations or provisions for the handicapped. A wheelchair-bound person would have to be airlifted to reach the top. It was dark under the spotlights aiming upward at the base as we climbed narrow walkways with no indications of direction. As we got closer to the iron gate surrounding the entrance a Greek woman, sitting in a metal folding chair on the path selling Parthenons made of foam that sat on the head like a pillbox hat clipped into the hair, told us the Parthenon was closed until morning.
“Terrorists too dangerous for night to be open. You buy one? ” she pointed to the foam Parthenon on top of her hair twised into a bun that looked like the Acropolis.
“No hair,” I pointed to my head, my baldness finally paying off after all these years. We moved away from her and got closer to the gate.
“ We could climb over,” Alex said.
“And end up in a Greek jail.”
“Sounds like a win-win situation to me.” Alex said with one of his devilish grins.
“ What Cadinot film is that fantasy from?”
“ Istanbul Cellmates.”
“I've waited since I was 10 to see the Parthenon. I can wait one more night.”
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| "There is no place to tan!" |
