Temples, priests and villas

Our driver today was another middle aged man, whose knowledge about the history of his country was excellent, as was his English, although he had never studied English at any time in his life.  It was an extremely hot day, so being in an air-conditioned cab was far preferable to being on a coach with 50+ close friends.  We disembarked a little earlier than our appointed pick-up time, to be faced with a veritable barrage of taxi drivers hungry for business.  It would have been very easy to have been sucked up by one of these enthusiastic gentlemen, but we politely, firmly and frequently refused their advances until the driver with the sign appeared.

The Acropolis was our first stop.  Knowing how steep the climb to the Parthenon was, and having read that, thanks to the EU, there was an elevator available for disabled guests, we asked the driver if he knew where the drop-off was for these facilities.  He did, but asked us if he had paperwork or a wheelchair to prove G’pa needed the assistance.  We had neither, so Theo proposed he would intercede on g’pa’s behalf, and that he did.  We did have a little bit of trekking round the south face to reach the elevator, but no stairs at least, and we all three rode up the outside of the south wall of the Acropolis in grand style – a cage-like elevator, the likes of which you might see in a building site.

The appropriateness of such a ride up was only fully revealed when the cranes and scaffolding surrounding the Parthenon and other Acropolis buildings came into view.  The traps were gone from the 1980s but restoration is apparently an ongoing phenomenon.

Fellow travelers take note; the entry ticket for the Acropolis also gives you entry to another 6 historical sites (but not the Olympic Stadium). We did not have time to do all of them but we did visit the Temple and Amphitheater of Dionysus, and the Temple of Zeus, before lunching in the Plaka. 

Differences we noted from the 1980s were both positive and negative. On the positive side, historical and archeological sites were better interpreted through site-based signs with English translations, and the antiquities themselves were more protected from tourist “erosion” through more limited direct access by the roping off of certain areas.  Negatively, the tourist-ization (my word I think) through, for example, a Disney-like train running tourists painlessly around sites, and the ubiquitous street hawkers selling knock-offs of watches, handbags, luggage, sunglasses etc., was quite disturbing. There appeared also to be many more street peddlers selling clothing, furniture, household goods, most of which looked to be a least secondhand. This may be simply a function of the dire economic situation in Greece at the moment, or manifestation of the influx of foreign nationals into Greece from Eastern Europe, China and various African and Middle Eastern countries, but it was noticeable at many crossroads and along many streets away from the tourist areas.

Our driver was skeptical about the economy and the foreigners.  He explained that his 29 year-old son had been in the Greek military , but due to two recent pay-cuts, one of 42% and the other a further 15%, he was now out of the Serviced and seeking civilian employment.  He further explained that he believed unemployment to be running at 50%+ in the capital’s greater metro area, rather than the much lower rate publicized by the government.  When we rounded a corner to view the Parliament building, he asked us did we know what that building was.  When we replied the parliament building, he smiled and corrected us, “No it’s the building of the Greek mafia!”

We did not divulge that Jim was a minister, because we discovered one other thing that had not changed in 30 years – the Greek man-in-the-street’s attitude toward the clergy. We came across exactly the same sentiment in Crete in 1985.  Greek Orthodox priests are generally regarded, it seems, as those who continually ask for money, ostensibly for the upkeep of their churches, but in reality to build themselves costly villas on the coast or in the mountains.  As the owners (with the bank, of course) of a cabin in the mountains of Montreat, we decided to remain silent on the subject of what Jim does for a living.

Back at the ship, we lounged around at the pool, before a dinner at which we were entertained by the spectacle of the 150+ wait staff chorus singing “O Sole Mio” in honor of it being Italian menu night.

  

Day-at-sea # 2 tomorrow, as we head toward Eretz Israel.