Monastiraki in Athens at night, with the Acropolis and Parthenon above it as my north star.
Yasou!
Last week, I was on my way to Plomari. This week, I missed my boat. The overnight ferry to Lesvos left just before I reached Piraeus, and by nightfall I had run out of options. I took a train to Athens, not at all happy about spending the night there.
From Called to Greece, Chapter 6. Athens:
As I stepped off the train onto the dark streets of Monastiraki, it was hard to get my bearings. It was a part of the city where you could look up at night and see the Parthenon all lit up, and I used it as my north star.
There was no one on the streets. I walked down the very center of the road.
No one would even know if I didn’t arrive in Lesvos, I thought. There is no one waiting there for me. Thia Mary and Theo Angelo would not know to worry for days.
No! I told myself. Shake those thoughts away! You are fine! Just find the hotel and you will be fine.
It was such a relief when I finally recognized the building. It was the Attalos Hotel. The stress began to drain from my body as I walked inside. There was nothing like a familiar place to make me feel at ease.
At the front desk, I asked for a room.
“We are full,” the man said. “No rooms available.” The strain must have been visible on my face because his expression softened.
“Try the Hotel Poseidon. They probably will have a room”.
He gave me directions. I took a deep breath as I headed back out onto the dark street. That last stretch seemed very long. I was very edgy, and if anyone came near me – anyone – I gave them a dirty look.
I was ready to fight.
Fortunately, I found the Hotel Poseidon and they did have a room. Phew! It cost 15,500 drachma, more than I had hoped. I used the key to open the door, dumped my bag on the bed of the depressing room, and headed straight up to the rooftop bar.
I needed a drink!
As the Parthenon loomed above in all her shining beauty, I plopped down at one of the tables by the bar. I looked to find the bartender and immediately ordered a beer. After the alcohol had calmed me down some, I found out that the kitchen was already closed. So, I decided beer was for dinner! After my second beer, I was ready to socialize. I started with the Greek bartender. He proceeded to ask me the same script of questions I had come to know by heart:
“What is your name?”
“Katina.”
“Ack! No, that is a bad name. Katerina is your name. I must call you Katerina.”
I was accustomed to this reaction by now. Then came the next question.
“Do you speak Greek?”
“No.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“My parents never sent me to Greek school, but I am trying to learn now.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m 30,” I replied.
“Ack paw paw, well then why aren’t you married?” That one landed differently than the others. It wasn’t an easy question to answer, especially coming from a woman who wanted so badly to be married.
“I just never found the right man,” I replied, trying to keep it simple. I had learned from past conversations with Greek men that it was best not to elaborate.
“You do not look that old,” was another common response I got from the Greek men who all seemed to be speaking from the same script of questions.
After the bartender returned to his work, I started chatting with a woman sitting at the table next to me. Oola was from Denmark and told me about her travels in Greece and a bit about living in Denmark. At the next table over, there were many Greeks and they encouraged Oola and me to join them. Much conversation ensued. I told one of them, who was named Thanasi, “I am planning to spend the summer working in Mykonos. I want to get there as soon as I can so that I can find a job and a place to stay.” One man’s eyes lit up.
“I have spent many summers working in Mykonos. But you don’t think you can work there, do you? You should find someplace else to go.”
I was a bit put off but didn’t really reply initially. I knew that some Greek men are … well … full of themselves.
“It is a place for adults to work to support their families.”
The word adults really irked me. “Why are you putting me down about going to Mykonos?”
“Well first of all, you are too young.”
I gasped and asked, “Just how old do you think I am?”
“You are like 20 years old and that is too young to work in Mykonos!”
Wow, how could he think I was that young! “I am definitely old enough! I am 30 years old!” And the whole table erupted in laughter together.
Thank you for following my journey,
Katina