Up at 8 am. due to the scufflings of a small dog which had managed to get in under the door flap. It is a bright, sunny morning and warm, even at this time. A cup of tea, a biscuit, and then another look at the car, but to no avail. It will need proper servicing. The fault is not as bad as it sounds. We feel we could get home on it but it is better that it be put right. We are camped quite near to the airport – a French Caravelle has just passed overhead.
Work on the car over, we looked at the sea. Blue, clear and inviting, it seemed to beckon us. But it was November, and who goes swimming in the sea in November? Answer, we do! Feeling rather apprehensive but determined not to lose face, not even with one-another, we entered the water. Once in, it was beautiful – like a swimming pool, and as warm as it has ever been in Jersey. For us, it is like a summer’s day, and even now, after the dip it is still only ten fifteen.
The plan today is to take the car in for servicing and then take a look around the city including a visit to the hub of the world – the Acropolis.
This time we entered Athens by way of a broad dual carriageway hugging the coast, quite a contrast from yesterday. In the distance we could see the port which serves Athens, Piraeus, its white houses contrasting sharply with the blue of the Aegean Sea. Trees line the road; the whole scene is one of great beauty. We are about twelve miles out of town, but the drive in was a perfect joy. Eagerly, we opened the sunroof to glean every bit of sunshine we could. Just before entering Athens proper, the road bends and the Acropolis comes into view, brilliant white in the morning sun. It is a fascinating sight, and always will be for me. I felt the butterflies in my stomach which I always get when something exciting is about to happen. But first, the car! We pulled up at the Fiat service station. English is spoken, which we found all over Athens – just as the books said. The little, fat and friendly mechanic soon found what was wrong. The air control screw had worked loose. He put it right (or so we thought) for nothing. As we drove off, Allan thought the trouble was still there although it was running much better. He said he would try again himself tomorrow.
The road up to the Acropolis was not hard to find. As soon as we parked the car a few yards from the Propylaea – the entrance to the Acropolis, we were immediately surrounded by the owners of wayside trinket stalls. We almost had to fight them off. Even so, I found myself in possession of a guide book at an exorbitant price of fifteen drachmas (3/9, 30¢). “The best guide to the Acropolis” it says on the cover. It had better be!
The Acropolis. How shall I describe it? At that time of the year there were very few tourists around, and I was able to sit alone on the entrance to the Parthenon to pose for a photograph. I sat there, all the anticipation gone. I felt all the history around me as though I was in a trance. Ancient history has always fascinated me, and here I was, in the midst of it. I felt a sense of deep reverence and awe, almost like the feeling we are supposed to get from religion, only more so. In that place, at that time I experienced an air of sacredness that I have never before experienced in any other place. Allan is surprised that I should want to come here again, but I know why. I feel the past very strongly and can almost disassociate myself from the present, especially now. It seems that two thousand years is nothing, and all it needs is for someone to change the reel, and we shall be there. If this sounds exaggerated, it probably is – but not to me!
We explored the Acropolis for several hours during which time we slipped down to the base of the walls where I found a fragment of marble shaped rather like a fish’s dorsal fin. Flat on the bottom, it bore the saw marks of the mason from so long ago. I should add here that in the late seventeenth century, the Venetians were at war with the Turks and the Acropolis was used as an ammunition dump. A direct hit blew it up and the result was that part of “the glory that was Greece” was now in my hands. Breaking the law, I kept it and when we got home, I cleaned it up and used it as a table decoration. To my everlasting regret, it got lost during my many travels. I think it is still somewhere in Jersey.
It was time to eat. In a small café in town we had a tasty meal of meatballs cooked in olive oil, a plate of tomatoes washed down with a bottle of beer. Five shillings (40¢) for the meal was not dear, but not cheap either. Contrary to what we had heard, Greece is not cheap, the only inexpensive items being fruit.
The meal over, we ventured out on foot to tour the market streets. We, the tourists are soon spotted. Then the shop or stall owner almost pleads with us to buy his wares. Good fun, if you don’t take too much notice! We were lucky(?) enough to find a street full of bazaars and spent several hours spending drachmas. The shopping hours here are very different from home. The “lunch hour” lasts until about 4.30 when all the shops begin to open up again and stay open until eight o’clock. All in all, a very interesting experience for us.
We drove back to camp with every intention of changing and going back into town. But after a meal, neither of us feel any inclination to do so, so I suppose it will be an early night. We’re tired of walking anyway.
Before I close I’d like to tell of an interesting fact we learned of today. In Greece, custom demands that in a family, none of the boys can get married before their Sisters. They are also expected to work in order to present their sister with a house or at the very least a plot of land. Even after their own marriage, they still work to keep her well provided. I don’t think I like that! Goodnight…
