...To The Land Of The Gods

Deeply nestled into my friends' home the past several weeks, I required some serious oomph to get myself back on the road.  Once again I prepared myself for traveling solo, and living in hostels, and eating fewer than three square meals a day.  Living as a traveler is always an adventure, rarely very comfortable, and hardly ever cozy; I didn't take my Swiss respite for granted.  With a little wistfulness, I said my goodbyes and shoved some contraband cheese and a bit of anxiety into my backpack.  I was finally headed to the land of Homer, and Zeus, and my personal favorite, Tina Fey's mother: Greece.

I have been given by Athens a most chaotic welcome.  My olfactory senses are daily assaulted by the scents of too much cologne, and cat urine, and the burning diesel emitted from the mopeds careening through the city.  The street vendors spill off the narrow sidewalks into the streets, hawking food, and crafts, and junky junk.  Giant listless dogs sleep on every corner, seemingly unaware that the blazing heat of the Mediterranean summer has abated.  Street performers work the tourist traps, while savvy preteens play their plastic flutes for change they demand should you dare make eye contact.  I can't help but appreciate their confidence.

This is a gritty city with lots of edge.  East meets west, old meets new.  It is the city of the gods.  And while the presence of these infamous immortals can still be felt hovering over this ancient metropolis, they must now share power with their fiercely defiant, 21st century ancestors.  As history attests, the Greeks are not easily defeated.  They are not broken by the weight of their forsaken economy, but continue to boldly celebrate life.  They welcome strangers and are gracious hosts to tourists and refugees alike, but will not sacrifice their culture to outside influence.  They are a people who, instead of being silenced, blast their convictions and frustrations onto every available surface, creating some of the most powerful street art I've ever seen.



Athens has taught me some things, and reminded me of others.  It has reminded me just how much I love losing and finding myself in new cities.  Of how much I love befriending locals and trying mysterious street food.  I now remember how much I love to find a perfectly discreet seat in a bustling plaza from which to watch the world around me.   Entirely anonymous among the crowd, I try to observe as much as I can; parents feeding their toddlers souvlaki, lovers aware of only one another, and elderly civilians shaking the hands of the rookie police officers.

In only a matter of days, I have received no fewer than three marriage proposals.  I have been given a bracelet by a street vendor, accompanied by a special blessing that my presumed wish of bearing many children will come true.  I have received three phone numbers, invitations to both a backyard barbeque and a wedding, and heaps of advice about where to visit while I'm here.  I have become moderately obsessed with hunting their world-renowned street art, often in the least savory but most lively of neighborhoods.  I've made myself quite at home in what appears to be the skid row of Athens, and now know to return to my hostel before ten if I want to avoid the bewitching hour of the neighborhood ghosts.  Athens has invigorated me.  And I can't wait to see what's next.