Athens

Athenians have an apparent love hate relationship with America. A taxi driver chastised the whole of America for bringing too many clothes on holiday (which is a valid point). And in the same breath gushed about his surgeon daughter in Pennsylvania who pays for his holidays and his next flight to Jersey. No one cared about the nationalities of the other members of our group. They were only interested in asking where I was from in America, telling me they had been to Miami, and then scoffing about never wanting to live in the states. In spite of my repetitious corrections that I lived in Amsterdam. They weren’t interested.

Athens feels like a city neglected. The ruins of the Acropolis hover above the present day cement block buildings as 2000 year old ruins. The glory days of Greece. However, I’ve been told in the last ten years a degree of repair has manifested in the old city. And when the hot sun dips the city pulses to life. Century old breezes rush through the city and young and old flock to rooftop bars and buzzing restaurants. Families start their last meals at 10pm and continue into the morning. Good food (as in most Mediterranean countries) is a way of life and in abundance. It’s like they get me. So I ate and ate.

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