The latest great escape was Greece, and Athens in particular. Tim decided to attend the European Bar Conference, somewhat at the last minute, and owing to the fact that it was being held over the late May bank holiday weekend there was no concern on my part about rescheduling work priorities—if there was a relatively cheap air deal, it was a done deal.
Well, there is cheap, but it does sometimes come with a hitch—this time the catch was a stopover in Geneva for a couple of hours. Having not been to Geneva’s airport, and knowing what was on the other end of the travel, it seemed well worth it. Two short-ish hops and I’d be basking in the sun in Athens, meeting Tim’s BFF (OK, best friend forever) Duffey and her husband Makis, and touring the Acropolis.
Away we went via Swiss Air, where the food items were naturally cheese based and there was always a smile and a small bar of milk chocolate. Once in Athens we stayed in a hotel that, from Tim’s look at the internet, seemed a stone’s throw from where the conference was taking place. Alas, it was a 20-euro pop each time, but easy enough as cabs are plentiful with a 15-minute call ahead. We arrived in the evening, honestly just in time to slide under the duvet, and woke somewhat refreshed for the start of the conference and my tour, with the other WAGs, via the pink bus. Our driver was Nicolas, our tour guide Maria, and between them we had a day-long adventure driving through central Athens, pausing now and then to look through the bus’ large, clean windows or taking a 5- or 10-minute stop to stretch our legs and look more closely at some of Athens’ sites—the Parliament building, for example, or the site of the start of the Olympic torch relay. It was a beautiful day—warm in the sun, slightly cool in the shade.
We went to the new-ish Acropolis Museum first—two years old this June, it is a modern, spacious building filled but not stuffed with lovely relics—statues of Artemis and Athena, the original friezes from the Parthenon, vases and bowls found from various excavations.
Outside the front of the entrance the floor is mostly glass—the museum was built over an excavation site and you can see the ruins clearly below. It is mostly remains of walls or columns, but still a treat to behold. Inside the layout is quite good—there is enough light and space to truly appreciate the statuary on display, even when the museum is a little crowded (and this was Sunday). Maria was a wonderful, knowledgeable tour guide, who rattled off information specific to different periods and was able to answer any question we posed.
The top floor of the museum is dramatic—overlooking the Acropolis, its walls are primarily made of glass to give a spectacular view. It is long and narrow, meant to be laid out like the Parthenon, and the friezes, numerous square blocks depicting horses and warriors, hang above.
A slight pause here to note that the British Museum has some treasured artefacts that, judging from Maria’s commentary, Greece would love to have. She and I had a conversation later about it, and she laughed and said, no, you keep them, as if to intimate that given Greece’s current economic situation the valuable assets would be safer in British hands!
The walk from the museum to the Acropolis is short—perhaps 10 minutes—and then you begin the slow climb to the top. The stones are slippery, polished from years of foot traffic. At first glance the climb looks a bit daunting—it seems high, and it was a warm day. I half thought to return to one of the few kiosks selling water, but had just had my fill at the museum and though that should keep me going—I didn’t want to be burdened with any more than I had, which was a small purse and camera.
It was a well-paced climb—first stopping at the site of the theatre, and then climbing on to the marble steps that were the foot of the Acropolis. We paused there to sit in the shade on the cool marble while Maria gave us some facts before climbing up to the Parthenon. I must say, it is one thing to see these ruins in books, or on postcards, and oh what another to be standing in front of them, thinking back to the time of Socrates and Plato and imagining a completely different world of gods and goddesses.
There is restoration work going on—from a certain angle you can take photographs that don’t include the massive cranes or the steel fences. We all found those in our lens and snapped—blue sky, worn stone, pillars still standing tall. (Doric, Ionic, Corinthian? I do think we saw them all.)
How lucky am I to have had that chance, the quick weekend getaway (and all while Tim was listening to dozens of presentations ). Ah, yes, once again I come away from a weekend that I know I am fortunate to have had in a marvellous place.
Oh, the food! I know my reputation . . . yes, I had a Greek salad. The feta was s semi-hard, rectangular chunk dribbled with lovely green olive oil, with fresh tomatoes and lettuce and an olive or two sharing the plate. Four of us had a lovely lunch together, a few blocks walk from the museum in one of the many outdoor tavernas that our guide Maria said was “authentic.” We shared a bottle of Greek white wine, which was delicious—I don’t recall the grape, but it was similar in taste to a chenin blanc. The conversation was mostly among the other three, who were clearly friends for a while—the bar conference WAGs have travelled to many sites over the last dozen or so years. They were welcoming, and we talked about where we lived and how our gardens grew and there was some discussion about the political goings-on within the bar council. I took mental notes!
The day ended with a wonderful dinner of Greek “tapas” at one of the restaurants in the hotel where the conference was held. It was out of doors and a lovely night, cool enough for a light jacket. Wine flowed, food simply kept coming—yes, Greek salad, and grilled octopus and a delightful piece of fish were among the courses. There was a sweet treat of Greek baklava to end the meal, which found us also listening to a speech or two, and then the evening culminated with fireworks.
My initial thought, I will admit, is that the European bar has a lot of expendable cash!
I enjoyed getting to know some of the members of the bar, all Brits, and even without holding a law degree I could hold my own in conversation—there are a lot of other interesting topics to choose from, after all. It was a lovely, perfect Greek evening, a fantastic weekend all in all. I did sit by the pool for a little bit the next day while Tim went to the conclusion of the conference, but it was a bit noisy and the air was cool, not precisely pool weather, so I went back to our room where we had a lovely balcony overlooking the sea beyond and read a few pages.
I know, I know—I haven’t finished telling the tale of our road trip to the West; I’ll have to sit down and give that some thought and perhaps my next post will provide a bit more detail.
I do recall that the first meal Tim and I had once we landed in Phoenix and picked up the car was Taco Bell. I’m not sure why that fact has stuck with me! There wasn’t another one of those anywhere near Death Valley or Yosemite, as I recall, and by the time we reached San Francisco there were innumerable choices for dining. Honestly, TB was a fast food favourite in New Jersey when I wasn’t in the mood for pizza—I was convinced that a chicken burrito was filled with healthy food!
I should be staying put for a while—I need to give my passport to the embassy to get those additional pages (I was chided in Geneva for only having one left by one of the passport control gents). Then again, there’s always Cowes, and an upcoming sailing weekend in Lymington, and before you know it a trip down the aisle . . .
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