Part 10

Greece 1 September through 13, 2001


Athens

After the short and sweet flight, I arrived at Athens' newly built and fully operational airport. Greece is getting ready for the 2004 Summer Olympics, and the new Athens airport is a sparkling reminder. To handle all of the expected traffic, it is efficiently laid out and located about 40 minutes by bus outside of Athens. Arrival was easy, though I immediately ran afoul of Greek men. I watched two cops strut around the terminal, grinning and obviously eyeing and chatting about the women travelers. While that was not a problem with me, I stopped them and asked them for the direction to the tourist info counter. They immediately grabbed their gun-butts, stared at me menacingly, and one of the them asked me why I wanted to know. They may be personally mean, but make up for that in lack of efficiency. Typical Mediterranean official types. Keep in mind, that terrorists of the past always found the (old) Athens airport the easiest to penetrate. No big surprise with these types in charge, and I'm sure it was not just because of the age of the facility. After getting a useless answer from the cops, I went to an airline counter, and the girl there immediately pointed me in the right direction. It reminded me of Spain. Helpful women, brusque and useless males (unless you're a woman, then things change dramatically, so I've been told by women travelers who loved traveling the Latin countries and think they guys there are just wonderful, except when they get their butts pinched). Again, women at the tourist counter were most helpful and explained the whole tricky ticket business to me. You buy an all-day ticket, that allows you access to all of the busses and metros of Athens, but only one trip to or from the airport. Fair enough. The bus driver was a friendly sort (see, I don't dislike all of the Mediterranean guys) and complained loudly about the corruption of the entire builder- and political team that was involved in the ramp-up for the 2004 Olympics. He said that vast sums of European money are being spent, however, corners were cut everywhere and huge amounts siphoned off into private pockets. Ever since the construction projects started, so he said, new big homes and new expensive cars popped up all over Athens, belonging to those who managed to get in on the "construction /corruption" boom. I guess it's business as usual here in the Med. He told me where to make my subway connection and I was on my merry way into the heart of yet another ancient place, even predating the glory of Rome. The subway line into the city was brand new and every bit as modern as the one in Madrid.

After a not very long ride I arrived at my station, Omonia Plaza, which turned out to be a huge underground station with exits in every direction. I finally figured out where I had to go and followed Athinas street in direction Monastiraki Square to find my hotel on the right side of the street. A nice little place in walking distance to markets, the famous tower of the winds, the ancient Agora, which holds a great museum in a beautifully restored building and, in addition to an ancient church, a most spectacular temple in awesome condition (one of the finest of its kind in Greece). Just above the Agora, dominating Athens, shines the Acropolis. I caught my first glimpse of that as I walked to the hotel and it was a heart-warming sight. All of my childhood readings of the beloved Greek legends came flooding back to me.

The Cecil Hotel (http://www.cosmic-pearl.com/Eurotel7.htm) is very friendly, especially when Alexandria or the owner is at the counter. A tad less when the other daytime guy is there. Still, it's a place to recommend. Clean, great breakfast, kind, they stored my luggage while I traveled around other parts of Greece, and are, as I already said, well located, and reasonably priced.

Athens is a city filled with the typical Mediterranean metropolis traffic turmoil and best navigated via public transportation and feet. The sights and sounds are wonderful and all around the hotel location there are streets and alleys leading to busy commercial centers. I highly recommend taking advantage of the multi-day public transportation tickets for sale at the subway stations (I usually purchased mine at Omonia station). Much of what you can experience you will encounter by bravely wading into the masses and keeping your ears and eyes open. Watch out for the "Greek-American". It's hardly a surprise to find out that there are a variety of scams going on. The Greek-American is a Greek who speaks reasonably good English and introduces himself as one who has lived for years in the States and is just sooo happy to meet you. He prays on single males and immediately offers to buy you a drink. Having too much time on my hand, I foolishly went with him to the nearest bar. Actually he is just a tout for the bar or club and potentially a pimp. I am not new to this world and immediately noticed that the place had ladies sitting around who were apparently single and only too eager to "meet" you. Of course, your friendly guide is more than happy to introduce you. Some of the women were Greek, some of them Russian or Ukrainian. The, to me funny, and somewhat pathetic experience cost me $10. I am cheap and cautious. I already knew that this thing could easily run into the $100's if not the total loss of everything. I smiled, put some money on the counter and left laughing and told them that I work out too hard to have more than a single drink. It was good to get back to the busy streets, nonetheless. On the bright side. Discounting lots of begging, the city is filled with great sights, and except for the usual general inefficiency, gruff officialdom, and too many strutting macho males acting like fighting cocks, most Greeks are truly friendly and generous people. Walking around, even in the evening seemed quite safe to me. Needless to say, one of my first walks was to the Acropolis. A lifetime of waiting for that encounter and her I was at last. The day was hot, but by that time I was well acclimatized.

Getting there from the hotel was almost too easy. You look up, and keep walking uphill, through the alleys, past the markets crowded with souvenir shops and the outdoor restaurants, until you finally find yourself on a path above all of the houses, leading up to the only place left, the Acropolis. Each major Greek city seemed to have had its own Acropolis. One last item of note prior to the final few steps to the ticket booths is the rock, from which the apostle Paul was to have addressed the crowds of Athens, gathered in the Agora below. The marble huge rock is climbable, but very slipper and it is best to have either sneakers with lots of traction on, or to walk around, like many do, with bare feet.

Continuing to the small tree-shaded plaza below the entrance to the Acropolis, where I planned to stand in line for my ticket I found out that it was just closing for the day, but that did not matter much to me. I'd just see it on another day. This was just an initial try to find my way around, besides, the sun was setting and it was getting late. I repeated that trip the next day and was rewarded with a marvelous day atop the sacred temple mound. Much restoration and construction was underway, and I'd say, if you don't go there for the Olympic games, go there just prior or right afterward, to enjoy all of the freshly spruced up and rebuilt and decorated monuments, without the massive crowds and the accordingly high prices. While there, also visit the museum. Much that would otherwise deteriorate, if left outside to the elements and smog, has been replaced with replicas and the originals may be viewed in the excellent Acropolis museum displays. While enjoying the incredible view, all the way to the sea, and looking over one side of the wall, next to the Parthenon, I saw two amphitheaters, one all restored and apparently in use, the other a ruin. After leaving the Acropolis proper, I went down to where the amphitheaters were and bought a ticket for an evening performance of Greek music and dance. I spent over an hour that night, in the splendid atmosphere, enjoying the performance, with the Acropolis illuminated above, and then departed, happy and tired, before the rest of the enthusiastic crowd rushed out. After 90 minutes, all of the Greek dances and music seems to blend together, and I'd can take only so much of a good thing.

Besides Athens, I had a few little side trips planned and a longer one to the Peleponnese, where fierce Sparta once ruled. One day I took a public bus to Cape Sounion, where the temple of Poseidon is located. A lovely trip through lower Athens, past the harbor and the old airport, along the rocky, rugged coastline, with small detours to scattered villages, to arrive about a little over two hours later at the turn-around point and the temple of Poseidon. Frommer's suggests, that because of its popularity, you should not go there on a weekend. I guess I must have been there on a weekday. The place was deserted and I explored around at leisure. After a couple of hours of this, enjoying the spectacular scenery of the white columns in front of the Greek coastline, and climbing all around the site below it, where there are lots of traces, often of white marble, of the old village that handled all of the sea-faring visitors from Athens and beyond, at the time when that temple was still in use.
At another time I took the train to Corinth. I arrived in a modern city, with no idea of where the place I was looking for was located, much less how to get there. Getting to the town center, I figured to find a main bus terminal, where I might get additional information. I found that terminal, but no one there spoke English, only nodded happily when I mentioned Corinth. Then, standing outside, looking at the destination signs on the busses, naturally all on Greek, I suddenly saw a sigh that translated to Archeo-Korintos. I know the Greek alphabet (just listen: alphabet - alpha, beta, can you guess where that word comes from?). Then I thought, archeology. Archeo must mean old or ancient, after all, archeologists dig up and study old things. What was there to lose? I got on, said "Archeo Korintos" and the driver smiled and gave me change from the offered amount. Then we were off. After a bit, hearing me ask around, an old lady, dressed in a simple flower print housewife's dress, as is so typical for simple Greek women, addressed me in perfect American English and asked where I wanted to go. After my initial surprise, she agreed that I was on the right bus and gave me some ideas and directions. She too got off at that terminal, and told me that she had lived for decades in the US, but had decided to settle here in Greece. Looking at the splendid view of the turquoise distant waters of the cost and the deeper blue of the Med, further out, at the mountain with its Osmanic castle at the top, once the Corinth acropolis, the expanse of the Greco-Roman ruins below, and the peaceful beauty of the land and homes, I could understand her motivation. She appeared perfectly happy. I thanked her, and bid her farewell. Then, hot as it was, I jogged/walked up the steep long road to the Osmanic fortress. It took me about 30 minutes, and I was hauling butt. Moving ever higher, and thinking of the ancient civilization that once defeated the Persian empire around here. The view was ever more impressive, the higher I got. Luckily, about a third of the way up, some isolated clouds provided welcomed shade. At the top, across a bridge, there is a vast fortress area. Naturally, also a small restaurant, but that was about it. Except for maybe two or three other small groups of visitors, I was alone. A few isolated workers were excavating a small area. The fortress walls could be climbed and I stood high on the parapets, with steep dark drops below me, wondering how the Turkish troops were able to build this whole thing. It seemed unassailable, at least until guns and heavy mortars came into being. After a stopping for a cup of tea in the restaurant, following an insane amount of dangerous climbing among the crumbling buildings, I was ready for the descent and the second stage of my visit, the antique museum and ruins down below. On the way down, several cars were noisily driving up, with people staring at me, for being crazy enough to do this climb on foot. Once at the base of the mountain, I drank some water from an old fountain, put in place for that purpose, and then entered the really neat ancient excavation area.

The mountain I walked up to get to the sprawling Otoman fortress and the great Greco-Roman ruins in the foreground.

The ruins were fun to explore and I was mostly on my own. Few people were there at that time, however, a couple of busloads of tourists had just arrived as I was getting ready to leave. The area is really large, and being alone is easily accomplished. In one place, crawling through a narrow passage, I found myself backstage of a small theatre, in an area where there was an underground basin and well that filled it. The archeological museum, too, was richly equipped with finds from the excavation site.

Another time I took a train to a town, well north of Athens. I always, always wanted to go to Delphi, the site of the ancient oracle. Getting there was kind of tough, but then travel in Greece is not really easy. I got off at Levadia, I believe (can't find records). Then via courtesy bus from the train station into town where I waited for along time for a bus to Delphi. Meanwhile, I ate there, bought some fruit, watched a small parade, and finally, much more than an hour later (closer to two) I was on the bus to Delphi. What came next was an incomparable ride up into the mountains of Greece, over a high pass, and then to Delphi. It was all worth it and what a day it was. I climbed all over the steep mountain side about the temple of Apollo, where, I just saw that in a recent show on the Discovery channel, apparently gases from an underground well were inducing hallucinations in the priestess, who would then, in that state utter stuff that was interpreted by others. Atop the hillside there is a stadium in excellent condition and a grand amphitheater. Below, in the museum, there is among many treasures, some even of nearly pure gold, the famous stature of the charioteer. Oh, did I mention the navel of the world? Yep. There it can be ogled and surreptitiously fondled. Crossing the road below, there is yet another extensive ruin. This one is a school and a lovely set of columns belonging to the unique circular temple of Athena. In ancient days, much of the traffic to the oracle came over water. There is a deep valley below, leading to a bay surrounded by steep cliffs, where the ships of old would be moored. From there, maybe a donkey ride to the village below the temple of the oracle, where, as can be gathered from the theatre and the stadium, this whole oracle thing translated into serious business and significant wealth. The area was a year-round cultural center, with special event, plays, the sanctuary festival, and the pan-Hellenic games. After a most enjoyable day, I made my connections back to Athens without a hitch.

Not all was as it should have been. One problem, at least at that time, was that there were no train schedules available at the Athens railroad station. All they had was a single typewritten page under a glass window. Bring paper and pen and copy the pertinent information down. Interestingly, this station handles only the northbound rain traffic. The good thing is that the modern subway has a newly built stop right outside of the doors of the station. Note also that to go into direction Peloponnese, you have to cross the tracks over an iron footbridge, immediately next to the station building, and then walk left, past busses and tracks to go to another station building a few hundred yards away, that handles all of the southbound train travel. On the day of my departure to the Peleponnese, which ended up rather botched, in some ways, though, in retrospect, worked out rather interestingly, I left my heavy bag with the hotel Cecil and continued with a smaller daypack. In addition to my passport, I carried my electric razor and my Sonicare, the former switchable, and the latter with the Eurpean charging base and enough underwear and shirts for about a week. I always anticipate doing some laundry on the road. Of course I had my Nikon Coolpix with me, and some bandaids as well. The rest was brochures, a book, sneakers, shorts, a little flashlight, and miscellaneous odds and ends. Not light, but much more managable than the large 55 lbs backpack. I crossed over the iron walkway, next to the station, and went to the southbound rail terminal to catch a train to Corinth, where I expected to switch to a train bound for the southern parts of the Pelopennese. All went well, until I listened to some simpleton telling me to get off at Argos for my visit to Myconos. What the fool failed to tell me was that there was a Mycenae station at the foot of the huge Mycenae ruin. So, I ended up stuck in Argos for hours upon hours. I finally walked way into town, had some ice coffee (the drink I'd loved since I've lived in Thailand, and that was very popular here - after the mint tea, my latest addiction). Then I finally, since no trains went back north until late that night, caught a train going further south. Having been served the proverbial lemon, I decided to make lemonade. Fat chance. The train, no smiking signs diligently disregarded by all, having me fume as well, terminated in Kalamata. I walked around that place until late that night, I crashed in some cheap hotel. I can't say much about Kalamata, since I really only saw the central part of this modern, but non-descript town. Here's what I did figure out. That there was a huge ruin of an ancient Spartan stronghold some distance away, and that the train would go near a small town not terribly far from there. So I go on that train, got off at this tiny place of dirt, only to find a carnival packing up after a wild night of Greek country bumpkin fun. I walked until I finally got to that small town. Nobody knew what I was talking about. Going to neighboring towns was done by bus, but I was in the middle of seemingly nowhere. English was definitely not spoken here, and I was getting increasingly frustrated. I finally caught a bus going back to Kalamata. Took a train from there that went back to Argos. I have to say, from here on things were starting to look up. I sat with some 40-50-something English train enthusiast, had some sweet rice at a train stop, sold by a lady who walked along the train. It was totally delicious. Then we went past a valley, where a rail spur looped all around to rejoin the main line. On that rail section were all kinds of old trains parked, which had my English buddy excitedly hang out of the window of the slow, uphill moving train, with a huge telephoto lens, taking all kinds of pictures of old trains and railroad cars. He was in 7th Heaven. I think he had a train enthusiast website and wrote articles too. Once more in Argos, I figured, since I had read in my guidebook about Nafplio, to at least salvage some of this ridiculous venture and go there. What a great decision that was. I caught the short dark red passenger train and when, after a mere 15 minutes, I finally caught sight of Nafplio, was totally awed. It was the Greece we read about and see in pictures. It is located on a large bay, dominated by the inevitable Otoman fortress, and is most picturesque and very colorful. There is a modern and typically non-descript part as well, but here you actually want to stay in the cheesy touristy part. My stay in Nafplio became my little Greek vacation.

9/9/2001 Nafplio

I followed the guidebook recommendation and walked though the lovely little town to the Byron hotel, and it was full, however, the manager told me to go just down the lane to another nearly identical place called the Ilion hotel. I was received most graciously and put up in a large room filled with furniture that they thought would thrill foreign visitors, but it was clean, comfortable and had a great modern bathroom. After settling in, I went to have a bite to eat, and then did my first ascent up the 1000 steps to the at that hour closed fortress. Great exercise. From up there, right in front of the gate you have an awesome view of the entire lovely bay. On the way down, I discovered a small "detour", which took me away from the actual steps along the outside of the wall, high, so high above the sheer drop nearly straight down to the base of the mountain. Continuing, I reached a small gun position that jutted out on a small promontory, away from the castle. Scary stuff. My biggest worry was to discover a loose step or stone on this totally unguarded walk, that would have been disastrous to me. From there, at dropping down to a lower level, still outside of the wall, it gets a little easier, and shortly thereafter I found myself back above the steps. After a great night's sleep I also found an Internet Cafe, and discovered that if I wanted to see the fabulous old lions gate of Mycenae, I was in the right place, because public buses were going back and forth between Nafplio and there all day long. Whoohoo! Humpty-Dumpty can be put together again. I had a lovely time here, swimming, watching all manner of wild life, among them they tiniest hummingbird ever, package tourists, and more. From here you can go sailing, fishing, hiking, visit other neat places in daytrips, or simply totally relax and soak in the local atmosphere. After a day of local enjoyments, I set out to catch one of the busses to Mycenae. On the way to the bus stop, in front of me there walked a tall woman with long hair streaming down her back, lovely long legs, barely concealed in their entirety by a miniskirt, making the walk ever more enjoyable. I purchased my ticket and then, when in the bus, found myself sitting behind the young woman with the miniskirt. When the bus filled up with locals, the conductor went around and placed me next to the girl, to have a mother and her child sit together. I laughed and told the blonde that the conductor was actually the social director of this "cruisebus". She laughed, and we introduced ourselves and chatted about what we planned to see, where we had been, and so on. It turned out she was a Polish-born immigrant to Canada and ended up a most delightful travel companion for a day of discovery, wonder, and ultimately shock and disbelief.

9/11/2001 Mycenae

The ride was not overly long when we observed the hilltop site of Mycenae drawing closer. Excitedly we joined the small throng of tourists, many who arrived on tour busses, to go through the Lions Gate and then view the grave circles beyond, that have yielded so many golden and unique treasures. Most of those items are on display in the National Archeological Museum in Athens, and you should not depart Greece without having visited that great museum.

The grave circles are clearly visible, with the Lions Gate located in the dark shaded niche in the wall (lower left)

We climbed and admired and walked all around the "cyclopean" walls, according to legend built by one-eyed giants. Even the ancient Greeks were awed by the enormous scale of construction. Interestingly, Schliemann, the discoverer of the fabled city of Troy, started the excavating of grave circle A. Beata and I finished our exploration, and then returned to Nafplio to catch a bus to Epidaurus.

Probably the most striking feature of Epidaurus, the great ampitheatre

9/11/2001 Epidaurus

Epidaurus was truly a special experience. When we walked into the grand amphitheater, we were amazed at the level of completion and functionality of this superb structure. When we went to the top seats in that incredible place, Beata, her hearing being much keener at high frequencies than mine, heard even coins being dropped in the center of the circular stage. After some time a lady stopped by. She stepped into the center of the circle, where she demonstrated the incredible acoustical precision of this place. She told us a little about the plays, without raising her voice, and everyone clearly heard her. She then paused momentarily, to let some noisy and rude lout depart the area. We could hear every step he took. Following that, placing herself in the exact center, she took breaths, and whispered, which we all were able to hear. Lastly, she dropped several coins on the central little stone marker, and even I heard the faint ping, of those coins hitting the stone. The above image may convey a little of the scale I am talking about.
Subsequently, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the huge Greek and Roman debris field, where restoration was underway, as well as additional excavation. Places such as this are going to be rewarding for generations of future archeologists. After marveling over mosaic floors, a water distribution system, we capped the day off with a visit to the Epidaurus museum. While outside, taking a break before going to the bus stop, a fellow American was talking on a cell phone to friends in the US and eyes wide told me, after making the assumption that I was American as well, that several airliners were crashing into the World Trade Center, a place that I and my ex-wife had enjoyed going up in on one of our visits to New York City. Then he screamed that one of the towers had collapsed. I said, "impossible". The flimsy aluminum structure of an airplane crashing into a huge steel frame of a skyscraper simply could not do that. Little did I know of the explosions and the subsequent fires. Still unable to believe this, Beata, talking to a ticket agent, to get her departure to London lined up, verified the story. Upon return to Nafplio, it was nearly dark and I walked her to the hotel Byron. She had gotten there minutes before I did and had occupied that last room that i had hope to get. After that I went back to the bus stop area to get some food and to watch the news. Greeks were awed, shocked, and very sympathetic. All of the monitors showed the same scene over and over. Later, stunned, walking around town, I watched the Americans being as lost and confused as I was. The next morning I went to the Internet Cafe to write an email to my friends in the US. It was a quick-and-dirty assessment of mine, but from the responses, it seemed to have been not too far off the mark:

From: Karl Stocker [mailto:pixeltek@yahoo.com]
Sent: Wednesday, September 12, 2001 4:38 AM

We are at war, my friends, but have been in denial.

It's good to be alive! At times like this one surely appreciates the additional time that we are privileged to enjoy.
The corridors of time echo with the roar of terrified voices of the innocent victims of hate. Be they the dying of Pax Romanum, the victims of the Khans, the butchered Moslems and Kopts, laid to permanent rest by the holy rage of the Crusaders, the Jews up to and including WW2, the over 100,000 victims, mainly women and children, of Danzig, I believe, a city of no military consequence that was turned into a funeral pyre in one night of repeated US bombing, or the 1000s who surely died in yesterdays terrorist attacks.

1. We have been in a war since our Marines were blown up in Beirut, but seem to be unwilling to treat it as a war.

2. We've been pointing fingers at Osama Bin Laden since the Med cruise ship thing, or at least the Athens airport bombing, if not before. What have we done about it?

3. While this underground war is raging on, we go on pulling the teeth of the CIA and FBI and other counter terrorist agencies. For humanitarian reasons, we minimize human intelligence operations and rely almost exclusively on high tech surveillance means, because we don't want to contract or deal with the scum that is necessary to do the dirty human intelligence work. In our kinder and gentler society, "wet work" is not acceptable, because we don't want to sanction agents with the license to kill.

4. We keep constraining the Israelis from going after the solution of their problems, or at least establish the necessary security perimeter by any means possible. We want to keep talking while waving the olive branch.

5. Previous administration attempts to hurt or eliminate Osama failed miserably. Once the decision is made to violate a foreign country's territorial integrity, go all the way. The offense remains the same, and just throwing a few cruise missiles at the rabid dog, only gets him madder. We have superbly trained forces that could have followed through and, based on good intelligence and not half-assed guess work, would have exterminated that creep once and for all, including all of the fanatical henchmen. He is their paymaster. Without him and his billion-dollar purse they are but worthless rabble. So, we got him angry and he promised to kill 1000s of Americans. He took his time. We wasted ours, and he succeeded.

6. Airport security. For a long time I was flying with an 8-in kitchen knife that I thought I had lost, but that unbeknownst to me, had slipped into a hinge area of my carry-on bag. Finally, it had come dislodged and was confiscated in St. Louis. Airport security is typically performed by poorly paid and poorly educated individuals. Our lives are in their incapable hands. How the hell can four different terrorist groups get arms on four different aircraft on the same day? Henceforth, NO item larger than a briefcase should be allowed as carry-on and all must be opened. No exceptions. That's my interim solution.

7. Hostage conduct. Rather than acting like sheep, hoping that the situation will go away, this has taught us to go down fighting and take a chance to swarm the bastards. It seems that otherwise, death is a certainty (at least once they gain the cockpit).

8. The attacks clearly point out the futility of Bush's anti-missile system. IMO, it's a huge waste of money and effort and is hurting us diplomatically all over the world. Dictators of so-called renegade nations are high on power. They are addicted to it and often want to establish a dynasty. They are not suicidal and are not prone to take a shot at us, risking having their nations and subjects turned into radioactive dust, by one of our boomers, in retaliation. The danger of a nuclear strike will come from atomic weapons that are being slowly, over the course of years, assembled right here in the US, under the clueless noses of FBI and CIA. To detonate one of them will be the final triumph of Osama.

If you're still with me. You can refute my opinion and theories now. I am only trying to get this off my chest and give you the best-educated opinion I can come up with.

To life,
Karl

[I think, even viewing the email today, in retrospect, it was not totally farfetched. By now the Taliban and Saddam have been defeated, and much has changed, though sometimes I have the feeling that too many American think that the worst is over. They have forgotten their anguish and outrage over the destruction of the WTC and the loss of 3000 fellow citizens. That the time for sacrifice and patriotism is past. I think that they will be sorely mistaken. There is no middle ground here. The terrorists are fanatics of the kind the world has never seen before, at least not in the numbers as they exist today. They will not discuss, debate or compromise. In my opinion, the pacifist/anti-war establishment's phrase that one man's patriot is another man's terrorist is absolutely out of place here. They will shriek with horror and outrage, when they or their loved ones become the next target of the unrelenting, indiscriminate and suicidal attacks. The war against this kind of enemy will be lasting for generations to come, and not get any easier or less dangerous as time passes. Changing the Middle East from the inside out will be one of the most important things that we can do to deny the enemy fertile spawning grounds. When the Middle Eastern countries, themselves targets, though most are still in denial, change their internal political structure, the terrorists will be squeezed back into the most uninhabitable areas on Earth. We will probably never wipe them out, but we may be able to contain them, until their children leave them and deny them the willing cannon fodder that the evil older fundamentalist and extremist generation uses as human buzz-bombs.]

Anyway, back on 9/12/01, Beata was off into the fresh turmoil of the Athens airport, and I had to get back to Athens for my own departure from Greece. The departure from Nafplio was delayed, and the train to Athens, from Kalamata, for once on time, had just left. I was seething. I went into Argos and finally, with help from a friendly Greek nurse, found the long distance bus terminal and purchased a ticket to Corinth, where I yelled "treno" to the driver, who nodded and pulled off the road near the station. This way I did not have to take a long walk or ride back from the center of Corinthos. There I caught a different train back to Athens, since there is much more rail travel between the northern parts of the Peleponnese and the Athens area. You have to be flexible in this place. Two women had a pet chicken on the train, which they were trying to hide. However, the chicken, hidden in a gym bag, would eat lettuce and flick it around and I saw it and laughed. Then, having some bread with me, I fed it some of that and chatted with the ladies, who insisted that I'd take a bottle of homemade lemonade from them. I arrived at Hotel Cecil, retrieved my large backpack, packed up, and did one final walk-around of Athens. I went to the immense columns of the temple of Zeus, and then, late in the day, walked up to the Acropolis and discovered to my delight that they were admitting people for free at that late hour. What a great place to say goodbye to Greece. The following morning, a final breakfast of cereal, honey and yogurt at the hotel, and I was ready to brave the new airport security measures. To my surprise, in spite of very thorough searches and checks, this new airport seemed unusually efficient in getting all of us to the airplanes in an amazingly reasonable time. Looking back, there is much I have seen in that great country, but even more still remains to be seen. Yet, I leave with no regret and happy to have taken the opportunity for at least this one visit. After the short flight to Rome, I hopped on a train bound for Naples, where I connected to a night train to Sicily. I had made no reservations for Sicily either, since the vacation season was pretty much over.

One more item of note: Many Greek (as well as some Italian) merchants seem to be very preoccupied with correct change, rather than selling goods. They readily let small sales slide, if you don't have at least close to the correct change for them. Also, here as in Italy, most won't bother to sell you a few pieces of fruit, and insist that you buy at least a pound (1/2 Kilogram) of that produce. It can be very frustrating. And forget about picking your fruit. No way! They scream and yell at you, in the markets, when you take a bunch of grapes or a bag of fruit. Only they will pick what you buy. I got yelled at a number of times. However, in supermarkets this is typically not so, except in Spain. Crossing streets is always a test of faith, in these countries and only those with agility and fortitude may attempt to do so at places other than marked crosswalks. On the other hand, drivers of any kind of conveyance park wherever there is a free spot - any free spot. This results in grumbling pedestrians often having to leave the sidewalks, step into the racing traffic, to walk around scooters, mopeds, and cars being parked at times even there. Again, you will always find exceptions to every rule, and some of you may never experience any of this at all. Having said that, there seem to always be ways around obstacles, and as one gets more familiar with an environment or a people, these shortcuts become apparent. In any case, it's nothing to let ruin a perfectly lovely vacation.