The saga of Friday September 27, 2024 in Athens, Greece
Friday morning we tried waking up early, but couldn’t make it happen. The goal had been to try and enter early to avoid crowds and the heat of the day. No worries. Our Acropolis tour wasn’t scheduled until 12:30PM and we decided to go with the flow. Plus, Chaim would be joining us, which everyone was excited about.
We visited the Acropolis Museum first, per Nick’s (our tour guide from earlier in the week) and the internet’s suggestions. The boys appreciated seeing the friezes and sculptures from the stories they were reading in their Percy Jackson books and graphic novels. They thought Cerberus, Heracles, the Minotaur, and the Hydra were particularly neat. Weirdly, or because much of Greece’s artifacts had been plundered and could be found at the British Museum, the Acropolis Museum was a bit sparse for the space.
One of the best spots in the museum is in the lobby. A video of the artifacts evolving from ancient items into scenes telling a story were projected onto a large wall. The boys couldn’t get enough. At first, Chaim and I were a bit annoyed by how much time the boys were spending watching this video. We hadn’t even entered the main museum exhibit and we didn’t want to miss our 12:30 visit to the Acropolis. However, as I watched I realized the video was giving our children the gift of imagination from an archaeologist’s perspective. Later, when we saw the artifacts distributed throughout the museum it was so much easier to understand their importance and the stories they told. Underneath the museum was a second exhibit where we were able to see layers of Athen’s past. There were even ancient public toilets set up in toilet houses, much like we have today.
As 12:30 neared, we made our way to the entrance of the Acropolis across the street. The boys needed to use the toilet. We all wished we had used the toilets at the museum. To put it politely, these toilets were far more fragrant and questionably cleaned. The boys braved the excursion while I flat out refused.
Finally, we entered the site. I opened up the Rick Stevens audio tour of the Acropolis that I had downloaded the night before so that we could have a more meaningful experience. Amichai listened to it dutifully until we reached the Theater of Dionysus when we realized we kept ending up out of synch with the tour. No matter, just the beginning was enough to provide important historical context to this space.
The Acropolis is gigantic. We visited many impressive sites in the last two months. I don’t think any took my breath away as much as the Acropolis. The sheer magnitude of the space, the theater, the marble flooring, the climb, the views, the Parthenon. My goodness, the Parthenon. And the Temple of Athena! Each was grander than the next. There was so much to take in. It was easy to understand how these edifices inspired awe.
Inspired by Weird Al Yankovic, Amichai and Eitan began making up a song about the Acropolis to the tune of Amish Paradise (a parody of Gangster’s Paradise.) They had some really great lyrics going and were happily singing at the top of their lungs that strangers started smiling and listening along. It was pretty adorable. By the time we finished, they had two stanzas full of history and their experiences. Sadly, they never wrote it down. I’m still hoping they will return to the song and finish it so that we can record them singing it.
Two hours later we exited the Acropolis and stopped for ice cream, lemon slushies, and tuna sandwiches. Chaim returned home before us for a meeting and to finish working before Shabbat started. Bellies full, we meandered home slowly, searching for a bus stop that seemed oddly located in the middle of nowhere. Up until then, all of the bus stops we’d seen had large covers and were clearly designated as bus stops. This bus stop was a simple sign on a side street we found only because of Google Maps. We were grateful when our bus finally arrived.
At home, the boys completed their math and journaling work before cleaning up for Shabbat. I tried in vain to find fresh salmon for Shabbat dinner. Still none in Athens. At least not where we were. At the supermarket I asked one of the fish counter attendants for fresh salmon. She pointed me to the smoked salmon and said, “very fresh.” Where we’re from, smoked fish is not fresh. Only then did it dawn on my how far we were from the Atlantic. Fresh salmon was a delicacy here.
For Shabbat dinner I surprised myself by making what turned out to be an absolutely delicious soup with fresh heirloom tomatoes and a pepper in my very small pot. The only things I added to these vegetables were a dash of salt and some olive oil to sauté the pepper. I couldn’t get enough and am looking forward to recreating it.
That night, Eitan struggled to fall asleep. The ear that had been hurting him in Prague was flaring again. There wasn’t much I could do so I gave him some Ibuprofen and hoped he’d feel better in the morning.
