Monday night, I stayed up until at least 4 reading Atlas Shrugged.  The book really has me.  I can’t put it down.  But Aviad was right, it may not be the best choice for a vacation.  Greta and I argued for an hour over lunch about the correct way for a society to handle its poor…

Anyway, we woke up on Tuesday and went to the Acropolis.  It had to be 97 degrees (the Greeks use this strange temperature scale so I don’t actually know how hot it was).  I got a 2 Euro discount because I’m a Dartmouth student.  We walked up the hill, past marble and granite blocks scattered haphazardly on the grass.  We went past a theater where Euripides, Aescheueueyeyeles, and Sophocles performed their plays in regular competitions.  That was cool, because I’ve read some of those plays in high school (all forgotten now, except they’re ingrained somehow into my subconscious).

Then we got to the top of hill and saw three buildings.  The first was the Temple of Athena Nike.  Under construction.  Boring.

The second was Erechtheion something or other, which Greta absolutely loved.  I guess she wrote a paper on it in high school.  Lots of columns, marble, cool details.  She got really emotional when she saw it, I think because she put her heart into this analysis in high school, and she was remembering how much she loved this building.

Finally, the Parthenon.  Tall columns, huge structure, but crumbling.  I was trying to imagine how they ever built the thing, over 2500 years ago, and all I could see were slaves with their hands chopped off.  That may not even be part of the story, but I have a wild imagination sometimes.

It would have been really great to see the Acropolis with a tour guide…someone who could explain the history, how things were made, and what all the random blocks of granite and marble used to be.  That’s what parents are good for: arranging those sorts of things.  (oh shit…i’m going to be a parent soon…and then i’ll have to start being responsible for stuff like that)

There was a construction worker sitting at the base of one of the columns on the Parthenon.  Incidentally, it was an Ionic column.  The worker was just sitting there, alternately talking to himself and making rude comments to women.  I couldn’t make out what he said to Greta (it’s all Greek to me) but it didn’t sound nice.  What a country.  You would think the highest professionals would be hired to work on the country’s finest ruin.

We found Greta a sandal shop at the base of the Acropolis.  Some 80 year old dude makes handmade leather sandals, and apparently he has fitted some of the world’s richest people with them, like Sophia Loren and Jackie O.  Greta isn’t really in the market for a pair of leather sandals, so she didn’t buy any.

We like Athens. It’s a little dirty and a little poor and a little polluted, but the food has been absolutely delicious and the people are friendly.

They’re closing breakfast.  Gotta run.