Day 2 in Athens

My feet are so sore! Yesterday I bought a small plastic tub to soak my aching feet and today I found a cozy pair of wool slippers to pamper them further. I’m finding the terrazzo floors very cold.

After an even later start than yesterday, Hugh and I spent the day touring around the market area while Topher and David visited the national archaeological museum (see photos on page 16).

Hugh and I got off the metro at Syntagma, took a quick picture of the parliament building (see below), then walked toward Monastiraki square along a street that could have been pretty much anywhere, with all of the usual name brands. We went inside a small Byzantine church that was built when the street level was several feet lower, lit a couple of candles, and continued on our way. After getting moderately lost and walking by the Roman Agora, we had a short visit to a small offshoot of the museum of folk art housed in a former mosque, then visited the nearby flea market. We poked around many antique stores and even more souvenir shops, and found a couple of small trinkets but resisted buying anything much.

Hugh begged for a turn on one of the rental scooters (which are literally everywhere) so we found a quiet square and he took one for a short spin (pictured above left). At first he kept hopping off when he wanted to stop but eventually got the hang of braking. After more antiquing (including a very cool place that had at least 4 levels), we had a short break in a snazzy cafe (pictured above right). It had a nice view of the Acropolis but the highlight was taking a tiny elevator down to the washrooms in the basement!

We then walked a bit more and met up with Topher and David at the restaurant we had tried to go to yesterday, Diporto, for a very late and filling lunch (photos on page 19). It’s the oldest restaurant in Athens and very authentic according to the friendly Athenian woman sitting next to us. It’s 150 years old and has probably not changed much during that time. It’s original purpose was to feed the people working in the market and it is still mostly locals. There is no sign outside, just two doors (hence the name) leading to the basement, and there is no menu. They bring you a huge hunk of bread, various plates of simple, hearty food for sharing (salad, fava bean soup, chickpeas, orzo with beef, and fried fish that may have been small mackerel) and a pitcher of retsina (white wine flavoured with pine resin). The owner sits near the front drinking wine and smiling at everyone, and seemed to enjoy

watching the boys, as did the Athenian woman and her friend. They asked us what we thought of Trudeau and the current scandal! I found it surprising that they had even heard of Trudeau, let alone the whole SNC Lavalin thing.

The boys finished well before we did so they kept going outside and coming back in, telling us about all of the antique weapons they could buy next door. When the very serious, non-smiling chef/waiter (who had said nothing up to this point) was adding up our bill he counted up the plates then asked how many pitchers of wine we had had. When we said two, he said “Bravo!” - it seemed so funny coming from him. The pitchers were small but it was particularly good retsina, which can sometimes taste pretty close to turpentine. This had just a hint of pine flavour.

After our lunch/early supper we did yet more shopping, stopping at another huge antique store that was packed to the brim. The kids enjoyed it as much as we did as it was like a maze over several floors. Somehow Topher ended up

on the roof at one point. After buying a tiny brass (?) hedgehog, and stopping briefly at a tiny Byzantine church (pictured below right), where the caretaker walked around spraying perfume, we continued walking through the market. We made our way toward the Plaka, one of the city’s oldest neighbourhoods. David had already bought himself a camping knife earlier (??) so didn’t have money burning a hole in his pocket.

I guess Hugh had really gotten into shopping by this point, so he bought himself a hoodie that he watched being silk screened with his chosen design. We learned from the woman at the shop that his name in Greek is the same as the street we are staying on, Xiou. He had earlier bought a pair of the same slippers as mine and an evil eye charm, so he’s spent more than half of his trip allowance already. But he keeps calculating how much his bank account balance is in euros so doesn’t seem concerned.

By this point I really needed to find a washroom so we found a cafe in the Plaka and fed the boys an overpriced snack and took a break from walking. It

was now dark so we took a short stroll around the Plaka, which has gentrified considerably in 28 years, admired the Acropolis at night, then called it a day and took the metro home. The boys are now watching tv while I soak my feet!