athens.

after the most relaxing week of their lives, bryndia reluctantly boarded a boat in mykanos headed north for athens. they were accompanied by their new friend cian, a homie from florida who had been working tech for the us army in germany for the past four years. the three of them rode the gigantic ferry for five hours, sipping frappes and giggling over "stepbrothers" on india's ipod. they docked, grabbed a bus into the city and, all of a sudden, were in the heart of the capital of greece.


athens is a city that bryndia had completely underestimated. they had thought, if the greek islands were as beautiful as they were, than the capital must be a metropolis of blue skies, ancient marble ruins, strong smells of spicy foods and free ouzo flowing through the gutters. they had, in a way, been right. the city was booming with life... hordes of people everywhere... greeks, immigrants from the middle east, huge men from north africa in every bar. it was like new york in that way. a melting pot. unfortunately, many of those people seemed to actually be melting on the street... deranged, shaking, oozing at the mouth. heroin addicts everywhere. on the walk to dinner one night, bryndia and cian passed a man tying a rubber band around his elbow with a loaded needle hanging from his lips like an unlit cigarette. "wait a second, wait a second. did that really just happen? did we really just see that?"

before arriving at their hostel, cian and bryn had already had their pockets grabbed at by a bundle of burly looking men, their backpacks unsubtley pulled at. the three of them quickly dropped off their belongings, ridding themselves of the "i'm a tourist!" look. the afternoon was spent wandering around omonia, jumping over addicts, avoiding the advances of malnourished prostitutes. the three of them walked through the meat market, whole cow hides hanging from silver hooks, goats faces frozen in a final bleeting plea. chicken livers next to chicken hearts next to pigs feet. every edible mammal present with pale flesh and beet colored blood. india made a hasty exit. they kept walking to discover the flea market, fruit stands with thousands of strawberries, piles of ripe oranges, five cents each. three story townhouses packed full of everything you can imagine. old pistols, tea sets, dusty couches, wooden coat stands, refrigerator boxes overflowing with costume jewelry. cian picked out some delicate greek pornographic comic books. india found pearl covered pill boxes. that night, the three ate dinner at a cafe on a square. cian insisted on "eating like a local" and ordered a lambs head. the waiter was shocked. "are you sure, my friend? are you sure?" cian made a valiant attempt to finish the vile looking thing. india kept her head under the table, feeding pieces of tzatziki covered bread crumbs to the kittens who circled her feet.


the next morning, the three amigos took off for the acropolis. huge stone carvings, gigantic buildings. the stairs were over two feet tall. they climbed and felt tiny among it all. the rocks were slick under foot, smoothed out by the thousands of sneakers that passed over them every day. from the top, they stared out over the huge city, the sea sparkled in the distance. bryndia was, again, reminded of how young their country was. and how green their city is. in athens, things were very stark, very cream, very plain.



they wandered down through the the theater of dyonisis. india put on a show and dance. over to the olympic stadium. up through the cobblestone streets, big shops selling soaps, jewelry, scarves, linens. stopping in a super market for water and wine, bryndia witnessed a security guard wave his baton and wail at a group of young egyptian men angrily. he had seen them stuff beers down their pants. they had to leave the store now! now! now! bryndia escaped the chaos with chocolate and sweet sodas.

that night, bryndia returned to the base of the acropolis and ate greek salad at an outdoor cafe. they watched huge families kiss each others cheeks over and over again at the table next to them. cigarette after cigarette and opa! and cheers! and i love you so much! back through the curving streets packed with tourist shops and through the big open squares, passed the meat market, up into their neighborhood, dark and dangerous. they sat in the hookah bar next to their hostel, smoked mint flavored nargile with the young owner from amman who served them big pots of sugary tea and told them how much love he felt for obama and america. cian joined them. they sat on soft red sofas and watched football on the television, filled the bar with sweet smelling smoke while more middle eastern men played backgammon, throwing their dice very casually and quietly.

the next morning, bryndia awoke at four am and made the long public transport journey out to the aiport. after almost 10 weeks of traveling, the european leg of their journey was ending. springtime in europe had been lifechanging. wonderful. brand new and, yet, familiar. now, they headed into unknown territory. the middle east awaited.