My palms were sweating buckets. My whole body was on high alert, anxiety buzzing around my brain like a swarm of wasps. I looked again at my carry-on. It was a boulder, a giant. Well over Aegean Air’s strict specifications. No way was I being allowed to board. Not with this bag. How much would they force me to pay? I could almost feel my remaining funds being washed away in one horrible mistake.
I joined the queue as it began to dwindle, putting on my face mask so the officials couldn’t see how crazily nervous I was. I must have looked guilty as hell. But somehow, by yet another miracle, they didn’t bat an eyelid. I sat down on the very back row of the plane, feeling once again like I’d just dodged a torpedo. Warm sunlight streamed through the window and I was treated to a free Turkey and cheese roll plus a Kit Kat. My anxiety transformed into merriment very quickly indeed. Aegean Air are supposed to be a budget airline like Ryanair. Why the hell can’t you get free turkey sandwiches on Ryanair? Screw you, Ryanair.
Soon after landing in Greece, I could feel the bit of local vernacular I had up my sleeve was going to make things significantly smoother than in the last two cities I stumbled through. I climbed out of the Athenian metro into a place called Omonia Square. Not long after I landed at Hawks Hostel – one of the first recommendations Aaron gave me for Athens. It’s easily my coolest hostel yet. They gave me a token for a free welcome shot as I checked in, and obviously I lost it immediately.
Bagged myself some cheap pork Gyros at a restaurant called Shish Rotisserie, along with my favourite Greek beer: Mythos! But I was changed somehow. Not like I was last night and the nights before. My patient, disciplined stomach had morphed into a demanding insatiable thing, and within minutes of leaving Shish Rotisserie I had stopped at a café and picked up a spinach & cheese pastry. No regrets there. The thing was scrumptious.
I began walking around the Acropolis, the strange cluster of ruins upon the hill in the centre of the city. I kept seeing it from lots of different angles, but how was I supposed to get to it? Suddenly dying for a pee, I stopped at the nearest café to use the toilet. An American woman half pulled me in off the street, giving me an elaborate run down of the entire menu while I nodded my head like a madman, desperately glancing towards the door marked WC. “And this is the moussaka. Now you can get this anywhere in Greece, but this right here is the real homemade stuff…”
I quickly ordered what looked like the smallest snack on offer, pork stuffed cabbage leaves in lemon sauce. But to my horror, when I came out of the toilet and sat down, the woman brought me down a plate of three of these motherfucking things along with a basket of bread. Holy shit. I was already full. This was the last thing I needed. But it was far too late to say I wasn’t hungry. I had no choice but to tuck in.
The pork stuffed cabbage leaves was good grub, but I felt like a greedy pig. Why can’t there just be an endless line of public toilets down every street? I thought moodily.
After blowing another 8 euros on food I didn’t need or want, I waddled out of the café and continued seeking out the Acropolis. I thought I’d be running rings around it all night, but before long I found a path leading into the mysterious park which separated the modern from the ancient. A flight of metal stairs led up to a rocky crag. Lights blurred in the distance and the shadows of other sightseers milled about me. I stepped clumsily over the rocks, surprised that I hadn’t already sprained my ankle in the dark. The elusive Acropolis, radiant with lamplight rose above me, closer than ever before, and the city of Athens extended below – a carpet of urban light, a teeming beaming night-time metropolis. Already I felt more at home here than in Rome or Madrid. What is it about this place?
I felt truly stuffed, and combined with the insane views my eyes were feasting on, I felt fuller than I’d been the entire last 2 weeks. All around me couples sat on the rocks in the dark, making-out or talking quietly to each other. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many couples – purely couples – at any tourist sight ever. But despite being the only solo figure, I didn’t feel alone. The spirit of the city was in the air, a rougher place than Rome perhaps, but a much more welcoming one…
