The morning I have to leave this fine place.
I finally slept in long enough to have breakfast at the hotel. The included breakfast that apparently costs 5 euro, but I ate and stole enough to justify that cost easily.
My plane leaves at 100 PM so I take my time packing. I want to have a little stroll around the acropolis and catch a few parting glances at the town. I would catch the X95, the same bus that got me to Syntagma would get me back to the airport, (whose name I will perhaps never be able to pronounce - Diethnís Aeroliménas Athinón "Elefthérios Venizélos").
More on that later.
So my day included a little browsing and walking and walking and then I walked some more. After an hour or so I figured I should head to Syntagma, the bus takes an hour and you should be 2 hours early for international travel, and honestly I was pretty tired of fucking walking everywhere.
I get to Syntagma and I am pretty early, so I go and see the tomb of the unknown soldier and the guards with the little poof balls on their shoes and take a photo of them standing still which somehow was the only blurry one I took all trip.
So, here is a stock photo:
Middle school dance all over again...
It is a nice day and The Fat One told me I should have a walk around the Parliament Building grounds if I have time.
Sure - why not? I have time and I won't be back very soon. So here was my plan:
A nice, short walk to end my trip. Perfect.
I figure maybe about ten minutes to get around the place? It is a big building, but it is no Acropolis! I will heed the advice of The Fat One even though it is now apparent he has never made this trip.
Off I go. A very picturesque park is behind the building. For some reason the several entrances to it seem to be closed. Weird, but I carry on. After about 5 minutes it occurs to me I haven't made a turn yet. It soon dawns on me that maybe, just maybe, this place is a tad bigger than I expected it to be.
I finally decide to turn around, and it was at this moment I start to divine why the gates to the garden, which I could easily have taken a shortcut through, are all locked tight.
Probably for the same reason that the armored car full of young and eager riot police blocked my walk back along the path I originally came.
Now I want to be clear, there was no anger in the air. There were no protesting students. There was not a single moltov cocktail to be seen. But since I did some reading before I came I decided to look up things like the riots of recent years.
But a bus like this that is full of men similarly armored tends to mean "business."
Business.
New plan! I will simply walk around!
How big could this place really be?
THIS IS THE BIGGEST PLACE OF EVER.
More riot cops show up and stand around. Once again, I didn't feel for a second that anything was going down, but that didn't stop me from flashing to my past Google search of the riots that have happened here. And I recall some very frightening images. Just a few things that popped into my head:
and
and even
I know the last one doesn't make much sense, but that will mess you up if you see that movie as a kid. It is the frightening image.
**shudders**
So the ten minute walk turns into an hour, but I grab the bus and have a fairly uneventful trip to the Athens International Airport that I can't pronounce. It is a nice airport, the upside being it is pretty basic and simple.
I usually just substitute in airplane noises and make some wings with my arms when asking directions.
But the downside to being pretty basic and simple is that the airport is pretty simple and basic. Not much in the way of entertainment you could say. Well, you would say - because it is just you and a snack stand once you pass security. All good, 2 hours reading and making airplane noises is fine with me.
The flight back was also pretty neat and tidy. I get back to Bahrain, visit the arrival Duty Free and get some stuff for cheaper than a man ought to be able to get those things, and make my way to my car.
I actually find it right away.
In I get, and I had such a pleasant time in Greece, such a lovely trip, that I forgot my Gypsy, (GPS) is trying to fucking kill me.
The 30 minute ride home from the airport wasn't as bad as the way in because this took about 7 minutes less than the 80 it took to get in. Every souk was dead quiet at 1130 PM on a Monday night, and I know every one was dead quiet because my Gypsy took me through all of them.
Doesn't matter. I was going home.
Home?
Felt weird - that was the first time I really considered this place home - after I had left it and returned. But it felt good.
So did the first very, VERY large rum drink I had.
Second one felt pretty good as well.
I would imagine the third and fourth ones felt amazing as well, but I somehow was drunk by then.
I toss on some shorts, log into YouTube and watch one of the many documentaries about Greece available and try to convince myself that I was actually there.
I was back in Bahrain, but in three days my mind had shifted to the December break and where I would go. Little did I know at the time I would be spending Christmas and New Years on an island nation just off the southeast coast of India.
Sri Lanka, here I come!
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