September 5-7
We’re at a comfortable apartment in a comfortable neighborhood in Athens right now.
Things are starting to settle down.
It’s strange. When we decided to meet Larry on a trip to Greece, nothing in the country was burning or flooding.
Then the fires started—in the far north, on Rhodes, and in the forests north of Athens. Firefighters were just getting those disasters under control when an unprecedented deluge flooded a swath through the middle of the country.
They sent in the army for that rescue effort.
Athens itself wasn’t hit as hard, but there was a heavy downpour when our cab left the airport.
But that was the least of our concerns.
The original plan was that Larry, who had found the apartment through Booking.com, would get here a few hours before we did and let us in.
We were about to be reminded why life is an adventure. Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.
Joanna and I left Newark on a United flight that was delayed by half an hour. We had to change planes in Barcelona, where we would have a two-and-a-half-hour window. The plane landed at 9:15 a.m. local time, maybe 15 minutes behind schedule, but well before our Aegean Airlines flight to Athens was scheduled to leave. So that was no problem.
It was my first chance to check email since we had left New Jersey the night before. That’s when stuff began to get interesting: Larry was stuck in Abu Dhabi.
His plane had needed some work before it could take off and was three hours late leaving Bangkok, which is Larry’s adopted hometown. The plane arrived in Abu Dhabi just about the time the gate was closing for his connecting flight.
He had to wait a full day for the next flight to Athens.
He was blaming himself for choosing a budget airline.
That’s all right, Sensei, we’ll take care of it and will be waiting when you get into town.
When we arrived in Athens, Joanna’s iPhone couldn’t text Larry because she uses WhatsApp, which is banned or blacked out or whatever in Abu Dhabi. She tried phoning and that didn’t work either.
I tried calling Theo, the man who was renting us the apartment, but my tried-and-true phone line, Skype, wasn’t able to reach him. I tried calling Larry and couldn’t reach him. I have to get that looked into.
Finally a lady at the airport information desk pointed out a bank of phones. They were actual pay phones. I hadn’t seen one of those in a long while.
I bought a phone card at a convenience store and tried the number I had for Theo. I got a recorded interrupt that recited a message in Greek and cut off the call.
Because of the cutoff, I guessed it wasn’t Theo’s voicemail.
Then I realized I was in Greece, on a Greek phone, and dialing the country code as well as the phone number.
I dropped the prefix 30, the phone rang, and Theo answered.
In the time I was racing around trying to find a way to get in touch with him, he had sent an email—with photos, mind—of how to check into the apartment.
We got a cab and handed the driver the address. It was a long ride and much of it through a hellish downpour. It would slack off now and again, but then came back with a vengeance.
During one of the slacks, we saw a glorious rainbow that arced all the way from the ground to the clouds. Joanna took it as a hopeful sign. I confess that my optimism wasn’t so strong.
We got to the apartment just fine. The marble stairs were just as they appeared in the email photo. The keys were in the right place. We entered the lobby without a glitch.
I went to the wrong floor first. Theo had said first floor, which I knew was the U.S. second floor, so being sleep-deprived or too sober for too long, I asked Joanna to press the 2 button.
We tried first floor too, but for some reason, I couldn’t get the key into the lock of what we eventually learned was our apartment.
I went downstairs to the Cue Bistro, which is next to the marble steps. Evangeli, the man who runs the place, is a terrific guy who watches over the building when he isn’t serving his customers.
The Cue has wifi so I emailed Theo. He confirmed that one of the apartments I had tried and failed to enter was the right one.
I tried again and damn it, a little finagling of the key got me in.
By this time Joanna was sitting in the Cue waiting for me. One of the upsides of all this nonsense is that we found the cafe.
The menu has a range of small plates. In Spain they’re tapas; here they’re mezze.
There was a cheese pie, something with the consistency of ricotta in a thin flaky shell; a spread like hummus, but made with fava beans instead of chick peas; tzatziki, a yogurt spread with herbs, and fennel pies, fried half-moon pastries like empanadas filled with fennel leaves.
I discovered a new wine, too. It’s a blend of Merlot and a local Greek grape called Mavroudi (at least, I think that’s close).
We were jet-lagged and slept late on Thursday.
We had eggs fried in a delicious olive oil for breakfast at the Cue. I had two cups of Greek coffee and started to wake up.
We were in touch with Larry by email and learned that he was due to land in Athens in the afternoon. He wouldn’t be making it to the Acropolis walking tour that we had scheduled.
I got another email later. This guy was being plagued by a centipede. Another shoe had just dropped. Etihad, the airline, had lost his bag and had no record of it.
We had one key for the front door and one for the apartment. We had to be in when Larry showed up. I would wait for him in the Cue cafe by 4 p.m.
He walked in about half past
Larry is in charge of gastronomy. He told us that food critics consistently rank Greek cuisine high, usually among the top five worldwide. So he had notes for places to take meals.
Thursday night we had a fantastic dinner that started with anchovies in oil and moved on to three terrific main courses.
Joanna had bream with rice. It had the head on, which is always a good sign. She gave me a taste of it: succulent.
There were also rabbit and lamb on the menu. Larry and I split them both. They were falling-apart tender and savory.
The wine’s name I don’t know, but it was a dry red made with indigenous grapes.
Before this, the only wine I knew from Greece was retsina, which I had had at a few places in New York. It was a novelty, but I wasn’t crazy about it. This was a new experience.
We finished the night with another surprise from Larry. He had learned that the Benaki Museum, which is in walking distance from the apartment, was not only free of charge on Thursday night, but open till 10 or so.
It was fun to prowl and almost empty museum after dinner.
There were artifacts dating from the archaic period to the Byzantine. Most were miniatures, and a few were on a more monumental scale: Clay figures, stone carvings, a funerary door, bronze weapons and armor, Greek Madonnas, and early churchmen lined the walls.
We may have grown a bit too enthusiastic. One of the guards had to keep reminding us so keep our voices down.
Joanna says it was also because Larry and I polished off a bottle of wine with dinner.
The museum is named for Antonis Benakis, the son of a wealthy and apparently philanthropic family.
He was born in Alexandria where he eventually began to build an art collection. He moved to Athens when he was in the fifties. He donated his collection to the state to form the basis of the museum.
One of the exhibits is a nod to Benakis himself. It includes a mannekin dressed in one of his outfits—tweed coat, slacks, vest. I was struck by the coincidence. Here was a guy more than 80 years ahead of me, and we both dress alike.
Joanna caught the moment on her phone.
Good night, all. Be well and don’t let the centipedes ruin your good times.
Love,
Joanna and Harry
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