Getting there - part 2

Dear Emirates, forget all bad things I thought about you the day before. As I lie stretched out in my roomy business class seat ( a free upgrade) I think you are the best airline in the world. Silver service, amazing lunch, staff hovering to fulfil our every need. Alan, feeling ultra relaxed, buys two watches on board as the hostess whips out the visa card machine to process the payment. The Spanish man across the aisle gets sozzled on repeated fill ups of red wine as his grumpy son sleeps through the flight.


On the train ride into Athens we meet some lovely young American girls just off the plane from Santorini. They give us heaps of advice about things to see and do when we get to the island. One of them opens her iPad and forwards me a cheat-sheet email of Santorini highlights. Ah, I love travelling in this age of instant communication.

We exit at Thissio and find the Phidias Hotel just up the cobbled street-way, which has open air bars and cafes all along both sides. Amazingly the Parthenon is perched on the hill just above us.

The hotel receptionist is a hip young Greek guy and after checking in we cram ourselves and bags into the tiny lift and shudder our way up to the third floor. Our room is so small and quaint we are a bit taken aback. From 5 star to 2 star (ha I doubt the daughters would even give it that many) we are grateful the bed has clean sheets. The colours of the decor are so daggy and Greek they are almost but not quite cool.


It is late afternoon but we decide to follow the cobbled road up to the Acropolis. It is a perfect time of day to view the Parthenon and surrounding ruins and the amazing view of Athens around us. There is a golden hue over everything and I feel sufficed with happiness. Alan remarks on the sleeping dogs all around the ruins. We start counting them. Six, seven, eight... none lifts a head when we walk by. We walk carefully on the marble steps on the site – they are slippery. Then it is back down the hill to our hotel for a lie down and shower before dinner.


The bars and cafes are more crowded now and there are market stalls selling art and jewellery. It is a great atmosphere. We decide to have dinner at what looks to be the least fancy place along the street – the Greek kitchen. Two American women are having a major debrief about some falling out with a friend, then a fat Italian man in a suit arrives with an attractive woman in a nice dress. Dinner is pretty good – Greek salad, bread, lamb chops for me, chicken for Alan. The wine is awful, warm and perfume-tasting served in glass tumblers. Skinny cats wind in and out around the tables.


After dinner we walk down the street taking in the sights around us. We watch some young boys play soccer on a field beside the street. They are very good and we think of Jac back home who has also learnt some of these very fancy moves.

Our restaurant - the morning after